In his new book,
The Twilight of the Elites: America After Meritocracy,
Chris Hayes manages the impossible trifecta: the book is compellingly
readable, impossibly erudite, and—most stunningly of all—correct. At the
end, I was left with just two quibbles: first, the book’s chapter on
“pop epistemology” thoroughly explicated how elites got stuff wrong
without bothering to mention the non-elites who got things right,
leaving the reader with the all-too-common impression that getting it
right was impossible; and second, the book never assembled its
(surprisingly sophisticated) argument into a single summary. To discuss
it, I feel we have to start with remedying the latter flaw:
Our nation’s institutions have crumbled, Hayes argues. From
2000–2010 (the “Fail Decade”), every major societal institution failed.
Big businesses collapsed with Enron and Worldcom, their auditors failed
to catch it, the Supreme Court got partisan in
Bush v. Gore,
our intelligence apparatus failed to catch 9/11, the media lied us into
wars, the military failed to win them, professional sports was all on
steroids, the church engaged in and covered up sex abuse, the government
compounded disaster upon disaster in Katrina, and the banks crashed our
economy. How did it all go so wrong?
Hayes pins the blame on an unlikely suspect: meritocracy. We thought
we would just simply pick out the best and raise them to the top, but
once they got there they inevitably used their privilege to entrench
themselves and their kids (inequality is, Hayes says, “autocatalytic”).
Opening up the elite to more efficient competition didn’t make things
more fair, it just legitimated a more intense scramble. The result was
an arms race among the elite, pushing all of them to embrace the most
unscrupulous forms of cheating and fraud to secure their coveted
positions. As competition takes over at the high end, personal worth
resolves into exchange value, and the elite power accumulated in one
sector can be traded for elite power in another: a regulator can become a
bank VP, a modern TV host can use their stardom to become a bestselling
author (try to imagine Edward R. Murrow using the nightly news to flog
his books the way Bill O’Reilly does). This creates a unitary elite,
detached from the bulk of society, yet at the same time even more
insecure. You can never reach the pinnacle of the elite in this new
world; even if you have the most successful TV show, are you also making
blockbuster movies? bestselling books? winning Nobel Prizes? When your
peers are the elite at large, you can never clearly best them.
The result is that our elites are trapped in a bubble, where the
usual pointers toward accuracy (unanimity, proximity, good faith) only
lead them astray. And their distance from the way the rest of the
country really lives makes it impossible for them to do their jobs
justly—they just don’t get the necessary feedback. The only cure is to
reduce economic inequality, a view that has surprisingly support among
the population (clear majorities want to close the deficit by raising
taxes on the rich, which is more than can be said for any other plan).
And while Hayes is not a fan of heightening the contradictions, it is
possible that the next crisis will bring with it the opportunity to win
this change.
This is just a skeletal summary—the book itself is filled with
luscious texture to demonstrate each point and more in-depth discussion
of the mechanics of each mechanism (I would call it Elster meets
Gladwell if I thought that would be taken as praise).
So buy the book already.
Now, as I said, I think Hayes is broadly correct in his analysis. And I
think his proposed solution is spot on as well—when we were fellows
together at the Harvard Center for Ethics, I think we annoyed everyone
else with our repeated insistence that reducing economic inequality was
somehow always the appropriate solution to each of the many social ills
the group identified.
But when talking to other elites about this proposal, I notice a confusion that’s worth clarifying, about the
structural
results of inequality, rather than the merely quantitative ones. Class
hangs over the book like a haunting spectre (there’s a brief comment on
p. 148 that “Mills [had] a more nuanced theory of elite power than
Marx’s concept of a ruling class”) but I think it’s hard to see how the
solution relates to the problem without it. After all, we started by
claiming the problem is meritocracy, but somehow the solution is taxing
the rich?
The clue comes in thinking clearly about the alternative to
meritocracy. It’s not picking surgeons by lottery, Hayes clarifies, but
then what is it? It’s about ameliorating power relationships altogether.
Meritocracy says “there must be one who rules, so let it be the best”;
egalitarianism responds “why must there?” It’s the power imbalance,
rather than inequality itself, that’s the problem.
Imagine a sci-fi world in which productivity has reached such
impressive heights that everyone can have every good they desire just
from the work young kids do for fun. By twiddling the knobs on their
local MakerBot, the kids produce enough food, clothing, and iPhones to
satisfy everyone. So instead of working, most people spend their days
doing yoga or fishing. But scarcity hasn’t completely faded away—there’s
still competition for the best spots at the fishing hole. So we
continue to let those be allocated by the market: the fishing hole spot
is charged for and the people who really want it earn the money to pay
for it by helping people with various chores.
In this sort of world, inequality doesn’t seem like much of a
problem. Sure, some people get the best fishing hole spots, but that’s
because they did the most chores. If you want the spot more than they
do, you can do more work. But the inequality doesn’t come with power—the
guy with the best fishing hole spot can’t say
“fuck me or you’re fired.”
This sci-fi world may sound ridiculous, but it’s basically the one
Keynes predicted we’d soon be living in:
Now it is true that the needs of human beings may
seem to be insatiable. But they fall into two classes – those needs
which are absolute in the sense that we feel them whatever the situation
of our fellow human beings may be, and those which are relative in the
sense that we feel them only if their satisfaction lifts us above, makes
us feel superior to, our fellows. Needs of the second class, those
which satisfy the desire for superiority, may indeed be insatiable; for
the higher the general level, the higher still are they. But this is not
so true of the absolute needs – a point may soon be reached, much
sooner perhaps than we are all of us aware of, when these needs are
satisfied in the sense that we prefer to devote our further energies to
non-economic purposes.
[…] But, of course, it will all happen gradually, not as a
catastrophe. Indeed, it has already begun. The course of affairs will
simply be that there will be ever larger and larger classes and groups
of people from whom problems of economic necessity have been practically
removed.
And that’s what a reduction in economic inequality could achieve.
The trend in recent decades (since the fall of the Soviet Union and the
ruling class’s relief that “There Is No Alternative”) has been for the
people at the top to seize all the economic gains, leaving everyone else
increasing insecure and dependent on their largesse. (Calling
themselves “job creators”, on this view, is not so much a brag as a
threat.) But with less inequality, it could be otherwise. Instead of a
world in which there are a handful of big networks with the money to run
television shows, everyone could afford to have their
Sunday morning conversations
filmed and livestreamed. Instead of only huge conglomerates having the
capital and distribution to launch new product lines, everyone could
make and market their own
line of underwear or
video games (
instead of just elite Red Sox pitchers).
Even on strict efficiency grounds, this strikes me as a more
alluring view than the usual meritocracy. Why put all your eggs in one
basket, even if it’s the best basket? Surely you’d get better results by
giving more baskets a try.
You can argue that this is exactly where technology is bringing us—
popular kids on YouTube
get made into huge pop sensations, right?—and the genius of Hayes’ book
is to show us why this is not enough. The egaliatarian demand shouldn’t
be that we need more black pop stars or female pop stars or YouTube
sensation pop stars, but to question why we need elite superstars at
all. I hope Hayes’ next book shows us what the world without them is
like.
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