The culture surrounding the Esperanto language shares with the Libertarian political philosophy both an appreciation for simplicity and a desire for fairness in the relations between human beings. Critics of both Esperanto and Libertarianism raise similar objections: these systems did not arise “naturally”, they are too simple for the modern complex world, their time is past, they are too strongly associated with a certain parent country or culture, they are not merely idealistic but “utopian”, their followers form a “cult”. Both Esperantists and libertarians can answer their critics on both principle-based and utilitarian grounds, but finally they have a utilitarian trump card: both Esperanto and Libertarianism work, and work well, despite the misgivings of any theorists.
Some take a third point of view: simplicity is not merely a means, but a virtue unto itself. Both Esperanto and Libertarianism are elegant solutions to difficult problems of human interaction. In their simplicity, they convey essential, almost mathematical truths that are otherwise hidden by the chaos and interest of evolved languages and political systems. Certainly some people who appreciate the one will appreciate the other.
As with other –isms, people have thought up many different ways to define or at least describe Libertarianism; some of the most popular include:
Depending on the direction from which the formulator is coming, these definitions focus on what either the individual or the government may or may not legitimately do, with the goals of morality or economic utility. Though seemingly different, they all arrive at much the same conclusion: both justice and prosperity are maximized in a system in which individuals are as free as possible to act without violating the rights of others, and where the maximum role of government is the protection of those rights. As Robert Nozick expressed it, we are left wondering what, if anything, a government may legitimately do.
Libertarians do spend a great deal of time debating the purpose and nature of government: granted a monopoly on the use of force, government is both the chief guarantor and primary violator of justice. Where statists optimistically see the potential of government to do good, libertarians are always suspicious of its potential to do ill—government was responsible for all of the past century’s great genocides, in which tens of millions of people were killed, not to mention massive confiscations of wealth and other rights violations. Statists prefer to overlook and forget these “mistakes,” citing instead the opportunities lost from “market failures.” They claim that problems of collective action require government involvement; otherwise individuals will fail to cooperate. Libertarians acknowledge existence of collective-problems, but insist that non-coercive solutions can always be found; though they may require more time to develop, consensual, market-based solutions will be more stable, probably less expensive, and certainly more moral than government-imposed solutions. Market failure is really a failure of imagination.
Those who protest this elevation of the individual at the seeming expense of the group miss the point: it is precisely within a framework of strong, simple individual rights that individuals may associate to form groups, and work peacefully to realize their common goals. Critics of Esperanto’s simplicity similarly miss the point: it is not despite but thanks to its clear, simple rules that Esperanto can generate such a descriptive vocabulary with which real foreigners can discuss the most complex issues of modern society.
This series “La Filozofio de Libereco” will present in Esperanto translation some of the best books supporting the libertarian philosophy. Since this philosophy is largely a product of the European Enlightenment, whose century began in the late 1600s, selecting and sequencing a manageably few titles from the long list of good books is painfully difficult. With what should we begin: an amusing fable, a straightforward non-fiction explanation, dry theory, or comparisons of historical experience? They all have their place, and we hope to succeed eventually in presenting them all, but let us begin with a fable, one already half-familiar to many.