Padd Solutions

Converted by Falcon Hive


Every year on Armistice Day and V-Day Europe remembers the dangers of nationalism—at least one would hope. In contrast, I don't think too many people in Asia are attuned to it. Maybe not enough of us have died tragically in its name?

Certainly, between violent squabbles about the ruins of a temple and lengthy periods of compulsory military service, a cacophony of nationalist sentiments permeates Southeast Asia. And few seem to stop and ask: Why does it matter?

Indeed, why? I'm sure we've all heard John F. Kennedy's famous line, "Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for the country". I think that should be reformulated, and not as a statement but as a question: What does your country even mean to you?

In truth, for many people, I can think of very little. Sure, your country gives you a sense of identity as the place you were born in, where you perhaps live and have the right to be. But you pay your taxes, don't you? As productive or at least honest members of society, you are paying your dues to the community as a member. You are participating in the community.

Yes, everyone stands to lose if the country is weak and vulnerable, but up to what point are concerns about security still reasonable? When does it start to resemble paranoia?

The leaders know that simple pragmatism alone wouldn't commit people to readily pledge their service to the country, at least not to the extent that they're hoping for. That's why they come up with nationalistic propaganda. Their hope is that some sort of love for and sense of responsibility to the country would be instilled in you. The blinder you are as a follower the better. When they need martyrs, they know where to look.

So why do we play along? What is it that the country gives us in exchange? We know why the politicians hold office and why the government is in power. They give their service in exchange for power and position. I can perhaps understand the American sentiment that the country is the defender of their liberties. But especially in places like Singapore, where you're always simply asked to go the extra mile for the 'greater good', so that the country can be competitive, what's in it for you?

Do you think the country takes care of you? In the age of globalisation, where the welfare state is deemed inefficient, the country can no longer make the promises it used to make. Will you have jobs? Will you be able to earn a decent living? Will you have enough funds to retire comfortably? The paradigm of the neo-liberal state gives no clear answers to such questions. You are essentially on your own. The role of the state is to leave you free to do what you want, provided you have the means to do it. Batteries not included, of course.

Even then, in some countries you're not actually free to do a great number of relatively harmless things, like buying chewing gum.

And so, as I've said some time ago, is there any real meaning to nationalism today? How is it that they are asking you to love something selflessly in a world of self-love? If you love yourself, you will find the means to live. That is the living ethic of today. Can loving your country provide an alternative?

It's funny that years ago I had a pragmatic attitude towards nationalism, seeing it as necessarily existent and even necessary. Young minds are impressionable, I suppose. And that's when it's most dangerous. If the leaders want to fight a great war, they need the young to be on board.

A mutinous army results in a dead Tsar. Do we want to give him the power with which he could kill us instead?



I read an amusing blog entry recently that set me thinking about whether the reflection of people's choices is correct simply because it reflects people's choices, as is often implied in economics.

As I've mentioned before, a liberal society is all for autonomy. It is thus, in effect, for individual choice. We've heard the maxims: "To each his own", "Different strokes for different folks"; even J.S. Mill's harm principle can be considered one.

No doubt, choice is great—and everyone knows that these days. Economics is about preferences and choices. Capitalism too promotes individual choice. You can choose what you want to acquire for yourself. Might you be interested in some of these wares? An iPod? An iRiver? Just remember, it's about me. It's about you.

Where do you want to go today?


Yet how do we know that the choices that we make are ours? Is it simply by virtue of the fact that they are the choices we end up making, the fact that they are our revealed preferences? Might there not be something important about their unrevealed aspect, about the psychological processes that take place behind decision making?

I think if we delve into these processes we might find that those are not really our (with emphasis on the sense of ownership) choices. They are not what we really want as individuals abstracted from our surroundings and our social contexts. The fact is we are subject to a lot influences that are external to our wants and needs, at least initially—not least from those who would sell something as your choice.

Indeed, it seems to make little sense to talk about individuals without context. So, in short, life really isn't all about autonomy and choice. It's about existing as an individual, a social creature and a limited physical being at the same time.

Thus, this begs the question: Should we never ask why people make the choices they make?

To some extent our society is conditioned to abhor such questioning. Remember the maxims? If you were to challenge another person's choices, you would often be regarded as a nuisance. It certainly wouldn't help to win you friends.

But you might protest that people do question others' choices, such when they choose to drop out of school at an early age or to acquire bad and destructive habits. However, such questions do not usually arise where decisions are perceived as utility-based. If an individual determines rationally that a choice gives him enough utility as to be worth making, he is justified in making that choice.

And what are the criteria for rational decision making? Typically, it would entail something like weighing decisions in terms of utility gained to the best of one's knowledge. Interestingly, even if it is thus held that people are not always capable of making the best or most accurate choice in terms utility, the above description would seem to leave out instances such as impulse buying. That means many of the decisions made in the marketplace, for a start, might not be considered rational under such a common understanding of rationality.

Yet, ironically, those tend to be regarded as perfectly legitimate economic decisions. The sellers would certainly be quick to assert that they are.

So it turns out that, even assuming that we generally are rational utility-maximising agents, there is still room to question the choices that we make. But how would we go about doing that without attempting to impose arbitrary preferences on each other, as is often presumed to be the case when we dare ask why?

I think this is where the criterion of rationality is worth emphasising. If there are to be questioning and debate, they have to be based on reason. That means we must have good reasons that are backed by good reasoning—and if we do, I see no reason to stop us from asking.

Hence, while questioning and disapproval are not necessarily judgemental in the negative sense that we mean the word, we would come across as judgemental if our positions are not backed up by reason.

Well, that deals nicely with both sanctimonious conservatives and High Street liberals.