The Free-Rider Problem

The previous section’s discussion leads on quite naturally to the problem of the ‘free-rider’ which is a particular criticism of the sceptic’s moral theory.

In the last four paragraphs of his highly polished Enquiries Hume concludes by turning his attention to the alleged advantages of vice and the possible responses to a sensible knave whose guiding policy is “[t]hat honesty is the best policy may be a good general rule, but is liable to many exceptions; and he...

I must confess that, if a man think that this reasoning much requires an answer, it will be a little difficult to find any which will to him appear satisfactory and convincing. If his heart rebel not against such pernicious maxims, if he feel no reluctance to the thoughts of villainy or baseness, he has indeed lost a considerable motive to virtue; and we may expect his practice will be answerable to his speculation. But in all ingenuous natures, the antipathy to treachery and roguery is too strong to be counter-balanced by any views of profit or pecuniary advantage. Inward peace of mind, consciousness of integrity, a satisfactory review of our own conduct; these are circumstances, very requisite to happiness, and will be cherished and cultivated by every honest man, who feels the importance of them.²⁰

And this response to the problem of the free-rider is quite in keeping with my interpretation of Hume, with the view that moral evaluations are essentially subjective and that there are no external, objective moral standards, nor rights or duties, to be reasoned to, intuited, or logically deduced. It is compatible with an acceptance that the core motives of action are areasonable; that reason merely guides choices by showing probable consequences; that the inclinations and propensities propelling the mass of people are not monolithic or homogeneous.

However, Hume’s own discussion of the free-rider problem is somewhat unsatisfactory. The problem is not that his moral theory fails to make free-riding impossible or to prevent it — no theory has been able to eliminate free-riding. Rather one weakness is Hume’s tendency to pose a false dichotomy:²² ‘Should I, in balancing the account, opt for justice, with its occasional disutilities and impositions, or for no system of justice at all’? But it is evident these are not the only two choices. Scattered, and even widespread and regular, violations of a system of justice will not bring it down anymore than occasional optings for “single acts of justice”²³ which conflict with the rules. We see all around us what a sturdy resilience has justice. Additionally, the free-rider (as distinct from the revolutionary or terrorist) does not want the system of justice to collapse. Usually what he wants is widespread compliance by others making his ‘prudential compliance where necessary but avoidance where profitable’ strategy that much more advantageous. Hume seems at times to gloss over the crucial difference between an interest in having a system, convention or framework in place and an interest in always abiding by its rigours.

So having ruled out the reply that, ‘being just is better than having no system at all’ we can look more closely at the oft laboured task of attempting to make the case that every individual is always better off by being just. Then we can ask whether Hume’s moral theory is open to the charge that it cannot whole-heartedly condemn the free-rider.

Postema argues²⁴ that the question Hume must answer is not a) What now motivates most people to comply with rules of justice? but rather b) “Is it rational for an individual to participate in the formation of the practice of justice and is it rational for such a person also to comply with the rules of the practice thus established?”²⁵ I agree with Postema about a); however I do not agree that Hume’s task is to make a universal case for the rationality of compliance with justice if by ‘rational’ is meant ‘reason-based motives in favour of’.

Hume’s basic strategy is to provide experience-based prudential arguments against free-riding although, as Stroud notes,²⁷ he occasionally lapses into rhetoric reminiscent of Plato and what I might call gold versus bronze types of satisfactions.²⁸ But I put such rhetorical passages down to exuberance and Hume’s literary skills and turn to Hume’s basic strategy.

Here Hume does not labour too hard. His arguments are fairly straightforward. Firstly, if one is caught cheating she will be worse off (even long-term) than had she always been honest. Secondly, successful free-riding is difficult. This is also presented in the obverse form that the easiest course is to act justly (in which form it may carry extra psychological insight). Then finally, recognising that not each single act of justice always leads to gain for any particular agent, Hume points to the value of general rules²⁹ and sets up the false dichotomy I have just rejected above.

The first two arguments are powerful lessons drawn from experience. But as Hume saw they do not hold in all situations. And the larger and more complex a society grows the less obvious to all become the tasks mandated by reciprocity. In short, it is easier to cheat in a large, modern, complex society. Additionally, in such societies can be found the triad or mafia boss — not exactly a free­rider because he operates by force and fear, not deception, and not exactly a revolutionary or terrorist because he does not want the existing system of justice to collapse.

Mackie proposes³¹ a more sophisticated version. He argues that debates in moral philosophy frequently focus misleadingly on acts. This might be the case with the free-rider dilemma (which is of course one aspect of the right versus well-being contest). To attempt to dissuade the potential free-rider — or more accurately all potential free-riders — by offering him self-interested, experienced-based generalisations of outcome which favour the ‘justice option’ is impossible on an act-by-act basis. Nor does Hume’s all-or-nothing rule-utility help once it is acknowledged that the free-rider will not destroy the system.³² But if attention were shifted away from acts-in- isolation to practices or dispositions the case against free-riding would be stronger. The nub of Mackie’s case is that for human beings, operating in the uncertain swirl of other human beings all themselves similarly operating, some choices are impracticable. Some options are simply not ‘live’ options. This is because consequences become impossible to assess perfectly and even where they can be guessed at, it may well be unachievable to organise matters appropriately. Perhaps one must choose some practice, some disposition to act in a particular way, and each such choice necessarily (given human limitations) includes some particular acts that would not be chosen on their own.³³ This is a world in which the ‘live’ options are practices or dispositions — not particular acts.

may reasonably, out of prudent self-interest, adopt a regular practice and cultivate a disposition in oneself, or, again, enter into and try to maintain an interpersonal general practice with its associated dispositions, because the practice as a whole (in either case) is advantageous to oneself, although some of the separate acts which constitute it (either one’s own or those of other agents) will be against one’s interest.³⁴

This argument, that certain acts which cannot be seen as good even in the long, long-term may nevertheless be seen as inexorable side-effects of a good, desirable practice or disposition, improves upon Hume’s prudential case. By not omitting to consider what is and is not possible for creatures such as humans it cleverly makes more coherent how a general system of justice, where some acts in accordance with that system, but viewed in isolation, are actually harmful and unjust, can nevertheless be for the good.

I fear, however, that Mackie also fails to answer the free-rider. He simply does not manage to “show [conclusive] reasons why [each and every free-rider] should always act justly or honestly, even when [her] action, considered on its own, is harmful.”³⁵ He seems to move too cheerfully and optimistically from the conclusion that a scheme of justice most certainly can be good even though it unfortunately, and due to human variables necessarily, has bad particular consequences to the further conclusion that any free-rider would, for reasons of self-interest, apply this to her own case and choose justice. But to do this is to conflate the issue of whether society will be better off with inflexible rules with the free-rider’s calculation of whether to follow justice unswervingly. The two questions need to be evaluated from different vantages? In reality Mackie’s case to the potential free-rider boils down to an assertion that the only viable options for people are all-or-nothing dispositions (which is different from claiming that the only viable justicial systems contain all-or-nothing rules).

Must we conclude then that the task of convincing each and every individual that his self-interest (even in the broader sense in which self-interest is taken to be furthered when an agent happens to get happiness by, say, making some sacrifice for his lover) points him towards justice on all occasions is an impossible task? For the moral sceptic the answer quite simply is yes. Any moral theory must admit that all systems of justice have their free-riders. For the moral sceptic, there is the further admission that on her principles there is no way to answer some free-riders. To make that all-inclusive answer requires some form of moral objectivism — the reply that certain values and thus behaviours simply are right and mandated whatever the surrounding circumstances or costs. Without some such realist or objective foundation for obligation³⁸ there will always be occasional circumstances (given a particular type of person) in which self­interest and self-referential benevolence and even the instinctive desire for communal interaction are not convincingly re-directed towards justice.

If the task of convincing each and every person of the advantages of justice be hopeless for the moral sceptic does it further follow that that same moral sceptic cannot condemn the free-rider? Certainly not! Hume’s case for justice does not fail despite his inability to answer each and every knave.³⁹ To see why one need only recall Hume’s areasonable theory of action. Reason cannot ‘convince’ us how to act; it can merely guide us by illuminating probable causal consequences. But underlying such consequences are particular desires, propensities and inclinations and these vary between individuals. Certain people with certain inclinations will find the consequences, including the obvious risks, of free-riding quite acceptable, even attractive.⁴⁰ What the Humean can condemn⁴¹ then are these core inclinations. Their bad consequences make them ‘inappropriate’ and ‘undermining’ from a social perspective (and as Hume recognises they are ‘risky’ and more often than not ‘socially isolating’ from the free-rider’s perspective). None of this, though, need alter those inclinations and thus ‘convince’ potential free-riders not to free-ride. Any appeal to self-interest depends in part on the agent’s interests or passions. So the Humean can condemn the free­rider but only from a certain vantage, the vantage of him who has ‘appropriate’ inclinations. And this is what Hume is getting at in the passage cited above.⁴²

Finally, to accept that there are no arguments that can ‘convince’ all potential free-riders to desist, that no appeal to self­interest universally points to steadfast compliance with justice, is no more problematic than an inability ‘rationally’⁴³ to dissuade all potential revolutionaries, terrorists or traitors. In all such extreme cases a society must rely on the efficacy of legal sanctions, of the general standards which have become generally known and settled and which provide an enforceable external set of criteria. The problem of the free-rider graphically illustrates the need for established standards and enforceable sanctions which are positive and in that sense objective and mind-independent. Hume was well aware of the need for such legal standards. To those individuals whose hearts rebel not at the thought of villainy or baseness there is no other response the moral sceptic can give. She, like Hume, must ultimately rely on successful free-riding proving too difficult for most so inclined.

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