Why are there no political skeptics? There are plenty of religious skeptics, moral skeptics, metaphysical skeptics, afterlife skeptics, even science skeptics. But, apparently, there are no (or very few) political skeptics. Of course, there are a lot of political cynics, on both sides of the political divide. But they aren’t skeptics, because cynics don’t maintain that political truths are unknowable. In fact, most political cynics I know have strong political convictions. They do believe they have political knowledge and insight. They simply have abandoned hope that what they regard as politically right or most expedient will ever be achieved.
Politically Ignorant Confidence
It seems that nearly everyone who thinks about politics has strong political views, believing they know the truth about political matters, even about highly controversial issues, such as abortion rights, gun control, immigration policy, and international geopolitics. This is despite the fact that all such issues are complex subject domains that include claims about, and are evidentially downstream from, a confluence of ethics, law, sociology, philosophical anthropology, and, in many cases, economic theory, all of which are highly complicated, technical fields. Yet when it comes to politics, everyone seems fully convinced that they have genuine knowledge. Many even maintain a dogmatic confidence about their political views even when those who are far more informed about these subjects strongly disagree with them.
What explains this?
One of my sons speculates that it is because political opinions have very concrete ramifications on our lives. Since our views on, say, abortion and gun control translate into public policy through our voting choices, from a practical standpoint we may think we cannot afford to be skeptical. Better to vote, if only on one’s hunches, than to abstain and not affect public policy at all.
Start your day with Public Discourse
Sign up and get our daily essays sent straight to your inbox.This is an interesting and plausible explanation. But if true, then it’s a huge indictment and embarrassment to the populace because it reveals how people’s confidence in their convictions is unprincipled, having mainly to do with expediency and far less to do with evidence, which is the only relevant ground for our beliefs about just laws and public policies.
Or maybe widespread political dogmatism is a consequence of the fact that we Americans live in a democratic system where we are expected to vote on issues and to elect people who represent us on the issues, all of which encourages us to think we have knowledge, or at least fairly well justified beliefs, on political issues.
This, too, is a plausible explanation. But, like the previous proposal, if true it is also an embarrassment, since it too reveals a deep irrationality in the American populace. However much I may be expected to participate in the political system, this alone does not entail that I am competent to make informed political judgments. Only careful, fair-minded investigation and review of relevant arguments, data, and evidence pertaining to the issues can do that.
Unfortunately, few Americans engage in such careful inquiry. A recent Pew survey showed that there is a deep lack of understanding of government structure and process among Americans. This ignorance is fairly equally shared among Republicans and Democrats, with Republicans having a slight edge in civic knowledge. And an Institute for Citizens & Scholars survey found that an alarming percentage of young Americans lack basic civic knowledge.
If the American people know so little about even basic civics, then what should we expect them to know about the nuances of complex issues like abortion, gun control, immigration, and geopolitics? And how much serious inquiry have they made into more fundamental concepts of human rights that critically inform these public policy issues? Yet, Americans’ apparently universal self-assessment is that they do have real knowledge, and in many cases even dogmatic confidence, regarding all these things. What this reveals is that among the American people there is a significant gap between strength of conviction and genuine understanding when it comes to political issues and deeper concepts of the good that inform those convictions. In other words, we tend to think we know far more than we really do.
Compare this to the epistemics of healthcare decisions. Suppose you have a serious heart issue. If you were presented with several treatment options, you would not make your decision based on vague hunches, feelings, or emotions. Even if you found yourself positively hating a particular option for whatever reason (e.g., financial cost, expected recovery time, etc.), presumably you would not allow this to dictate your decision. Rather, you would vigorously pursue as much relevant information as you could, both about your diagnosis and the pros and cons of the various treatment options before you. You would ground your decision on as much relevant evidence as you could find.
If the American people know so little about even basic civics, then what should we expect them to know about the nuances of complex issues?
The New Tragedy of the Commons
This stands in sharp contrast to how Americans typically conceive of politics. As a nation we are suffering from a serious case of neglect when it comes to public understanding of civics and basic moral–political truths (e.g., that human rights are God-given, not mere human conventions). This is setting us up for a deeper, more catastrophic problem, one that bears a striking resemblance to the so-called “tragedy of the commons” famously articulated by Garrett Hardin more than a half century ago.
Hardin’s thesis is that there is a paradoxical conflict between individual interests and collective well-being when it comes to shared resources. For as individuals are permitted to use these resources for personal gain without regulation or collective oversight, the resources become depleted, ultimately harming everyone.
Hardin uses the example of livestock herders. Each individual herder benefits from adding more animals, but this leads to overgrazing. So as each herder, pursuing his own interest, increases his herd, this reduces shared grazing resources. According to Hardin, this use of shared resources without assuming the costs of grass replenishment is tantamount to exploitation, however inadvertent it may be on the part of individual players in this system. He says: “Ruin is the destination toward which all men rush, each pursuing his own best interest in a society that believes in the freedom of the commons.”
Contemporary American political practice reflects the logic of Hardin’s tragedy of the commons. The shared resource, in this case, is a republic that features elected representatives who together protect and serve the populace through legislation, regulations, and a variety of public services. All of this is only as functional as these structures and processes are managed rationally and responsibly. This requires a fair and reliable voting system as well as reasoned, respectful public discourse that informs the electorate regarding the issues and candidates for public office.
Second, by design, everyone shares the costs in a republican system. These costs include the electorate’s education about civics, the human good, current issues, and candidates. Such education comes in many forms, of course, including formal systems of education, whether through home, private, or public schooling. And upon graduation, a significant percentage of citizens must be expected to perpetually self-educate regarding ever-evolving public affairs at the local, state, and national levels.
In a republic, Hardinian exploitation takes the form of people “using” the political system and benefiting from its laws, regulations, and services without adequately contributing to it in the form of rational investment—studying the issues, learning about the candidates, and making voting decisions based on careful evidential review and consultation of ultimate human values. This is political consumption without replenishment, analogous to the herder’s livestock overgrazing without replenishing the fields. (Note here the important difference between public contribution in the form of rational investment and mere operational contributions, such as those made by administrative staff, election-day poll workers, and other functionaries who are needed to run the system.)
Finally, there is the element of public harm or, to use Hardin’s term, “ruin,” the growing symptoms of which are as evident as they are legion. Examples of these are erosion of public confidence in the system (which prompts or is an aspect of political cynicism) and shrinking political common ground and concomitant loss of effective cooperative problem-solving. The latter has led to devastating problems like the looming bankruptcy of the Social Security system. Other symptoms are the deep division regarding basic views of human rights (especially manifest in divergent approaches to gender, sexuality, parenting, and the sanctity of life), increasingly disrespectful and rancorous public discourse (evident in the rise of doxing and public slander), a dramatic increase in anti-government domestic terrorism (as the populace grows more desperate to effect change through non-rational means such as threats and violence), and a prevalent expectation that the incivility and political violence will only grow worse.
The Ruin of the Republic?
The new tragedy of the commons is much like the original Hardinian one. In sum, the populace is neglecting a fundamental public need, as individuals pursue their own interests without considering the broader social impact of their neglect. It is a potentially devastating neglect, specifically of rational resources crucial for the sustenance of a republic: a basic understanding of civics, current issues, public policies, and human rights. All the while, widespread political dogmatism persists. If uncorrected, this trend threatens to destroy our republic.
In his Politics, Aristotle observed, “What is common to many is least taken care of, for all men have greater regard for what is their own than for what they possess in common with others.” Or, in contemporary parlance, what is everybody’s business is nobody’s business. Apparently, this is true even when the stakes are as high as they come in public life: the survival of a republic and, thus, our own well-being. This is what makes the new tragedy of the commons especially tragic. Unfortunately, unlike the original tragedy of the commons, the public need that is being neglected and the corresponding depletion of vital public resources (in this case, the electorate’s knowledge and understanding) is not as tangible as that of environmental goods (which were Hardin’s primary focus). Thus, making the case for—let alone implementing—a public remedy in the form of a radical shift in educating the populace is much harder. Attempts to do so via public education, given the overwhelmingly depressing data on past efforts, are bound to be an abject failure. And widespread political dogmatism seems to suggest that there is insufficient will among the people to effectively motivate transformative self-education, whether at the individual level or through private systems.
So what is the solution? Is there a solution? It remains to be seen.
Image licensed via Adobe Stock.








