Abstract
John Rawls’s case for a duty of assistance is partially premised on the assumption that liberal societies have an interest in assisting burdened societies to become well-ordered: Not only are well-ordered peoples inherently peaceful, but negative spillover effects would also disappear where peoples have a just or decent institutional order. Drawing on relative deprivation theory, this article argues that the kind of limited assistance that Rawls proposes to help burdened societies to become well-ordered would not reduce but actually increase international terrorism and unwanted immigration by raising unwarranted expectations and enhancing the resources that are needed to emigrate. Thus, if Rawls is concerned about negative externalities, he should argue for either more extensive assistance or no assistance at all.
Introduction
Prompted mainly by John Rawls’s publication of The Law of Peoples, where he argues for a duty of assistance but against more extensive monetary transfers at the international level, cosmopolitan thinkers have engaged in a lively debate as to why Rawls’s domestic scheme of distributive justice must extend internationally. For the most part, this has been a normative debate, with proponents of international distributive justice paying little or no attention to the question of whether states have an interest in establishing such a scheme. This is particularly true of ‘nonrelational’ cosmopolitans such as Charles Jones (1999), Peter Singer (2004) and Brian Barry (2002), who believe principles of justice to apply irrespective of the relation in which the actors stand. But even ‘relational’ cosmopolitans such as the early Charles Beitz (1979), Thomas Pogge (1989) and Darrel Moellendorf (2002), for whom principles of justice are reliant on empirical facts of international interdependence, tend to neglect the interests of states. 1 It is only recently that Pogge (1998, 2002), turning from purely philosophical questions to practical ethics, has considered reasons for why self-interested states could adopt his proposed Global Resources Dividend. What should be evident from this brief overview of the literature is that the vast majority of arguments for international distributive justice are moral arguments, confirming Beitz’s (1994) statement that ‘it is hard to think of anyone who has defended institutional cosmopolitanism on other than cosmopolitan moral grounds’.
Taking the cue from Rawls, this article makes the case for more robust monetary transfers at the international level. But unlike most of the aforementioned cosmopolitan thinkers, it does so on prudential grounds. This is because Rawls’s case for a duty of assistance is essentially twofold: While liberal societies are morally obligated to assist burdened societies to become well-ordered, they also have an intrinsic interest to do so. Similar to the democratic peace thesis, Rawls assumes that a society of well-ordered peoples would be peaceful and stable. Seen in this way, we may think that the duty of assistance, which stops once burdened societies have joined the ranks of well-ordered peoples, contributes to international peace and stability. In this article, I will try to demonstrate that the contrary is the case. Rather than being a source of greater security, the duty of assistance is likely to generate perverse externalities that warrant a completely different approach to international distributive justice.
After reviewing Rawls’s principles of justice and his duty of assistance, I argue that Mexico and Saudi Arabia meet, or come close to meeting, Rawls’s criteria of a liberal and hierarchical well-ordered people, respectively. I then use the concept of relative deprivation to explain why it is not people in burdened societies that pose the greatest threat to international security but those in well-ordered but relatively poor societies such as Mexico and Saudi Arabia. I conclude by suggesting that there are not only good moral but also good prudential reasons to assist societies beyond the point of where they become well-ordered, thereby advancing a cosmopolitan realism that has been pioneered by Patrick Hayden (2005), Richard Beardsworth (2011) and William Scheuerman (2011).
Rawls’s principles of justice
In his seminal book A Theory of Justice, Rawls (1973) uses the concept of the original position to determine the principles of justice that apply to the basic institutions of society. Unaware of their future position, Rawls believes that the parties to the original position will choose a first principle that takes each person to have an equal right to the most extensive basic liberty compatible with a similar liberty for others and a second principle that stresses fair equality of opportunity (the fair equality of opportunity principle) and that inequalities of income and wealth are to be arranged that they are to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged (the difference principle). Yet a concept of right is not complete, says Rawls (1973: 108–109), unless it also considers principles of justice for states. Rawls (1973: 378) believes the domestic and international realm to be similar enough as to ‘extend the interpretation of the original position and think of the parties as representatives of different nations who must choose together the fundamental principles to adjudicate conflicting claims among states’. As in the domestic original position, Rawls imagines the parties to the international original position to be deprived of various kinds of information. What they do know, however, is that the society they represent is a nation-state – in itself a uniquely modern idea and historically contingent condition (Hayden, 2002: 89) – that is more or less self-sufficient. 2 As such, neither the characteristics of the international original position nor the resulting principles are directly analogous to those of the domestic original position.
For the next 20 years, Rawls resisted further exploration of the international implications of his theory. It was only in 1993 that he turned his attention to the question of international justice. In his essay ‘The Law of Peoples’, Rawls (1993b) takes up the idea of an international original position in which representatives of societies with a just or decent institutional order decide over the principles that are to govern them. These liberal and hierarchical peoples, which together constitute a society of well-ordered peoples, are contrasted with outlaw regimes and burdened societies, which either ‘refuse to acknowledge a reasonable law of peoples’ or ‘whose historical, social, and economic circumstances make their achieving a well-ordered regime, whether liberal or hierarchical, difficult if not impossible’ (Rawls, 1993b: 72). 3 While in this essay Rawls (1993b: 55) extends the list of principles to include the principle that ‘[p]eoples are to honor human rights’, there is no international analogue to the difference principle.
Rawls’s (1999: 37) fullest and final portrayal of international justice is to be found in his book The Law of Peoples, where, in addition to the seven principles outlined in his essay of the same title, he includes an eighth principle, which specifies that ‘[p]eoples have a duty to assist other peoples living under unfavourable conditions that prevent their having a just or decent political and social regime’. But to conclude that this principle is analogous to the difference principle would be premature. For even though it accomplishes some results that an international version of the difference principle would also accomplish, lifting burdened societies well above the subsistence level (Reidy, 2007: 197; Williams, 2011: 70–71), there is no requirement under the duty of assistance to reduce inequalities once burdened societies have attained just or decent institutions. 4 In fact, the duty ‘allows for a world within which the gap between the most and the least wealthy peoples continually grows’ (Reidy, 2007: 228).
On what grounds, then, does Rawls object to an international version of the difference principle? In accordance with his self-sufficiency thesis, Rawls seems to subscribe to what Pogge (2002) calls ‘explanatory nationalism’, the view that a nation’s (lack of) wealth solely depends upon factors internal to that nation: The great social evils in poorer societies are likely to be oppressive government and corrupt elites; the subjection of women abetted by unreasonable religion, with the resulting overpopulation relative to what the economy of the society can decently sustain. (Rawls, 1993b: 77) I believe that the causes of the wealth of a people and the forms it takes lie in their political culture and in the religious, philosophical, and moral traditions that support the basic structure of their political and social institutions, as well as in the industriousness and cooperative talents of its members, all supported by their political virtues. (Rawls, 1999: 108)
Although Rawls never says that his view of explanatory nationalism militates against an international version of the difference principle, Beitz (1999: 279) notes, it is not difficult to see how this view could influence thinking about such a principle: When peoples acquire wealth simply by adopting the right civic and political virtues, an international counterpart to the difference principle becomes ‘superfluous’ (see also Reidy, 2007: 211–212; Williams, 2011: 41–42).
Yet Rawls (1993b: 77) is anxious to defend his less demanding duty of assistance: ‘The obligation of wealthier societies to assist in trying to rectify matters is in no way diminished, only made more difficult’. In any case, ‘merely dispensing funds will not suffice … though money is often essential’ (Rawls, 1999: 108–109). Financial aid needs to be complemented by ‘an emphasis on human rights’ (Rawls, 1999: 109) and ‘certain kinds of advice’ (Rawls, 1999: 110), even though the latter two kinds of assistance (or rather: guidance) might easily infringe on Rawls’s principle of autonomy (Williams, 2011: 66). By means of this, Rawls hopes burdened societies to attain and be able to maintain just or decent institutions over time.
Once burdened societies have become well-ordered, the law of peoples is ‘indifferent’ to how much wealth peoples acquire (Rawls, 1999: 120). Writers such as Leif Wenar (2001: 84–85) and Simon Caney (2005: 128) have taken this as a starting point for launching their critique of Rawls. Interpreting Rawls to say that peoples ‘have no interest in greater wealth’ and that they are ‘blissfully indifferent’ to their economic status relative to other peoples, Wenar (2001: 84–85) wonders ‘whether Rawls’s characterization simply loses touch with reality, as a drive for material prosperity seems a fixed point in the motivation of the world’s nations’. But this critique misses the point, because it is not that peoples do not want more wealth (Rawls only says that the law of peoples is indifferent to the distribution of wealth above the level that is necessary to sustain just or decent institutions), but that the sources of greater wealth are to be found within the domestic sphere. It is precisely because of Rawls’s assumption of explanatory nationalism that he opposes an international version of the difference principle, not because states do not desire greater wealth as such.
This, however, is a far-fetched assumption – Chris Brown (2000) calls it unrealistic and naïve, demonstrating a lack of interest in the actual functioning of the international economy – that needs to be rejected. 5 Even Mathias Risse (2005), David Miller (2007) and Huw L. Williams (2011), who come to defend Rawls, have to admit that internal factors, while crucial, are not the only ones that determine the economic success of a society. As writers such as Onora O’Neill (1997), Beitz (1999), Allen Buchanan (2000), Andrew Hurrell (2001), Pogge (2002) and Gillian Brock (2009) have pointed out, Rawls not only ignores that global factors directly determine a nation’s level of wealth; he also brackets the profound and enduring effects these factors have on a nation’s domestic policies and their outcomes. While these writers run the risk of ‘explanatory globalism’, of placing all responsibility on the external, they help to direct our attention to the important causal role that global factors such as colonial conquest, corporate interests, financial regimes and trade practices play in the global distribution of wealth. Since there is a global basic structure that has profound and enduring effects on the prospects of its peoples, Buchanan (2000: 705–706) concludes, principles of distributive justice for it are required, just as principles of distributive justice are required for the domestic basic structure.
Rawls’s duty of assistance
In the remainder of the article, I will sketch a prudential argument to support and supplement the normative argument for an international version of the difference principle outlined above. To do so, I will consider Rawls’s eighth principle, the duty of assistance, in greater detail. While the duty of assistance is more demanding than is generally acknowledged (see Reidy, 2007; Williams, 2011), it is a limited duty in the sense that the requirement to assist stops once burdened societies have attained just or decent institutions (Rawls, 1999: 111): [I]ts aim is to help burdened societies to be able to manage their own affairs reasonably and rationally and eventually to become members of the Society of well-ordered Peoples. This defines the ‘target’ of assistance. After it is achieved, further assistance is not required, even though the now well-ordered society may still be relatively poor.
But why would well-ordered peoples comply with even such a modest duty? Rawls (1999: 112) seems to be rather sceptical about the moral capacities of peoples. Nonetheless, in line with his idea of stability for the right reasons, he hopes that peoples will develop affective ties over time, so that eventually ‘they become willing to make sacrifices for each other’ (Rawls, 1999: 113). Yet this ‘mutual caring’, which is the outcome of peoples’ ‘fruitful cooperative efforts and common experiences over a considerable period of time’, seems to be restricted to well-ordered peoples, because only they are characterized as cooperative entities that engage in mutually advantageous trade (Rawls, 1999: 42–43, 113; see also Reidy, 2007: 201–204). Paradoxically, then, peoples acquire the motive to offer assistance when assistance is no longer required.
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Since moral motivations are not so readily available to well-ordered peoples with regard to burdened societies, Rawls needs an alternative motivational basis for why these peoples should act upon the duty of assistance. In his chapter on burdened societies, he therefore appeals to the advantages accruing to them (Rawls, 1999: 113; italics in original): It is characteristic of liberal and decent peoples that they seek a world in which all peoples have a well-ordered regime. At first we may suppose this aim is moved by each people’s self-interest, for such regimes are not dangerous but peaceful and cooperative.
Unfortunately, Rawls does not specify in what sense burdened societies could be ‘dangerous’. All he says is that burdened societies ‘are not expansive or aggressive’ (Rawls, 1999: 116). We thus have to come up with other ways in which burdened societies may pose a danger. Brian J. Shaw (2005: 225) suggests that one could ‘point to the threat posed to global security not by burdened peoples’ bellicose foreign policies, but by failed states’ willingness to shelter, or inability to expel, terrorist organizations’. Indeed, terrorism seems to be one of the negative spillover effects that Rawls had in mind when he warned against burdened societies. A negative spillover effect that Rawls (1999: 8) explicitly mentions is that of people ‘migrating into another people’s territory without their consent’. According to him, ‘the problem of immigration’, which is caused, among other things, by ‘the absence of decent government’, would ‘disappear’ in a society of well-ordered peoples (Rawls, 1999: 9). While certainly not on an equal footing, international terrorism and unwanted immigration are seen as two negative externalities that motivate liberal societies to assist burdened societies to become well-ordered.
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While the duty of assistance is just that, a moral duty, it is presented to well-ordered peoples more as a command of reason than as a demand of justice (Shaw, 2005: 225; see also Audard, 2007: 273; Beitz, 2000: 689; Cabrera, 2001: 176; Risse, 2005: 109): To argue that liberal nations might enjoy enhanced security and prosperity should they help burden peoples achieve minimally just and stable institutions is to appeal neither to the moral resources of any liberal comprehensive doctrine nor even to political liberalism’s own political virtues of tolerance and reasonableness. It is only to summon decent nations to their strategic self-interest.
If it can be shown that the duty of assistance does not suit the ‘fundamental interests’ (Rawls, 1999: 123) of well-ordered peoples, not because the threat of unwanted immigration and international terrorism is exaggerated but because these negative externalities are stimulated by what the duty of assistance tries to accomplish, we can defeat Rawls’s argument on its own prudential grounds. As an illustration, I will consider the cases of Mexico and Saudi Arabia – two countries that by Rawlsian standards would qualify as a liberal and hierarchical people, respectively.
Mexico and Saudi Arabia as well-ordered peoples
In his essay ‘The Law of Peoples’, Rawls (1993b) sketches four ideal types of regimes – liberal, hierarchical, outlawed and burdened – against which real-world societies can be judged. 8 Both types of well-ordered peoples, liberal and hierarchical, are non-expansionist and possess a legal system that is effectively regulated by some public conception of justice and that honours some basic human rights (Rawls, 1993b: 43). But whereas the former have a liberal-democratic government, the latter are characterized by what Rawls (1993b: 52) calls a consultation hierarchy. Although Rawls is hesitant to give any real-world examples, there is little doubt that the member states of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and, as such, the People’s Federal Republic of Mexico, come closest to his description of a liberal people. While Mexico, with its history of organized crime, political corruption and human rights violations, is certainly not a flagship-democracy, it comes closer to being a liberal people than a hierarchical one – or, in fact, any other of Rawls’s ideal types.
The classification of Saudi Arabia as a hierarchical people is more controversial. Michael W. Doyle (2006: 115) thinks that Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar and the United Arab Emirates, but not Saudi Arabia, are among the ‘Kazanistans’ that Rawls has in mind when he describes the hierarchical Islamic societies that are decent enough to be part of the society of well-ordered peoples. Applying Rawls’s three requirements for a hierarchical society to be well-ordered to Saudi society, Farid Abdel-Nour (1999: 326–327) comes to a different conclusion than Doyle: Regarding the first criterion, which holds that the society in question must not have aggressive aims, Abdel-Nour points to the fact that Saudi Arabia has been a relatively peaceful member of the society of states. 9 The country also fulfils the second criterion, requiring that the legal system must be guided by a common good conception of justice, in as much as Saudi law is based on the Sharia interpreted according to the Wahhabi tradition. The only serious doubt, and the main reason for why Doyle does not regard Saudi Arabia as a candidate country, is with regard to the third criterion, specifying that the legal system must respect the most basic human rights.
As Doyle (2006: 118) states, ‘[f]reedom of religion in Saudi Arabia is virtually nonexistent for those who do not adhere to the Wahhabi interpretation of Sunni Islam’ and ‘[w]oman in Saudi Arabia are second-class citizens’. While it is undeniable that Saudi Arabia has one of the poorest human rights records in the world (Freedom House, 2016), Rawls’s third criterion demands only a very minimum set of rights, including the right to life (understood as the means to subsistence and security of ethnic groups from mass murder and genocide), to liberty (understood as freedom from slavery and serfdom), to formal equality (understood as similar cases must be treated similarly) and to personal property (Rawls, 1999: 65, 78–80), all of which are guaranteed by Saudi law, even though the actual working conditions of many foreign labourers in Saudi Arabia and, in fact, all the other Arab Gulf states that Doyle counts as instances of hierarchical peoples may amount to forced occupation (Human Rights Watch, 2015). Absent from Rawls’s list of human rights, Hayden (2002: 131) notes, are several of the so-called ‘liberal’ rights, such as rights to freedom of opinion, expression and the press; to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; to political participation; to democracy; and to rights against discrimination based on religion, ethnicity, race and gender.
While it is true that the right to liberty also demands ‘a sufficient measure of liberty of conscience to ensure freedom of religion and thought[,] … this liberty of conscience may not be as extensive nor as equal for all members of society’ (Rawls, 1999: 65). Accordingly, by Rawls’s own account, which has been criticized as being ‘too forgiving of serious forms of oppression’ (Tesón, 1995: 79; see also Beitz, 2000: 687; Buchanan, 2008: 151), the treatment of the Shia minority, which is allowed to attend mosques but not to worship publicly, does not constitute a violation of this right. Nor does the treatment of Saudi women as second-class citizens violate the right to formal equality, since this right requires equal treatment only among members of similar groups and not among members of dissimilar groups. Notwithstanding the fact that in a hierarchical society there must be some marginalized groups that, due to class, race, nationality, religion or gender, are not entitled to claim the same rights as those higher up in the hierarchy (Hayden, 2002: 131–132), there have been some, for Saudi Arabian standards, ambitious reforms under the crown prince and de-facto leader Mohammed bin Salman al-Saud, giving women the right to vote, stand in elections, attend sporting events, compete in the Olympics and, most recently, drive a car. One might therefore call Saudi Arabia an ‘aspiring decent society’ (Förster, 2014), even more so when one considers that Rawls treats decent hierarchical societies as an ideal type so that there ‘may not be any given society that exactly embodies all his criteria’ (Doyle, 2006: 120). In fact, ‘[i]f we set the standards very high, neither [a just nor a decent society] exists’ (Rawls, 1999: 75).
Having established that Mexico and Saudi Arabia meet, or at least come close to meeting, Rawls’s criteria for a well-ordered people, there would be no reason, and surely no prudential reason, to assist these countries, even though most of their people (and their human rights records) are relatively poor. 10 Yet two of America’s greatest security challenges at the beginning of the twenty-first century arise exactly from these two countries: While Al-Qaeda’s principle recruiting ground for the terror attacks of 9/11 lay not in some country ‘burdened by unfavourable conditions’ (Rawls, 1999: 106) but in Saudi Arabia, 11 more than half of all illegal immigrants in the United States are of Mexican origin. 12 What the two cases seem to suggest (and not more than this – my overall argument does not depend on the validity of these cases) is that it is not so much people in the world’s most impoverished societies – what Rawls would call burdened societies – that pose a security threat, but those within well-ordered but relatively poor societies. 13 How are we to explain this?
Here it is useful to take a look at the causes of immigration and terrorism. With regard to the former, Rawls (1999: 9) mentions several: One is the persecution of religious and ethnic minorities, the denial of their human rights. Another is political oppression of various forms, as when the members of the peasant classes are conscripted and hired out by monarchs as mercenaries in their dynastic wars for power and territory. Often people are simply fleeing from starvation, as in the Irish famine of the 1840s. Yet famines are often themselves in large part caused by political failures and the absence of decent government. The last cause I mention is population pressure in the home territory, and among its complex of causes is the inequality and subjection of women.
While these are all important causes of immigration, not included in this list ‘is one of the greatest causes of immigration, economic inequality’ (Nussbaum, 2004: 7; see also Tan, 2004: 129–130). In order to close this gap, I will consider the concept of relative deprivation, which has the great advantage that it provides not only a (partial) explanation of migration but also of terrorism.
Relative deprivation and migration
Developed by Samuel Stouffer et al. (1949), the concept of relative deprivation, while widely used across the social sciences, has not been given due attention in debates around international distributive justice and Rawls’s duty of assistance in particular. In its most basic terms, it postulates an absence of opportunities relative to expectations. Herold Saunders (1959) was the first to apply the concept to migration theory. According to him, migration is caused by an imbalance in the actual condition of living and the desired standard of living: ‘[E]very person who has a discrepancy between his scale of living and his standard of living is a potential migrant’ (Saunders, 1959: 223). Whether the person becomes an actual migrant depends, first and foremost, on his or her capacity to move to the immigration destination (Saunders, 1959: 221). It is assumed that only with a certain amount of income and a certain standard of education can people afford the costs associated with migration. 14 Once the person has migrated, the established communication channels between the country of departure and the country of destination are likely to spread information about the better living conditions in the latter, animating people in the former to judge their own living conditions against the new standards. Because of their increased aspirations, community members who may have felt affluent will feel relatively deprived, inducing more and more people to migrate. Migration, then, is not so much caused by absolute poverty than it is caused by perceptions of relative deprivation that are fuelled by economic (Böhning, 2004) and human (Czaika and de Haas, 2012) development. As Hein De Haas (2007: 833; italics in original) notes, ‘alleviating absolute poverty and achieving some degree of “development” in the form of increasing income, education and access to information not only enable but also motivate more people to go abroad’. While in a later article, Mathias Czaika and de Haas (2012: 423) make clear that migration cannot be understood satisfactorily in terms of relative deprivation alone, ‘there can be no doubt that this factor matters a great deal’. Among researchers of migration, there is now a ‘consensus … that rather than stemming or containing migration pressure, development can stimulate migration’ (Nyberg-Sørensen et al., 2002: 10).
This ‘development-migration-nexus’ might explain the seeming paradox that Mexico, an advanced developing country, is the world’s largest net emigration country. Philip Martin (2004) found that in many developing countries, migration follows a hump-shaped pattern: By increasing the resources and knowledge that are needed to emigrate, socio-economic development translates directly into out-migration. As the social network between the sending and receiving country becomes denser, migration pressure further enhances. Only when the income differential gets smaller and living conditions in the sending country approach the living conditions in the receiving country will emigration stagnate and eventually decrease. With reference to Martin’s ‘migration hump’, Henrik Olesen (2002) introduced the term ‘migration band’ for countries that are in the phase where they produce large numbers of emigrants. He sets the band from $1500 to $8000 per capita and finds that there is hardly any emigration in countries below and above the band because their inhabitants are either ‘too poor to move’ or ‘rich enough not to desperately need to move’ (Olesen, 2002: 141). With $8810 per capita in 2002 (Olesen, 2002: 142) – and $9707 in 2016 (World Bank, 2018) – Mexico was slightly above the band, suggesting that the country is about to transit out of the migration band. Other studies come to the conclusion that economically motivated migration diminishes when income differentials are narrowed to 5:1 (Straubhaar, 1988), 4:1 (Martin, 2004) or 3:1 (Mamadou, 1995). With an US-Mexican income gap of 9:1 (Toledo, 2017), the largest between any two contiguous countries in the world (Huntington, 2004: 32), Mexico is likely to remain a migrant-sending country for many years to come.
Although there seems to be ‘no national interest greater for the United States than to help lift all of North America to a new level of prosperity and social justice’ (Pastor, 2001: 136; see also Hanson, 2005: 360), US bilateral assistance to Mexico has been negligible.
15
As Andrew Hurrell (2007: 258) complains, the relationship between the United States, Canada and Mexico is characterized by high levels of deprivation in Mexico, a good deal of which can be implicated in problems likely to have negative spillover effects on the United States; and by two rich and privileged partners well able to afford assistance. Yet there is a total absence of debate on even minimal duties of assistance or distributive justice.
In light of this, it is not surprising that Robert Pastor’s (2001) proposal for a North American Development Fund, designed to lessen migration pressure from Mexico, has gone unheard so far. Not so in Europe, where the European Commission launched such a fund at the 2015 Valetta Summit of Migration in an attempt to fight the root causes of unwanted migration from Africa. Yet the European Union Emergency Trust Fund for Africa, endowed with €1.8 billion, is likely to have the reverse effect since the eligible countries are mainly located within the Sahel zone, Africa’s poorest region. As German chancellor Angela Merkel (2016: 3) had to admit in a recent newspaper article, migrants from Africa are not necessarily the poorest of their countries. For example, there are hardly any refugees from Niger because people are having such a hard time to earn their daily bread that only a few of them can afford to leave the country or even think about it.
16
Channelling funds to low-income countries such as Niger will not help migrants to stay at home, but, on the contrary, increase aspirations and release constraints on outward mobility. As the US Commission for the Study of International Migration and Cooperative Economic Development (1990) already recognized in 1990, development ‘tends to stimulate migration in the short to medium term by raising expectations and enhancing people’s ability to migrate’.
In this section, I have tried to demonstrate that it is rarely the poorest that migrate, but those in advanced developing countries, whose aspirations and capacities increase faster than the employment and livelihood opportunities in their countries. Translated in Rawlsian terms, it is not people in burdened societies that are most likely to migrate, but people in well-ordered but relatively poor societies. If this is correct, Rawls’s duty of assistance, which, as we saw, is partially grounded in self-interest, would be ineffective at best and counterproductive at worst. In the next section, I will argue that a similar case can be made with regard to terrorism.
Relative deprivation and terrorism
In 1970, Tedd Gurr (1970) applied the concept of relative deprivation to frustration-aggression theory. 17 He identified three types of discrepancy between value capabilities (the goods and conditions of life which people think they are capable of getting and keeping) and value expectations (the goods and conditions of life to which people believe they are rightfully entitled): Decremental deprivation (value capabilities decline while value expectations remain relatively constant), aspirational deprivation (value capabilities remain relatively constant while value expectations intensify) and progressive deprivation (a simultaneous decrease in value capabilities and increase in value expectations). With a view to economic values, examples of decremental deprivation are declining production of material goods and deteriorating terms of trade (Gurr, 1970: 46). Aspirational deprivation is likely to be the result of what Gurr calls the demonstration effect: Through new communicative media, a group on a lower standard of living becomes acquainted with higher standards of living and comes to desire the benefits of the higher standard (Gurr, 1970: 92–93). Finally, progressive deprivation occurs when there is both a worsening of a group’s economic position and an exposure of that group to the higher living standard of some reference group (Gurr, 1970: 93). Any of these forms of relative deprivation creates frustrations, which, when prolonged and politicized, are likely to translate into aggression (Gurr, 1970: 12–13, 37).
While Gurr’s theory is not a theory of terrorism as such, after the terror attacks of 9/11, it was invoked by several terrorism experts to caution against terrorist acts of violence.
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Bard O’Neill and Donald Alberts (2007: 312), for example, write that the frustrations that underlie many terrorist acts are often accentuated ‘where, as Ted Gurr points out, there is a sense of deprivation relative to other groups or one’s own expectations’. Drawing on what Gurr calls decremental deprivation – a discrepancy between capabilities and expectations as a result of declining capabilities and constant expectations – Susan Rice (2006: 77), National Security Advisor in the second Obama administration, points out that ‘Saudi Arabia, home to several 9/11 hijackers, experienced rapidly declining GDP’. Especially Gurr’s assumptions about aspirational deprivation – a discrepancy between capabilities and expectations as a result of constant capabilities and increasing expectations – have elicited keen interest from researchers of terrorism. James Gow (2005: 75), for instance, suggests that ‘in an increasingly interconnected world … [c]loser links can mean a sharper sense of differences – and so the potential for resentment that can be mobilized to support anti-Western political violence’. By the same token, Moghaddam (2005: 163) observes that rapidly rising expectations, nourished by images of affluence and democratic lifestyles spread by the international mass media, have fueled feelings of deprivation among vast populations, particularly in Asia, Africa, and parts of Eastern Europe. This groundswell of frustration and anger has given rise to greater sympathy for extremist ‘antiestablishment’ tactics.
Consider also James Kiras (2007: 486), who notes that rising standards of living and greater access to educational opportunities associated with globalization may lead to increased expectations that if unrealized could lead to the adoption of extreme political views and action against ‘the system’ that has thwarted more conventional ambitions.
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Given an increasing number of ‘frustrated achievers’ (Taspinar, 2009: 79), Kim Cragin and Peter Chalk (2003: xi) have called for a massive increase in development aid on the ground that if development initiatives lack sufficient financial support, they are likely to act as a double-edged sword, erroneously inflating the hopes and aspirations of local communities. When these expectations are not met, there is a high chance that social and economic policies will backfire, triggering resentment and renewed support for terrorist violence.
There is, indeed, some evidence that not only the terrorism studies community but also the international donor community has become aware of the danger of relative (rather than absolute) deprivation. In 2003, the Development Assistance Committee (DAC) of the OECD (2003: 8) published the document ‘A Development Co-operation Lens on Terrorism Prevention’, in which it encourages donor governments to [g]ive greater attention in donor programming to young people’s job opportunities and education to prevent the emergence of fragile, disenfranchised youth. Build their skills and abilities to meet their future needs and aspirations, especially for educated males, who are prime targets for terrorist organizations. Increase focus on people transiting out of poverty. Their frustrations and educated energy can make them useful foot soldiers and supporters for terrorism. Reducing absolute income poverty remains vital, but approaches to inequality and exclusion should be given increased priority.
The document is noteworthy for that its analysis of the causes of terrorism closely mirrors Gurr’s analysis of the causes of aggression. Anxious that the destitute people of the South could feel deprived relative to the affluent people of the North, the DAC is concerned not so much with the absolute category of poverty than with the relative category of inequality. The document draws particular attention to the dangers of aspirational deprivation: ‘These young people, through modern communications technologies, clearly perceive a gap between their own prospects and others’ – in their own countries and elsewhere. This can lead to feelings of frustration and despair’ (OECD, 2003: 14). In order to avoid such fatal life-style comparisons, ‘fostering political, ethnic, ideological and religious extremism’, the document concludes that ‘globalisation must be perceived as, and be, an “inclusive” process’ (OECD, 2003: 17–18).
The DAC’s approach stands in stark contrast to the popular but unproven thesis that it is primarily impoverished and uneducated people who turn to terrorism. As George W. Bush (2002) and many other policy-makers declared after 9/11, ‘[w]e fight against poverty because hope is an answer to terror’. Fifteen years and several studies on, there is an emerging consensus that not dire poverty, but inflated hopes are fuelling terror. 20 Even the United States Agency for International Development (2011: 3) ‘has learned that frustrated expectations of new elites for economic improvement and social mobility are far more significant drivers [of violent extremism and insurgency] than poverty’. As James Wolfensohn (2002: 43), former president of the World Bank, explains, ‘[r]ather than responding to deprivation by lashing out at others, the vast majority of poor people worldwide devote their energy to the day-in, day-out struggle to secure income, food and opportunities for their children’. Their daily struggle for physical survival prevents the poorest of the poor from self-consciously becoming aware of their relative deprivation. Lifting those people above the subsistence level, as Rawls’s duty of assistance obliges us to do, would induce more, not less, people to adopt extremist views and engage in terrorist activities. Thus, it looks as if not only migration but also terrorism follows a hump-shaped pattern.
In this section, I have tried to demonstrate that it is rarely the poorest that turn to terrorism, but those transiting out of poverty, whose heightened value capabilities cannot keep up with their even higher value expectations. Translated in Rawlsian terms, it is not people in burdened societies that are most likely to engage in terrorist activities, but people in well-ordered but relatively poor societies. If this is correct, Rawls’s duty of assistance is flawed not only from a moral point of view but also from a prudential point of view.
Conclusion
In this article, I have sketched a prudential argument that can help to underpin the more normative arguments of cosmopolitan thinkers. While most of these thinkers cannot see anything wrong with Rawls’s duty of assistance, apart from that it does not go far enough, I have tried to show that the duty of assistance is fundamentally flawed in that it would precipitate the very negative externalities it is trying to prevent. Even though an end to war among peoples may be achievable in a society of well-ordered peoples regulated by the law of peoples, I have argued that this would be a society in which important security challenges arise in the form of unwanted immigration and international terrorism.
In doing so, I considered the relative deprivation theories of Saunders and Gurr whose premise is essentially the same: People feel deprived in relation to the higher living standards of some reference group. Yet the conclusions the two social scientists draw from this could hardly be any more different: While Saunders thinks that relatively deprived people will try to become part of the reference group, Gurr believes that relatively deprived people will try to cause harm to the reference group. This leaves us with one explanation for two phenomena – migration and terrorism. In order to substantiate this causal link, which, in this article, I was only able to touch on, more empirical work needs to be done. 21 Of course there is a whole range of (interrelated) social, economic, political and cultural factors that play into a person’s decision to move to, or to inflict harm on, another country, but a sense of relative deprivation seems to be chief among them.
What does this mean for the international donor community? The limited monetary transfers demanded by Rawls’s duty of assistance could hardly be the solution as they only stimulate those feelings of relative deprivation. Instead of lifting The Bottom Billion out of poverty, as greed-theorist Paul Collier (2008) has suggested in his acclaimed book, we should rather seek advice from grievance-theorists who try to address grave inequalities. Czaika and de Haas (2012: 437) have calculated that a ‘hypothetical reduction in bilateral relative deprivation of 10% would on average decrease bilateral stocks of migrants by about 0.7%, i.e. globally by about 1.2 million migrants’. While this is not much, for reasons of social cohesion and brain drain it is still better to move resources to people than people to resources (Tan, 2004: 128). More (and better) development aid, however, can only be part of the solution. 22 More importantly, developed countries need to refrain from the harmful lending, trade and subsidy practices that render it so hard for developing countries to catch up. In other words, developed countries not only have to live up to their ‘positive duty’ of doing more good but also to their ‘negative duty’ of doing less bad (Pogge, 2002), for it is these wrongs that amplify feelings of relative deprivation and that, after all, make it more likely that relative deprived people, instead of trying to become part of the reference group, seek to cause harm to the reference group.
Does this mean that the international donor community should be ignorant about poverty? Certainly not from a moral point of view. 23 But also from a prudential point of view, developed countries would be ill-advised to neglect the plight of the poor, at least if we assume with modernization theory that it is only a matter of time that burdened societies reach the stage of modernity. If developed countries were to fulfil the positive and negative duties they have towards burdened societies, this would accelerate the modernization process of these societies tremendously. What is needed, then, is a much greater effort to allow societies to transit more quickly through and out of the migration and terrorism band. Such an effort, which does not stop at the point where societies become well-ordered, may sound utopian, but given the enormous costs 24 and tragedies 25 that are associated with conventional policies, both of which are likely to increase as global inequality is on the rise (OECD, 2014), it is not an effort beyond moral and prudential judgement.
Unfortunately, most cosmopolitans only engage in the former, making themselves vulnerable to the realist critique that their moral premises are like castles built in the air. As Richard Beardsworth (2011: 14) warns, ‘idealistic constructions that are immediately undone by realities on the ground’ can only be ‘counter-effective to the cause of cosmopolitanism’. Its cause would be much better served if cosmopolitans could show that certain projects are not only desirable but also feasible. In a world of growing interdependence, Beardsworth (2011: 4) argues, the normative status of cosmopolitanism thought must indeed no longer be distinct from empirical political reality. For Hayden (2005: 9), too, cosmopolitanism has become ‘realistically utopian’ in the sense that it is ‘capable of directing and applying its robust normative vision within an understanding of how the world “really is”’. While moral judgement remains essential in that it tells us what constitutes a just society, it is hard to think of any good reason for why prudential judgement should not help us to move closer to such society.
