I think this would be a genuine cause for concern, not because I don’t think that people should be able to enter whatever relationships please them in principle, but because in practice I’m concerned about people being coerced into signing contracts harmful to themselves. Not sure where I’d draw the line exactly; this is probably a Hard Problem.
Well, there you go. Any restriction on freedom of contract can be rationalized as preventing something “harmful,” one way or another.
And it’s not a hard problem at all. It is in fact very simple: when people like something for ideological reasons, they will use the libertarian argument to support its legality, and when they dislike something ideologically, they will invent rationalizations for why the libertarian argument doesn’t apply in this particular case. The only exceptions are actual libertarians, for whom the libertarian argument itself carries ideological weight, but they are an insignificant fringe minority. For everyone else, the libertarian argument is just a useful rhetorical tool to be employed and recognized only when it produces favorable conclusions.
In particular, when it comes to marriage, outside of the aforementioned libertarian fringe, there is a total and unanimous agreement that marriage is not a contract whose terms can be set freely, but rather an institution that is entered voluntarily, but whose terms are dictated (and can be changed at any subsequent time) by the state. (Even the prenuptial agreements allow only very limited and uncertain flexibility.) Therefore, when I hear a libertarian argument applied to marriage, I conclude that there are only two possibilities:
The speaker is an honest libertarian. However, this means either that he doesn’t realize how wildly radical the implications of the libertarian position are, or that he actually supports these wild radical implications. (Suppose for example that a couple voluntarily sign a marriage contract stipulating death penalty, or even just flogging, for adultery. How can one oppose the enforcement of this contract without renouncing the libertarian principle?)
The speaker has an ideological vision of what the society should look like, and in particular, what the government-dictated universal terms of marriage should be (both with regards to the institution of marriage itself and its tremendous implications on all the other social institutions). He uses the libertarian argument because its implications happen to coincide with his ideological position in this particular situation, but he would never accept a libertarian argument in any other situation in which it would imply something disfavored by his ideology.
And it’s not a hard problem at all. It is in fact very simple: when people like something for ideological reasons, they will use the libertarian argument to support its legality, and when they dislike something ideologically, they will invent rationalizations for why the libertarian argument doesn’t apply in this particular case.
I would like to point out that the above reads just as well with both instances of the word “libertarian” removed.
I conclude that there are only two possibilities: 1. The speaker is an honest libertarian. [...] 2. The speaker has an ideological vision of what the society should look like [...] He uses the libertarian argument because its implications happen to coincide with his ideological position in this particular situation, but he would never accept a libertarian argument in any other situation in which it would imply something disfavored by his ideology.
While I agree that strict adherence to libertarian principles is rare, it does not therefore follow that most appeals to libertarian principles are merely opportunistic argumentative ploys. Libertarianism is a continuum, not a boolean; it seems to me that people can simultaneously have both an ideological attachment to some particular vision of what they want society to look like, and also an ideological attachment to libertarianism, and that these conflicting desires get traded off against each other in some proportion. The end result is that people end up saying, “People should be free to do whatever they like, except x_1, x_2, … x_n, which are obviously harmful.” I agree with you that the x_i are not chosen on any sort of neutral, principled basis, but that only means that libertarian arguments have limited force, not no force. There are some things I disapprove of so strongly that I want them to be illegal, but that doesn’t mean I want everything I disapprove of to be illegal.
Libertarianism is a continuum, not a boolean; it seems to me that people can simultaneously have both an ideological attachment to some particular vision of what they want society to look like, and also an ideological attachment to libertarianism, and that these conflicting desires get traded off against each other in some proportion.
I agree that this is possible in principle, but from what I observe in practice, libertarian arguments have extremely low weight in such trade-offs, except for the tiny minority of principled libertarians, who form a small and reasonably well-delineated cluster. When it comes to issues that are otherwise neutral and uncontroversial, people will normally default to the libertarian position. However, as soon as an issue has any bearing on ideology, tradition, religion, ethnic identity, political power, economic interests, status hierarchy, etc., etc., people normally assign near-zero weight to libertarian arguments, except insofar as they provide useful material for unprincipled rhetorical ploys.
This is especially true for the whole enormous cluster of controversial topics that involve sex, reproduction, marriage, and family. This is in part because these topics involve many questions of grave importance on which libertarian theory completely breaks down and can’t provide any sensible answers. (For example, what should be the mutual rights and obligations between parents and children? What should be the legal age of consent? What constitutes valid adoption? What’s the legal boundary between abortion/infanticide and murder? And so on—you can squeeze out only tortured answers from libertarian principles, and yet some answers must be agreed upon, and it matters a great deal what they will be.)
However, even more importantly, the social norms on these topics in all human societies are especially heavy on what Jonathan Haidt identifies as the moral foundation of “sacredness.” Again excepting the small fringe of libertarians, on these topics, none of the contemporary ideological groups takes seriously arguments based on libertarian principles, or even on cost-benefit analysis—except insofar as such arguments may provide useful rhetorical ammunition for promoting their sacredness-based norms. (And when such arguments give answers contrary to people’s sacredness intuitions, they tend to perceive them as shockingly vile or insane.)
I agree that this is possible in principle, but from what I observe in practice, libertarian arguments have extremely low weight in such trade-offs, except for the tiny minority of principled libertarians, who form a small and reasonably well-delineated cluster. When it comes to issues that are otherwise neutral and uncontroversial, people will normally default to the libertarian position. However, as soon as an issue has any bearing on ideology, tradition, religion, ethnic identity, political power, economic interests, status hierarchy, etc., etc., people normally assign near-zero weight to libertarian arguments, except insofar as they provide useful material for unprincipled rhetorical ploys.
This seems exaggerated to me (although I agree that the tendencies you mention exist and are significant). Consider, for example, the famous incident in which the American Civil Liberties Union defended a Nazi group’s right to demonstrate. The ACLU was and is a non-fringe organization, and likewise, the position that “Nazism is despicable, but freedom of speech and assembly is more important than silencing Nazis” is reasonably mainstream in the United States. Similarly, the idea that “Drug use is bad, but marijuana should be legal” seems not-uncontroversial but also non-fringey.
Fair enough—I agree that’s a valid counterexample to my thesis. (I do think, however, that you overestimate the amount of principled support for free speech in the contemporary U.S. For many of its defenders, it’s a matter of strategic expediency, since they are not confident that, if speech-restricting precedents were established, their side would win the subsequent political battles over whose favored speech restrictions would get instituted. In particular, many prominent ACLU-affiliated people don’t seem to have any problem with the existing speech restrictions in places where their co-ideologues are firmly entrenched in power, even though they wouldn’t want to establish a legal basis for such restrictions in the U.S., at least for now. But I do agree that this is one issue where there is some serious weight given to libertarian principles in the mainstream discourse.)
(I should maybe also add that I don’t live in the U.S., which is a pretty extravagant outlier when it comes to the attitudes and legal norms regarding free speech, so the example didn’t occur to me readily.)
That said, I still think my comments are valid when it comes to the issues of sexuality, marriage, etc. Here I really see an ideological clash fundamentally motivated by incompatible sacredness norms, with all other considerations, including libertarian principles, entering the debate only insofar as they provide useful rhetorical ammunition.
This seems exaggerated to me (although I agree that the tendencies you mention exist and are significant). Consider, for example, the famous incident in which the American Civil Liberties Union defended a Nazi group’s right to demonstrate. The ACLU was and is a non-fringe organization, and likewise, the position that “Nazism is despicable, but freedom of speech and assembly is more important than silencing Nazis” is reasonably mainstream in the United States.
There’s not much danger of the Nazis convincing non-negligible numbers of people, so this is a cheap way to signal one’s support for freedom of speech. Call me when the ACLU is interested in protecting the right of pro-life groups to demonstrate outside abortion clinics.
Similarly, the idea that “Drug use is bad, but marijuana should be legal” seems not-uncontroversial but also non-fringey.
My understanding is that most of these people actually hold the position that “use of certain drugs is bad, but marijuana isn’t one of those drugs”.
And it’s not a hard problem at all. It is in fact very simple: when people like something for ideological reasons, they will use the libertarian argument to support its legality, and when they dislike something ideologically, they will invent rationalizations for why the libertarian argument doesn’t apply in this particular case.
I don’t think you’re solving the same problem that I am.
You seem to think (and based on your upvotes, people seem to agree for some reason) that a cynical summary of the ideological landscape is somehow an answer to anything. And sure, that is not a hard problem. I’m more interested in actual solutions and their consequences than in why people argue for them: what happens if we increase freedom thus and thus, how will this affect society and what harm will come from it as side effects?
Also I find it grating when everything gets summed up as ideology and politics. Do people only ever claim to want more freedom because they happen to be pushing some particular ideological agenda? I don’t know, but personally I dislike limitations for which there isn’t a good enough reason. I first started thinking about this when I was considering getting married, not when I was thinking about politics.
Likewise, are all objections to increase in freedom rationalisations? Again, I find this offensive cynicism. Maybe someone’s done the math or seen how it works in another country, and sees real negative consequences?
I’m more interested in actual solutions and their consequences than in why people argue for them: what happens if we increase freedom thus and thus, how will this affect society and what harm will come from it as side effects?
If I am reading you correctly, you now seem to be saying something very different from your original comment that prompted this exchange. Yes, I certainly agree that it’s a fascinating intellectual exercise to speculate on what would happen if various restrictions on freedom of contract were relaxed, in this context as well as others. However, your original comment went far beyond that—it expressed enthusiastic support for a sweeping and blanket elimination of such restrictions, going so far as to equate such support with “sanity.” Yet as I pointed out, such sweeping relaxation would, in turn, have straightforward implications that the entire mainstream public opinion nowadays would consider insane—which position may be wrong, to be sure, but that would still make it odd to oppose it as if you were asserting something obvious and uncontroversial. I thought it would be interesting to seek some clarification on this point.
I clarified these things in my first response to you. I conceded that I don’t support that statement without qualification, and clarified what exactly I found so sane about it despite that.
(Suppose for example that a couple voluntarily sign a marriage contract stipulating death penalty, or even just flogging, for adultery. How can one oppose the enforcement of this contract without renouncing the libertarian principle?)
Personally I’d be okay with the flogging version. Some people are into that sort of thing. As for death… legitimate governments generally consider murder a fairly serious crime, and refuse to enforce contracts which would require illegal activity of the signatories. I’m comfortable with having the libertarian principle superceded by criminal law. The interesting part of the question is: is there any choice a person should be allowed to make about their self or property, where they should not have the option of committing to a specific choice in advance as part of a contract?
[L]egitimate governments generally consider murder a fairly serious crime, and refuse to enforce contracts which would require illegal activity of the signatories. I’m comfortable with having the libertarian principle superceded by criminal law.
Read literally, this means that you’re OK with any violation of the libertarian principle, as long as this violation happens to be formally codified as part of the criminal law. Is that really your position?
In short, yes. I also think that the range of activities covered by criminal law should be greatly reduced, e.g. possession of potentially dangerous pharmaceuticals should not be something people are imprisoned for.
The interesting part of the question is: is there any choice a person should be allowed to make about their self or property, where they should not have the option of committing to a specific choice in advance as part of a contract?
A person can work for the benefit of another at the other’s direction without receiving remuneration, but he can’t contract into becoming the other’s slave—that is, despite being free to act the part. Would you repeal the 13th Amendment, which outlawed slavery?
I was asking, not answering. Trying to point out a more interesting gray area, rather than standing back and accusing each other of unreasonable extremes. Where would you draw the line between “acting the part” and actual slavery?
Personally I’d be okay with the flogging version. Some people are into that sort of thing.
I don’t know of anyone who’s into serious, blood-down-the-back flogging, although I’m not confident there aren’t any, but supposing they are, doesn’t that render it meaningless as a disincentive?
Even someone who regards the process itself as pleasurable or spiritually satisfying could logically recognize it as inconvenient, or prefer it in certain quantities at certain times. Compare, say, two people making a bet wherein the loser has to eat half a gallon of icecream in one sitting.
Or, perhaps they expect to engage in adultery and feel guilty about it, but want the relationship to continue in such circumstances, so the flogging is a way to discharge those guilty feelings and get on with things.
Off-hand, I’d say not. What makes that the interesting part of the question, though? I don’t know anyone who objects to the existence of voluntarily entered-into contracts, merely to the idea that they supersede or obviate the need for other social/legal/governmental mechanisms.
The interesting part of the question is: is there any choice a person should be allowed to make about their self or property, where they should not have the option of committing to a specific choice in advance as part of a contract?
Off-hand, I’d say not.
Really? How about these examples (given in the context of the contemporary common law jurisdictions):
You’re allowed to commit suicide. (Assisting another person’s suicide is still illegal, but legal penalties for one’s own suicide attempt have been repealed for a long time.)
You’re allowed to mutilate yourself.
You’re allowed to act voluntarily as someone’s slave or serf.
You’re allowed to make yourself permanently available to someone for sexual acts.
You’re allowed to remain permanently an adherent of a specific religion.
You’re allowed to stay permanently confined to a small area, or even inside a single house.
All these are perfectly legal choices, and some of them aren’t even very unusual. Do you believe that people should therefore be able to bind themselves contractually to make them?
Sort of, yeah. What I actually believe is that if the activity is problematic enough that I should not permit people to bind themselves contractually to perform it, it’s not clear to me that I should allow people to perform it at all.
I don’t necessarily endorse allowing all of those options in the first place, though.
First, let me clarify that my point was simply that if contracts are being relegated to the role of managing agreements among individuals to perform acceptable activities, and something else maintains the responsibility for managing what activities are acceptable, then I have no problem with relying on contracts to perform that role. But it doesn’t follow from this that individual contracts can substitute for that “something else.”
With respect to your articulation of “the” problem, though: I agree that there are activities that it’s problematic to declare unacceptable, whether we do that by governments formally passing laws or by local communities enforcing more informal social norms.
I agree that for some of the items on Vladimir’s list, allowing people to be forced not to do them, or to be forced to do them, is scary in some contexts. But whether they are being forced by their government, by a foreign government, by their neighbors, or by an independent commercial norm-enforcement agency, doesn’t play a significant role in how scary I find it. If they are being forced by virtue of an arrangement they willingly entered into, I am somewhat more sanguine about it, but not infinitely so.
Well, there you go. Any restriction on freedom of contract can be rationalized as preventing something “harmful,” one way or another.
And it’s not a hard problem at all. It is in fact very simple: when people like something for ideological reasons, they will use the libertarian argument to support its legality, and when they dislike something ideologically, they will invent rationalizations for why the libertarian argument doesn’t apply in this particular case. The only exceptions are actual libertarians, for whom the libertarian argument itself carries ideological weight, but they are an insignificant fringe minority. For everyone else, the libertarian argument is just a useful rhetorical tool to be employed and recognized only when it produces favorable conclusions.
In particular, when it comes to marriage, outside of the aforementioned libertarian fringe, there is a total and unanimous agreement that marriage is not a contract whose terms can be set freely, but rather an institution that is entered voluntarily, but whose terms are dictated (and can be changed at any subsequent time) by the state. (Even the prenuptial agreements allow only very limited and uncertain flexibility.) Therefore, when I hear a libertarian argument applied to marriage, I conclude that there are only two possibilities:
The speaker is an honest libertarian. However, this means either that he doesn’t realize how wildly radical the implications of the libertarian position are, or that he actually supports these wild radical implications. (Suppose for example that a couple voluntarily sign a marriage contract stipulating death penalty, or even just flogging, for adultery. How can one oppose the enforcement of this contract without renouncing the libertarian principle?)
The speaker has an ideological vision of what the society should look like, and in particular, what the government-dictated universal terms of marriage should be (both with regards to the institution of marriage itself and its tremendous implications on all the other social institutions). He uses the libertarian argument because its implications happen to coincide with his ideological position in this particular situation, but he would never accept a libertarian argument in any other situation in which it would imply something disfavored by his ideology.
I would like to point out that the above reads just as well with both instances of the word “libertarian” removed.
True. And then it starts to sound like there is no bona fide seeking of solutions going on at all.
Which is, shall we say, suspect.
While I agree that strict adherence to libertarian principles is rare, it does not therefore follow that most appeals to libertarian principles are merely opportunistic argumentative ploys. Libertarianism is a continuum, not a boolean; it seems to me that people can simultaneously have both an ideological attachment to some particular vision of what they want society to look like, and also an ideological attachment to libertarianism, and that these conflicting desires get traded off against each other in some proportion. The end result is that people end up saying, “People should be free to do whatever they like, except x_1, x_2, … x_n, which are obviously harmful.” I agree with you that the x_i are not chosen on any sort of neutral, principled basis, but that only means that libertarian arguments have limited force, not no force. There are some things I disapprove of so strongly that I want them to be illegal, but that doesn’t mean I want everything I disapprove of to be illegal.
I agree that this is possible in principle, but from what I observe in practice, libertarian arguments have extremely low weight in such trade-offs, except for the tiny minority of principled libertarians, who form a small and reasonably well-delineated cluster. When it comes to issues that are otherwise neutral and uncontroversial, people will normally default to the libertarian position. However, as soon as an issue has any bearing on ideology, tradition, religion, ethnic identity, political power, economic interests, status hierarchy, etc., etc., people normally assign near-zero weight to libertarian arguments, except insofar as they provide useful material for unprincipled rhetorical ploys.
This is especially true for the whole enormous cluster of controversial topics that involve sex, reproduction, marriage, and family. This is in part because these topics involve many questions of grave importance on which libertarian theory completely breaks down and can’t provide any sensible answers. (For example, what should be the mutual rights and obligations between parents and children? What should be the legal age of consent? What constitutes valid adoption? What’s the legal boundary between abortion/infanticide and murder? And so on—you can squeeze out only tortured answers from libertarian principles, and yet some answers must be agreed upon, and it matters a great deal what they will be.)
However, even more importantly, the social norms on these topics in all human societies are especially heavy on what Jonathan Haidt identifies as the moral foundation of “sacredness.” Again excepting the small fringe of libertarians, on these topics, none of the contemporary ideological groups takes seriously arguments based on libertarian principles, or even on cost-benefit analysis—except insofar as such arguments may provide useful rhetorical ammunition for promoting their sacredness-based norms. (And when such arguments give answers contrary to people’s sacredness intuitions, they tend to perceive them as shockingly vile or insane.)
This seems exaggerated to me (although I agree that the tendencies you mention exist and are significant). Consider, for example, the famous incident in which the American Civil Liberties Union defended a Nazi group’s right to demonstrate. The ACLU was and is a non-fringe organization, and likewise, the position that “Nazism is despicable, but freedom of speech and assembly is more important than silencing Nazis” is reasonably mainstream in the United States. Similarly, the idea that “Drug use is bad, but marijuana should be legal” seems not-uncontroversial but also non-fringey.
Fair enough—I agree that’s a valid counterexample to my thesis. (I do think, however, that you overestimate the amount of principled support for free speech in the contemporary U.S. For many of its defenders, it’s a matter of strategic expediency, since they are not confident that, if speech-restricting precedents were established, their side would win the subsequent political battles over whose favored speech restrictions would get instituted. In particular, many prominent ACLU-affiliated people don’t seem to have any problem with the existing speech restrictions in places where their co-ideologues are firmly entrenched in power, even though they wouldn’t want to establish a legal basis for such restrictions in the U.S., at least for now. But I do agree that this is one issue where there is some serious weight given to libertarian principles in the mainstream discourse.)
(I should maybe also add that I don’t live in the U.S., which is a pretty extravagant outlier when it comes to the attitudes and legal norms regarding free speech, so the example didn’t occur to me readily.)
That said, I still think my comments are valid when it comes to the issues of sexuality, marriage, etc. Here I really see an ideological clash fundamentally motivated by incompatible sacredness norms, with all other considerations, including libertarian principles, entering the debate only insofar as they provide useful rhetorical ammunition.
There’s not much danger of the Nazis convincing non-negligible numbers of people, so this is a cheap way to signal one’s support for freedom of speech. Call me when the ACLU is interested in protecting the right of pro-life groups to demonstrate outside abortion clinics.
My understanding is that most of these people actually hold the position that “use of certain drugs is bad, but marijuana isn’t one of those drugs”.
I don’t think you’re solving the same problem that I am.
You seem to think (and based on your upvotes, people seem to agree for some reason) that a cynical summary of the ideological landscape is somehow an answer to anything. And sure, that is not a hard problem. I’m more interested in actual solutions and their consequences than in why people argue for them: what happens if we increase freedom thus and thus, how will this affect society and what harm will come from it as side effects?
Also I find it grating when everything gets summed up as ideology and politics. Do people only ever claim to want more freedom because they happen to be pushing some particular ideological agenda? I don’t know, but personally I dislike limitations for which there isn’t a good enough reason. I first started thinking about this when I was considering getting married, not when I was thinking about politics.
Likewise, are all objections to increase in freedom rationalisations? Again, I find this offensive cynicism. Maybe someone’s done the math or seen how it works in another country, and sees real negative consequences?
If I am reading you correctly, you now seem to be saying something very different from your original comment that prompted this exchange. Yes, I certainly agree that it’s a fascinating intellectual exercise to speculate on what would happen if various restrictions on freedom of contract were relaxed, in this context as well as others. However, your original comment went far beyond that—it expressed enthusiastic support for a sweeping and blanket elimination of such restrictions, going so far as to equate such support with “sanity.” Yet as I pointed out, such sweeping relaxation would, in turn, have straightforward implications that the entire mainstream public opinion nowadays would consider insane—which position may be wrong, to be sure, but that would still make it odd to oppose it as if you were asserting something obvious and uncontroversial. I thought it would be interesting to seek some clarification on this point.
I clarified these things in my first response to you. I conceded that I don’t support that statement without qualification, and clarified what exactly I found so sane about it despite that.
Personally I’d be okay with the flogging version. Some people are into that sort of thing. As for death… legitimate governments generally consider murder a fairly serious crime, and refuse to enforce contracts which would require illegal activity of the signatories. I’m comfortable with having the libertarian principle superceded by criminal law. The interesting part of the question is: is there any choice a person should be allowed to make about their self or property, where they should not have the option of committing to a specific choice in advance as part of a contract?
Read literally, this means that you’re OK with any violation of the libertarian principle, as long as this violation happens to be formally codified as part of the criminal law. Is that really your position?
In short, yes. I also think that the range of activities covered by criminal law should be greatly reduced, e.g. possession of potentially dangerous pharmaceuticals should not be something people are imprisoned for.
A person can work for the benefit of another at the other’s direction without receiving remuneration, but he can’t contract into becoming the other’s slave—that is, despite being free to act the part. Would you repeal the 13th Amendment, which outlawed slavery?
I was asking, not answering. Trying to point out a more interesting gray area, rather than standing back and accusing each other of unreasonable extremes. Where would you draw the line between “acting the part” and actual slavery?
I don’t know of anyone who’s into serious, blood-down-the-back flogging, although I’m not confident there aren’t any, but supposing they are, doesn’t that render it meaningless as a disincentive?
Even someone who regards the process itself as pleasurable or spiritually satisfying could logically recognize it as inconvenient, or prefer it in certain quantities at certain times. Compare, say, two people making a bet wherein the loser has to eat half a gallon of icecream in one sitting.
Maybe they want to encourage adultery.
Or, perhaps they expect to engage in adultery and feel guilty about it, but want the relationship to continue in such circumstances, so the flogging is a way to discharge those guilty feelings and get on with things.
Off-hand, I’d say not. What makes that the interesting part of the question, though? I don’t know anyone who objects to the existence of voluntarily entered-into contracts, merely to the idea that they supersede or obviate the need for other social/legal/governmental mechanisms.
Really? How about these examples (given in the context of the contemporary common law jurisdictions):
You’re allowed to commit suicide. (Assisting another person’s suicide is still illegal, but legal penalties for one’s own suicide attempt have been repealed for a long time.)
You’re allowed to mutilate yourself.
You’re allowed to act voluntarily as someone’s slave or serf.
You’re allowed to make yourself permanently available to someone for sexual acts.
You’re allowed to remain permanently an adherent of a specific religion.
You’re allowed to stay permanently confined to a small area, or even inside a single house.
All these are perfectly legal choices, and some of them aren’t even very unusual. Do you believe that people should therefore be able to bind themselves contractually to make them?
Sort of, yeah. What I actually believe is that if the activity is problematic enough that I should not permit people to bind themselves contractually to perform it, it’s not clear to me that I should allow people to perform it at all.
I don’t necessarily endorse allowing all of those options in the first place, though.
The problem is for many of the items on Vladimir’s list (especially the last 4) allowing the government to force people not to do them is also scary.
Well, OK.
First, let me clarify that my point was simply that if contracts are being relegated to the role of managing agreements among individuals to perform acceptable activities, and something else maintains the responsibility for managing what activities are acceptable, then I have no problem with relying on contracts to perform that role. But it doesn’t follow from this that individual contracts can substitute for that “something else.”
With respect to your articulation of “the” problem, though: I agree that there are activities that it’s problematic to declare unacceptable, whether we do that by governments formally passing laws or by local communities enforcing more informal social norms.
I agree that for some of the items on Vladimir’s list, allowing people to be forced not to do them, or to be forced to do them, is scary in some contexts. But whether they are being forced by their government, by a foreign government, by their neighbors, or by an independent commercial norm-enforcement agency, doesn’t play a significant role in how scary I find it. If they are being forced by virtue of an arrangement they willingly entered into, I am somewhat more sanguine about it, but not infinitely so.
The objections I am aware of are to specific subcategories of contracts, such as variant marriage terms or multigenerational commitments.