Of course not. Justice is social. 

 

But in this two person society, justice also remains fundamentally individual (think about that for a bit) and when a volcano emerges, joining the two islands into one, A encounters B. 

 

Now, is this situation of inequality—unjust? Matson said no: the only difference is that some degree of material equality is possible. (Perhaps B could, and should, show charity to A: kudos to him if he does.) But Matson argued convincingly that inequality by itself isn’t unjust. And if A makes a bargain with B—perhaps deveining those shrimp in exchange for that little bit of meat in the tail—as long as their agreements are voluntary, their situation isn’t unjust; it’s evolved in an organic way. And as long as both A and B hold to their ends of various bargains, justice occurs, and both are better off. Justice, then, is really the absence of injustice (that simple phrase comes from Frederick Bastiat, in 1850). If B were to withhold his shrimp tails after A finishes his deveining, or A steals shrimp when B isn’t looking—there’s some genuine injustice. 

 

No one I know disputes the classical definition of justice as each individual getting what he or she deserves. And what do we deserve? A break today? To be left alone? Food? Clothing? Medical care? A vacation? (And if so, what sort of food, clothing, medical care, and vacations?)

 

I think it’s wise to differentiate between justice, as a legal concept, and virtues such as charity, or mercy, or empathy. I would hate to live in a world where B doesn’t share his hammocks or even his Pina coladas. But getting person C involved to browbeat B into being nice doesn’t make B’s grinch-y heart any larger, or let him experience the joy of genuine compassion.

 

In a free market, people can walk (or, perhaps, sail) away from undesired situations. In Matson’s parable, A does just that. He makes a raft, writes an insulting note to B in the beach sand, and sails away to a different island, with a less individual and more familial conception of justice. The elder ruler tells him to chop some wood, and he notices a bit of resentment over his edicts.

 

Of course, everyone is in favor of justice, and when that is the case, you almost have to wonder if this notion of “justice” is hopelessly vague. If we define justice—let’s now label it “social justice”— as redistribution, problems emerge:

 

—Technically, there’s no “re” in redistribution. Incomes are earned, unless you are Willie Sutton, who in 1933 said he robbed banks because “that’s where the money is.” To distribute sounds more like a soup kitchen or Santa Claus’s magical dispersal of toys. In the same sense, there’s no “giving back” if you didn’t take. The best word is simply charity.

 

—Forcing people to be nice doesn’t really make them nice. Am I being compassionate by voting for a (re)distribution scheme forcing others to bear the brunt of the transfers?

 

—The force can cause resentment; or, the recipient can take advantage of that pseudo-charity. 

 

—It’s not too hard to see that the very vogue idea of justice as giving individuals or groups goods taken from others is really just plunder, or at least reduces incentives to produce more of those goods. (Kudos, again, to Bastiat).

 

—Still, nearly everyone today assumes that a bit of forced transfers are at least good for social harmony, and perhaps even an expression of respect for the common good. That doesn’t mean it is right, nor does it mean it is wrong.

 

But I’m not sure I’d call that “social justice.” Earlier I wrote that justice is social, as it involves the relationship between two people. And it’s simultaneously individual: if Adam defrauds Aunt Tilly of $5000, perhaps neighbor Frank, quite frankly, shouldn’t be on the hook for the lost money. 

 

I’d rather ignore vague trigger terms such as “social justice,” and call such voluntary transfers of stuff “charity” and involuntary transfers of stuff “redistribution,” or, better yet, “transfers.” Whether redistribution itself is a virtuous collective act, a necessary evil, or a deplorable plunder: well, that’s a great topic for discussion. While it is certainly acceptable in a family (dad takes junior’s allowance away, since he was mean to his little sister,) outside of immediate families, it is at least…shall we say, problematic, since Uncle Sam is not really our uncle, let alone our father or mother.