Politics founded solely on science is a mirage:
The case for moral philosophy

Originating from our “Publish with Us” section, this essay continues our tradition of inviting thinkers and authors to contribute perspectives rooted in the intellectual legacy of the Austrian School of Economics — where individual insight, critical reflection, and open dialogue meet.

Introduction

It has grown fashionable to hold liberalism and its kindred ideologies in contempt. Thus, principles have vanished from the political sphere. Yet in the absence of such guiding tenets, political decisions devolve into sheer arbitrariness. A pragmatic approach to politics, grounded in data and cloaked in the semblance of scientific rigour, commands the devaluation of institutions whose existence can scarcely be justified by scientific means. In doing so, however, it brings about the erosion of spontaneous order and with it the very civilisation predicated upon its endurance. These arguments draw primarily upon the thought of F. A. Hayek, who articulated the significance of this topic with unparalleled clarity and rigor.

A politics based solely on scientific research and empirical data – liberated from the dogmatic teachings of various doctrines that so often blind their adherents – may appear as an innocent, even supremely noble ideal: one befitting an age destined, perhaps, to be remembered as the „era of science“. Yet in truth, it is a beguiling path, one that may, unwittingly, lead a free civilisation to its undoing.

However nobly it may serve to supplement it, science is not endowed with the power to replace the role of moral philosophy. Science – by which we shall understand a methodologically ordered, systematic description of facts -, above all, is incapable of determining which ends or moral values are desirable and which are not. To that end, what is required is a sound moral philosophy- a coherent system of principles which may provide guidance in deciding towards which ends the measures at hand ought to be directed. That to which science must be confined – and where it is so useful – is the indication of the most direct path to a given end, or the preliminary assessment of whether such an end is attainable at all. Although it is regrettable that science is all too rarely employed in this latter stage – once the goal has been chosen and the task is only how best to achieve it – the belief that the influence of science should be extended even unto the realm of what is right constitutes a fatal overvaluation of its power. This stance – widespread among men of science – which acknowledges no bounds to reason nor to its capacity to govern society in accordance with what it perceives as rational, we term the pragmatic approach.

The preservation of civilisation is contingent upon adherence to a multitude of rules and principles, the origins of which – and their significance for the success of our actions – remain largely obscure to us. To mount a defence of the values upon which our civilisation rests, one must step beyond the domain of pure science and enter the realm of philosophical debate. Among such values is liberty, whose merits cannot be demonstrated in particular instances, for its consequences are, by their very nature, unpredictable. This very openness of outcome, which lies at the heart of liberty’s salutary effects, proves also to be treacherous: it fosters a tendency to discount the adverse effects that follow upon the adoption of coercive restraints. Thus, liberty is rendered exceedingly vulnerable and can be preserved in the long run only if it is embraced dogmatically as a general principle.

Science as a panacea?

Part of the public is wont to ascribe to the fruits of scientific inquiry an almost mythical significance, accepting them unconditionally as an ultimate truth, beyond which no further doubt need be entertained. Yet anyone who has had the opportunity to acquaint himself more intimately with this matter will surely agree that the author’s capacity to shape such data to his will is subject to scarcely any meaningful constraints.

Data are silent in themselves. Only man can ascribe meaning to them. Only reason is capable of interpreting these otherwise meaningless signs in the light of theories, and thus making them a useful instrument for the comprehension of the world. Yet it is seldom the case that a single, unequivocal interpretation of such data is at hand. More frequently, they may be subject to many diverse, even entirely contradictory, expositions. This truth was also recognized by Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky, who, through the character Razumikhin in his Crime and Punishment, declared: „‘We have facts,’ they say. But facts are not everything—at least half the business lies in how you interpret them!”

No vivid imagination is required to foresee the consequences brought forth by a mode of governance whereby the ruling body bases – or at least professes to base – all its decisions solely upon data prepared by its own experts. The true peril lies in the fact that, although measures thus adopted may be utterly arbitrary, once cloaked in the alluring garb of scientific guise, they become not only acceptable to the public but perchance even appealing.

Even those measures otherwise deserving of the utmost contempt may be readily endorsed by the electorate, so long as they are not presented with candor, but rather merely as the supposed outcome of research far removed from their understanding and of a sophisticated nature. Due to the boundless trust many place in all scientific inquiry, that which serves as a useful instrument in the pursuit of truth may, in the hands of unscrupulous researchers, become a deceptive means to confuse others. As one of the most sagacious Czech writer, Karel Havlíček Borovský, expressed in one of his poems, „should you see a scoundrel labouring in the sciences, beware – it’s a bandit arming himself.“²

Science and value judgements

The foregoing is by no means meant to disparage scientific knowledge, nor the process by which it is attained. Equally misguided, however, would be the refusal to acknowledge the limits of what science may reveal to us, and what already lies beyond its purview. Above all, science is powerless to instruct man as to what is right, or what he ought to do. Or, to borrow the words of the Austrian philosopher and economist F. A. Hayek: „From premises containing only statements about cause and effect, we can derive no conclusions about what ought to be.“³

The same, of course, holds true in the realm of politics. The sole rôle science may legitimately assume in this sphere is the assessment of whether the measures adopted shall indeed bring about the effects intended. The judgment, however, of whether those elections are to be deemed desirable lies beyond the bounds of what science is fit to determine. To put the matter more plainly, science may illuminate the various paths available to man, yet it cannot dictate which of them he ought to follow. Once an end has been chosen, it is generally the case that science offers the most reliable counsel as to how it may be most effectively attained. But as to what that end ought to be, science must remain silent.

For a lucid illustration of this principle, one need not venture far afield. Let us consider, for instance, the debate surrounding which substances ought to be criminalised, and which, by contrast, permitted – perhaps even subjected to taxation. Whatever conclusions medical science may reach concerning the deleterious effects of this or that compound, such findings in themselves can furnish no sufficient justification for prohibition. For that, a value judgement must be rendered – one that may well draw upon empirical research, yet remains, by its very nature, beyond the province of the scientific domain. And unless such judgement be grounded in certain general principles, it is rendered altogether arbitrary.

Without adherence to principles, it is by no means clear how the government will act in future cases of a similar nature. Consider, for instance, that the government decides to impose an excise tax on sugary drinks, arguing that scientific research shows their consumption is harmful to health and that higher taxation will reduce their intake. Suddenly, a multitude of pressing questions arise. Are there not other foods even more
harmful? And why restrict the measure to only these? A person may harm their own body through irresponsible behavior in many other ways. Yet why should only physical harm be prevented – is not damage to the mind and soul, which one may inflict upon oneself, even graver? Should the government, therefore, also prohibit citizens from reading inappropriate literature and admiring tasteless art if it is proven harmful to them?⁴

It would be inconsistent to select at will those instances in which the state’s paternalism is to be enforced, and those in which it is to be forsaken. Such conduct would render the government’s decisions capricious and uncertain. In other words, should the government ground its actions not upon established general principles, but solely upon the shifting conclusions of the latest inquiry, its determinations would to the citizens appear as matters of chance, and, albeit unintentionally, would engender great uncertainty.

The overlooked importance of moral philosophy

Precisely to prevent politics from becoming subject to unpredictable decisions and thereby a source of undesirable uncertainty, it is requisite that it be grounded upon moral philosophy. Moral philosophy is nothing but a body of principles, from which arise general rules that guide how one ought to behave in circumstances or matters sharing certain abstract features. Only such principles can provide a clear direction for consistent
decision-making, and thereby foster rightful expectations regarding how the government shall act when confronted with a particular issue that can be resolved in accordance with the highest principles it has set for its own governance.

It is telling that the pervasive influence of Karl Marx’s creed has led to the term ideology – originally of wholly neutral character – becoming, in the minds of most, a pejorative expression, one that a respectable person may invoke only as the object of criticism. For this very reason, throughout this article the term „moral philosophy“ is employed instead. As Hayek aptly observed „if I am not mistaken, this fashionable contempt for ‘ideology’, or for all general principles or ‘isms’, is a characteristic attitude of disillusioned socialists who, because they have been forced by the inherent contradictions of their own ideology to discard it, have concluded that all ideologies must be erroneous and that in order to be rational one must do without one.”⁵ What Hayek identified as “ideology” would today be better captured by the expression moral framework or moral philosophy, for the object of his defence is not a political doctrine, but the indispensability of principled thinking.

Moral philosophies necessarily fail to meet the criterion of value-neutrality, and therefore cannot be regarded as scientific. Although they may comprise a body of generalizations drawn from scientific observation and the interpretation of shared traits of individual instances of particular phenomena, they do not confine themselves merely to descriptive accounts, but also venture to pronounce on what is right and what ought to occur. In other words, they are not merely aggregations of theories, but also opinions – views about how the world should be. Yet this unscientific character in no way consigns them to insignificance.

It is scarcely a coincidence that the contemptuous attitude toward what used to be called ideologies gains ever greater currency in an age wherein confidence in the power of science becomes ever more entrenched – indeed, almost unquestioned. That is to say, in an age wherein science comes increasingly to usurp the long-unshaken role of religion. The repudiation of principle-based politics has indeed marched hand in hand with this development. Thus, the overestimation of science’s capacities has gradually eroded respect for general principles. The preoccupation with the acquisition of facts and the eLicient handling thereof has given rise to the erroneous notion that all general principles
are to be discarded, for the approach grounded in them is thought to have been rendered obsolete once and for all.

Science and Ignorance

It would scarcely be an exaggeration to claim that it is not so much the conscious possession of facts, but rather conduct guided – often unwittingly – by accumulated knowledge, that constitutes the principal source of the many benefits of civilisation.

Hayek even contends that civilisation truly begins at the point where the individual, in the pursuit of his aims, is able to avail himself of knowledge surpassing that which he himself has acquired – that is, where he is able to transcend the bounds of his own ignorance and draw upon the understanding possessed by others.⁶ The advance of civilisation may thus be likened to a process whereby, guided by the lessons of prior experience, we grow ever more skilful at adapting ourselves to the changing conditions of our surroundings. Yet this kind of knowledge is by no means confined to scientific knowledge of causes and effects, capable of being rendered in precise and explicit terms.

Continuing in the same line of argument, Hayek ventures yet further when he declares: „Indeed, a ‘civilized’ individual may be very ignorant, more ignorant than many a savage, and yet greatly benefit from the civilization in which he lives.“⁷ For insofar as the civilized man may rely upon the knowledge of others – oftentimes of persons wholly unknown to him – and thereby act eLectively on the basis of facts of which he himself is unaware, he stands in need of a far smaller body of factual knowledge for his survival and success. From Hayek’s foregoing thesis it follows that, as society becomes ever more advanced in its civilizational development, the scope of what any one individual can possibly know about the myriad facts upon which that civilization rests must necessarily diminish.⁸ From this follows a striking conclusion.

Hayek indeed writes that „the more men know, the smaller the share of all that knowledge becomes that any one mind can absorb.“⁹ With the growth of accumulated knowledge concerning our world, individual ignorance increases proportionally. Thus it is precisely the reverse of what Benito Mussolini once proclaimed¹⁰: the more advanced and intricate a civilization becomes, the more essential it is to rely upon the free decisions of individuals; for it becomes ever less feasible for any single mind to encompass all the relevant facts requisite for the rational governance of the economic order.¹¹ The popular contention – that scientific progress, by expanding the bounds of human knowledge, shall
render possible a deliberate and hence more efficient direction of the world, grounded in awareness of all relevant details – is, therefore, utterly mistaken.

Scientific progress is characterized not only by the acquisition of new knowledge but also – often at an even swifter pace – by the continual unveiling of an ever-expanding realm concerning which we know nothing beyond the fact that our present understanding in that domain falls short of scientific explanation. Our inexorable ignorance of the vast majority of facts – upon which civilization rests, from which there is no escape, and which remains insurmountable despite scientific advancement – dooms any attempt to consciously govern the social order to nothing but despairing failure.

Only in a primitive society can a single mind be acquainted with all the relevant circumstances that the group must contend with – in a complex order, each individual is compelled to rely predominantly on the knowledge of others. The greatest progress lies not in the development of knowledge that leads to conscious action, but in the increase of actions that a person can effectively perform without fully understanding them.

Morality: What reason cannot explain or alter

For our actions to succeed, we rely on rules that no human mind has devised and whose very existence we may be unaware of. In particular, the precise meaning and specific effect of such rules on the outcome of our actions is denied to us. In our society, the aims of individual actions may be fulfilled precisely because individuals are constrained by abstract rules whose origin, significance, and even existence may be entirely unknown to them, yet these rules remain indispensable conditions for their successful navigation of the complex order of human society.

Since these rules, embodied in various institutions, customs, and practices – collectively termed morality – are the result of long-standing evolution, having proven their worth against other rules, they encompass the accumulated knowledge of countless generations. The sum of this knowledge far exceeds what any single mind can grasp. This also limits mankind’s capacity to shape these rules at will. It would be foolish to entertain the notion that these rules were devised by human intellect and are observed because individuals fully understand the role they play in guiding their conduct. Equally futile, however, would be the idea that such a body of rules could be freely replaced by others founded anew upon rational arguments describing their effects.

The mind is not the originator of morality; rather, it is itself the outcome of the same evolutionary process of selection shaped by the development of the very rules that constitute morality. The evolution of the mind was, to a great extent, conditioned by the operation of rules that governed the adaptation of individuals to the circumstances of their environment – rules which they embraced without comprehending their meaning. Thus, the words of the Italian philosopher Giambattista Vico hold true: homo non intelligendo fit omnia – man has become all that he is without understanding it.¹²

An unyielding desire to acknowledge only those institutions that may be deemed rational – in the sense of being deliberate human contrivances fashioned in pursuit of a clear and conscious end – engenders a reluctance to submit to all those rules which are not the offspring of human ratio, but rather the result of a long selection among diverse customs and practices. In the course of this evolution, those rules came to prevail whose
observance enabled a group to survive and expand, though its members scarcely understood that it was these very rules which procured the desired outcomes. Since such institutions are not rational in the strict sense – being unsupported by human intellect – they become burdensome if one proceeds upon the principle that only those rules may be heeded whose utility we are able to demonstrate plainly.

The spontaneous order of society is undeniably conditioned by the existence of rules whose importance for individual conduct we are unable to infer by reason alone. In order to preserve the attainments of our civilisation – and indeed for our very survival – we are compelled to bear the burden of tradition: to submit ourselves to general rules, even though it may often seem to us that their breach could occasion no grave harm, and thus that their momentary repudiation appears exceedingly tempting. And this applies to rules whose function, and whose influence upon the success of our actions within society, we scarcely comprehend.

In order that the selection of moral values is to continue – by which a society may gradually discover and come to submit to the influence of those rules of proper conduct that prove most fitting – the customs hitherto acknowledged only implicitly must not be enforced with relentless rigor. Certainly, not all morals to which we presently yield are established as sound, and it would therefore be unwise to cling to each with rigid dogmatism. In a free society, the observance of all those habits and conventions which render human conduct smoother and more predictable is not compelled. Though it is deemed laudable to adhere to them, individuals are permitted – at the risk that their unconventional behaviour may
bring them disgrace – to incline toward other moral values. The peaceful coexistence of diverse groups, each guided by somewhat differing customs, leads to the gradual refinement of morality. In this manner, morality may be modified only by incremental steps; it cannot be wholly remade – each alteration must take place within the framework of the majority of rules which it itself prescribes.

For the rational man who longs for a social order whose every element is carefully designed to fulfil an observable purpose, and which in its entirety operates as he himself intends, there emerges nothing but the bitter lesson of humility – yet it is one of reason’s principal duties to impose upon itself such discipline. Let the wise words of Karel Havlíček Borovský serve as an appeal: „the higher the wall above, the deeper the foundation below; and lofty reason rests upon the depth of humility.“¹³

Freedom in a world of uncertainty

One of the chief values threatened by the pragmatic approach – which approves the preservation solely of that which can be justified by consideration of causative relations derivable in advance – is individual freedom. Hayek writes that „those who believe that all useful institutions are deliberate contrivances and who cannot conceive of anything serving a human purpose that has not been consciously designed are almost of necessity enemies of freedom.“¹⁴

As the English historian Lord Acton remarked, genuine friends of liberty have always been few in number.¹⁵ This may be accounted for – as Hayek, for instance, observes¹⁶– by the fact that intellectuals committed to the defence of freedom have too often confined themselves solely to those concrete manifestations or domains of liberty with which they are most intimately familiar. In doing so, they neglected the protection of this fragile value against assaults in spheres which, owing to their personal dispositions, they did not regard as of foremost importance. Consequently, persuasive arguments in favour of liberty as a general principle – whose justification is independent of demonstrating the benefits of particular acts of freedom over compulsion – were seldom advanced.

The logical argument for liberty rests upon an appreciation of the profound ignorance each individual possesses regarding the circumstances to which he must adapt within society, and upon the recognition that only the freedom of others allows men the means to overcome this ignorance. The necessity of liberty springs from the fact that our world is fraught with uncertainty – and it is the freedom to act that permits the exploration of the greatest number of uncharted paths for the fulfilment of individual desires. Many of these paths will undoubtedly prove blind, yet it is precisely this process -inseparably linked with liberty – of learning from one’s errors that ensures the smoothest adaptation to the unknown.

Conversely, when obstacles are placed before free decision-making, or when individuals are entirely denied such freedom, the process by which human understanding grows – through the recognition of errors subsequently perceived by the same individual – is markedly slowed. Since progress rests to a great extent upon the expansion of human knowledge and the improved application of newly acquired insights, such restrictions ultimately impede progress itself. The American mathematician H. B. Phillips, in his essay on the nature of progress, asserts that in a dynamically developing society, freedom of individual decision is granted not because it necessarily yields greater satisfaction to the person in question, but because, when allowed to pursue his own course, an individual will generally serve others more eLectively than if he were instructed precisely how to act.¹⁷

Were the world perfectly predictable, and human knowledge entirely flawless, the argument for the preservation of liberty would doubtless be greatly weakened – for the process of learning through error would be superfluous, had men precise knowledge of their desires and the means to achieve them. Yet, inasmuch as no escape from uncertainty exists in our world, human action is necessarily open-ended, and from this arises the justification for the freedom of individual choice. Liberty must be extolled precisely because it gives rise to the division of knowledge upon which modern civilisation is founded – that is, upon the fact that each person possesses but a scant acquaintance with the circumstances upon which the social order depends at any given moment, and that, in order to act successfully, he must rely upon the knowledge of others, without himself being privy to the particular facts conveyed by them.

Each person, through his free action, in a certain sense, performs a service for the public – he is a pioneer of new paths, demonstrating to others what succeeds and what fails. From such knowledge, the other members of society may benefit, even when the individual in question is unaware of the insights his conduct has produced. It may therefore be said that man profits not merely from the liberty he himself enjoys, but above all from the freedom of others, which yields him a multitude of fruits without any effort on his part. Since we cannot know in advance who shall become the pioneer to discover new and more effective modes of action, it is essential that liberty is accorded to all. The argument advanced above for freedom applies equally to every member of society; it would be a denial of the entire liberal principle to regard liberty as a privilege to be conferred upon a select few while withheld from the rest.

Liberty as the first victim of the pragmatic approach¹⁸

One of the central theses of Hayek’s monumental work Law, Legislation and Liberty is the notion that liberty can be preserved only through adherence to principles, and is destroyed when one pursues mere expediency.¹⁹ For if the conflict between freedom and coercion is conceived as a question of what appears likely to produce the most favourable outcome in a particular instance, liberty will, in almost every case, be compelled to yield to compulsion. It is, after all, impossible to demonstrate, in a manner conforming to scientific standards, the advantages of free action. That we cannot know where the liberty of the individual will lead is – however contrary this may seem to the mind of the scientist – the very source of its greatest advantages.

As Hayek observes, „it is because we do not know how individuals will use their freedom that it is so important.“²⁰ From this it follows that we cannot determine the consequences of free action. For the same reason, we cannot know which opportunities we relinquish should we resolve to sacrifice liberty. That we are unable to specify the exact losses resulting from the removal of freedom must not serve as a pretext for its trivialisation, nor as an excuse to justify immediate recourse to coercion. According to Hayek, „freedom granted only when it is known beforehand that its effects will be beneficial is not freedom.“²¹ Indeed, most of the beneficial effects of liberty would vanish precisely at the moment we knew how it would be employed in a given case and what its consequences would be – this very unpredictability constitutes one of liberty’s principal virtues.

The argument for liberty must not rest upon the belief that we are capable of foreseeing its consequences and, in particular instances in which freedom of action may be granted or withheld, weighing its benefits against its harms. Were this the sole ground upon which the defence of liberty is constructed, it may be said that liberty would be sacrificed in nearly every case. For while we can, with some approximation, anticipate the favourable effects of measures that seek to suppress freedom, their costs are shrouded in the dense mists of uncertainty – the very uncertainty with which free action is so adept at coping, thereby yielding benefits even to others. Judged solely by its predictable outcomes, liberty is always at a disadvantage compared with coercion.

The defence of liberty must indeed be doctrinal. Liberty must be regarded as an end in itself, and not merely as a means to the attainment of other virtuous aims. An effective defence of freedom must rest upon the conviction that – regardless of whether we can demonstrate it in particular instances – the actions to which individual liberty gives rise will, on the whole, prove more beneficial than they would were they subject to the will of another, by whom the purpose to which the individual is to serve would be somehow “prescribed.” The argument for liberty is therefore dogmatic; yet it is only through adherence to this dogma that liberty can be preserved.

Nothing brings greater disappointment to the scientific mind than the necessity of unreservedly accepting as fact that which can neither be confirmed nor refuted. Yet the preservation of our civilisation truly depends upon respect for rules and principles whose utility in particular cases we are incapable of demonstrating. If reason is not to act destructively, and if it is not to eradicate the very principles whose observance permits
the existence of a flourishing social order, it is necessary to accept as given that those matters which cannot be explained by reason with the desired precision, may nevertheless be of critical importance.

In the powerful words of Hayek: „The preservation of a free system is so difficult precisely because it requires a constant rejection of measures which appear to be required to secure particular results, on no stronger grounds than that they conflict with a general rule, and frequently without our knowing what will be the costs of not observing the rule in the particular instance.“²² Liberty must therefore be conceived as the highest principle, whose beneficial effects in particular instances are not called into question. Whereas coercion promises tangible advantages, liberty offers only opportunities, and no certainties or specific, foreknown benefits. Unless liberty is regarded as a general principle, one whose intrinsic worth is esteemed by men, its gradual decline is inevitable.

Scientific pragmatism: The swan song of a free society

Few positions cannot be justified by data. Yet it is deceptive when the underlying convictions upon which such conclusions – allegedly drawn solely from objective research – rest are concealed. It is worth noting, moreover, that even at the very outset of inquiry, in the selection of questions to pursue and those to set aside, the scientist cannot free himself from value judgments.

It would be regrettable were this text to convey the impression that government ought to entirely detach itself from scientific research, acting solely upon its own will or upon irrational convictions. There is, of course, no dispute that in many spheres the government cannot reach sound conclusions without relying upon the guidance afforded by science. Yet the notion that eLective outcomes may be achieved only if politicians, in managing all affairs, focus exclusively upon research and detach themselves from any consideration of values is not merely naïve, but, if rigorously applied, exceedingly perilous.

Despite well-intended notions, a politics founded purely upon data would lead to the trampling of established principles and, thereby, to overwhelming uncertainty. Worse still, such an approach imperils above all liberty and its counterpart, personal responsibility – values that constitute the very wellspring of all morality. Liberty can prevail only in a society where it is embraced as a general principle, and where it is not
surrendered to the dictates of “scientific conclusions.” For it is impossible to furnish exhaustive and scientifically satisfactory proof that the preservation of freedom will, in particular instances, prove more effective than its sacrifice. Once, however, it is conceded that the conflict between liberty and coercion is to be a matter of expediency, there remains no escape from the path that leads a free civilisation to ruin.

The beginning of this path to ruin, however, must be sought on a somewhat more general plane. Namely, in the tendency to vastly overestimate the capacities of reason – that most precious of gifts, the crowning glory of man. What is therefore foremost required is the insight that even this mightiest instrument has its limits of effective application. The notion that, through the accumulation of scientific knowledge, man may finally become the sovereign master of his own destiny, or that he is thereby enabled to consciously coordinate the efforts of others in order to achieve a new and more efficient social order, is wholly illusory. In truth, the knowledge requisite for such an undertaking is exceedingly scant, and we are fated to dwell forever within the bounds of this dismal ignorance.

Conclusion

While science can tell us what is, it cannot determine what ought to be done. For this, the interpretation of scientific data must be grounded in a system of non-scientific principles, such as moral or political philosophy, which offers a consistent framework for evaluating ends and guiding action. If a free civilization is to endure, a genuine resurgence of respect for general principles – above all, the principle of liberty – is required. Although these principles cannot be justified on purely scientific grounds, adherence to them remains indispensable for the spontaneous order that forms the foundation of our civilization and ensures its flourishing.

_{1 Dostoevsky, Fyodor. 2008 [1866], p. 250. Crime and Punishment. Translated by Constance Garnett. New York: Barnes & Noble Classics.
2 The Czech original reads: „Vidíš-li, že darebák ve vědách pracuje, varuj se, jest to zbojník, jenž si zbraň kupuje.“ Borovský, Karel Havlíček, 1960 [1845], p. 70. Básně [Vědy zlosynů]. Praha: Československý spisovatel.
3 Hayek, Friedrich August von, 1976, p. 88. Socialism and Science. Institute of Public AYairs Review, vol. 30.
4 For the full argument see Mises, Ludwig von. 1998 [1949], p. 729. Human Action: A Treatise on Economics. 3rd ed. Auburn, Alabama: Ludwig von Mises Institute.
5 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 1998 [1973], p. 58. Rules and Order. London: Routledge.
6 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 2011 [1960], p. 73 et seq. The Constitution of Liberty. London: The University of Chicago Press.
7 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 1998 [1973], p. 14. Rules and Order. London: Routledge.
8 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 2011 [1960], p. 78. The Constitution of Liberty. London: The University of Chicago Press.
9 Ibid.
10 B. Mussolini reportedly wrote: „We were the first to assert that the more complicated the forms of civilisation, the more restricted the freedom of the individual must become.“ Quoted from Hayek, Friedrich August von. 2001 [1944], p. 45. The Road to Serfdom. London: Routledge.
11 See Hayek, Friedrich August von. 1945. “The Use of Knowledge in Society”. The American Economic Review, vol. 35, no. 4.
12 Quoted from Hayek, Friedrich August von. 1988, p. 70. The Fatal Conceit: The Errors of Socialism. London: Routledge.
13 The Czech original reads: „tím hlubší základy, čím vyšší zeď nahoře: a vyšší rozum stojí na hlubší pokoře.“ Borovský, Karel Havlíček, 1960 [1845], p. 72. Básně [Vrch a základ]. Praha: Československý spisovatel.
14 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 2011 [1960], p. 122. The Constitution of Liberty. London: The University of Chicago Press.
15 Acton, John Emerich Edward Dalberg, 2011 [1907], p. 24. The History of Freedom and Other Essays. Indianapolis: Liberty Fund.
16 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 2011 [1960], p. 53. The Constitution of Liberty. London: The University of Chicago Press.
17 Phillips, Henry B. 1945, p. 255. On the Nature of Progress. American Scientist, vol. 33, No. 4.
18 For a similar argument see also Drábek, Štěpán. 2025. The Fragile Jewel of Freedom: F. A. Hayek’s Defense of Liberty. European Center of Austrian Economics Foundation.
19 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 1998 [1973], p. 56. Rules and Order. London: Routledge
20 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 2011 [1960], p. 83. The Constitution of Liberty. London: The University of Chicago Press.
21 Ibid.
22 Hayek, Friedrich August von. 1998 [1973], p. 61. Rules and Order. London: Routledge}