Libertarianism in an Orwellian Twist: The Paradoxical Vision of Walter Block

Walter Block presents a complicated moral and legal dilemma involving self-defense in the face of aggressive violence. He asks readers to visualize a scenario where an aggressor, A, is shooting at C while using two babies, B, as shields, thereby complicating the ethics of C’s response. Block’s argument hinges on the non-aggression principle (NAP), which asserts that one cannot initiate aggression against a non-aggressor. Rothbard, meanwhile, discusses these situations more straightforwardly, asserting that in such a case C has the legal right to defend himself against A, regardless of the collateral risk to B. However, Block argues that C would be violating the NAP by potentially harming B, raising a legal conundrum that Rothbard does not seem to acknowledge.

Block disputes the legality of C’s self-defense by asserting that if C shoots back, he risks hitting B, thereby committing an act of aggression against an innocent party. This leads Block to question whether it is permissible under libertarian law for C to fire at A, despite A’s aggressiveness. Block suggests that this situation creates a legal quagmire, suggesting that unless B is recognized as an aggressor in some capacity, C cannot legitimately defend himself without also endangering an innocent party. However, many would argue that in a typical self-defense scenario, the aggressor, A, holds the culpability if innocent bystanders are harmed during the act of self-defense.

Block’s interpretation hinges on the premise that to fire back at A would amount to aggression toward B, the innocent shield. He assumes for his theory to stick that the criterion for C’s legal defense is that B’s status must be elevated to an aggressor. He infers that the action of A, using B as a shield, transforms B’s role in this dynamic. However, this leads to a questionable conclusion in which innocent parties are unjustly categorized in a manner that distorts the NAP’s intended protections for non-aggressors.

To support his premise and further complicate his argument, Block introduces the concept of “negative homesteading.” This concept posits that one can “own” a negative—like misery—through initial victimization, which he argues places B in a unique position as the first victim in need of legal protection. Under this paradigm, B cannot transfer his victim status or the associated moral weight to C simply by participating in A’s hostile intentions. Yet, this notion fails fundamentally since libertarian principles do not embrace the idea of owning negatives in the same sense as positive property rights.

The critical flaw in Block’s reasoning is twofold. First, the concept of “negative homesteading” does not exist within established libertarian theory, which is rooted in positive claims of property derived from labor. Using the term in an oppositional context muddles the clarity of established definitions in legal and ethical discourse. Secondly, the question of self-defense primarily focuses on the legal right to act against aggression, which should not be conflated with the morals surrounding the consequences of possible collateral damage to an innocent.

Walter Block’s interpretation prompts readers to reflect on the boundaries of legal rights versus moral responsibilities in high-stake confrontations. Rothbard’s approach to self-defense does not suggest one should ignore ethical considerations, but it firmly establishes that the aggressor bears fault for endangering third parties. The distinction between positive law (what legal rights one has to respond) and normative ethics (what one ought to do) is vital in understanding the implications of aggression, liability, and self-defense, fundamentally placing the blame for any real consequence on the initiator of violence, in this case, A. In summary, Block’s nuanced legal puzzles give rise to an ongoing debate about the interpretation of the NAP, but ultimately serve as a reminder of the essential principles that define ethical responses to aggression.