I often find myself thinking about the Haitian Revolution. Not because I’m a historian, nor do I feel any particular personal connection to slavery. I am quite Caucasian, thank you, and my natural empathic connections lay in far more privileged in-groups. Frankly, I have more in common with the French slavers than I do the Haitians, and that is precisely my point.

Hello comfort zone!

The Haitian Revolution was vicious. When the slaves rebelled, they did so with ferocious gusto. The Haitians tortured and slaughtered every single French family on the island, ostensibly to prevent further enslavement, but arguably as revenge for the crimes of their colonial nation. The only White folks who were spared were the Germans and Poles. In retaliation, the French set up a blockade around the island with their navy of warships and forced reparations from the new republic, demanding the former slaves pay their slavers approximately $3.5 billion USD in today’s currency, with Haiti only paying it off finally in 1947. Haiti’s modern day impoverishment was imposed by a jilted nation bitter about losing the people they owned as property.

The Haitians brutalized French civilians, killing entire families including children. Did France have the right to defend itself? In a just world, should they have invaded the poor nation to reestablish the status quo? Let’s say for the sake of argument that the French would have been delicately proportionate in their response, and avoided killing civilians, targeting only the militants who overthrew the slaver regime. They were one of the few republics globally at that point, deposing their own tyrannical rulers in their own notably dovish way; surely their cause must have been just – they were an oasis of democracy in the world! Would their resolute nobility justify returning the Haitian people to enslavement? Should we condemn the Haitians for their revolution? Surely a peaceful solution was possible, and while we may mourn the tragedy of French retaliation, devastating in its reality, we cannot abide the violence of a slave revolt. Surely.

I don’t think the Haitians had truly exhausted their kumbaya resources

Slavery is now considered one of the greatest evils humanity has ever perpetuated. To respond to it with violence isn’t actually at all controversial. When America eventually caught on that slavery is bad, it had a whole war against itself in order to reject it. To talk about the Haitian Revolution without the context of slavery is just about the most absurd thing anyone could ever do; even the worst student in a high school history class would still include the word “slavery” somewhere in their failing final paper, perhaps even in the title. When we look at the slave revolt, the keyword is already present in the phrasing. To pretend it erupts in an ahistorical vacuum would require significant leaps of racism to ignore.

My parallel is not subtle, and the criticisms are predictable. What the French did, slavery, is objectively wrong, and the Israeli treatment of Palestinians is a false equivalence. Perhaps, but we must look at the context to determine whether or not that is actually true. In the occupied territories of the West Bank (deemed illegal under international law), Israeli settlers are forcibly evicting Palestinians from their homes in order to claim the land for their own, often using violence to do so. In Gaza, one has to wonder how Israel had the power to eliminate access to drinkable water from entering the region after Hamas’s attack, along with other trifles like fuel, food, and medicine. This blockade has been in place since 2007. What do you call it when one group controls the necessities of life of another, removing access to it when they disapprove? It is driving a people into submission, reminding them who has the power over their lives. While there is no forced labour, the comparison to slavery does not feel too outrageous. There is a word that is commonly bandied about though, apartheid, as described by Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, and even the Israeli human rights group B’tselem. What does it mean to use violence against such a state of oppression?

This surrounds Gaza. This is why it’s often compared to an open-air prison with unlivable conditions even at the best of times. What kind of moral equivalence should we attribute to the imprisonment without charge of an entire people?

Which leads me to the second predictable criticism. We’ve grown as a species since the days of colonialism and slavery! We don’t need violence anymore! Even the apartheid in South Africa was resolved through the peaceful actions of the great Nelson Mandela! Violence, in any context, is inherently evil and should never be used as a political tool.

There is an old philosophical adage that states that ought implies can. This is a simple maxim that stipulates that only someone capable of acting ethically is responsible for doing so. If I can’t lift a boulder that’s crushing you to death, I am not responsible for saving you. If I’m Superman and just don’t bother to lift the boulder, then I am acting unethically. It’s fairly straightforward – we can’t perform moral duties that we are unable to perform, therefore we are not obligated to follow them.

Holding people to literally impossible standards?! Something something joke about relationships

Can Palestinians use non-violent means to end the apartheid imposed upon them? I mean they’ve tried. The United States has vetoed every single United Nations Security Council resolution that would hamper Israel’s ability to oppress them. The International Criminal Court has been rendered essentially impotent in their investigations into the matter due to America’s opposition, sanctioning prosecutors. Israel also flatly rejects the jurisdiction of the court, denying any international legitimacy to the complaints of the Palestinians. The Boycott, Divest, and Sanction (BDS) movement that attempts to use similar tactics that ended apartheid in South African is often legally impermissible, or at the very least culturally frowned upon rendering it inconsequential as peaceful protest. When Palestinians protest peacefully locally, they are often shot for their troubles. Journalists covering the situation are also killed with impunity. The list goes on.

What exactly ought the Palestinians to do? When we condemn Hamas, we’re saying they ought not to have done what they did, but the follow-up question becomes: what ought they to do instead? There does not appear to be any effective measure Palestinians can take that will alter their situation in any meaningful way. Are they simply to sit passively by? Allow history to unfold as it will, without their input? Should the Haitians simply have waited for the French to determine on their own that slavery is morally bankrupt? France ended slavery in 1848, 44 years after the Haitian revolution. Would we ask them to endure another couple generations of slavery to avoid any wearisome violence? How long do you think it will be for the Palestinians to wait, or will the historical narrative have them driven out of their homes forever? The idea of forcibly relocating a people out of their homes under threat of death has terrifying precedent.

Don’t you know that patience is a virtue?

The third and final predictable criticism is that I am justifying the terrorism of Hamas; what Hamas did was good actually, and innocent Israeli families deserve to die. Hopefully by now you’ve been able to ascertain the entire point of this article. We cannot justify the acts of Hamas in the same way we cannot condemn them. We cannot say they ought to have committed such atrocities just as much as we can’t offer an alternative. If ought implies can, and Palestine is forbidden any action whatsoever, then there can be no ethical component to their deeds. The October 7th attack can neither be condemned nor justified because it does not exist in the ethical realm. The violence of Palestinians transcend any ethical deliberation because ethics have long been unattainable for them. Hamas acted in what amounts to a state of nature, and people died. We are allowed an emotional reaction to be sure, but not an ethical one. If we want an ethical option for Palestinians to embrace, perhaps we should give them one. We can act.

If I was alive in Haiti in the early 19th century, me and my family likely would have been tortured and killed by dint of nothing more than our racial identity. I certainly wouldn’t have enjoyed it, and I would appreciate people mourning the deaths of me and my loved ones. I’ve long questioned, however, even before October 7th, 2023, the justifications for my survival in that context. What is my life or death in the face of the giant of slavery? How ought I to be treated as an accessory to slavery? What would my own moral obligations be if I survived the slaughter? How does one condemn a slave revolt in a world without ethics?

Virtue ethics are one of the oldest established ethical systems in the West. They gave the ancient Greeks traits to try to embody and paragons to try to emulate. Aristotle came up with a list of virtues with the intention of giving people a guide on how to live life successfully. Not a step-by-step instruction, but more of an encouragement toward a better way of living. It is this striving that creates the good life, the eudaimonia, where we live in flourishing happiness. We are at our best in our active virtue in the way that a horse is at its best while running, for just as the purpose of the horse is its speed, so too the purpose of a human is to live virtuously. Virtue is what we aim for, what we strive for, and in that striving, we are living well.

Being virtuous, according to Aristotle, is found within the golden mean. The best life is lived in moderation – neither to be rash nor cowardly, we should live firmly and courageously. Neither miserly nor prodigally, we should live charitably and generously. Aristotle produced a list of virtues within this golden mean as the foundational structure upon which our eudaemonic life can be built. The happy, flourishing life is one of acting honestly, patiently, modestly, and friendly.

Good to know that righteous indignation is a virtue, or I would be screwed

To become virtuous, one must obviously learn how. Virtue is a skill. One is not born patient, as anyone exposed to a child will discover. Virtues are imbued into the individual by the sage, the one who has achieved their good life. It is up to society to produce its sages so that virtue can be passed on from one generation to the next. The purpose of life is to lead a good one, and so ideally we would want a culture that aims to socialize its young toward virtue.

The problem with virtue ethics is that we always do by default. Children will be socialized and taught how to be virtuous according to the culture that surrounds them; it’s just that those virtues will differ from culture to culture. Christian culture encourages the virtues of forgiveness and mercy whereas a Buddhist culture would focus on the serenity required to relinquish attachments. Who we see as our sage determines the virtues toward which we aspire, whether the Buddha or the Christ.

Jesus was known for shunning the marginalized and praising the wealthy, so probably something along those lines

Despite the persistence of religion, these sages of yore are no longer as influential as they once were. You might have been able to guess this by your having previously scoffed at Christian culture being described as forgiving. This is because we have abandoned those cultures, if not in name then at least in practice. Today, our culture is one of capitalism. Our sage is the billionaire.

Perhaps you are unswayed by my assertion. However, people write books about how to become wealthy, encouraging particular behaviours that will surely lead to financial success. There are schemes, podcasts, cults, and conferences. Television has created an entire genre of entertainment where people go to absurd lengths to become wealthy, and fixates on the traits of the winners as the key to their success. Each of these methods demand a certain “type” of person if that person wants to succeed. If you stay poor, it’s because you just didn’t inhabit the virtues of the wealthy.

The subtleties of capitalism

A quick Google search turns up a myriad of numbered lists providing the Top Habits of Billionaires. The wealthy set goals and follow them with single-minded determination; they dream big without fear of failure; they spend their time learning and surrounding themselves with people smarter than they are; they take care of themselves by eating and sleeping right; and finally, of course, they are cautious with their money. One could easily turn this into a list of virtues similar to that of Aristotle. The billionaire sage is focused, driven, prudent, curious, social, and bold. Many of these could even exist in alignment with those of Aristotle.

The thing is, the virtue ethics of the Ancient Greeks was self-fulfilling. Living well is its own reward. Hence why moderation is important, even in our virtue. There is no such restraint within capitalism, however, because the goal isn’t virtue in-itself: it’s money. There is no moderation in the virtues of today because capitalism necessitates infinite growth. The concept of the golden mean is antithetical to the voraciousness of the capitalistic system. Today, one is virtuous for the sake of something outside of virtue, which means that the virtues themselves are only of secondary value. The “Hustle Culture” and “Grind Culture” that have sprung up as the pinnacle of these modern day virtues is toxic for exactly this reason. It is physically and mentally exhausting to live this “good life” because the demands put on us aren’t driven by any idea of a eudaemonia but by what was once considered a cardinal vice: avarice.

“I want golf clubs! I want diamonds! I want a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored, and sell it to make glue!”

The other problem with capitalistic virtue ethics is that they’re a lie. Social mobility has little to do with one’s virtue. The ability to actually improve your financial situation is low, and has been getting worse for decades. Wages are going down, so we’re making less money than our parents. The only place where incomes are rising are for those who are already rich. The decline of unions, the change in technologies, barriers on education… these are the things that are keeping most of us broke, not our personal vices. No matter how early you get up or the number of goals you set, your economic situation probably isn’t going to change all that dramatically.

A society will necessarily create its own virtues. Societies are created by humans, and humans need to know how to behave well to fit in with their neighbours. We will always have virtues, and we will always have sages. However, it is important to observe what those virtues demand of their adherents, or if living like the sage actually allows one to become like them. The modern virtue ethics of capitalism are viciously idolatrous in both regards. The Renaissance was in many ways a return to antiquity to absolve Europe from the hollowness of the medieval period. With capitalism, our virtues are equally hollow. While I am not so nostalgic to demand a return to the Ancients, it is at least clear that our current virtues leave much to be desired.

Those in the West live fairly comfortably in democracies. Sure, some of us are technically constitutional monarchies, but our overall vibe is still pretty democratic. Partisan politics always seem to claim to be the voice of the people and not the voice of the king, so there are at least overtures to democracy. And yet, we still tell kid stories that revolve around princesses. Disney has a veritable pantheon of them and isn’t seen as an enemy of democracy (barring the inanity that is the state of Florida). Celebrating someone in the queer community is to call them a “queen.” The monarchy remains embedded in our culture across the spectrum, from the capitalists to the queer dissidents.

The usage of these monarchist tropes certainly don’t aim to be anti-democratic. Disney princesses rarely do any actual governing or promote policy measures; they typically go on adventures, solve mysteries, and sing songs about how many thingamabobs they own. If there is a queen or king involved, they may even have a short temper you certainly wouldn’t want in an autocrat, but it’s never viewed in that context – they’re just a mean ol’ parent who doesn’t let their teenage daughter have any fun! The monarchies in these stories are about as apolitical as you can get.

The queer coding for villainy, on the other hand, is far more obvious.

So why have the story told through the lens of monarchism at all if its function as a form of government is completely irrelevant to the plot? Why is Ariel a princess when she can just be some random girl with an overprotective father? The same story works if they’re poor and Triton is a working single father who is trying to raise his daughter alone, but she isn’t focused on taking care of herself or her future; she’s focused on hoarding useless junk. These stories don’t need monarchism, so why romanticize a form of dictatorship most countries killed a whole bunch of people to overcome? Monarchies are bad, you guys! Remember? Remember how America fought a war and France killed a lot of people to get rid of them? Democracy and monarchy are antithetical toward one another, and we’re supposed to love democracy!

The Beauty and the Beast fairytale takes place only a couple of decades before this happened in France. Let’s just say that those two did not live happily ever after, and you know, maybe they shouldn’t have!

Edmund Burke is the father of modern day conservatism, and he was a staunch opponent of democracy in his time and opposed the French revolution. He recognized the failures of the contemporary monarchies that were being resisted, but believed ultimately that there still ought to be an elite governing the masses, and if the current group were a failure, then they were just the wrong kind of elites. Monarchism, and the aristocracies that are associated with that type of rule, are elites who dictate how the world ought to be run. When viewed in this context, we can see that this ideology can actually be applied quite comfortably to our capitalist system. The elites are the rich, and it is right and good that they influence our democracy, because they are better than the rest of us. They’ve proved it by being richer than us in a competitive market. They won; we lost. They earned their place in the aristocracy, and therefore their voices count more than ours. Forget democracy, we shall be governed by those who can buy out the most of their competitors.

A bad elite whom ought to be resisted, in comparison to all the good elites that we should never resist because their rule is natural and righteous

This is why queer people call each other “queen,” to infer that their peer is an elite. Queer people are often downtrodden and dispossessed, and reclaiming some power by stealing the language of elitism is a way to overcome that. It could even be argued that the usage is satirizing the idea of elites, as drag satirizes gender and patriarchy. I expect each person who calls out, “Yas Queen!” has their own reason for doing so, but at its core, it is a reference to an elite, whether ironic or genuine. I’ve also started seeing people refer to men as “kings,” and this trend does not appear to have any of the irony that it really ought to.

Similarly, with no hint of irony, stories about princesses create an image in a child’s mind that there are groups of people who are simply better than others. If there’s a dragon or a mer-witch, then thank God we have a class of people capable of handling them. We wouldn’t want to trust that kind of responsibility to the peasants! Readers naturally empathize and insert themselves as the hero of the story, and so they believe themselves to be that class of person: it doesn’t matter what station in life you’re born into, when you read a story with monarchical characters, all of a sudden, you’re an elite too. And if you’re not, you could be! Just say your prayers and take your vitamins, and by God, maybe you’ll be rich some day too!

Poverty is real and brutal in Agrabah. You can be extrajudicially killed by the police for stealing a loaf of bread, but that certainly can’t be the fault of the monarch! See, if you want to escape poverty, just find a magical lamp! Aladdin proves his worthiness and becomes royalty through merit, his poverty a miscalculation rather than a systemic injustice.

These stories naturalize power imbalances. That’s why monarchism is still included in these “tales as old as time” despite being irrelevant to the story. Kings historically claimed a divine right to their rule, and while that trope has fallen out of fashion, cultural monarchism still seeks to naturalize the righteousness of the elites of today’s society. Our modern princess stories might have empowered women wearing the tiara, no longer requiring to be saved, but it’s the empowerment of the Girl Boss who still functions within an unequal capitalism. She deserves to be the She-E-O; she’s better than those seamstresses making fast fashion out of Bangladesh, and don’t you question it! If you are born into a situation where succeeding in capitalism is essentially out of the question, well, you’re just destined to peasantry. Accept it. Your betters will make all the important decisions about your life. Here’s a fun song about living under the sea to explain why.

See? The peasants are happy because they get to eat the grasses that the corpses of decadent and opulent kings fertilized. Those kings may live longer and have more of their needs met because of their wealth, but the important thing is it’s natural and therefore cannot be questioned.

Democracy necessarily requires equitable access to the functions of power. If someone isn’t able to have their voice heard, then that’s not a democracy. These stories are not subtle about being anti-democratic: they literally have kings and queens in them. We celebrate and romanticize the monarchy because some groups of people benefit from undemocratic structures cementing their neo-aristocratic roles as pseudo-lords within a plutocracy. To even compliment someone as a king or queen is to normalize that these hierarchies are natural and good, and that we ought to celebrate whatever power, however small, we have within them. Who benefits from people thinking that humanity is divinely segregated into natural categories? Certainly not the vast majority of us.

To call me “queen” is to call me tyrant. To idolize a princess is to deify the robber barons. Perhaps instead, Yas comrade!