I object to a great many laws on philosophical grounds. These are laws that attempt to govern my behaviour for my own good (and occasionally against my will), based upon the dubious notion that the State knows best. I don’t want a right-wing daddy state setting curfews and doling out punishments; nor do I want a left-wing mommy state swaddling me in protective legislation and bottle-feeding me a basic living stipend. I am an adult, and would like to be treated as such.

I object to most of these laws for another, simpler reason: they don’t work.

(If you must have an example, the War on Some Drugs provides an excellent one. This post is, however, more or less a theoretical exercise.)

I don’t understand how one can argue for one’s favourite piece of busybody legislation in the face of statistics. It’s particularly galling in the case of these sorts of laws, which are intended to curb a specific behaviour. If this behaviour hasn’t diminished after the law has been in place for some time, the law is a failure. It is, among other things, a waste of money that could otherwise be spent on useful things (repairing bridges, for example).

Some apologists have told me that, even if they don’t work, these laws are necessary — that their absence would imply approval of whatever vice they’re intended to prevent.  Law, however, is not morality; a thing may be legal but immoral (mass surveillance comes to mind), and another may be illegal but morally inoffensive (jaywalking, for example).  Using the law as a moral crutch is negligent and oafish.  Using the law to impose your own standards of behaviour upon others under the sanctimonious aegis of morality is despicable.