Letters to the Citizens of the United States

The Jerome L. Wright essay to which I linked yesterday sent me scurrying first to my search engine and then to my library and a work I didn't realize I already possessed: Thomas Paine's Letters to the Citizens of the United States and Particularly to the Leaders of the Federal Faction. These are on pages 908-957 of The Complete Writings of Thomas Paine, Volume 2, which I obtained through the wonderful online archive of the Ludwig von Mises Institute.

This morning I read carefully and joyously through the first two letters, the joy a result of the encounter with an unapologetically free mind. Paine wrote to remind the citizens of the new United States of the principles behind their revolution 26 years earlier, and to call out the faction that he saw as turning back those principles in the name of "federalism."

One of Paine's observations gave me a small modicum of hope:

There is in America, more than in any other country, a large body of people who attend quietly to their farms, or follow their several occupations; who pay no regard to the clamours of anonymous scribblers, who think for themselves, and judge of government, not by the fury of newspaper writers, but by the prudent frugality of its measures, and the encouragement it gives to the improvement and prosperity of the country; and who, acting on their own judgment, never come forward in an election but on some important occasion.

When this body moves, all the little barkings of scribbling and witless curs pass for nothing.

Do these people still exist, and are they "a large body"? It's difficult to say, given the results of the last several elections — indeed, given the results of most elections — although much may be concluded by examining how many people don't participate in most elections.

Our days are filled with "little barkings of scribblings and witless curs" who advocate chains for all but their anointed rulers — scribblings, and their electronic equivalent in this modern age. Do those who think for themselves still exist in sufficient numbers to make a difference?

And by "make a difference," I mean nothing more than to make the witless curs and anointed ones irrelevant. Freedom means the ability to say, as the great fictional Independent Malcolm Reynolds once said, "I got no need to beat you; I just want to go my way." Reynolds was a great example of Paine's people "who attend quietly to their farms, or to their several occupations."

Two hundred and seven years have passed since Paine wrote his letters, and the barkings have continued unceasingly. The embers of the flame he started with Common Sense still glow, often just barely.

The halls of government are filled with men and women anxious to extinguish those embers. They have grown fat and sassy on the backs of those willing to allow them to hold the reins of power; a little more Thomas Paine in our intellectual diets may be the cure.

An election party where nobody came

Well, it's been a quiet week in Freedomville, my hometown ... I sense a disturbance in the Force, or something. It's an uneasiness in a soul that has chosen not to participate in the charade we call a "presidential election." Or the anxiety, if that's the right word, is something other than that.

The discomfort must be something more than resigning myself to the fact that the two branches of the Party have presented the US of A with finalists in the presidential reality show who each proposes to be the dictator of our lives, improving only the efficiency of a safety net woven from chains that purports to protect us from cradle to grave while regulating, licensing or prohibiting nearly every known individual choice or course of action. Maybe it's something as easy as realizing that everyone who was voted off the island was also anxious to be our dictator.

But this is nothing new. Perhaps it's that this is my first "presidential election" since my disillusionment in this process became complete. I have reported to a polling place and voted for the Libertarian Party candidate for four of the last five of these exercises, which gave me some sense of empowerment. I never bought into the "if you vote for a third party, you've wasted your vote" nonsense. If you vote for someone who doesn't share your values or views in any meaningful sense of the words, THEN you've wasted your vote, I have always said. It's not about winning, it's about representation, and if the numbers show your viewpoints aren't representative, your views will be ignored. Or so I believed.

Now it seems clear that my views will be ignored anyway. And so I will join the majority that votes "None of the Above," who is not on the ballot. I have seen unopposed candidates fret because they received only 94 percent of the vote, wondering how they could have disillusioned as many as 6 percent. So I know the fewer people vote, the more it will get the attention of our rulers. The fewer people vote, the more it will trouble good men and women.

The dilemma is it's also true that the fewer people vote, the easier it is for a devious minority to maintain control, because all you need is 50.1 percent of a small minority to win the election. That's a motivation for voting for the "lesser of two evils." But the better choice between two evils is still evil. The only sane choice is neither, not one or the other.

I know and understand all of this, so why do I sense a disturbance in my heart? I wonder if it's something as basic as finally understanding to the core that the extent to which I am free has nothing to do with politics, nothing to do with the chains so many freely choose. The extent to which I am free is up to me. The extent to which I have not been free was my responsibility. Freedom is not something granted by rulers; it's an "unalienable right" that I have given away.

How do I get back my freedom? First I understand that I never lost control of it, I merely chose not to be free. How do I get back my freedom? I take it back, gently but firmly. One small step is to note that neither Barack Obama nor John McCain represents me in any way, shape or form. Freedom is not about having the right ruler. Oh, wait, yes it is. Freedom is understanding that I am the boss of me.

Won't get fooled again

I have a couple of reasons for not getting too excited over the Ron Paul for President phenomenon.

One is that I'm fresh from the one-two punch of Murray N. Rothbard and Frank Chodorov, so my faith in the American system of elections is at a low ebb. Even if a miracle were to occur and he became President Paul, there's only so much he could do. Ronald Reagan was the closest thing to a limited-government Constitution-respecting president we'll probably have in my lifetime, and the government got bigger, more intrusive and more imperial under his watch. However, a strong showing by Paul could give a boost to the notion that Americans have begun to notice how un-American our State has become over the past 100 years or so.

The other reason is Serenity. No, really. I remember the huge Internet buzz that accompanied the pending release of the best movie of the 21st century so far. I remember telling my friends that Firefly/Serenity was the next big science-fiction franchise, based on the incredible enthusiasm I found everywhere I turned on the Internet. I was astonished and disappointed when the film's actual box office numbers weren't good enough to debut at No. 1, couldn't even beat a lame Jodie Foster movie. (Hey, I love Jodie Foster sometimes, but this wasn't her finest hour.)

So I do not put a lot of stock in the huge Internet buzz for Ron Paul. I'm glad he's out there making noise, and it's fun watching the grass-roots volunteers at work, holding signs at highway overpasses and such. But after Serenity flew in on all that Web buzz and barely earned back its cost, I'll need more than Web buzz to be optimistic.

An internal gut check and reformation is going to have to happen before the United States becomes a free country again. Ron Paul can be a catalyst, but politics isn't going to solve what ails us.

A dose of Chodorov

We would be told, most emphatically, that by not voting we would be turning the reins of government over to "rascals." Probably so; but do we not regularly vote "rascals" out? And, after we have ousted one set, are we not called upon to oust another crew at the next election? It seems that rascality is endemic to government.

Our balloting system has been defined as a battle of opposing forces, each armed with proposals for the public good, for a grant of power. As far as it goes, this definition is correct. But when the successful contestant acquires the grant of power, toward what end does he use it – not theoretically but practically?

Does he not, with an eye to the next election, go in for purchasing support, with the taxpayers' money, so that he might enjoy another period of power? The over-the-barrel method of seizing and maintaining political power is standard practice, and such is the nature of the "rascality."

This is not, however, an indictment of our election system. It is rather a rejection of the institution of the State; our election system is merely one way of adjusting ourselves to that institution.

The State is a product of conquest. As far back as we have any knowledge of the beginnings of this institution, it originated when a band of freebooting nomads swooped down on some peaceful group of agriculturists and picked up a number of slaves; slavery is the first form of economic exploitation.

Repeated visititations of this sort left the victims breathless, if not lifeless and propertyless to boot. So, as people do when they have no other choice, they made a compromise with necessity; the peaceful communities hired one set of marauders to protect them from other thieving bands, for a price. In time, this tribute was regularized and called taxation.

- Frank Chodorov, from Out of Step