I always remember when, as a high school student, I learned about the 14th-century religious movement, the Flagellants. Followers aimed to purify their souls by what was termed “mortification of the flesh” – literally whipping their own bodies with instruments of penance as a ritual response to war, famine and plague. Now I’d like to think I have a relatively high pain threshold and I understand that many would consider that voluntarily running long distances is a form of self-flagellation, but the idea of actually whipping myself till my flesh literally splits doesn’t appeal.

I’ve been thinking of the Flagellants recently, in the context of some things I’ve seen suggested by some of our more left-leaning compatriots. I am referring, of course, to the slogan bandied about for a time suggesting that “Tax is Love.” It seems that, in a throwback to the days of the Flagellants, those waving banners with that catchy, but ultimately meaningless, statement are suggesting that by paying more tax we are ritually cleansing ourselves of society’s ills and expressing love in our fellow (wo)man.

While that sounds nice and flowery, I have to call BS on that and state what is ultimately the facts of the matter: no one actually likes paying tax. We may agree that it is an important thing to do. We may appreciate the myriad of publicly funded services that are paid for through the tax take. We might accept that it is an inevitability (alongside, ironically, death) but no one actually enjoys paying for it.

But there is another perspective that, while not-often thought about, is both more realistic and more focussing on the mind. That perspective is that tax is self-preservation. Let me explain with a quick diatribe on neoliberalism…

Back in the 19th century, there was a political movement that sought to push the free market. Fuelled in part by Adam Smith’s book The Wealth of Nations and its concept of “The Invisible Hand,” neoliberalism took the view that the market knew all, saw all and delivered the purest results. Neoliberals suggested that governments should stop interfering and let that aforementioned Invisible Hand do its job. The Great Depression of the 1930s saw neoliberalism decline, and World War II saw it buried, at least for a time.

However, over the past forty or so years, ever since Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagen sold the second coming of neoliberalism, we have been in an increasing push to neoliberal hegemony in terms of the political discourse. Their work was fuelled by economist Milton Friedman’s theories that the role of the corporation was to maximize profits and that, by doing so, they would fuel societal gains through the trickle-down effect. The net result has been that, over these past few decades, we have seen wealth increasingly concentrated into a tiny (and growing smaller) number of ultra-wealthy individuals.

In case anyone still thought otherwise, a quick hop between Remuera and Mangere, Thorndon and Waitangirua, or Fendalton and Wainoni should show that trickle-down doesn’t work.

But this opinion piece isn’t about the perils of neoliberalism. Arguing against that is like having a deep and meaningful conversation with a flock of turkeys about how Christmas is actually beneficial to their interests – it’s simply not going to fly (pun intended). No, this is instead something we can all agree on – the push for self-preservation.

One consequence of this increasing concentration of wealth into the hands of a few is that the majority, those who are literally handing over cash to the wealthy, increasingly see the inequities prevalent in the system. There comes a point at which the balance is tipped so heavily against the majority, that the rule of law goes out the window. We live in a finely tuned society in which our agreeing to a social contract – one in which we pay taxes, obey laws and regulations, and defer to authority – is increasingly at risk. We’ve created a modern take on feudalism and the ability of those feudal lords to keep their subjects firmly in control looks skaky.

Which is where self-preservation comes in. Sure we can hire private militias, build ourselves gated communities and install watchtowers at our front gates but eventually those metaphorical pitchforks will come for us. And they’ll come fuelled by anger and frustration at the economic inequities fuelled by that concentration of wealth. They’ll decide that, after generations of being promised a return for their toil and tears, there is actually no hope and that the elite will continue to pull this subterfuge on them while enjoying the baubles of wealth and power. They’ll decide to take back, likely by force, that which they believe is rightly theirs.

And so, faced with what could very well be an epoch-changing revolution, what options do we have? Quite simply, we have the option to redistribute wealth in a way that ensures greater levels of equity. We have the chance to build a society where a tiny percentage doesn’t lord over the majority. We have the ability to avoid those pitchforks coming for us.

Tax isn’t love, that’s feel-good rubbish. However it is self-preservation, and if that’s not motivation to change things, I don’t know what is.

 

 

Ben Kepes

Ben Kepes is a technology evangelist, an investor, a commentator and a business adviser. Ben covers the convergence of technology, mobile, ubiquity and agility, all enabled by the Cloud. His areas of interest extend to enterprise software, software integration, financial/accounting software, platforms and infrastructure as well as articulating technology simply for everyday users.

2 Comments
  • This is exactly right. One just needs look at the various revolutions that have occurred. If the masses are increasingly deprived of the basics of life (food, shelter and hope) and feel they are unable to change the political system, that will inevitably lead to revolution. Far better to radically redesign our systems to be fairer for all while we can.

  • The old joke – A California ranch that was once owned by Ronald Reagan was being threatened by a wildfire

    Firefighters attempted to save it by pouring water on a nearby hill and hoping it would trickle down.

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