Georgists as Social Beings
Robert Clancy
[Reprinted from the Henry George News, June,
1964]
You have indubitably heard, more than once, the classical story of
the classical Georgist: It was at the funeral service of a member of
the community who was not particularly popular. The minister asked, "Would
anyone like to say something about our departed friend?" There
was silence in the audience. Finally, a man in the back row stood up
and said, "If nobody has anything to say, I'd like to say a few
words about the Single Tax."
History mercifully does not record the reaction of the audience.
Though the story is cited to illustrate the single-track mind of
Single Taxers, it also illustrates another characteristic of the
classical Georgist. There are two kinds of people, the "social"
person and the "ideas" person, and he usually fits the
latter category. This does not mean that our Georgist is anti-social,
as he is laboring for social acceptance.
But there is a difference of emphasis. While the ideas person likes
company, if it comes to a choice, he'll stay with his ideas. The
social person may have ideas, but if it threatens his social standing,
he'll give up his ideas. The social person may discover the Georgist
philosophy and rejoice in it, but he runs the risk of having to lunch
with his colleagues and be met with the taunt, "Well, well, and
how is Henry George today?" To the social person, this can be
more devastating than a battery of syllogisms, and he's apt to give up
his George.
As this is set down, it sounds rather reprehensible, and it seems
more heroic to give up company and stay with ideas. But what we like
to hear or read about is not necessarily what we act out in life. What
parent does not warn an idealistic child, "Your ideas will
threaten your position in the world, you must renounce them?"
The social sense of belonging wins out again and again. The slick
operator moving on the edge of the law, knows well the jargon of
lawyers and policemen, and he gets along better with them than does
the ignorant, innocent bystander. The tax finagler who knows how to
move around the pieces on the difficult forms, columns and
sub-sections, thereby shows he "belongs," and doesn't get
the harassment meted out to the poor but honest bungling taxpayer.
The fellows who persist in their ideas are very much in the minority
- but they always manage to show up. In ancient Babylon, the
aristocrats would be having a nice, quiet orgy, now and then throwing
a baby in the fire for Moloch, when in would barge one of those
nudnick prophets, ranting something about right and wrong. In Rome,
there was always an unsociable Christian around who would refuse to
worship the emperor just because he wasn't a god. And so it has always
been, right down to the funeral parlor. And so, let us pray, it will
always be.
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