This story is from Arnold Kling at EconLog. So simple that even a child could understand but so complex that most politicians probably won't.
The Financial White Paper: A Fabulous Tale
Arnold Kling
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Monday, June 22, 2009
Saturday, November 8, 2008
A Story of Childlike Innocence and Wealth Redistribution
Why Can't We Just Spread the Wealth Around?
by www.liberty4kids.blogspot.com
Gracie and her dad liked hiking. They enjoyed the beautiful scenery and the energizing exercise. But most of all, they enjoyed the time together. It gave them time to talk and be themselves. They never referred to it as hiking; it was always “going on an adventure” for they would seek to find something new every time – even if it was the same trail they had been on many times before.
While Gracie was only seven, she was an excellent hiker. She was also very inquisitive. She would ask her dad about all sorts of things she had heard at school, on TV or at home. For such a small child, her questions were thought provoking. Her dad always was impressed with her questions for they taught him to look at life through a child’s eyes. Her innate sense of justice was pleasing to him. But just like many adults, her prescription for correcting an injustice was not always well reasoned.
On this particular Saturday, Gracie had questions about some things she had heard on the news. (Now her parents don’t normally allow her to listen to the news because it is often filled with pictures and words of an ugly world that they wanted to shelter her from for at least a few more years, but sometimes she overheard things.) It turns out that she had overheard a news story where a presidential candidate had said that the rich weren’t paying their fair share of taxes and how he was going to spread the wealth around. That there are rich people when others are poor simply didn’t sound right to a seven year old.
Her father asked, “What would you have someone do?”
She said, “I would tell the rich to pay more taxes. Why can't we just spread the wealth around?”
Her father replied, “That sounds good, but it might lead to unintended consequences.”
“Unintended consequences? What’s that?” exclaimed Gracie.
With a little bit of shame, Gracie’s dad explained, “Sometimes when we do something – even with the best of intentions – we make the situation worse. Like when I helped you build an Indian dwelling for your history project but I did most of the work. I meant well, but by doing all the work, you didn’t really learn what your teacher wanted you to learn about Indian life. I cheated you. The unintended consequence was that you were not able to explain how you had constructed the dwelling in front of your class.”
“It’s okay Dad, next time I will do my own work. But what unintended consequences might result from making the rich pay more taxes?” Gracie asked.
“Well,” her father answered, “it might lead to fewer jobs and more poor people.”
“Why is that?” Gracie asked.
Her dad attempted to explain, “Owning a business is risky. Many business owners fail many times before they succeed. By taxing successful people more, you would be reducing the incentive someone has to succeed.
“Here is an example that might help you to understand better. Suppose some parents didn’t feel it fair that some children in your class get C’s and D’s. There should be more A’s and B’s given regardless if the children did the work. So the teacher takes some of the points from the successful students and gives them to the poor performing students.”
Gracie interrupted, “But that wouldn’t be fair for Ricky Johnson to get some of my points – he doesn’t even try. Why should I be punished for doing well?”
“That’s right,” her father continued, “likewise progressive taxation isn’t fair either. If a successful businessman is asked to pay more taxes because others have less money, then he is punished for doing well . . . just like you.”
“But some kids do try and still don’t make all A’s and B’s,” Gracie said.
“Under the system of grade distribution, these children would be punished the most,” Gracie’s dad said.
“Why is that?” asked Gracie.
“Those kids that worked hard but still couldn’t make the A or B honor roll before will soon realize that with grade distribution they could get points added by doing less work, but might actually give up points in a few subjects if they continued to work hard.” Gracie’s dad said.
“What have I always told about hard work?” Gracie’s dad asked.
“You say that you would rather have a child that works hard than a smart child that didn’t have to work hard because he might become bored or lazy.” Gracie replied.
“There will always be a reward for hard work as long as the envious don’t use the government to punish hard work. When hard work is punished, like through tax policy, then even hard workers will become reluctant to work hard. When that happens there will be no one to take money from and we all will be poor.” Gracie’s dad said sadly.
So Gracie and her dad walked along the path saying nothing for a few minutes while she took in the lesson her dad was trying to teach her. Then she asked, “Why would a presidential candidate support a policy that is so unfair?”
Her dad said that many people confuse fairness with outcomes and not process. “What does that mean?” Gracie asked. “Well, some people think fairness means everyone gets the same grade, for example, regardless of effort. But fairness doesn’t mean that at all. In fact, it means just the opposite. Fairness dictates that your teacher not show favoritism and grades be awarded based on merit.”
“So the teacher’s pet shouldn’t get special treatment?” Gracie asked.
Her dad smiled for he knew that Gracie was the teacher’s pet and responded, “I didn’t say that . . . maybe special treatment is a reward for being a good student that works hard and obeys the rules? But the teacher should grade your paper, uh, I mean, the teacher’s pet’s work just like she would any other kid.”
“Oh, she does!” Gracie exclaimed.
As they headed back home up a big hill Gracie and her dad held hands and enjoyed the beautiful day. Gracie asked, “Dad is it fair that we get to enjoy this beautiful day and my sister can’t?” Gracie’s sister was born with a birth defect that prevented her from enjoying these long walks. “No.” Her dad said somberly. “It isn’t fair. But she enjoys it when we go on shorter walks and I give her a piggy-back ride. And she doesn’t feel sorry for herself. She finds enjoyment in other things that her disability doesn’t prevent her from doing, like writing and music.”
“Would it be okay if the government helped her?” Gracie asked softly.
Her dad did not answer at first. He thought of how nice it would be if the government could buy his younger daughter a motorized wheelchair that could go off-road so the three of them could hike together. But then he answered Gracie, “No it would not. A possible unintended consequence of the government spending $25,000 to buy all disabled children a special off-road wheelchair might be that research dollars were diverted from helping find a cure for your sister’s birth defect. You see, government taxation to fund such programs soaks up private savings at the expense of private investment, including investment in research. Or more likely, the increased taxes needed to buy these expensive wheelchairs forced other families to make cuts in their budget so that their children couldn’t take a vacation to see their grandparents this summer. The bottom line is your sister is our responsibility. If we look to the government to take care of her then we will become dependent upon others to provide for her. Your mother and I will not always be here. She will need to learn to provide for herself. If a person was born short then it wouldn’t make sense for that person to dream of playing professional basketball, would it? Abilities have not been distributed evenly. Some are smarter, some are prettier, and some are more athletic. We must develop those abilities that we have been given.”
Gracie added, “Maybe if she wasn’t limited by her inability to get about, she would not have become such a wonderful writer and pianist?”
Her dad smiled. His child had impressed him once again. And made him proud.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
The Little Red Hen Shrugged
Michelle Malkin recently rewrote the traditional children’s story The Ant and the Grasshopper in a column as an analogy to the proposed bailout of the mortgage industry. It reminded me of my own satirical rewrite of The Little Red Hen a few years ago. David Moon, a financial columnist for the Knoxville News-Sentinel, had written a column where he commented on hearing about a rewrite of The Little Red Hen where the hen shares her bread with her three lazy neighbors in the end. In the column, he had referred to the original Little Red Hen as “Atlas Shrugged for Children.” I got to thinking, what would the Little Red Hen sound like if Ayn Rand had written it? (Note: There are countless re-writes of this story on the Internet. I certainly don't claim that my version is particularly well done or original. However, I do believe some of the versions I have run across may have based some parts of their retelling on my story as I have posted it a few times elsewhere.) Here is the version I sent it to Mr. Moon:
The Little Red Hen Shrugged
by Liberty4Kids.blogspot.com with apologies to Ayn Rand
Once upon a time, there was a very industrious little red hen who scratched about the barnyard until she uncovered quite a few grains of wheat. She called all of her neighbors together and said, "If we plant this wheat, we shall have bread to eat. Who will help me plant it?" 
"Not I," said the pig.
"Not I," said the cat.
"Not I," said the dog.
"Then I will do it by myself," said the Little Red Hen. And so she did.
With careful tending by the Little Red Hen, the wheat grew very tall and ripened into golden grain.
"Who will help me reap my wheat?" asked the little red hen.
"I'd lose my unemployment compensation," oinked the pig while running off to cool herself in the mud.
"Out of my classification," meowed the cat then stretched and fell asleep.
"I’m disabled," barked the dog while chasing a car.
"Then I will do it by myself," said the Little Red Hen, and so she did.
At last it came time to bake the bread. "Who will help me bake the bread?" asked the little red hen.
"I'm a dropout and never learned how," said the pig.
"That would be overtime for me," said the cat.
"I'd lose my disability benefits," said the dog.
"Then I will do it by myself," said the Little Red Hen.
She baked five loaves and held them up for all of her neighbors to see. They wanted some and, in fact, demanded a share. But the little red hen said, "No, I shall eat one loaf, save two loaves for a rainy day, and sell two loaves. I will, however, sell you some bread."
"You are getting more than your fair share!" cried the pig.
"But what about the working poor?" protested the cat.
"You are discriminating against us because of our species!" yelled the dog.
The jackass showed up to lead a protest. A TV news crew showed up to cover the protest. The local congressman quickly introduced a bill prohibiting little red hens from taking advantage of pigs, cats and dogs; he called the bill “The Fairness in Production Act.” The powerful congressman summoned the Little Red Hen to a congressional committee hearing.
The committee chairman scolded the Little Red Hen, "You must not be so greedy."
"But I earned the bread," said the Little Red Hen.
"Earned?" said the indignant chairman. "Listen, through not effort of your own, you have won life’s lottery. Why should your neighbors be punished because you have been lucky?"
“Lucky?” protested the little red hen. “While true I found the grain, it is also true that I was the only one looking for it. Just like I was the only one to plant the wheat, tend to the wheat, harvest the wheat, take it to the miller, and bake the bread. Isn’t it enough that 50% of all the eggs I lay are confiscated by the government to feed the pig, the cat and the dog? How is that fair?”
“Fair?” stormed the congressman. “How can you bring up the question of fairness? How is it “fair” that you and only you get to decide what happens to the bread?”
“Maybe,” snapped the Little Red Hen, “it is because I was the only one who decided to mix my labor with the land to grow the wheat. You aren’t proposing to make me a slave by forcing me to work for your benefit are you?” The congressman smiled, leaned back in his chair and in a moment of candor said, “Well, I do believe you understand exactly what I am proposing. Now hand over the bread or else!”
“Even if I do that, why would I go to the trouble to bake any bread the next time?” asked the Little Red Hen.
“It is because,” said the congressman, “if you don’t they will starve.”
“In that case,” shrugged Little Red Hen, “let them! For no one owns me!”
Friday, September 26, 2008
The Wild and Free Pigs of the Okefenokee Swamp
This story circulated via email a few years ago. I thought it would be a fitting story for this blog.
The Wild and Free Pigs of the Okefenokee Swamp
by Steve Washam
based on a telling by George Gordon
Some years ago, about 1900, an old trapper from North Dakota hitched up some horses to his Studebaker wagon, packed a few possessions--especially his traps--and drove south. Several weeks later he stopped in a small town just north of the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia. It was a Saturday morning--a lazy day--when he walked into the general store. Sitting around the pot-bellied stove were seven or eight of the town's local citizens. The traveler spoke, "Gentlemen, could you direct me to the Okefenokee Swamp?" Some of the oldtimers looked at him like he was crazy.
"You must be a stranger in these parts," they said.
"I am. I'm from North Dakota," said the stranger.
"In the Okefenokee Swamp are thousands of wild hogs," one old man explained, "A man who goes into the swamp by himself asks to die!"
He lifted up his leg. "I lost half my leg here, to the pigs of the swamp."
Another old fellow said, "Look at the cuts on me; look at my arm bit off!" "Those pigs have been free since the Revolution, eating snakes and rooting out roots and fending for themselves for over a hundred years. They're wild and they're dangerous. You can't trap them. No man dare go into the swamp by himself."
Every man nodded his head in agreement.
The old trapper said, "Thank you so much for the warning. Now could you direct me to the swamp?"
They said, "Well, yeah, it's due south--straight down the road." But they begged the stranger not to go, because they knew he'd meet a terrible fate.
He said, "Sell me ten sacks of corn, and help me load them into the wagon."
And they did.
Then the old trapper bid them farewell and drove on down the road. The townsfolk thought they'd never see him again.
Two weeks later the man came back. He pulled up to the general store, got down off the wagon, walked in and bought ten more sacks of corn. After loading it up he went back down the road toward the swamp.
Two weeks later he returned and, again, bought ten sacks of corn.
This went on for a month; Then two months, and then three. Every week or two the old trapper would come into town on a Saturday morning, load up ten sacks of corn and drive off south into the swamp. The stranger soon became a legend in the little village and the subject of much speculation. People wondered what kind of devil had possessed this man, that he could go into the Okefenokee by himself and not be consumed by the wild and free hogs.
One morning the man came into town as usual. Everyone thought he wanted more corn.
He got off the wagon and went into the store where the usual group of men were gathered around the stove. He took off his gloves. "Gentlemen," he said, "I need to hire about ten or fifteen wagons. I need twenty or thirty men. I have six thousand hogs out in the swamp, penned up, and they're all hungry. I've got to get them to market right away." "You've WHAT in the swamp?" asked the storekeeper, incredulously. "I have six thousand hogs penned up. They haven't eaten for two or three days, and they'll starve if I don't get back there to feed and take care of them."
One of the old timers said, "You mean you've captured the wild hogs of the Okefenokee?"
"That's right."
"How did you do that? What did you do?" the men urged, breathlessly. One of them exclaimed, "But I lost my arm!"
"I lost my brother!" cried another.
"I lost my leg to those wild boars!" chimed a third. The trapper said, "Well, the first week I went in there they were wild all right. They hid in the undergrowth and wouldn't come out. I dared not get off the wagon. So I spread corn along behind the wagon. Every day I'd spread a sack of corn.
"The old pigs would have nothing to do with it. But the younger pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn than it was to root out roots and catch snakes. So the very young began to eat the corn first. "I did this every day. Pretty soon, even the old pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn, after all, they were all free; they were not penned up. They could run off in any direction they wanted at any time. "The next thing was to get them used to eating in the same place all the time. So, I selected a clearing, and I started putting the corn in the clearing.
"At first they wouldn't come to the clearing. It was too far. It was too open. It was a nuisance to them.
"But the very young decided that it was easier to take the corn in the clearing than it was to root out roots and catch their own snakes. And not long thereafter, the older pigs also decided that it was easier to come to the clearing every day.
"And so the pigs learned to come to the clearing every day to get their free corn. They could still subsidize their diet with roots and snakes and whatever else they wanted. After all, they were all free. They could run in any direction at any time. There were no bounds upon them. "The next step was to get them used to fence posts. So I put fence posts all the way around the clearing. I put them in the underbrush so that they wouldn't get suspicious or upset, after all, they were just sticks sticking up out of the ground, like the trees and the brush. The corn was there every day. It was easy to walk in between the posts, get the corn, and walk back out.
"This went on for a week or two. Shortly they became very used to walking into the clearing, getting the free corn, and walking back out through the fence posts.
"The next step was to put one rail down at the bottom. I also left a few openings, so that the older, fatter pigs could walk through the openings and the younger pigs could easily jump over just one rail, after all, it was no real threat to their freedom or independence--they could always jump over the rail and flee in any direction at any time.
"Now I decided that I wouldn't feed them every day. I began to feed them every other day. On the days I didn't feed them, the pigs still gathered in the clearing. They squealed, and they grunted, and they begged and pleaded with me to feed them-- but I only fed them every other day. Then I put a second rail around the posts.
"Now the pigs became more and more desperate for food. Because now they were no longer used to going out and digging their own roots and finding their own food, they now needed me. They needed my corn every other day." "So I trained them that I would feed them every day if they came in through a gate and I put up a third rail around the fence.
"But it was still no great threat to their freedom, because there were several gates and they could run in and out at will. "Finally I put up the fourth rail. Then I closed all the gates but one, and I fed them very, very well."
"Yesterday I closed the last gate and today I need you to help me take these pigs to market."
The price of free corn is your own slaughter.
The parable of the pigs has a serious moral lesson. This story is about federal money being used to bait, trap and enslave a once free and independent people.
Federal welfare, in its myriad forms, has reduced not only individuals to a state of dependency; state and local governments are also on the fast track to elimination, due to their functions being subverted by the command and control structures of federal "revenue sharing" programs. Please copy this parable and send it to all of your state and local elected leaders and other concerned citizens. Tell them: "Just say NO to federal corn." The bacon you save may be your own.
(c) 1997, The Idaho Observer. All rights reserved.
Permission granted to reproduce for non commercial purposes in entirety including this notice.
***********************************************************************************
"I believe there are more instances of the abridgement of the freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments of those in power than by violent and sudden usurpations."
-- James Madison
The Wild and Free Pigs of the Okefenokee Swamp
by Steve Washam
based on a telling by George Gordon
Some years ago, about 1900, an old trapper from North Dakota hitched up some horses to his Studebaker wagon, packed a few possessions--especially his traps--and drove south. Several weeks later he stopped in a small town just north of the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia. It was a Saturday morning--a lazy day--when he walked into the general store. Sitting around the pot-bellied stove were seven or eight of the town's local citizens. The traveler spoke, "Gentlemen, could you direct me to the Okefenokee Swamp?" Some of the oldtimers looked at him like he was crazy.
"You must be a stranger in these parts," they said.
"I am. I'm from North Dakota," said the stranger.
"In the Okefenokee Swamp are thousands of wild hogs," one old man explained, "A man who goes into the swamp by himself asks to die!"
He lifted up his leg. "I lost half my leg here, to the pigs of the swamp."
Another old fellow said, "Look at the cuts on me; look at my arm bit off!" "Those pigs have been free since the Revolution, eating snakes and rooting out roots and fending for themselves for over a hundred years. They're wild and they're dangerous. You can't trap them. No man dare go into the swamp by himself."
Every man nodded his head in agreement.
The old trapper said, "Thank you so much for the warning. Now could you direct me to the swamp?"
They said, "Well, yeah, it's due south--straight down the road." But they begged the stranger not to go, because they knew he'd meet a terrible fate.
He said, "Sell me ten sacks of corn, and help me load them into the wagon."
And they did.
Then the old trapper bid them farewell and drove on down the road. The townsfolk thought they'd never see him again.
Two weeks later the man came back. He pulled up to the general store, got down off the wagon, walked in and bought ten more sacks of corn. After loading it up he went back down the road toward the swamp.
Two weeks later he returned and, again, bought ten sacks of corn.
This went on for a month; Then two months, and then three. Every week or two the old trapper would come into town on a Saturday morning, load up ten sacks of corn and drive off south into the swamp. The stranger soon became a legend in the little village and the subject of much speculation. People wondered what kind of devil had possessed this man, that he could go into the Okefenokee by himself and not be consumed by the wild and free hogs.
One morning the man came into town as usual. Everyone thought he wanted more corn.
He got off the wagon and went into the store where the usual group of men were gathered around the stove. He took off his gloves. "Gentlemen," he said, "I need to hire about ten or fifteen wagons. I need twenty or thirty men. I have six thousand hogs out in the swamp, penned up, and they're all hungry. I've got to get them to market right away." "You've WHAT in the swamp?" asked the storekeeper, incredulously. "I have six thousand hogs penned up. They haven't eaten for two or three days, and they'll starve if I don't get back there to feed and take care of them."
One of the old timers said, "You mean you've captured the wild hogs of the Okefenokee?"
"That's right."
"How did you do that? What did you do?" the men urged, breathlessly. One of them exclaimed, "But I lost my arm!"
"I lost my brother!" cried another.
"I lost my leg to those wild boars!" chimed a third. The trapper said, "Well, the first week I went in there they were wild all right. They hid in the undergrowth and wouldn't come out. I dared not get off the wagon. So I spread corn along behind the wagon. Every day I'd spread a sack of corn.
"The old pigs would have nothing to do with it. But the younger pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn than it was to root out roots and catch snakes. So the very young began to eat the corn first. "I did this every day. Pretty soon, even the old pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn, after all, they were all free; they were not penned up. They could run off in any direction they wanted at any time. "The next thing was to get them used to eating in the same place all the time. So, I selected a clearing, and I started putting the corn in the clearing.
"At first they wouldn't come to the clearing. It was too far. It was too open. It was a nuisance to them.
"But the very young decided that it was easier to take the corn in the clearing than it was to root out roots and catch their own snakes. And not long thereafter, the older pigs also decided that it was easier to come to the clearing every day.
"And so the pigs learned to come to the clearing every day to get their free corn. They could still subsidize their diet with roots and snakes and whatever else they wanted. After all, they were all free. They could run in any direction at any time. There were no bounds upon them. "The next step was to get them used to fence posts. So I put fence posts all the way around the clearing. I put them in the underbrush so that they wouldn't get suspicious or upset, after all, they were just sticks sticking up out of the ground, like the trees and the brush. The corn was there every day. It was easy to walk in between the posts, get the corn, and walk back out.
"This went on for a week or two. Shortly they became very used to walking into the clearing, getting the free corn, and walking back out through the fence posts.
"The next step was to put one rail down at the bottom. I also left a few openings, so that the older, fatter pigs could walk through the openings and the younger pigs could easily jump over just one rail, after all, it was no real threat to their freedom or independence--they could always jump over the rail and flee in any direction at any time.
"Now I decided that I wouldn't feed them every day. I began to feed them every other day. On the days I didn't feed them, the pigs still gathered in the clearing. They squealed, and they grunted, and they begged and pleaded with me to feed them-- but I only fed them every other day. Then I put a second rail around the posts.
"Now the pigs became more and more desperate for food. Because now they were no longer used to going out and digging their own roots and finding their own food, they now needed me. They needed my corn every other day." "So I trained them that I would feed them every day if they came in through a gate and I put up a third rail around the fence.
"But it was still no great threat to their freedom, because there were several gates and they could run in and out at will. "Finally I put up the fourth rail. Then I closed all the gates but one, and I fed them very, very well."
"Yesterday I closed the last gate and today I need you to help me take these pigs to market."
The price of free corn is your own slaughter.
The parable of the pigs has a serious moral lesson. This story is about federal money being used to bait, trap and enslave a once free and independent people.
Federal welfare, in its myriad forms, has reduced not only individuals to a state of dependency; state and local governments are also on the fast track to elimination, due to their functions being subverted by the command and control structures of federal "revenue sharing" programs. Please copy this parable and send it to all of your state and local elected leaders and other concerned citizens. Tell them: "Just say NO to federal corn." The bacon you save may be your own.
(c) 1997, The Idaho Observer. All rights reserved.
Permission granted to reproduce for non commercial purposes in entirety including this notice.
***********************************************************************************
"I believe there are more instances of the abridgement of the freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments of those in power than by violent and sudden usurpations."
-- James Madison
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