The worst thing one man can do to another is remove his hope. People will put up with all manner of slights and privation for light at the end of the tunnel, but removing hope removes one's humanity. It's the fatal mistake of any drift toward totalitarianism to move so quickly as to afford a view of the ultimate goal.
People will get away with whatever you allow. If you offer no resistance, you will likely remain at your job, making the same amount of money, and putting one foot in front of the other toward the path carefully plotted in nature's way: death. If we all must die, and if we have no evidence that we are to come through again, nor guarantees of bliss (or even existence "on the other side"), our lives may mean very much to us. Turmoil flows from those who don't consider your life to mean anything to them.
I am sitting at a bar right now, typing this. The bartender's name is Jennifer, and she is one of the world's best. She just plugged in my Pocket PC for me after the battery died. Talking to Jennifer, as most males at this bar clamor to do, I noticed a slight stinging from a cut on my arm, the kind of thing that can divert your attention for a day or two. I'm usually pretty good at tuning out pain, but just now I had a breakthrough. Rather than pain, I felt assurance. I know my body, and it's shown me over the years that there's not much like this that can harm it. It always repairs.
Something that's repeated without fail gives confidence that it will occur again if conditions are similar. Applying that to my recent cut makes me happy. A cut makes me happy? Yes. I am focusing on the power of my body to repair itself, and the assurance (founded hope) of the outcome brings peace and internal harmony as I look to the future. Am I making up this drivel? I don't think so. I really feel positive about the cut.
How does a guy who can feel positive about a cut lose hope in regard to life in America? As with the cut, I have seen the reliable repetition of conditions, but this time in the opposite direction, and with the sorry reality of a constant decline. In the same process that allows me to trust my body to fix itself, history has shown me that I have little reason to hope things will get better than this current state which is unacceptable to me.
Honesty. When an honest thief steals your wealth, he doesn't engage in the ultimate insult of pretending you need him. Government, however, regularly portrays itself as my savior, and I admit that I'm starting to lose hope. The first to be harmed are those who least need aggressive intervention. Some of us despise aggression so much that it robs our spirit to accomplish anything.
That shouldn't be mistaken as immobility brought about by fear. It could be stated fairly that I'm a fighter. But what do I fight against when the enemy is the amorphous state? Who do I attack? Who will stand forth as a single aggressor to do battle with me? Nobody. The twin thrust of totalitarian collectives is, first, the collective; there is no "one". The second and killing thrust is sanctimony; the ruling class has accepted the "burden" of ruling so that the collective may thrive. Such presumption paints opponents of the collectivist flood as enemies of their fellow men. Those with the real answer (i.e., refusal to initiate force) for societal harmony and good fortune fight so that it may be allowed to truly bless us with its proven benefits. And how do we come across while bearing this message of hope against killers? As spoilsports!
To hell with that. It's a lie — damned effective, but a lie. We cannot have our knees cut out from under us and ignore it. I cannot continue to see my wealth stolen from me through ever-widening openings and simply presume that it's the way things must be. An enemy must be sighted in the blur. This is my life, and no one, or group of ones, has the right to it. No man may steal from me with the expectation of impunity unless he would claim my very being. Totalitarian collectives resist taking beings completely when those beings can be raped for wealth. But what some will tolerate, others cannot.
Which brings me back to hope. As Bastiat noted long ago, men naturally seek to live as efficiently as possible, and some won't think twice about gaining their "efficiency" at your expense. But between covert thieves and overt despots lies that most elusive yet plentiful animal, the Self-Righteous Chickenshit (SRC). SRCs can be thought of in two blurred classes — rule maker and rule follower — neither of which has enough balls to rape you to your face; they must use procedures and agents (a collective). You don't pay "your taxes", a procedure kicks in. If you strenuously resist this procedure (as rightfully you may) you will eventually be killed. And those who participated in your killing (conspiracy to commit murder) will be lauded as having done their jobs.
"Callin' it your job don't make it right, boss." That line says it all. It was stated with calm assurance by Cool Hand Luke in response to a thug who claimed that he was just doing his job as he herded Luke into "the box" to spend the night. Luke's crime? His mother died. That's the logic of the state.
Yes, you're right; it was a movie. And Luke's one movie sentence was true. If you want to leave the movies and examine life in America, examine the "Live Free or Die" state of New Hampshire, and its collective persecution of Carl Drega, a freeborn man whose primary goal was to be able, eventually, to live free. The state killed Carl's hope, and Carl did what he could until snapping under their targeted abuse. He was one man.
I'll bet Carl Drega was a nasty curmudgeon — the sort of man nobody would want to spend much time with. But it seems Carl didn't ask anybody to spend time with him. He spent much of his scarce resources (chiefly time) crying out, "Leave me alone!" Still the state came intruding on that man, his land, and his life. Much has been written about Drega and his role as a canary in the American coal mine. Canaries are dying, and they are being ignored. Those who thrive on liberty are being pushed out of "the land of the free." Who cares?
Last week I asked some close friends of mine (statists by habit, but free men by constitution) where I could go to satisfy only one criterion: To be left alone. Where could I go and not be assaulted by thugs who presumed that they owned my property, or who lived as though my non-aggressive behavior was subject to their birdbrain constraints? That was my question, and it presumed that I would be self-sufficient, and therefore immune from income tax and the like. What a tragedy that not one of their answers included a location in the United States, that fabled land of the free, home of the brave.
The United States are becoming a lethal place for freemen. How many Americans proudly quote "give me liberty or give me death" to their kids while also believing quietly in the core of their souls that anybody who really believes such a thing is a nutcase? Put enough disgraceful quiet beliefs together, and you have real problems. Just ask Carl Drega, the one man in New Hampshire who actually subscribed to the state motto.