taxes are stealing, but...

I was listening to some music today, and it got me thinking about taxes. There's a song by Corporate Avenger called "Taxes Are Stealing," which opens with the lines, "Taxes are strong-armed robbery. The collectors of taxes funnel the majority of funds to police [policies?] and intuitions counterproductive to spiritual advancement." While I can certainly sympathize with the sentiment, I think it's a little bit more complicated than that. Maybe it's some kind of fiscal Stockholm syndrome, but the older I get, the more I see taxes as a necessary, temporary evil. Nobody likes paying taxes, but can we really afford to live without them just yet?

To begin with, I should point out that my philosophy of government in and of itself is fairly positive. The way I see it, civil society is the establishment of a cohesive social structure in which the interests of the community as a whole are weighed against that of the individual in an effort to maintain social stability. Government, then, is the physical manifestation of community interests. It creates stability through the establishment and enforcement of laws, and acts as a mediator in disputes between groups and individuals within the community.

Of course, I think it's preferable if a balance can be struck where individual freedoms aren't too restricted and the continued survival of the community is reasonably assured, but allowing unlimited freedom amounts to anarchy and lawlessness, which often leads to increased social conflict and instability (as I believe the history of Western civilization shows). How far the government should go in meeting the needs of the community, however, is an open question.

The main problem I see with the current structure is that, for the most part, our government is a manifestation of ruling-class interests — i.e., those who own and control the means of production, finance, natural resources, etc. — and not that of the entire community. In fact, the interests of the ruling class, the interests of capital, are often in conflict with those of average citizens. Although this isn't anything new, I think it's something that needs to be changed for us to truly flourish as a society.

(I should stop here to note that I'm simply using the common definition of anarchy given in Merriam-Webster as the (a) absence of government or (b) a state of lawlessness or political disorder due to the absence of governmental authority. If a community as a whole is organized in such a way where the community is self-governing, as envisioned by many anarcho-syndicalists and socialists, with links to adjoining communities across the country (and the world), then that wouldn't necessarily qualify as anarchy as defined above due to the community's organizational structure.

My personal feeling on the matter, however, is that a great modern state or community, especially one the size of the US (and more so with ones as populated as, say, India), can't function in such a way as to promote the flourishing of the community as a whole without some kind of organizational structure, which fits the definition of government as "the organization, machinery, or agency through which a political unit exercises authority and performs functions and which is usually classified according to the distribution of power within it."

Here, a community as a whole could technically be the 'political unit' — ideally being more 'directly democratic,' and possessing an organizational structure based more on free association than institutions of coercion (e.g., bodies of armed men, prisons, etc.) — but with very large communities (like very large metropolises or heavily populated states, for example), it'd be difficult if not impossible to have each and every person proposing legislation and directly voting on everything themselves, making some sort of delegation highly desirable, if not necessary.)

That said, I can understand people who are critical of the current government's management of the system, including tax revenue, since I believe this is something that definitely needs to be monitored and can always be improved. I can also understand people who take the position that taxes are stealing, because, for those who don't wish to pay them, it's not done voluntarily. (It may seem voluntary to those who pay willingly, but all one has to do is think about the 'consequences' of not paying them to see there really isn't much of a 'choice.') Nevertheless, I don't see how a complex, modern civil society can function without taxes, especially considering how interconnected everything is. And therein lies the rub.

From one perspective, our income (those of us lucky enough to have one, at least) is made within the context of a complex and highly-organized society, and we use and rely on a common infrastructure that has to be supported and maintained via revenue, everything from the roads we use and our water/sanitation systems, to our local law-enforcement and judicial system. And even if one were critical of some of these institutions and services (e.g., viewing police as a repressive apparatus of the state used to protect property from people), some of them are quite vital.

We often take most of these services and vital pieces of infrastructure for granted, but we've become so dependent upon many of them that society as we know it would collapse if they weren't consistently maintained, and the real question becomes, Who's responsible for a society's infrastructure? From this point of view, one could just as easily argue that by not paying taxes, one is stealing whenever they utilize said infrastructure without contributing to its maintenance in some way, and the easiest (and arguably fairest) way is via taxes.

(Also, it can be argued that whenever we do something like start a job or purchase property, we're essentially agreeing to pay taxes since that's an upfront part of agreeing to work for a particular employer or the acquisition of property; although, conversely, the way the system is set up, we don't really have much choice in the matter, so they're still ultimately 'coercive' no matter how much of a positive spin we give them.)

Of course, there are certainly valid counterarguments to this, but I think we have to start from where we're at; and within the context of the present political economic system, the responsibility falls upon us, the citizens—very few of which, I imagine, would like to see our roads crumble, schools closed or water/sanitation systems shut down. But how can we pay for the labour and materials needed to keep these things in operation in the present system without taxes? Where will the resources come from? By what means will they be distributed?

One alternative I've seen discussed recently (and the only really viable one, in my opinion) is a fee-based system, which would theoretically make collecting revenue less coercive, and make how the money's spent more transparent. The basic idea is that we'd pay for the services we want, and opt out of those we don't. Sure, it's one alternative, but I can also see how this could create its own difficulties, not to mention slippery slopes. For examples, taxes are used to help maintain roads and sidewalks. In a fee-based system, we could make every road more or less a toll road in order to pay for repairs, but what about sidewalks? Drivers aren't using them, so using their fees to fix them would be unpopular. So then we'd have to institute a fee for using sidewalks too, and now we can't even move about freely without having to cough up some cash every time we do. Talk about inconvenient.

Taken to the extreme, such a system would essentially privatize everything. If services are fee-based, one could just as easily give their money to a corporation who'll perform a particular service more cheaply (which isn't necessarily better if they cut corners). And after time, we could end up with private, Walmart-esque corporations in charge of municipal services instead of an elected government. And corporations, by their very structure, are far less accountable to the people than elected officials.

Moreover, a fee-based system that increasingly privatizes services could have other dangers, such as making it more difficult for people with lower incomes to get all the services they need because they're unable to afford all the fees, things like a proper education, road construction and maintenance, sanitation, etc. This could conceivably create huge slums (areas even more poor and neglected than they already are), further segregate society, and seriously lower the standard of living for lower income families. The redistribution of wealth via taxes helps prevent something like this from happening.

As naive and utopian as it may sound, I believe that a different world is possible—that we can revolutionize the system in such a way as to make taxation unnecessary. But this would take a socio-political revolution on an epic scale, involving a radical economic transformation in which the exploitation, alienation and commodity fetishism of the present system are gradually eliminated via a more socialized mode of production. And for that to have any chance of success, I think it must be an experiment conducted with the consent of the majority of the people, which I doubt will happen overnight, if ever. So until then, taxes may be stealing, but I'm willing to look the other way. At least for now.

16volt record release party = awesome night

I had a blast last night. My friend, Zach, invited me to the 16Volt record release party at the Fez, a small, local venue in downtown Portland. I was a bit skeptical since most of the acts consisted of local industrial artists that I'd never heard of before; but for $10, I figured it couldn't hurt to check them out, and I have to say that I wasn't disappointed.

The opening act, Dead Animal Assembly Plant, kicked off the night with a decent set. The members looked like a bunch of demented butchers in their blood-spattered aprons, which complimented their raw, meaty sound. The singer even told a pretty good serial killer joke, which went something like: "A serial killer kidnaps a little girl and brings her into some deep, dark woods. The little girl says, 'Gee, it's dark and creepy here, I'm scared.' The killer replies 'You're scared? Imagine how I feel, I have to walk back to the car alone.'" I thought it was funny, at least.

After their set, Zach offered to buy the singer a drink, who came by later to give us some free DAAP buttons, which I thought was pretty cool.

After DAAP came Dead When I Found Her, which was the main reason why we were there, Zach having heard a couple of their songs before. I really enjoyed their old school, industrial sound, which is reminiscent of early Skinny Puppy. I was especially surprised by their cover of Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight," which is probably the only time I've ever enjoyed listening to a Phil Collins song.

Afterwards, I ran into Mike, the singer/guitar player of DWIFH, near the bar and offered to buy him a drink. We ended up talking for quite a while, mostly about music and the direction he was trying to go with his. Zach was also lucky enough to run into on him the stairs, and got to talk to him until 16Volt started playing.

16Volt came out and played one hell of a set. Out of the three, they were the heaviest, leaning more towards the metal-end of the industrial spectrum. By this time, I was fairly inebriated, and I couldn't help but start jumping up and down and banging my head like a fucking idiot. Zach and I tried to get the rest of the crowd going, jumping and pushing each other around, but the only one who joined in was some guy who we later found out may have been Erica Dunham's (i.e., Unter Null) fiancé. (Meaning that the girl I was bumping into the whole time could have been Erica Dunham herself!)

For some reason, we didn't stick around to see if anyone from 16Volt came out, but we ran into Mike from DWIFH again outside and talked to him some more. All in all, I'm pretty impressed with the local industrial scene so far, and the show was more than worth the $10.

After the show, we were both hungry, so we ended up walking to the Original Hotcake House on Powell, where I tore up a huge plate of eggs and pancakes at 3 o'clock in the morning. (There may or may not have been some public urination along the way; all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to have more public restrooms available for Christ's sake.) I can't remember the last time I saw a kick-ass show and had a crazy, all-night adventure, but it was definitely long over due.

soccer: the greatest thing since oatmeal stout

Somehow I've found myself obsessed with association football, a.k.a., soccer. I can't seem to get enough of the English Premiere League, for example, and I'm more than happy to wake up at 6:00am in order to make it to my favourite restaurant/soccer bars in time to catch all the 7 o'clock games. That's quite a turnaround for someone who was raised on Budweiser and the NFL, and used to think that soccer was the lamest sport ever invented (next to cricket, that is).

I partially blame last year's World Cup for this new obsession, which gave me my first real taste of soccer. My girlfriend (who used to play soccer in school and is a fan in general) and I made it a point to catch as many games as we could. I also blame it on the fact that Portland just got a Major League expansion team, the Portland Timbers (our only other professional sports team being the Portland Trail Blazers).

One of the things I like about soccer is that it's fast-paced. There's no commercials or breaks in the action before halftime unless someone gets hurt or fouls another player, and the action usually picks right back up. I'm also impressed by the level of athleticism displayed by soccer players in general, who basically run back and forth nonstop for two 45 minute halves, and make wicked-ass bicycle kick goals. Low scoring games can be a bit boring, but even those I find a lot more exciting than baseball.

It can also get quite physical, despite what many people think. There's a lot of pushing, shoving, sliding tackles and collisions. (Just last month, I saw Samir Nasri, a player from Arsenal, take an awfully nasty elbow to the head early on, giving him the biggest knot I've ever seen, and he still played the entire game.) It's got all the things I like about basketball and hockey (sans the ice) rolled into one sport.

Another thing I like about soccer is that it's international. It seems like everyone has a national team, and most of those players also play for teams in the various domestic leagues, which always give me somebody to root for. Clint Dempsey, one of the guys on the US national team (who resembles a young House), also plays for Fulham in the Premiere League. Mesut Özil, one of my favourite players from Germany's national team, also plays for Real Madrid in the Spanish Primera División. At the very least, it helps you brush up on your geography.

I also like that each team has it's own style. Some, like England's national team, are more physically aggressive, doing their best to outmuscle their opponents. Wayne Rooney can be a right hooligan. Others, such as Spain's national team, have a more technical and pass-intensive style, focusing on monopolising possession. Few are as graceful on the pitch (that's what they call the field in soccer, by the way) as Andres Iniesta.

What's really surprised me, however, is how fast I've become a hardcore soccer fan. I'm not really a big sports guy, and I've never been that into other televised sports, but now you're more than likely to find me at Beulahand or 442 (two local hangouts) with a pint of beer and my Timber's scarf on shouting at the TV. (The soccer scarf, which originated in Britain in the early 1900s, is usually made in a team's colours, and often contains the team's motto and/or crest.)

Sports-wise, discovering soccer has been like discovering Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout after drinking Budweiser for most of my life, an experience characterized by the feeling of 'What the hell have I been missing?!' Who knows, maybe it's just because I'm a bit of an Anglophile and have a thing for most things English (e.g., notice my liberal use of British spelling), but I really think soccer is a great game. I've gone from the stereotypical 'uncultured' American to an enthusiastic footie fan practically overnight.

some rambling thoughts on consciouness

Truth be told, I've always found the subject of consciousness an interesting one, from a scientific, as well as a philosophic point of view. Lately (and I'm blaming this on all the philosophy I've been reading in the past few months or so), I've been questioning the sharp distinction that's often made between consciousness and matter.

For example, I find myself agreeing with Bertrand Russell that, the more we understand about matter (i.e., energy), the more it seems the word itself becomes "no more than a conventional shorthand for stating causal laws concerning events" (An Outline of Philosophy). This, of course, raises a number of possibilities, one of them being that what we call 'mind' and 'matter' is ultimately groups or structures of events arising from a substance that's neither mental nor material, but in between the two a la neutral monism.

But even that explanation doesn't fully satisfy me, and I find myself going back to the Buddha and Hume, both of which rejected the idea of mental substance in favour of what Hume called association of ideas and bundle of perceptions, and what the Buddha called heaps (khandha).

As Bertrand Russell summarizes Hume's empiricism, "Ideas of unperceived things or occurrences can always be defined in terms of perceived things or occurrences, and therefore, by substituting the definition for the term defined, we can always state that we know empirically without introducing any unperceived things or occurrences." Thus, "all psychological knowledge can be stated without introducing the 'Self'. Further, the 'Self', as defined can be nothing but a bundle of perceptions, not a new simple 'thing'" (A History of Western Philosophy, 603).

Moreover, I don't reject that specific mental events appear to be contingent upon corresponding physical events in the brain. I think it's been conclusively shown that there's a link between consciousness and the body via the brain, and that when the brain's damaged, the link between consciousness and the body is damaged. However, I'm not convinced that this in and of itself proves that consciousness is merely an emergent property of the brain, or that it ceases to exist when the brain itself no longer functions. Correlation doesn't necessarily imply causation.

I'll admit that it's looking more and more like that's the most likely scenario, but when I read things like The Holographic Universe, Quantum Mechanics and the Participating Observer, or even some of Rupert Sheldrake's crazy ideas regarding morphogeneic fields, I can't help but think that maybe it's not the whole picture. I suppose it could just be wishful thinking on my part, but I'm not ready to jump on the materialist bandwagon just yet.

Perhaps consciousness is simply a by-product of electrochemical processes in the brain, but perhaps there's another dimension to consciousness that science has yet to discover. I'm not saying that there is, mind you, but it's certainly a possibility. As B. Alan Wallace points out in an interview with Steve Paulson in the Templeton-Cambridge Journalism Fellowships in Science & Religion:

This very notion that the mind must simply be an emergent property of the brain — consisting only of physical phenomena and nothing more — is not a testable hypothesis... Can you test the statement that there is nothing else going on apart from physical phenomena and their emergent properties? The answer is no... If your sole access to the mind is by way of physical phenomena, then you have no way of testing whether all dimensions of the mind are necessarily contingent upon the brain.

Unfortunately, I doubt that I'll ever fully understand what consciousness is, or what its relationship to the body (and the material world) is. I'm just not that clever. So, in the end, this is one of those areas where I'll probably always remain somewhat skeptical; although, from a purely empirical point of view, I do find myself leaning more towards the idea that consciousness is simply a by-product of electrochemical processes in the brain based on the evidence we do have. Science can be very convincing in that respect.

Of course, that doesn't mean there isn't more to consciousness than what's been discovered thus far, or that I've completely discounted other possibilities, especially considering the fact that, in the spirit of full disclosure, my ethical-spiritual practice assumes the possibility of a type of continuity involving consciousness that transcends a single birth and death—a belief built on premises that a strict materialist would reject, and with little from an empirical, scientific standpoint to back them up.

I'm comfortable with that, however, because my ethical-spiritual beliefs and practice are ultimately pragmatic, serving a practical purpose that's subjectively beneficial regardless of their objective validity. Incidentally, this is why I tend to have sympathy for theists, even though I don't have any theistic beliefs myself. While I find too many logical inconsistencies in the Bible to view it as the infallible word of God, there are some interesting philosophical arguments for the existence of God (although, not necessarily a personal God); and I understand that a belief in God can provide comfort in difficult times, as well as serve as the basis for a beneficial ethical-spiritual practice, just as my Buddhist beliefs can. I also accept that certain people may have had some kind of profound spiritual experience that has led them to such a belief.

What I generally don't accept, however, are dogmatic statements about absolute truth and/or reality, especially when they stem from an 'appeal to authority' or personal experience. In the former, the validity of a statement rests not on its own logical coherence or truth, but on the supposed status of the source as an 'authority.' In the latter's case, there's generally no way to confirm or deny them, so they're not very useful in proving something to someone who hasn't had them.