Conversations about the state, taxes, and budgets sooner or later turn to “morality”—to the idea that the state performs a moral function when, for example, it cares for orphans and the unfortunate. Most often, this is called the “social” function of the state. Generally speaking, this same idea of morality extends to most other state practices, especially the various prescriptions and prohibitions with which it supposedly makes our lives happy—but let us stop where morality can be clearly traced and demonstrated.
I will say right away that in this case it does not matter what exactly is understood by morality or how to distinguish sound norms from various superstitions, especially since they periodically swap places. Simply accept, for simplicity’s sake, that morality exists, that it is useful, and that one of its norms is mutual care.
First, let us perform a simple exercise. Consider the following thesis: “Forcibly collected taxes go toward the benefit of society.” After all, they are collected because people will not give voluntarily, right? And if they do not give on their own, then those who actually constitute society do not consider this “benefit” necessary, useful, or correct. Therefore, the one who takes knows better what is good and what is bad, what is right and what is wrong, and what justifies taking by force. Let us set aside the question of how the state that does this turns out to be some kind of universal parent or even god for us. What is important for our topic is something else. If we acknowledge that we are unable to evaluate what is good and what is bad, if we agree that someone else does this for us, and if we agree under threat of punishment to share part of our income with them—then what morality can there possibly be? If moral questions are decided for us, with our consent, this only means that we are devoid of morality. In this scheme, we are a-moral, beyond morality by definition. Accordingly, we cannot make any judgments about morality at all. Those who consider the state’s “social function” moral actually cannot say anything about it, since they have placed themselves “beyond good and evil.”
I will be told that these are, so to speak, theoretical contortions that have nothing to do with reality. Very well, let us talk about “reality.” It is no secret that morality is one of those things that transform a collection of individuals into a society—its benefit lies in the fact that we can live, multiply, and even be happy without having to struggle every day searching for sustenance and safe shelter.
However, between morality and morality there is a substantial difference. The morality that, among other institutions, helped create humanity is arranged quite differently from the morality the state allegedly deals with. True morality exists only in an individual act. And an act is an action, and therefore—a choice. To do something, one must choose between goals, prefer one over another, sacrifice one for another. And so every time.
Only voluntary acts matter. They create practices, examples that can be imitated. A “moral norm” invented out of one’s head cannot exist; any such real norm is preceded by practice. This is how institutions arise and how they are maintained. As long as there are voluntary acts, social institutions are maintained and exist. When you are deprived of choice, your acts disappear, and together with them the institution they supported disappears. In our case, morality disappears. In the case of the state’s “social function,” there are no acts and no institutions. There, people simply go to work.
I will not say anything about the “efficiency” of the state’s social policy compared to the activities of, say, charitable societies and other voluntary practices. That is not the point. We need to understand that the matter concerns not only the poor and unfortunate, but us, first and foremost. Some poor person may receive help from money taken from us, but this is not a voluntary exchange. In a voluntary exchange, both parties benefit; here—only one. The losing side is you and me, and those social practices—in our case, morality—that vanish because we no longer practice them.
It is amusing, generally speaking, that what the state began to do just a hundred years ago is today considered almost the reason for its existence. This speaks, if one may put it this way, of the depth of social degradation—of how much we have ceased to be a society, and therefore, of how much each of us has ceased to be human.
Without individual choice and voluntariness, there is no action. Without action, there is no practice. Without practice, there is no imitation, no example, no social institutions. And without institutions, there is no society.
We live in such a non-society. Yes, many things connect us, but most often, it is not what we ourselves would like. Everyone speaks of the inability to self-organize, the inability for positive action. For me, there is nothing surprising in this. Our people, if something happens, immediately call for the state. To cry out to the state, to point out disorder to it, to demandingly and decisively ask “how long” is even considered correct behavior. This is called a “civil position.” And they also love to exclaim “but I pay taxes!” Well, that is precisely the point.