Lifetime's Authority Equals Death and Taxes

Life's Certainty

Since society is not self-supporting, it must be decided how best to maintain it. An obvious method is through taxes. The American political philosopher Robert Nozick had a compelling view against taxation. Taxes embody the right of society to take some of your earnings, the fruits of your labour. Nozick likened this to forced labour; tax – to him – is tantamount to slavery.

The alternative must be the willing contributions of the members of the society. These must be uncoerced: violators must not be punished, even by the most subtle kinds of social ostracism, or else it permits the same opposition as taxes.


In other words, society – whether grounded by a 'government' or other means – must be maintained by either slavery or altruism.

I think the comparison with slavery itself is a bit forced, as its 'victims' still enjoy some of its benefits; perhaps policing, or subsidised health care. But whether the members of a society can contribute to its upkeep by more altruistic or more forced behaviours, there will always be some individuals who somehow avoid doing so.

Ignoring the ethical dilemma of taxation with it's difficulty of whether people contribute – it is useful to consider how those that do, do so. In considering this, we confront the difficult notion of 'fairness,' and in discussing fairness, we meet the issue of scarcity.

The need to be 'fair' only arises with finite resources. These resources need not be goods and services produced and supplied by people, but also natural resources such as an individual's lifespan (which is partially determined by genetic factors), and the distribution of arable land suitable for farming, or the presence of species that may be domesticated.

Since fairness is ultimately a problem of availability, it must be solved by setting some standards for sharing or dividing resources amongst individuals. In areas where we have little control over how resources are divided - such as an individual's lifespan - it is not meaningful to talk of fairness. Whether life is fair or not is hardly a practical question.

It is remarkable that 'equal' sharing of resources is not always considered the 'right' way to divide them. We can see this in the famous principle of "the greatest good to the greatest number," often known by the name 'Utilitarianism.' This phrasing admits that the 'greatest' good may not be realised by everyone getting the same, but possibly also by providing things where they may be utilised most effectively.

Few would argue that there is merit in using resources effectively; the conflict arises in deciding how to do so.


I believe this classic phrasing of the principle of Utilitarianism provides an unstable platform on which to ground a society.

Firstly, it ignores the make-up of this 'greatest number' that it favours. Does it include the poorest members of society? Following it to the letter would permit a majority to exploit a minority for the majority's 'greatest good.'

It would be preferable to maximise the good available to those most in need, while allowing those above them whatever surplus they can afford. Adam Smith highlighted how important the right to this surplus is as an incentive to further production.

The other issue with it's phrasing is that it encourages broad distribution of wealth, but does not distinguish between a uniform or a skewed distribution. Following the findings of Pareto and many others, it is necessary to acknowledge that wealth becomes skewed by very natural processes, and to decide whether and how this should be redistributed.

The need for effective use should govern redistribution efforts, and as previously mentioned, this does not necessarily come through equal wealth between all members of a society.

As has been remarked by many others, we have often judged effectiveness by the metric of 'Gross Domestic Product,' or GDP. As remarked by a former U.S. president, this measures everything "except that which makes life worth living." Often these same people suggest GNH – Gross National Happiness – as a substitute.

While certainly not as easy to measure, it is a preferable bearing for guiding ways to improve the lives of members of society. I think it may also guide tax policy.

To have a product's contribution to GNH scale its sales tax would provide an indirect incentive to both producers and consumers. Any good or service which invariably degrades happiness has a corresponding increase in sales tax, while one which improves well-being and happiness receives lower taxes. The degree to which they affect happiness determines the amount to increase or decrease taxes.

A complimentary policy, this time directed at producers, would be to have what I'll term a 'progressive savings tax.' On savings below a decided threshold, there would be no taxes, but anything beyond it would be taxed at increasing rates. Since it is only a percentage claim, there is still Smith's incentive to further production, and coupled with the other policy it would mean the further incentive to contribute more to happiness-boosting goods and services (and charity, since this can be tax-free), lest that money be 'lost' to taxes. When people face loss, they are prone to take risks, and these risks may as well be directed toward the public good.

Death's Authority

As governments may try to shape our society, so authors may try to shape our minds. There has been one classic difference between the two groups: while authors have been occupied with attaining immortality through their creations, politicians have merely sought survival. Unfortunately, those who shape society exert greater influence on history than even the best painters, poets, or philosophers.

It is regrettable that the authors of history are therefore so present-minded. With the reactive nature of their policy decisions, we are led through story arcs with plot twists reminiscent of a best selling novel, rather than the timeless verse of Hamlet. Shakespeare could appeal to our hearts, politicians only understand our fight-or-flight response.

From our foray into taxes, I've already mentioned that those faced with loss are more inclined to take risks. Great for the fortunate entrepreneur; intolerable with so much more at stake.

Admittedly, in an arena where experiments would be so useful, it is so difficult to make them. While areas like system dynamics offer interesting prospects, their simulations are only as useful as the combinations of variables that they model, and – the hard part – model correctly.

Authors possess greater freedom; they face challenges, certainly, but ones that are far more tractable. Their works are usually solo efforts, but they do – unless world governments develop – have the potential to reach broader audiences.

A failed production is far more forgiving to its audience than poor social policy, which encourages authors to experiment.

The chief purpose of any authored work is to be understood, and this rests on more than their words, or strokes on a canvas, of it's creator(s). Modern literary criticism, or various forms of artistic appreciation, acknowledge that the meaning embodied by a work is a product of the context in which both its author and its audience is embedded.

An author's 'intention,' if it ever exists, becomes muddied by their own life- – and particularly, work- – history, and the individual life histories of their audience.

Pondering this raises a question: if the result is to permit a multiplicity of interpretations, does that mean that author must be willing to allow ambiguity in their intention to convey ideas, or just to have the tolerance that there will be diversity of outlooks?

The notions of ambiguity and clarity are easily confused. While a lack of clarity precludes understanding of even a single idea, ambiguity permits multiple understandings, even simultaneously by the same individual.

For an author to gain immortality in their works, it must either contain a single, timeless idea that all future generations can appreciate, or allow many interpretations; some of which may not persist, or even exist at the time of their creation.

Realising the warping effects that both time and imagination can have on meaning, authors should value ambiguity, but never shun clarity.

One measure of an author's talent should be how well they attain ambiguity without sacrificing clarity. As remarked by Antoine de Saint-Exupery,

You know you've attained perfection in design, not when you have nothing more to add, but when you have nothing left to take away.

Although elaboration may solidify a single meaning, it may also stifle the imagination, or obscure a work's meaning to those of different backgrounds or times. Good authors are conscious of the effects their words may have.

As soon as pen is put to paper, brush to canvas, or – more often these days – bytes to a hard disk, the creator's thought-process is frozen in place. Personal connections between an author and their audience may assist understanding, but these are naturally limited to that author's life-span and those the author can reach during that time.

A few means for clarifying intent survive an author's death. The thought processes responsible for their works can be difficult to resolve through a single work alone, but may be adumbrated by their life-history of creations.

Consistencies between works can reveal meanings not contained in the individual works themselves, but our efforts at understanding may be frustrated by realising that an author's outlook is not static throughout their lifetime but may evolve in the course of their life experiences. The chronology of their works may themselves highlight these life experiences, which may also assist in interpreting them.

One should not only look at prior, but also subsequent works. While the past is the key to the future, with an incomplete history an understanding of an author's future can help us understand hidden details of their past.

Although it is meaningful to judge the quality of an individual work, independent of others, it makes little sense to value an author's contribution to culture by one, even if it is a magnum opus or recognised as seminal. Complete understanding requires complete information, and although that's never attainable, the whole can still be more than the sum of the parts, even when they're incomplete.

As remarked by Ferdinand de Saussure on the arbitrary nature of words,

The important thing in the word is not the sound alone but the phonic differences that make it possible to distinguish this word from all others

There is no meaning inherent in words; how else could there be different languages, for example. It is their distinctiveness from other words. Likewise, ambiguity embodies meaning, for figure cannot exist without ground, and the gift of imagination and time is that this ground is always shifting beneath us.

In everything ... uniformity is undesirable. Leaving something incomplete makes it interesting, and gives one the feeling that there is room for growth.
    – Japanese Essays in Idleness