The Stranger

I had just finished a late lunch and the diner was clearing out.

“Hello, there.”  The voice was soft and distant, but clearly addressed me.  Looking up, I saw a well-groomed, elderly gentleman.

As I searched my mind, wondering if should know the man, he said in a matter-of-fact way:  “I’m not from here.”

Not knowing quite what to say, I just nodded.

“I happened to notice that you are reading The Wall Street Journal.”

“Yes, it comes to my office.”

“Do you mind if I sit down for a minute?“  He slid into the opposite booth before I could come up with a reason why he shouldn’t.

“I am told that you people spend somewhere approaching a  trillion dollars every year on a military defense.”

The  “you people” annoyed me; but I heard myself respond: “I doubt its that high.”

The old stranger’s brown eyes were penetrating, but friendly.

He cocked his head thoughtfully.  “When you figure in all the expense for wounded veterans, retirements, education benefits and such … it must be pretty near that much.”

“Perhaps.”  I wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Why would America spend all that money on its military establishment?”  He pressed.

“It’s only about one third of the federal budget,” I replied … wondering why I needed  to defend military spending to this stranger in the first place.

“It’s an awful lot of money.”

“Well, we live in a dangerous world.”

“Danger?  From whom?”

I began to see where the conversation was headed, but didn’t know why.

“Don’t you know?”  I stalled;  trying to decide whether to formulate an intellectual position or find an excuse to leave.

“Yes, I think so,”  he said; his eyes friendly and alert.  “But I would rather hear it from you.”

“Well, what about terrorism for starters?”

“Does that justify a huge military budget?  The world has always had terrorists … anarchists, socialists, religious zealots, the insane, the criminal.  That problem has always been there for the police and the criminal justice system … why, now, the military?”

“It’s not just about terrorism and homeland security,” I argued, “we need to defend ourselves from communism and  tyrannical rulers that would attack us for economic reasons, or to force their ideology on America.”

“This ideological threat being communism, or Islam?”  He asked.

“Both.”

“So America sees Islam as a threat to their religious freedom, and communism as a threat to their economic freedom. I still don’t see how that calls for a huge military establishment.”

I shrugged impatiently.

He gave me that parental look … which, I found a little irritating.

The stranger softened his tone.  “As a Christian, you are basically familiar with the doctrines of Islam.  Are you as familiar with the doctrines of communism?

“How do you know I’m a Christian?”  I asked in surprise.

“You are, aren’t you?”  He said confidently .

“Yes.”

There came that twinkle in the dark brown eyes again.  This stranger was either having fun or sincerely engaged in my enlightenment.

Something made me decided to take a refill on my coffee and hang in a little longer.

The waitress filled my cup, but ignored the stranger who covered his cup with his hand.

“What, exactly, is communism?”  He asked.

“Are you serious … or putting me on?”  I smiled.

“Seriously, I’d like to hear you explain it to me.”

“It’s a political ideology that threatens individual freedom. Communist tyrannies do not hesitate to impose themselves over weaker nations, and enslave the population … by military force if necessary.”

I thought that was pretty good, and the stranger seemed satisfied for a second.

He nodded, and said: “Do you know what communism is like in actual practice?”

“Not exactly … just what I have seen on TV and read about.”

“Have you read the book by Moses Mordecai Levi?”

“Who?”

“You probably know him by the name, Karl Marx.  He and  Friedrich Engels wrote the Communist Manifesto.”

“Yes,  I’ve read parts of it … and a lot about it.  We discussed it in college.”

“You were educated in the public school system, weren’t you?”

Nodding, I just waited to see where this was going.

“The first plank of the Communist Manifesto states: ‘Abolition of all property and land ownership and the application of all rents for public purposes.’   Do you own your own home?”  He asked.

“Yes.”

“What happens if you stop paying your property tax?”

“Eventually, the county would seize it and sell it to recover the past-due taxes,” I said.

“How can the government take and sell what you own?”

“Because I am legally obligated to pay property taxes each year.”

“So, in reality, the government controls the property and that is why they can take it from you if you don’t pay their ‘rent’ … which you call ‘taxes’.”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

Then he said: “If your government taxes your property, you are already practicing the first plank of the Communist Manifesto.”

“Well,” I reluctantly admitted, “maybe, in a way.”

“Do you recall what Leviticus 25:23 says about real property?”

“No,” I said … now wondering if the stranger is some sort of street preacher.

“It says: ‘The land must not be deeded permanently, because the land is Mine and you are but aliens and my tenants.’”

I didn’t say anything … but I’m sure I looked puzzled.

“The second plank of the communist Manifesto is a progressive income tax.”

I shrugged.  “So, I guess we’re two for two.”

“The third plank of the Communist Manifesto is the abolition of all rights of inheritance.”

” The estate tax?,” I suggested.

“Not just that.  If you citizens have rights to inheritance, why do you need wills and probate courts?”

I sipped my coffee and waited.

“The fourth plank of the Communist Manifesto is the confiscation of property of all criminals and rebels.”

“Well, at least we haven’t gone there yet.”

“You think not?”  He raised his eyebrows.  “Then you must not be familiar with your country’s drug enforcement laws.  The United States confiscates the property of, not just criminals, but suspected criminals. And prohibition laws create more criminals all the time.”

It suddenly dawned on me: confiscating property for tax delinquency was part of it, too.

“You’re right,” I said.

“The fifth plank of the Communist Manifesto is the centralization of credit by the creation of a national bank.”

I thought immediately of the Federal Reserve.

As if reading my mind, the stranger just gave me a knowing smile and continued.  “The sixth plank of the Communist Manifesto is the centralization of the means of communication and transportation into the hands of the state.”

We just looked at each other.  I was shaking my head slowly as it was sinking in.

The stranger continued: “The seventh plank of the Communist Manifesto is the government control of factories and the instruments of production owned by the state; the bringing in to cultivation of wastelands and the use of the soil in accordance with a common plan.”

The stranger was building a good case.  For what purpose, I didn’t know.

“You do have a Bureau of Land management, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“A Department of Agriculture?  A Department of Commerce?  An Environmental Protection Agency?

I nodded at each.

“If your country does not now practice the seventh plank of the Communist Manifesto, it’s certainly moving in that direction.”

Again, all I could do was nod.

“The eighth plank of the Communist Manifesto is the equal obligation of all to work, and the establishment of industrial armies.”

Feigning lightheartedness, I said: “Well, I guess we’re not complete Marxists yet.”

I got the parental look again … one of disapproval.

“You use your Social Security number, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I answered cautiously.

“Then, at least 12.4 percent of your work is obligated for the establishment.”

“Whoa,” I said, “where do you get that?”

“That’s the percent of your earnings taken by the government.”

He saw my disbelief and said, “I’ll put it another way: the percent of time you are employed in the ‘industrial army’ of the establishment.”

“Wait a minute,” I said confidently, “you’re off, on a couple of points.  First off, I don’t pay that much; my employer pays half.  Second, the money goes to my retirement not to the government.”

I got that parental look again … one of sympathy.

“Your employer only contributes because your services are worth it.  If she weren’t paying it in taxes, she would be paying it to you. So, actually, you are paying it.”

I was wondering how he knew I worked for a woman, as he continued.

“Your money goes to pay off the federal budget.  There is no trust fund set aside for you.  Your retirement will be paid for by future workers, like you, working in the establishment’s ‘industrial army’.”

The stranger’s logic was starting to make me uncomfortable.

“The ninth plank,” he continued, “is to combine the agriculture with manufacturing  industries under one government department and to gradually abolish the distinction between town and country toward a more equitable distribution of population over the country.”

I said, “I see no indication of that happening,” with a sense of relief.

“Perhaps, but, have you considered the full implications of such agencies as Homeland Security and FEMA?”

I shrugged.  “I don’t see the . . . “

“In a natural disaster or war, it would only take a declaration by government and you could have the ninth plank in place.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“Perhaps.  But, its something to consider.”

He went on. “I don’t think you’ll find the tenth plank any kind of a stretch: Free education for all children in public schools.”

“Well, that’s a plank I agree with.”

“Most of you do.  How much thought have you given to it?

“Hey, education is very important.”

“Important to whom, society or the individual?”

“Both.”

“As a parent, what is more important to you, an educated society or your children’s education?”

That was a tricky question, and I was considering a philosophical answer.

“Be honest,” he said.

“My children.”

“Then don’t you think that’s the way the vast majority of parents feel?”

“I’d like to think so … but some parents would neglect their kids’ education.”

“So, you have government schools for the few who would neglect their kids’ education?”  With a twinkle in his eye, he added, “That sounds like minority rule.”

I smiled.  “Not exactly. I think the vast majority of parents are comfortable with the education that public schools provide.”

He seemed disappointed by my answer.

“Public education didn’t seem to hurt me.”

“Apparently, the majority of you people are not only comfortable with government education, but with everything else government provides . . . as we just discussed, going over the first nine planks of the Communist Manifesto.  Do you suppose there is any connection there?”

Again, the “you people” remark annoyed me.  “If you’re suggesting that we are being brainwashed by public schools, I think that’s a little extreme.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “but do you recall the first plank of the Communist Manifesto?”

He did not wait for my answer.  “The abolition of all property and land ownership.  At least seventy-five percent of the tax on your home is for government schools.”

I thought I’d ask him a question, for a change.  “What do you think of vouchers?”

“Don’t expect them to reduce government’s grip on your property … but it’s a start.  At least, it would give parents some choice for their children.”

I sipped my coffee, and we just looked at each other.

“It says in Deuteronomy 4, to be careful that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let wisdom slip from your heart as you go through life … that you should teach these things to your children, and to your children’s children.”  He paused, and I kept listening.  “Your Albert Einstein once called government education ‘an  instrument of the ruling class to sway the emotions of the masses.’   You can be sure that government will teach … not just reading, writing, and arithmetic … but, what the government wants your children to believe.”

Shifting in the booth, I thought it was a good time to pay my respects, and the check, and leave.  But, something in the strangers eyes compelled me to linger.

It had been an interesting and amicable political conversation, and I had an awkward sense that some important point was still left to be made.  My mind ran through the ten points the stranger had brought up.

“It looks as if this is all new to you,” he said with a forgiving tone. “What I am trying to figure out is why you Americans spend such an enormous amount defending yourselves against something that your government has willfully and consciously implemented under the guise of law … which is Godless socialism … which you willingly practice?

I didn’t know whether I was astounded and grateful for the revelation, or insulted and angry.  I could only sit silently.

The stranger’s eyes told me the interview was over.  I looked at my watch, and we made a cordial departure.

Leaving the stranger to finish his cup, I picked up the check and headed for the cash register.

“Take the old man’s out of that, too,” I said, handing the waitress a twenty.

She gave me a confused look.  “Who?”

I turned to see an empty booth with only one cup sitting on the table.

The waitress handed me my change and said, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure.”

Originally Published at Scrimmage Line

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Tags: communism, communist manifesto, Government

Category: Society