For sale: a government. Who will open the bidding?

It’s all a matter of the price

“It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” Words from the scriptures, and from the mouth of Jesus of Nazareth.

There has been much theological discussion as to what, exactly, Jesus meant by the eye of a needle. For there are a good many things that will not pass through the eye of a sewing implement before one reaches the dimensions of a camel. There are those who relativise the statement by surmising, on scant evidence, that somewhere in the walls of Jerusalem was a gateway into the city that was so narrow and low that it bore the nickname The Eye of the Needle, and that what Jesus meant is that the rich can get into heaven but only by breathing in a little. Which invites more questions than it answers, in the end.

The matter about which there has been somewhat less theological discussion, and which I discuss in my own article here is: what is a rich man? I’m interested to see that Mr Hamilton Nolan—he whose nation is the US—addresses the same question and concludes that it’s not very important to know what a rich man is:

Is “rich people” a precise enough term to describe the genuine villains at the heart of our nation’s problems? Perhaps not. But it’s close enough.

Tsk. That, I’m afraid, will not do. It will not do in law, to define who is and is not a culprit; it will not do in politics, since we now know with certainty that the rich win; and it will not do in theology, because what rich meant to Jesus cannot have been what rich means to mankind. What Jesus meant by the term is partly the subject of that article of mine, and of another here. Incidentally, Jesus Himself was at one time very rich: as a newborn baby He was gifted gold, and you might like to delve into those articles to ponder more as to why the man who said the rich can’t go to heaven was given gold on His birth.

It is trite to say of anything that a loose description that’s close enough will not do in the law. The difference between Man’s law and God’s law is, and you may need to ponder this for a while as well, that, in Man’s law, those who are subject to the law have limits and norms imposed upon them by the diktat of the law (if even only by the judge); in God’s law we impose those limits and norms upon ourselves, as regulated by our conscience. Since our discussion here concerns the temporal, and not the spiritual, world, a legal definition of rich needs legal limits and norms. Close enough is not sufficient.

And so to the posit that Nolan’s definition will not do in politics, because money wins in politics, and if they with the most money win the most, we need to know who they are. “Why?” I ask myself, “does money win in politics?” Politics is a battleground of ideas, formed into policies that advocate on the best way to proceed. It is a battle of interests, and it is a battle of persuasion, especially for those who see merit in both sides of an argument. Or precisely none, for that matter. We talk of an idea whose time has come: an idea that meets with such universal nods of approval that its acceptance is taken as blindingly obvious—why had no one thought of it before? Ideas, we know from the law of intellectual property, have no value. Ha! If that were only true, because the evidence shows that ideas have huge value when they are political ideas.

For many voters, they vote on that basis, for an idea—the party they vote for is so obvious, they could not have put it better themselves. They are committed, they are loyal, and they are convinced. When it comes to the policies that flow out of those ideas, one may express reservations (whether raising or reducing a certain tax will resolve a certain economic issue, for instance), but these are not generally sufficient to override the obviousness of the idea itself. The Gaza foreign policy issue is interesting, just as was the Vietnam War in its time: policy causing hesitation among those who support the idea, be it of one party or the other.

And so we come to the last element: persuasion. I am reminded of the childlike naivety displayed by Jemima and Jeremy as they crouch hiding in the toymaker’s shop in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. The toymaker has admonished Caractacus and Truly for showing the children in public given the Baron’s dislike for them, and told them to keep out of sight. How easily the two are won over by the prospect of free confectionery as proffered by the Child Catcher. Into the gaily coloured wagon they are lured, before all pretence is cast off, the gate slammed shut and the horse whipped into a gallop to bring the new captives to their prison, to the accompaniment of a chilling Mephistophelean laugh. (Sorry, childhood memories, and it is nearly Hallowe’en.)

Is it truly that easy to lure children, pre-warned of the dangers of accepting sweets from strange men, whether literally or figuratively? If so, is it time to revisit the principle of one man, one vote? Because, when push comes to shove, one vote is what every rich man, define him how you will, has against the one vote of every poor man. The rich are one per cent, the poor 99. How can the poor lose? What is it that grants the rich greater influence, greater political might, and, effectively, the means to purchase more than one vote? For, if they are, as it certainly seems, able to do that, why don’t we just allot government on the basis of a grand auction? No more PACs, no more expensive TV ads, rallies and caucus hullabaloo, no expensive whistle stop tours, no empty promises, no manifestos, no policy programmes, no secret donations, none of that: just gather all the rich in one place at one time and tell them to submit their bids.

You may for your soul’s sake like to dwell awhile on what constitutes a rich man. But for your politics’ sake, you should perhaps dwell first on those questions. On the malleability of the voting populace; on the machinery that distorts one man, one vote once the ballot box has been counted; and on the ability of the top one per cent, owning the top 99-or-whatever-it-is per cent of the wealth to exercise a number far greater than the one per cent of the votes accorded to them by law.

Auctioning government sounds to my mind like an excellent idea. It must be sure to raise several billion dollars, and one could easily distribute the proceeds of sale (less auctioneer’s commission, of course) to the 99 per cent of the population who are poor. That way, they would at least have something tangible out of the almighty scam that democratic elections have now become. If that sticks in one’s craw, then the only other feasible way of levelling the playing field is to banish money from political electioneering altogether. Either full hog, where ideas are worth spondoolacks; or nothing, where ideas are worth everything.

American politics is no longer one man, one vote; it is like everything else in America, which Robert Redford so aptly summed up with his Indecent Proposal: for sale; it’s just a matter of the price. Oh, and who pays it.