POLITENESS AND SMALL TALK

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

I am a very polite person. Even when it makes sense not to be polite, I am polite. It is almost reflexive for me to be polite. In my early life, I learned always to be polite. My mother always said: "Be polite! Say thank you! Do not ask for more!" My mother had another name for this institutionalized politeness: "Good manners."

I did not have a choice. I had to be polite. On the other hand, I grew up in suburban Connecticut. People were not out to get me; in fact, most people were extremely nice. Why not be polite to nice people? They deserved it; they meant me no harm. I didn't mind being polite. In the process, I learned to respect everyone I met. They never hurt me, so it was only fair for me respect them.

But things changed as I got older. Once I graduated from college and started living in the commercial world, I quickly found that not everyone was as nice as they were in my Connecticut childhood. To the contrary, I discovered that most people were dishonest scoundrels who would sooner backstab you than help you up if you slipped on a banana peel. In fact, they would probably even laugh if they saw you fall. Even if they weren't malicious, I found most people flaky and unreliable. If someone told me they "would call me again some time," in almost every case they did not.

Yet I was always polite with these people. I shouldn't have been, but I was. After all, it was reflexive. It was a vestige from my idyllic childhood. I smiled with them, said thank you, made small talk. I even did favors for some. Then I received nothing in return. Many even took advantage of my politeness and gained from it.

Slowly, I realized that it made no sense to be polite all the time. Most people exploited it. And almost no one appreciated it. In fact, it seemed that impolite people succeeded much more frequently than polite people. Impolite people ran right over the polite people and got away with everything. What good did smiling and thanking do? Not much.

Still, I was determined not to become just another impolite ogre on the New York streets. I simply learned to be more wary about according respect to everyone I met. I adopted a new rule: Be polite with exceptions. I used my intuition about whether someone deserved my respect. I tried to sense whether someone was worth respecting, or whether they were just another self-interested shark in the water. Sometimes it was obvious to me that someone was a self-interested shark. So I wasn't polite to them. They had nothing ethically in common with me. So there was no need to be polite. Why be polite with someone who would just as soon leave you dead in a gutter? That is just stupid--and servile, too.

I developed a real suspicion toward new acquaintances. Eventually, I could detect immediately whether someone was a complete selfish asshole or whether they were worth further emotional investment. In some settings, I was polite no matter what, as when I interacted with sales staff and other pathetic commercial pawns who obviously meant me no harm. But in all other settings, I kept my guard.

Recently, for instance, I walked back into my building after taking my dog for a stroll. I got on the elevator. A moment later, a very smily, well-dressed woman with a leather portfolio and an expensive cell phone joined me, along with some bewildered looking adolescent who wore his hat backwards. She was clearly a real estate agent showing apartments to this little punk, who probably had just graduated from college and whose dad was definitely paying the rent.

As soon as the doors closed, this insufferable woman opened her mouth. "What a cute little dog! What's his name? What's the breed? This is a nice building, isn't it? The elevator is very nice. It is very convenient. The lighting is good. BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH."

I was about ready to vomit. I couldn't help but notice the Cartier bracelet on the agent's wrist as she spewed forth her endless, dishonest pleasantries. I knew instantly that she was just talking to keep things on an even keel with her client. After all, no one likes awkward silence. So she filled the air with condescending blather. "It's a wonderful building! You like it here, don't you? It's such a great location, isn't it? There's a grocery store right downstairs, you know," she told me, as if I didn't know there was a grocery store in my own goddamn neighborhood.

"Yes, there sure is," I said, without a smile. I consciously said it impolitely. "And my dog is a she."

"Oh, wonderful," she responded without missing a beat; and without really registering what I said. God forbid any silence should intervene to make her client feel uncomfortable. For his part, the youth-soaked client just stood there staring at the floor indicator as the elevator rose. He was wearing shower shoes, shorts and looked like a smug, boring-ass moron. On weekdays, he probably put on a suit and shlepped to some skyscraper to type emails for one of his dad's friends. Worse, he probably even felt important for it. I could see it immediately.

Thankfully, client and professional stepped off the elevator two floors below mine. They went about their business. The agent kept chatting the whole time. The client bumbled along a step or two behind. He was probably thinking about going out later that night. She mentioned something about a trash compactor as they faded from earshot.

I thought about how impolite I had been with this woman. It didn't bother me at all. Why should I have been polite to her? What did she mean to me? Would she have helped me with anything? And why was she even talking to me in the first place? To provide confirmation for her silence-destroying questions? She was using me as an instrument to avoid awkwardness with her client and talking to me as if I knew nothing about my own building. I knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to seal the deal with this little brat by appearing "friendly" and glib with everyone she encountered along the way. I was just a bump along the road to her commission. That's what bothered me.

Why should I have respected this woman? Why should I have been polite? I do not award politeness to people in situations like this. I do not respect people who ingratiate in order to fill their own pockets. So I do not smile or act nice. Now, that does not mean I am an impolite person. Quite the contrary; it simply means I am judicious with my natural politeness. It also means that I resort to impoliteness with people who deserve to be treated impolitely. Don't be fooled: They are out there. And it is actually worse to treat them politely.

I have been walked over too often for being polite. That is why I now know when to be polite, and when not to be. Believe it or not, it is undignified--and very weak--to invariably be polite with everyone you meet. On the whole, people don't deserve it. So you need to learn when it works to be polite, and when it doesn't.

AN ETHICAL PRESIDENT? OBAMA, LINCOLN AND THE HEALTH CARE VICTORY

AN ESSAY

While the moment is fresh, I must write a few words about the monumental health care reform bill that passed Congress this week. It is really quite a surprising--and inspiring--development. I had to temper my usual cynicism when I realized that the United States actually took a serious step toward reforming its health insurance system. Although President Obama always said he wanted to change health care, I gradually lost faith that he could penetrate furious Republican resistance. But against all prognostications, he did penetrate the resistance. He may have won only by a small margin. Nonetheless, Obama's principled win over private health insurance companies is unprecedented in modern American history.

Still, I am not writing about the health care bill today per se. I am not going to exhaustively discuss its intricacies, loopholes or missed opportunities. True, it is not fundamental reform. It does not create a European-style "single-payer" government-run health insurance program that guarantees coverage to every citizen as a matter of right. Nonetheless, as President Obama noted, it is "major" reform. It regulates private health insurance companies in significant ways. It prevents them from refusing to cover people with "pre-existing medical conditions" (ie, "most people"). And it mandates that everyone obtain health insurance. Uninsured Americans (including me) will benefit because the legislation provides extremely low-priced coverage from a "high-risk, government-supported" insurance company. In other words, health care won't be free for uninsured people. But it will be close to it.

For almost a century, no President has achieved such meaningful reform to American health care. And it is not just the legislation's substance that bears mention. In my view, the most memorable thing about Obama's health care victory is the ethical manner in which he conducted himself throughout the debate.

Public faith in American politicians is virtually nonexistent. People expect them to lie, hoodwink, steal, gladhand and enrich themselves at public expense. They expect politicians to sacrifice all their principles to save their jobs. When a politician says something, the natural response is to assume that he will do the opposite. In short, most people think that ethics is completely foreign to Washington politics. Promises mean nothing. People expect politicians to break them as soon as the water gets hot. In a word, people are extremely cynical about politicians in America.

But then along came Obama. In 2008, he won a landslide victory by promising "change we can believe in." He seemed a breath of fresh air in the noxious political marshland, a man who did not seem ready to engage in backroom dealing or pork barreling. He talked about principles and truth. He was a "white knight;" he was an uncorrupted soul. Although cynical Americans always have a hard time dropping their natural suspicion about politicians, they did when they elected Obama. They really thought that Obama meant what he said. They thought he would hold to his promises. He promised to reform health care.

In 2009, President Obama began the push for health care reform. Despite his good intentions, mean-spirited Republican resistance undermined his popularity. As the year wore on--and as the economy continued to falter--even Democrats began to question whether Obama could get anything done. They wondered whether all his campaign promises had just been rhetorical fluff. Republicans caricatured Obama as a "law professor," a man who thought too much and did too little. Critics castigated him for being "too polite for Washington." They blamed him for giving too much deference to opposing arguments. In other words, he was too weak to survive Washington's ruthless, dog-eat-dog political atmosphere.

Yet President Obama stayed true to his heart. He did not turn into a conniving Washington technocrat. No, he stood by his promises. He swore to push through health reform no matter the political cost. He did not care whether his commitment to his word would cost him a second term. He said he would fight for health reform. So he kept fighting. And he did not become an ogre in the process, either. He retained his composed decorum, even as Republicans hyperventilated around him and spread outrageous horror stories about "Obamacare."

Obama's fidelity to his own word paid off this week. Despite all the tempests and scares in Congress over the past few months, both the House and Senate passed a substantial reform bill. Although every vote along the way split sharply down party lines, the reform effort pressed forward. Something larger was at work beyond mere politics. Obama's commitment to his word seemed to vault Congress past its stifling political slavishness. What was it? It was the power of ethics.

It is no surprise that Obama quoted Abraham Lincoln the day before the House voted on health care reform. Obama quoted: "I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not bound to succeed, but I am bound to live up to what light I have." Put another way, it is always more important to do right than it is to worry about your political future. And there are deeper rewards to be gained from ethical fulfillment than mere reelection. No words could have encapsulated Obama's extraordinary commitment to ethics in Washington more poignantly.

Abraham Lincoln is the most inspiring President in American history because he was the most ethical President. He took office as the Nation faced its single worst crisis. He then transformed a War for Union into a crusade to end slavery in the United States. He did this because slavery was simply "wrong" as an ethical matter. His decision was politically unpopular. Someone assassinated him for it. But he did it because it was the ethically right thing to do. Lincoln had no personal interest in freeing the slaves. Politically, it was unnecessary. Yet he did it because he did not just care about "winning." He cared about being "true" and "living up to the light he had." That meant following ethics in his heart, not the politics that raged outside him.

Almost no President has dared to jeopardize his political future to "do the right thing." While health reform may not be as significant as ending slavery in America, President Obama nonetheless followed in Lincoln's footsteps by committing himself to an unpopular cause and risking everything to realize it. That is inspiring. And it is almost shocking, because it contradicts the comfortable cynicism most people adopt when thinking about Washington politicians. After all, can you believe what you just heard? A President is willing to risk everything to reform health care because he promised to risk everything to reform health care? You mean he actually takes his word that seriously? Can't be!

But it is, and that's what is so moving about Obama's victory. It was not just a technical victory over unfairness in health care. It was a victory of ethics over politics. It was a victory of principle over expediency. Obama pushed health care because he said he would. That is almost unprecedented in modern American political history. And it is even more inspiring that he did not let the "turkeys get him down" along the way. He kept his composure. He maintained his respect and dignity. He remained a "law professor," no matter how much people ridiculed him for it.

He didn't just care about winning. Rather, he was "bound to be true." And suddenly I find myself with an anomaly: Ethics just prevailed in Washington. That makes it harder for me to scowl and wax cynical about America.

Now, I'm actually inclined to smile. I feel strangely justified today. I love it when ethical people prevail, even if just for a day.

As I have always said, there is more to life than winning games.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO FOR $40,000? THE PRICE OF BELIEF

AN ESSAY

Sometimes I wish I weren't so cynical. Cynicism is my life philosophy. Although it almost invariably leads me to the truth, I don't really like it. Although it has predicted the future for me more than once, I wish it hadn't. After all, cynicism assumes that everyone has selfish motives and will ultimately take action to satisfy their own interests. That is a pretty bleak view. Yet in our obligation-filled commercial world, it is a consummately realistic one.

I wish I weren't so cynical because I want to believe that everyone does not have a price. Whenever I think about cynicism, I inevitably struggle with principles. After all, a principle stands at odds with expediency. Self-interested people are always "expedient" when it is necessary to fulfill their aims. Principles, by contrast, are inflexible; they do not bend to expediency. Yet all too often in history we hear about "principled" men who stood up for larger ideas to a point, then caved in order to enrich themselves. In other words, every man--and every principle--has a price. The question is merely how much money it takes to convince a man to abandon what he believes.

As a cynic, I find it almost axiomatic that men sell their principles for the "right price." If human beings truly have innately selfish motivations and act ultimately to satisfy their own interests, then no larger idea could ever induce them to ignore themselves. It is natural to expect men to sell out or betray their beliefs when enough gold appears on the table. Although popular mythology teaches us to revile men who do this (the Judas story is the classic Biblical example), we are never surprised when it happens. We live in a difficult world. No one wants to go hungry or die. If it came between adhering to principle and eating, how can we blame a man for simply "betraying what he believes?" It is easier to revile a man who sells out simply to profit. But sometimes men sell their beliefs just to eat or sleep--or to save their families.

Yet we admire men who refuse to compromise their principles for a price. We admire them precisely because they are so rare. Again, cynicism provides a good way to understand why we deify "martyrs" like Jesus Christ and Saint Thomas More. Both men died because they refused to abandon their principles despite pressure. Both had opportunities to take payment and shut up. Both knew they would die for refusing to renounce their beliefs. And they still refused.

From a cynical perspective, we assume that men will always sacrifice their principles for personal gain or to save themselves. Overwhelmingly in human experience, that is what happens. But when it does not happen, we immortalize the person who resisted the impulse to be selfish. Put another way, when a person defies the cynical expectation to act only for himself, he becomes a saint-like figure--or a saint outright. This is what happens when men adhere to their principles. It leads to eternal honor. And that explains why both saints and honor are rare. Everyone has a price: But those who don't become legends.

But I'm not writing about legends today. I'm writing about everyone else who does have a price. And while it might be pathetic to have a price, I argue that it is completely forgivable.

Why is it forgivable to be a dishonorable person who abandons principle whenever profit beckons? It is forgivable because we inhabit a world that expects us to value profit more than honor. No one pays our way in this life. We learn early that we must make our way through the commercial thicket by any means necessary. Without money, we are finished. We can't pay our rent, we can't feed our children and we can't eat. We spend our lives struggling to find ways that yield money; and we never get enough. We learn that profit is good because profit protects us from hardship. When we profit, we stave off bill collectors, bankers and landlords. We feed our children. We increase our comfort and avoid worry. We stay warm. By eliminating a key source for worry, we actually gain the capacity to enjoy ourselves--at least in theory. We are only human; we have bodies. Profit protects our bodies from ruin. If it comes between preserving our bodies from ruin and adhering to a principle that could cost us our bodily comfort, the natural human response is to preserve our bodies.

Only saints spite their bodies for their beliefs. For everyone else, a price will suffice to buy belief.

Some people require less enticement than others. Potential profits not only dissuade men from adhering to principle. They also encourage men to brutalize their fellow man. Profit underlies criminal motivations crime as well as dishonorable ones. In the movie Fargo, for example, two ex-cons agree to kidnap a man's wife for $40,000. Various difficulties intervene and they murder three people in the process. Due to these "unforeseen complications," they demand $80,000 rather than $40,000. Before the drama ends, another two people die and no one makes a dime. The detective who arrests the killer--exceptionally played by Frances McDormand--then says: "All that for a little bit of money. There's more to life than a little bit of money, you know."

That may be so. But money motivates just about everything that people do, even murder. Contract killings have price. Lives--like everything else in the free market-- have a price, too. How much does it take to encourage someone to kill another? Is $40,000 too much? Some people in American society make $40,000 a year; others make it in one day. How about $10,000? $1,000?

This might all seem macabre. Still, the fact remains that potential profits bring out the worst in people. As bad as that is, however, I still think there is a good explanation for it: People in our society learn to be desperate for profit. Without it, they think they will come to ruin. So for those closer to ruin, there is a greater motivation to do unspeakable things for relatively little money. There might be more to life than money. But try telling that to those who don't have much. They are willing to do just about anything for what seems a pittance to others.

How much potential profit would it take to convince the average person to commit murder? How about lying? How about sacrificing integrity or honor? How about acting in a way that clashes with one's conscience? What if a job requires a person to violate his conscience, but if he loses the job, he loses his livelihood? How much does a conscience cost?

Against this background, can anyone resist a sufficient price? Is anyone noble enough to ignore themselves? That's my real question. All I can say is this: Cynicism tells me, as a general matter, that people can be bought. But there are a few extremely rare cases in which they cannot. I find this sad because it really does not take much for a stronger person to cast aside a weaker person's beliefs. Beliefs and conscience are individual. They are subjective. They belong to the person who holds them and no other. If a "little bit of money" is all it takes to sweep them away, what does that say about the value of individuality in our society? Where are the courageous people? Where are the people who will not abandon their beliefs for a price?

All I know is that they are not in the United States Congress.

SOLDIERS ARE SOCIALISTS, EVEN IF THEY DON'T KNOW IT

AN ESSAY

Last summer, I wrote an essay arguing that the United States military is essentially a socialistic institution. http://reasoncommercejustice.blogspot.com/2009/06/military-is-socialistic-because-it_25.html. I made that conclusion because American military authorities "care about men under their command" both in war and peace. I pointed out that soldiers live a "rarefied" existence insulated from harsh commercial reality. That insulation allows them to focus on larger ideals, like "honor" and "political missions." Soldiers also receive free medical care, housing and living necessities from the government. As a whole, these characteristics led me to conclude that the military is "socialistic," even if its armed service protects a capitalistic society that condemns "socialism."

I continue to believe that the American military is a socialistic institution. In fact, I believe it more now than I ever did. When I wrote my previous essay, I focused primarily on larger themes to identify socialistic currents in American military life. But the military is not just abstractly socialistic; it is socialistic right down to the men themselves. It is socialistic in spirit as well as action.

To be clear, when I say "socialistic," I mean that the military provides a comprehensive security net for everyone under its control. But this means far more than merely providing tangible benefits. It also means that people in the military regard their fellow man differently than the way comparable civilians regard others. In commercial American civilian life, other human beings represent potential profits. Civilians have to think this way. Unlike soldiers, they do not get free rent, free health insurance or free child care. They have to fend for themselves. They cannot worry about their fellows too much or they will lose their own commercial struggle.

In the military, however, soldiers must care about each other. In combat, men treasure each other. They do not simply abandon their buddies when they get hurt. They are never indifferent. They put themselves in harm's way to ensure that their comrades survive. They even risk death to retrieve the bodies of friends killed in action.

I find this especially socialistic. Care for one's fellow man is a bedrock in socialist philosophy. In the military, individual soldiers practice that care every day. It is not obligatory care: Soldiers are not related by blood or even bound to each other by contract. No, they are simply comrades in arms. They refuse to allow ill to befall their fellows and they risk all to save them from it. The emphasis lies on one's fellow man, not on oneself. That marks a key distinction between both the military and civilian life, as well as between socialism and capitalism.

Karl Marx criticized capitalism because it tended to separate human beings from one another. When every man must selfishly pursue his own economic fortune in a free market system, he naturally begins to regard his fellow man as a commercial instrument, not as a human being with equal dignity. Although Marx wrote at length about economic esoterica, his main criticism was humanitarian: Capitalism distances human beings from one another and leads to human exploitation.

But in the military, soldiers learn to live with each other and depend on each other to an extent almost unrecognizable in civilian life. They do not distance themselves from each other; they come closer together. While such tight cooperation might reflect the most effective way to accomplish military missions, it also reflects a fundamentally humanitarian outlook. In the movie Black Hawk Down, for instance, one character echoes many "real" American soldiers when he explains why men serve in the military: "We're in this for the guy next to us." In other words, military life leads to a deep care for one's fellow man, no matter what the ultimate political objective may be. In fact, for individual soldiers in combat, "the guy next to us" is everything.

This is no Hollywood sentiment. This is really how soldiers think. They always have, and not just in the United States. Soldiers sign up for additional tours not because they care about the geopolitical ramifications of their deployment, but because they do not want to abandon their friends. They care that much. They care so much that they willingly face death in order to make sure their friends will not face death alone. "We're in this for the guy next to us."

That is a noble motivation. And that is why it is distinctly un-American. In American civilian life, no one really lives "for the guy next to us." No, most people live for "me." Think about catchphrases that encapsulate success in American civilian life: "It's all about me;" "I'm gonna do what I gotta do to make it;" "I need to think about Number One." These phrases might describe effective ways to achieve success in a capitalistic society. They might even yield riches and fame. But there is nothing noble about them. "The guy next to you" is irrelevant to the man who says "It's all about me." Yet that's what it takes to succeed in a society committed to individual profit. And that's the attitude people must take toward their fellows in order to survive. In the end, the motivation necessary for success in American civilian life leads precisely to the danger that concerned Marx: Human alienation and exploitation.

There is a strange irony in all this. Americans praise the military all the time. They thank soldiers for their service. They ascribe immensely positive results to their work. But military life could not be more different from the civilian society soldiers protect. It takes a fundamentally different outlook to be a soldier than it does to be an entrepreneur. What motivates a soldier does not motivate an entrepreneur. What matters to a civilian does not matter to a soldier. Strangely enough, conservatives are the first ones to talk about a "strong military," yet reject socialism across the board. If they just looked at the way military personnel think about their fellow men, they would see the foolishness in that position. The military does not just practice "economic socialism" by ensuring material welfare for its men. It also practices "individual socialism" by inculcating a spirit of concern in every man for the well-being of his fellows. Those sentiments should enrage an American conservative. Yet they keep on saying: "God bless our troops."

God bless those socialists? What a laugh.

In sum, there is more to socialism than tangible social welfare programs. Socialism means true respect for one's fellow man. A socialist does not just concern himself with spending money on people who ostensibly "don't deserve it." A socialist also thinks a certain way about other human beings. He refuses to leave anyone behind or let his neighbor suffer. He does not view him as a potential profit, but rather as a friend who needs help. There is a motivational element to socialism that is--in essence--very noble. There is nothing "evil" about it, no matter how much we learn that "socialism" is a "dirty word." After all, how could something be "un-American" if our own soldiers practice it?

Socialism is about caring for others. Capitalism is about caring for oneself. There are essential motivational differences. When a soldier says: "I'm in this for the guy next to me," his motivation is clear: It's not about him. It's about the other guy.

Why is this a bad sentiment? It might be socialistic. But it's also Christian. And noble, too.

THE IT'S ALL ABOUT ME PARTY (AND SCREW EVERYBODY ELSE)

POLITICAL PARTIES FOR A CHANGING WORLD

By: Mr. E.G. O'Miner, President and Chief Spokesman; Chairman of the Board of Directors, O'Miner Property Acquisition & Development Co., Inc., a Delaware Corporation Specializing in Real Estate Hedges; Profilee, Fortune Magazine's Gold 100 (March 2007); Author, "It's Mine : Stop Apologizing for Your Money" N.Y. Times Bestseller for 24 consecutive weeks; Married subject to prenuptial contract.

No one ever got anywhere in this country helping others. Rather, our ancestors achieved success by focusing on themselves. There is no shame in being selfish when being selfish buys you a house. There is no shame in being selfish when you get the job and the bonus. Just think of it this way: If you stopped to help the other guy, you might not have gotten the job or the bonus. Where would you be then? I assure you, you wouldn't like it.

Yet somehow it has become fashionable in the United States to deprecate wealth. Even really rich people learn that it is rude to mention incomes, portfolios and real estate holdings in public. They even open themselves up to ridicule when they refuse to give money to charitable foundations. Put simply, successful Americans feel increasing pressure to express shame for their success, even though they have realized the American dream.

This is outrageous. We believe it is time to stop feeling guilty for our money and our success. As successful Americans with substantial property holdings and minimal financial worry, we refuse to be modest any longer. We refuse to flagellate ourselves for achieving precisely what everyone sets out to achieve in this country. Rather, we want the world to know what it takes to be successful. We want to step out and say: "It's All About Me." And we're going to be honest, too. We're also going to say from the top of our lungs: "Screw Everybody Else."

I started the It's All About Me Party (And Screw Everybody Else) because I got sick and tired of all the public recriminations about wealth. I started the party because I want to be honest about success. Look, you can't become a millionaire by giving money to others. Being a millionaire requires a decidedly self-centered mental outlook. You need to think about yourself if you want to possess money and property. You can't put together favorable business deals, meaningful commercial contacts or cash large checks unless you adopt a relatively egotistical approach to life. I say to you: It's OK. Don't give yourself "permission." Don't apologize. Rather, say: "It's all about me and I don't give a good two shits what anyone else thinks of me."

Let the moralists complain and call you selfish. You'll be the one laughing in a Bentley while they're talking to themselves in a used Honda.

Let me explain what I mean by "It's All About Me." Being selfish is a lifestyle. It is a commitment, too. When you say "It's All About Me," you take an oath to live for yourself and yourself alone. You tell everyone else to fuck off because if they're not making money for you, they're not worth being around. True, it takes courage to live for yourself; everyone from day one has told you that it's wrong to eat the whole cake without sharing. But you can do it. Be strong. If you really want to be a millionaire, you need to think unconventionally. Don't apologize. Don't share. Take it all for yourself. And be happy doing it.

When it's all about you, you use the word "mine" a lot. Don't be afraid to think about "my house," "my money," "my wife," "my beach home," "my portfolio," "my cars," "my coin collection" and "my inheritance." This stuff belongs to you. You worked hard for it. Why should you give it away? Stop punishing yourself for caring about "mine." Sure, your parents and teachers always scolded you for shouting "mine mine mine" when you refused to let some brat share your toys. But they didn't know what the hell they were talking about. Rebel against convention. Stop the guilt. Go ahead and scream "MINE MINE MINE MINE" without a shred of shame. After all, who's the one with the mansion?

You can do this. You can finally make yourself the center of your world. No matter how much you have been brainwashed to care about others, you must dare to see through the lies. If you crave success, you must penetrate the deception. Make yourself the star of the show. Put your needs first, not your paraplegic uncle's. Pleasure yourself, not your spouse. Keep your money in a high-yield account; forget about the charity fund. Screw your brother; he can make it on his own. The minute you start worrying about other people is the minute you veer off the path to success. When it's all about you, you enrich yourself and you even feel good about it. Don't be weak. Don't be conflicted. When it's all about you, there is no conflict: It's just you, my man.

We stand for freedom. We stand for liberty from guilt, self-doubt, pity and compassion. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you only think about yourself all the time. Although we also believe in telling people to "screw off," we do not think that it is a bad thing. After all, putting yourself first means screwing everyone else. It's all part of the ball game. The trick is shedding all those compassionate impulses you learned since birth. If you really want to make a name for yourself, you need the courage to tell everyone else: "Screw you and your problems; it's all about me."

Our opponents say that we live unvirtuous lives. They say we are cruel, unforgiving, heartless and superficial. They can call us all the bad names they want. We're the ones with the big jobs, the big houses and the big cars. We're the ones who get the hot chicks and go on the ritzy vacations. We feel no shame for serving ourselves, because selfish people make the world turn. We don't think "selfish" is a bad word because selfishness creates jobs for all the people who live to share. Put simply, when we say "It's All About Me," we drive the economy. So in a weird way, we share a lot more by refusing to share than we would if we lived to share. And not just that: Virtue doesn't buy villas or hire hot whores; selfishness does.

Be a man. Do yourself a favor and drop the guilt, will you? Join the It's All About Me Party (And Screw Everybody Else). Liberate yourself from bloodsuckers and annoying relatives. Make money without shame. Spend it on yourself, not greedy dependent children, beggars and wives. Because when you permit yourself to be a selfish, greedy, arrogant rapacious pig, you drive this Nation to prosperity. Plus you get a really nice house and a bulging stock portfolio. And that, my friend, is the surest chick magnet on earth.

So shut the fuck up with this "sharing" business. Because when you share, you cheat yourself. And there's no "share" in the phrase "It's All About Me."

Be different. Be selfish. Be strong. Be yourself.

THE MILITARY IS SOCIALISTIC BECAUSE IT CARES ABOUT ITS OWN MEN

AN ESSAY

Several days ago, I watched a documentary about American military strategy against Japan during World War II. The basic lesson boiled down to this: “America won not by overwhelming manpower, but rather by overwhelming firepower.” Unlike the Japanese—and especially the Russians—American military leaders recoiled from suffering heavy casualties in battle. Instead, they preferred to leverage massive technological advantages against their enemies, ostensibly because they cared about their soldiers’ lives. In the Pacific, this involved blasting the Japanese with massive battleships, airplanes and tanks. Obviously some infantrymen had to die in the final push to take island fortresses, but not before the Navy and Air Force gravely weakened the defenders with numbing firepower. In essence, although America mustered huge numbers of military personnel in World War II—over 16 million—commanders won battles without subjecting them to unnecessary risks.

That tradition continued after the war ended. In virtually every conflict America has fought since 1945, the military has put a premium on technology over manpower. Manpower is vital to operate the technology, but American strategy bets on technology to win battles, not massed men. In Vietnam, the Air Force dropped countless tons of bombs on the jungle in an effort to root out the Viet Cong. B-52 bombers razed North Vietnam’s cities to the ground. When American troops got in trouble, they called in air support to hammer their attackers. In most cases, the Air Force faced no opposition at all. They freely bombed, napalmed and strafed their enemies. American soldiers died. But a whole lot more Vietnamese did.

In Operation Desert Storm, America took its “technological” approach to war to the ultimate level. By 1991, the United States held sway over a formidable new “computerized” arsenal, including invincible tanks, stealth bombers and “smart bombs” that could home in on individual targets. Again, although America deployed hundreds of thousands of soldiers in the Gulf, the technology did the fighting. Day and night, the Air Force systematically pulverized the Iraqi army. By the time the Army moved in, there was almost nothing left to shoot. And once the advance into Kuwait began, the Army savagely destroyed anything that resisted. This time, only a handful of American soldiers died, while up to 100,000 Iraqis did. So complete was the slaughter that more American troops fell to friendly fire than to enemy action.

Beginning in 2003, America has attempted to leverage its “technological” approach to warfare in Iraq. Despite initial successes against “conventional” resistance on the way to toppling Saddam Hussein’s regime, American strategy bogged down once the conventional battlelines disappeared. The guerrilla “insurgency” that arose after Saddam’s fall continues to this day. American troops must engage in demoralizing patrols. Often, they are hard pressed to tell civilians from foes. In most cases, they never even see their attackers, who either wait in ambush or plant traps for them along the roads. Technology counts for nothing in these circumstances. And this is why—despite the smug confidence of men like former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and George W. Bush—the capabilities of “technology-based” armies in the 21st Century have their limits.

Yet I do not fully criticize America’s “technological” or “standoff” approach to war. America fights wars all the time. True, they are not colossal, World War II-style struggles between established States. But they are wars nonetheless. America solves problems with warfare. It defends its ideology and commercial interests with warfare, just as every Empire in history has done. Perhaps this is what dominant world powers must do. And at least America is not reckless when it fights. It does its utmost to ensure that few Americans die. Officially, it tries to reduce civilian casualties, but civilian casualties are unavoidable when deploying such immense firepower. America avoids losing its own men by deploying firepower. If it kills some civilians in order to save Americans, it will. That is just how the game works.

I do not criticize America’s war methodology to the extent that American military leaders care about American lives. There is nothing wrong with wanting to avoid unnecessary deaths. In fact, one might even say it is compassionate. Throughout history, many military leaders viewed their own men with contempt. They did not blink when hurling them into certain death. Generally speaking, however, American commanders rarely do this. While some men always must die to fulfill dangerous objectives, the real question is how many must die. The Russians never cared how many soldiers died. They just threw everyone in and trusted their overwhelming manpower to win. By contrast, American commanders actually take pains to reduce risks to their own troops by first inundating the enemy with firepower. In a strange way, this reflects care for individual lives. It might subject noncombatants to huge risks and inflict horrific losses on the enemy. But it is still “care.” American military commanders don’t hesitate to kill the enemy. They just don’t like seeing Americans get killed. It actually really bothers them.

I mention this because care for soldiers reflects a peculiarly benevolent, well-intentional government paternalism. In America, that is rare. In civilian life, for example, Americans learn to be independent economic creatures. They learn to “make their own way” without State help. They don’t get free health insurance; they bear the full price of irresponsibility, bad luck and failure. American civilians depend on themselves, not State apparati. In fact, Americans are patriotic largely to the extent that the American “Nation” provides them a “liberty sphere” in which they can pursue their own interests without interference from the government. They like America because America “leaves them alone” and lets them get rich. They don’t want help, because help is for weaklings. They want to be happy, independent economic producers who pursue their own self-interest. For the most part, the government lets them do exactly this. It does not step in when civilians suffer hardship or loss. It lets them bear suffering with remarkable indifference. It does not really “care” for them like a watchful parent does.

Not so in the military. The military is a governmental institution that shows incredible care for its members. In the military, the emphasis does not lie on the individual; it lies on the group. There is a “group mission” and “group ethics” that bind everyone to common—and noncommercial—goals. There is common care for each member. It may be harsh care, but it is still care. If a solider gets sick, army hospitals care for him. He does not have to worry about rent, food, clothing or bills. The military provides him everything he needs, leaving him free to focus solely on the “group mission.” Finally, American commanders truly care that their troops do not die in battle. This represents true government care. Symbolically, when military commanders actively worry about their soldiers’ lives, it represents government caring about its citizens. This differs from civilian life. If a civilian encounters unavoidable circumstances that put his life in jeopardy, that’s his problem. The civilian authorities do not care.

Should we be proud about this? Why does government care not extend throughout all of society, not just certain institutions like the military? Do we have to confront mortal danger in combat before the government starts really worrying about our well-being in life? The United States spends half its gross national product on maintaining the military. This includes all the fancy technology that gives the military the “overwhelming firepower” it needs to preserve its “manpower.” People complain that the government spends too much on things like stealth bombers, unmanned robot tanks and sophisticated airstrike guidance systems. But all these expenditures reflect care for individual soldiers’ lives, not just a desire to defeat potential enemies. Stealth bombers efficiently destroy things so that military commanders do not have to put American soldiers in jeopardy to fulfill a particular objective. The pricetag for stealth bombers, then, indirectly saves American lives by insulating American soldiers from combat risks.

For a country that prides itself on “self-reliance” and “making your own way,” it is quite striking that America spends so much money protecting those who are not self-reliant. After all, military personnel are quintessentially dependent: They depend on the military for everything, from equipment to food to accommodations to emotional support. In essence, the Armed Forces represent a massive welfare State dedicated to the safety and well-being of its members. It is ironic that most military personnel consider themselves conservative when they directly benefit from extravagant government largesse on every level.

In fact, they get the best. There are less than 5 million Americans in the Armed Forces, yet half the GDP goes to support them. The other 295 million Americans have to make do with the other half.

America can be socialistic when it wants to be. American support for the military—and the military’s obsessive care for its own members—proves this. That is why I do not think that “socialism” and “America” exclude one another. Our military is a shining example that Americans can truly care about each other from a social perspective. American commanders do not like to see their soldiers die; they take great, expensive pains to ensure that they do not. That spirit should permeate our entire society, not just the military. Yes, it costs a lot. But it bears tangible benefits. When individuals know that they have recourse to assistance when they need it, they feel good to be part of a larger community that cares about them. Soldiers feel proud to be in the Armed Forces for the same reason; they know the military will support them as long as they do not commit some gross infraction.

Considering all these factors, the military is a socialistic institution. It is not capitalistic at all. It might fight to protect capitalistic ideals among civilians, but capitalism in the military would destroy its cohesion and esprit de corps. If the military practiced capitalistic ideals, soldiers and officers would struggle to exploit one another for personal gain, not to advance “common goals” or “the mission.” Soldiers would fight for “themselves,” not their “buddies” or great principles such as “freedom,” “honor” or “sacrifice.” If the military were capitalistic, soldiers on the battlefield would say to their wounded comrades: “That’s your problem, pal.” Some Lieutenants would be richer than other Lieutenants, even though the regulations say that everyone with the same rank is equal. And if the military practiced capitalism, it would not really care if some undifferentiated soldiers died in a battle as long as it did not impose a cost “on profitable operations.” This is certainly not the case in the military as it exists in the United States. It cares too much about others’ lives; that is why it is not a capitalistic institution. Rather, it is a socialistic institution within a capitalistic society. And it would not be effective in battle if it were not essentially socialistic.

America can learn from the military. Military life is in many ways a rarefied existence. Military personnel are insulated from the pernicious “buy, sell, make money” cycle that typifies civilian life. Every soldier has a chance to advance based on his merit, not his money. He does not worry about bills, rent, clothing or electricity. Instead, he focuses his mind and body on larger “missions” that transcend his own commercial gain. And he knows that his officers truly care that he lives. These are not bad ideals. In fact, they are quite noble compared to the usual impulses that drive civilian life. Soldiers are not “on their own” in a society that could care less whether they live, die or go bankrupt. They are part of a family that cares. It may care harshly, but it still cares.

In the American military, commanders care so much about their soldiers’ lives that they are willing to level whole cities in order to protect them. We do not have to go that far in order to care about our fellow citizens. The military experience proves that America can actively care about its own people, even if it professes “self-reliance” and “total independence.” I would find it refreshing to know that civilian authorities cared as much whether individual citizens live or die as military commanders care whether their soldiers live or die. This might be socialistic. But it is also quintessentially humanitarian.

ANGER, PROPERTY & REVENGE

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

I have been busy lately. Mild upheavals in my personal life have been keeping me away from the blog more than I would like. Plus I have been dealing with myriad maddening administrative problems, which I absolutely detest. I am not sure whether to label my uneasiness with everyday administrative "stuff" a badge of honor or a handicap. No matter how I label it, it gives me untold difficulty in life. I am constantly struggling to reconcile my creative impulses--which just want to sit me down and write--with the insistent need to handle "everyday business" (ie, phone calls, shop, go out, pay rent, make some money, do chores, clean the house, make appointments, make checklists, run errands). If I give myself wholly to my writing, my "administrative life" crumbles, and that makes my existence difficult because it damages my relationship and living circumstances. But if I give myself wholly to "administrative life," my resentment toward the world builds and I just want to start writing again. My goal in the coming weeks is to find the right balance. And it is no small matter. I am running out of money and I soon will likely need to waste countless hours attending to "a job" to finance myself for the next few months. I apologize in advance if "the job" interferes with my posting. I just know it will. Whenever I "work for pay," I feel so drained by the end of the day I can barely turn on the television, let alone focus my mind on writing that matters to me.

Despite all this, my mind is as sharp as ever. I just haven't had all the time I need to put my ideas into writing. Thankfully, today I have some time.

Yesterday I saw a small parking lot in the West Village. The West Village is unique in Manhattan because its streets weave, bend and form strange intersections, unlike the grid layout that takes over above 14th Street. The buildings generally date from the mid-19th Century and space is extremely limited. Although the Village used to shelter hip artists and left-wing runaways in decades past, those days are long gone. Now, only bankers, doctors, dentists, lawyers and heiresses live there. It is an upper bourgeois enclave dotted with gourmet coffee parlors (hawking cups for $5.50) and speciality dog grooming salons (puppy cuts start at $105). Although the Metropolitan subway system still brings less well-situated social classes to the Village, nobody actually rents an apartment there without verifiable income beginning in the mid-$100,000s.

Space is expensive in the Village. And it is at a premium. People are jealous about their property in the Village because they spent a lot for it and they didn't get very much for their dollar. Apparently, too, they are rather hostile toward anyone who violates their hard-won property rights. Above the parking lot I saw yesterday stood the following notice. It was posted in bold letters: "Anyone caught parking here without proper registration will have their tires slashed and their license plates removed and discarded."

This notice surprised even me. In most cases, I criticize the law because it is unfair. But here I actually relied on the law to frame my response to the notice. Property law says that you have the right to use your land as you wish, with some notable exceptions; and always subject to public ordinances. It also says that you have the right to exclude anyone you wish from your property. Property, then, bestows two essential rights: The right to use and the right to exclude. They are equally important. After all, you can't really enjoy what you own if you do not also have the right to expel unwanted people from your land. In sum, property is essentially selfish. It defines what is "mine" and grants the legal right to deny enjoyment of "my stuff" to all the world. It grants legal authority to the childish impulse to cling onto objects and to ward off all those who attempt to encroach on them. There is nothing remarkable about it. In fact, it gives legal protection to a facet of human nature that I find especially rancorous and violent. I am not saying that we should abandon private property law. I am merely saying that private property promotes intensely negative human behavior. It fosters ruthless competition, pettiness, acquisitiveness, resentment and mutual mistrust. And it leads to so much envy that men willingly kill one another to take their neighbors' property.

People know that everyone else wants their property. In fact, the law really can trace its origins to the common desire to defend property against lawless brigands. In order to gain some lasting assurance in their property, men willingly submitted to sovereigns, who in turn promised to punish anyone who violated their property rights. In short, people would rather give up some freedom in order to live in the knowledge that their property is safe. Hobbes made this "covenant" the basis for his Commonwealth in Leviathan (1651). And our Framers read Hobbes very closely before writing our own Constitution. Government makes property its primary business because people care about property more than anything else. In fact, people care about property so much that they express violent hatred toward anyone who threatens their rights. In this sense, men's obsession with property goes beyond legal abstraction. It also touches upon a deep emotional root.

What else but base emotion can explain a public threat to slash a trespasser's tires and remove his license plate? From a strict legal perspective, a private property owner has no right to damage, remove or destroy a trespasser's property. If someone trespasses on another's land, the aggrieved party can go to court for money damages. If someone leaves material on another's land without authority, the aggrieved party can go to court for an order to forcibly remove the material. Trespassing cars can be lawfully towed; it is even lawful to require the trespasser to pay all the incidental expenses. But the private property owner has no legal right to wreak physical revenge on the trespassing car. Still, this is precisely what the property owner wants to do. The law gives him an abstract remedy and condemns the trespasser's wrong, but the owner wants more because he has an emotional attachment to his property. When someone violates his property, he wants to hurt the offender. This is not a "theoretical anger" that springs from violated principle. This is pure, animal vengeance. With his threatening sign, the Village parking lot owner simply expressed his appetite for vengeance against anyone who dares to violate his hard-earned property rights. This is nothing new. These sentiments have gone hand-in-hand with property ever since the first caveman claimed a particular rock for himself. Woe to anyone who attempts to trespass upon that rock.

And woe to anyone who dares park in this Village property owner's parking lot.

Anger, property and revenge occupy a common conceptual ground. It may be 2009, but human beings have not come very far in the property department. We have supposedly "reasonable" legal rules to help us curtail our violent natural lusts and hatreds involving property. But our emotional connection to property remains as combative as ever. We want property. We spend our lives seeking it. We invest our best years in an effort to seize it for ourselves and make it "ours." When we do, we'll be damned if some Johnny-come-lately tries to deny us the spoils of our life labors. We become angry and indignant toward the trespasser. We have theoretical redress to the law, but that does not stem our angry hatred toward the violator. We want to take revenge on him in our own way. We want to extinguish our anger with fitting vengeance. Vengeance feels good. It makes the hurt go away, at least partially. The law gives abstract "rights" to the aggrieved party. But vindicating abstract "rights" does not neutralize the combustible emotions that lurk in our attitudes toward private property. This is true even when people do not have an abstract "legal right" to the property they defend. Repo men and sheriffs die all the time because people get angry about property they think is theirs. Law, then, merely throws a superficial overlay over the intensely animal emotions that accompany property. Emotion will always beat reason. It is just a question of sufficient provocation and circumstance.

Property feel good. Anger feel bad. Me want to hurt man who make me feel bad. Revenge feel good... as you can see, we are not dealing with delicate, rational subtleties when it comes to our relationship to property. It implicates our basest animal emotions. In our society, we cannot escape property. I simply think it is important to keep it in proper perspective.

"A FAMILY OWNED BUSINESS" IS STILL A BUSINESS; AND IT'S NOT YOUR FAMILY

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

Corporations are private profit machines. In prior essays, I noted that corporations are “legal entities” that pool money and labor for a single reason: To generate returns for shareholders. They concentrate management authority in a “Board of Directors” that makes “prudent decisions” solely to benefit the shareholders. Directors must observe a “duty of loyalty” to the corporation, meaning all their actions must serve the entity. Directors, then—as well as corporate employees and officers—are simply glorified servants. Like vassals in medieval times, they are “duty-bound” to support their corporate lords. They must not think about themselves. Their time belongs to the corporation and the shareholders who own it. The corporation pays them “compensation” for their pains; but they do not share in the overall profit unless they own stock. In short, true “business corporations” channel individual self-interest and multiply it a thousandfold. There is no room for altruism, compassion or charity. In fact, corporate leaders who spend money on others can be legally sanctioned. See, e.g., Dodge v. Ford Motor Co., 204 Mich. 459 (1919).

Corporations act largely in silence. Not many people know how they actually work. In fact, most people look upon them with some respect. After all, they look official. They own properties all over the country. Their employees wear uniforms. They have recognizable logos. Everyone can identify corporate goods, like Mercedes cars and Whopper® sandwiches. In short, major corporations play a visible role in people’s lives. They wield almost as much influence as the State. But this is the central error: Corporations have nothing to do with the government. While the State accords them special legal status, they are still private entities. They exist to sustain private enterprise. They owe no duties to anyone except their own shareholders; and their shareholders want profits. In that sense, corporations have a duty to act selfishly. There is nothing noble or glorious about their motives.

Yet corporations must cultivate a good image to win customers. If people did not to some extent “trust” a corporation, they would not buy from it. And no corporation can make a profit without customers. In that light, corporations cannot blatantly reveal that they just want to make profits. They need to advertise in such a way as to suggest that they “care” about their customers. They need to appear that they care, even though they only have one legal duty: To enrich the shareholders. This is no easy feat. After all, people do not like unabashed selfishness. So how do corporations mask their true intentions while convincing customers that they are “trustworthy” and “caring?”

I will not discuss every possible corporate ploy intended to fool customers into thinking that “corporations care.” That would take much too long. Rather, I want to discuss a specific corporate practice, namely: Advertising the company’s “family roots.” Many corporations do this. On trucks, billboards and even television commercials, they proudly claim: “We are Blah-Blah-Blah Corporation, a Family-Owned Business,” or “XYZ Inc. Family-Owned Since 1980.”

In effect, these companies want to associate themselves with the concept “family.” Why? In my view, it is quite insidious. After all, we all have a tender place in our hearts for own families. Even if we hate our siblings and our parents, we nonetheless grew up with them. We never completely forget them. On a very profound psychological level, we depend on our families for our identities, our names and even meaning in life. No matter how much we think Mom screwed us up, we still love Mom on some level. And when we think “family,” we think intimacy, familiarity, comfort, love, mutual caring, compassion, trust and “home.” This is not to say that all families nurture these positive things. Indeed, family life often brings great unhappiness and discord. But the fact remains that the word carries a generally positive connotation. No matter how bad our own family relationships may be, our mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters know us and somehow understand us. We are “linked by blood.” We are not “just strangers.”

Companies exploit these associations when they paint themselves as “family businesses.” They attempt to forge a link between their private, undifferentiated profit-seeking and the positive, “caring” complex inherent in “the family concept.” They attempt to lull customers into thinking that they will not be “just another customer;” rather, they will be like a “family member” who deserves trust, respect, love and caring. These companies want to distinguish themselves from “regular corporations” that do not involve “families.” Those corporations are “cruel, cold and uncaring” because they are not “family-like;” they are just “companies” that “don’t care.” By contrast, a “family business” wants you to think that they care about you. It wants to believe that you are “special” because “families care,” while “regular businesses” do not.

But this is all a naked fraud. It does not matter who owns a corporation; it is still a corporation. Corporations exist to enrich private shareholders, whether those shareholders are total strangers or whether they are blood relatives. Put another way, it is irrelevant whether a “family” owns the company because it is not your family. Only your family cares about you and your needs. The family that owns the corporation will look to its own members, not you. It merely wants you to think that it cares about you by tying its name to the concept “family.” Advertisers know how to exploit average people’s mental processes. They know that the word “family” carries unusually hypnotic power. It is no accident that modern psychiatry dwells largely on “family development” and “family trauma” to identify psychological problems. Our family lives play a significant role in forming our personalities and character. Families nurture—and corrupt—our instincts for love, caring and emotion. Companies know that “family rhetoric” packs a devastating subconscious punch. That is why they attempt to link their image to “the family.”

How crass is this? How shameless? What does petty commerce have to do with our unique family life? Can companies really stoop this low? Yes, they can. In fact, they have a legal duty to resort to any means—ethical or legal, unethical or illegal—that generate more profits than costs. If triggering a fallacious connection between “family caring” and “corporate service” generates more profit than it would without the connection, then a company will adopt it. It might be utterly groundless and tasteless, but good reason and taste mean nothing next to the bottom line. In fact, if shareholders learned that the company made less money without the “family business” tag than it did with the tag, it could hold the Directors liable for failing in their fiduciary duties to them. In the free market, companies compete for customers and profits. They need to be inventive in order to obtain an edge. In this competition, delicate tastes will not prevail. Rather, only the strong survive. And the strong are not afraid to resort to any means needed to win the competition, tasteless or not. If that means falsely insinuating that the business is “one, big caring family,” then the company will insinuate it.

This is not just hot air. Many extremely large companies claim that they are “family businesses,” not just mom-and-pop shops in small towns. Du Pont Corporation claims to be a “family business.” So does Disney. These are not “close-knit, caring organizations.” These are ruthless capitalist titans who would sooner run over their competition than show mercy or compassion. Such ruthlessness is not thematically consistent with the concept “family,” yet these moguls do their best to cultivate a “family image” in order to better pursue their fundamentally “un-family-like” private ambitions. In essence, it makes no more sense to trust a “family business” than it does to trust a “Fortune 500 Company.” They are all the same because they all seek the same thing: Private shareholder enrichment at any cost. Self-interest dictates a corporation’s actions, not family-like compassion or mercy. If a corporation is a “family business,” it does not treat its customers or its competitors any better than the cruelest industrialist would. In that sense, “family businesses” only act like “families” with their own shareholders. The family gets the profit and the riches, not the outside world. This is the central irony in the whole “family business” fraud: Corporations want you to think that you are “part of the family;” but in fact you are simply paying to keep their family wealthy. You are not “part of the family.” You are an outsider. Again, if it is not your family, you should not expect it to treat you like a family member.

It is difficult for me to write about corporations without mentioning cynicism. Cynicism provides an ideal analytical framework to understand corporate action. After all, cynicism assumes that self-interest motivates all human behavior. Cynicism immediately penetrates corporate activity because corporations institutionally enshrine self-interest. Shareholders pool their money in a corporation to advance their own self-interest for minimal personal risk. A corporation exists to enrich its shareholders, not others. This is institutional selfishness; it provides fertile ground for cynical analysis. In fact, it would be illegal for a corporation to act altruistically because altruism implies acting for another’s benefit, not your own. When corporations act for others, their shareholders sue them for deviating from the “self-interest principle.” Against this background, it is possible to deconstruct every corporate ploy and expose its selfish roots. In virtually every case, when a corporation tries to “appear caring,” cynicism instructs us to mercilessly doubt its motives. Put simply, corporations do not care about others. To that extent, when they adopt measures intended to “appear caring,” a cynical explanation will quickly reveal the true motive.

Applying cynicism, we can easily deconstruct the “family business” ploy. Now, if we assume that all corporations have a legal duty to enrich their shareholders, we can also assume that all their actions will advance that duty. Enriching shareholders requires business success. Business success, in turn, requires loyal and trusting customers who funnel money into the corporation. It is not easy to convince undifferentiated customers to fork over cash, especially when competitors offer the same goods or services. Thus, success requires some gimmick, some special “catch” that convinces customers to choose one business over another. Customers must have some mental connection to the corporation that distinguishes it from the competition. Claiming that a company is a “family business” amid ostensibly “cruel competitors” can forge the necessary “mental connection.” After all, “family” carries a positive, “caring” connotation. An average customer would respect that connotation when choosing between undifferentiated commercial competitors. That extra “zing” might increase the chances that a new customer would choose the “family business,” leading to increased sales, more money and more “shareholder enrichment.” In the end, it does not matter whether the company treats the new customer “like family.” All that matters is that the customer spent his money with the company, not the competition. That fulfills the core corporate mission. The shareholders win. They advance their self-interest by exploiting “family” appeal with average customers.

Does it matter whether the company treats the customer “like family?” Certainly not. From a cynical perspective, it does not matter whether a company means what it says. It does not matter that the method is dishonest or even facetious, because results matter more than methods. When analyzing corporate action, I have learned to expect dishonorable, unethical conduct. After all, corporate action is all about the profit. If an unethical method wins more profit than an ethical one, a corporation must adopt the unethical method in order to please its shareholders (provided, of course, that the unethical method does not generate costs down the road). There is no honor in corporate practice. When results matter, methods become irrelevant. There is no room for principle. Corporations want results, not the psychic satisfaction that flows from vindicating impractical abstractions such as “honesty.” As long as the company appears honest to the extent necessary to maintain customer trust—and keeps healthy profit levels—there is no need to actually be honest. This is dishonorable. But it is also practical. And in corporate life, practicality beats abstraction every time.

From a principled perspective, a private business corporation cannot in good conscience claim that it is a “family.” Private business corporations are not “caring institutions.” They do not show love. They do not raise children. They do not nurture tenderness or show mercy to relatives. Rather, they are legal entities dedicated solely to their shareholders’ private profit interests. To suggest, then, that a company will “treat others like family members” is hypocritical in the extreme. Commerce is war. It is a war for profits, customers, market share and success. Commerce is no place for warmhearted “family feelings.” If a company treated its customers and competitors “like family,” it would fail almost instantaneously. There is no room to be tender or merciful in commerce. A “good corporation” wins accounts and collects its money. By contrast, a “good family” forgives its wayward sons and let them off the hook with a kiss. Families forgive, forget and nurture. Corporations pursue, win and collect—by contract and suit if necessary. These are not consistent ideologies. In that light, it is both misleading and fraudulent to equate “corporate values” with “family values.”

We should expect both deception and fraud from corporations because deception and fraud reveal dishonor. Honor means adhering to principles, no matter the circumstances. Honor means suffering for ideas, even when abandoning those ideas might abrogate the suffering. Corporations, however, cannot be honorable. They must win profits. That means “going with the flow” and breaking principles when necessary. In short, corporations must be “flexible,” not “honorable.” It is honorable to “tell the truth” and “to be honest.” But if honesty and truth endanger results, a corporate leader can be neither honest nor truthful. He has a duty to enrich his shareholders by any cost-effective means necessary. That is why he resorts to misleading characterizations, such as calling his for-profit entity “A Family Business.” If corporate leaders were honorable, they would refuse to equate their quest for private profit with tender family emotions. Yet they do not refuse. They serve their shareholders because they have a duty to make them rich. If calling the business “family-like” wins profits, they have no choice but to be dishonorable.

In the world of corporate morality, deception and fraud are not ethical transgressions. They are “calculated measures intended to win maximum profit for minimal risk.” A good corporation knows how to be unethical without ever arousing suspicion. Conscience and honor play no role in this analysis. It is unfortunate. But it is a jungle out there; and commerce is commerce.

WHAT DRIVES PROSECUTORS?

AN ESSAY

Cynicism explains motivations. As I have pointed out in many other essays, cynicism provides a realistic method to judge people’s intentions before they hurt you. Cynicism assumes that people, groups or organizations have only selfish motives in any transaction, and those selfish motives shed light on how they will act. In most logical discourse, it is not wise to assume because assumptions are “beliefs” with no grounding in actual knowledge. In other words, a cynic assumes: “He’s only doing it for the money” without knowing whether that is actually true. On the other hand, we make assumptions all the time because it is not always possible to acquire knowledge before making a judgment. And if we do not take a guiding approach to an issue, we lose focus and cohesion when we address it. To that extent, assumptions help direct us. We cautiously approach issues under a few reasonable assumptions. Then we assemble knowledge in an effort to put sensory “meat” on the assumptions. Sometimes we confirm our assumptions. Other times, we do not.

Cynicism equips us with realistic assumptions about human behavior. In our “real world,” commerce is all. Without commerce, people could not pay their rent, feed their children or heat their homes. Additionally, human beings are naturally acquisitive creatures. They like to compete with one another for limited resources and they like to win. Sigmund Freud observed that men “are not gentle creatures who want to be loved, and who at the most can defend themselves if attacked; they are, on the contrary, creatures among whose instinctual endowments is to be reckoned a powerful share of aggressiveness.” Civilization and its Discontents, p. 68. Commerce provides an excellent forum in which to give vent to these competitive impulses. Freud recognized as much when he wrote: “In abolishing private property we deprive the human love of aggression of one of its instruments.” Id. at 69. In this light, we understand why human beings strive, battle and jockey for money and land. They are naturally aggressive, and in the “race for success,” they have a chance to unleash their aggressions. In aggressive commerce, men have only one goal: To enrich themselves. The focus is selfish. They exploit others for personal gain. On man’s relationship with other men, Freud concurs. He says: “[Aggression] also manifests itself spontaneously and reveals man as a savage beast to whom consideration towards his own kind is something alien.” Id. In short, commerce provides a “civilized substitute” for man’s natural inclination to aggressively conquer others.

Cynical values echo Freud’s assessment. When confronting any commercial situation, a cynic assumes that a person has only one motivation: To enrich himself by whatever means possible, even if it requires gross unfairness or even violence. The law exerts a partial check on commercial aggressiveness by threatening punishment for certain “excessive” measures intended to win profits. But cynics assume that commercial men will do anything that the law does not forbid. After all, it would be costlier to break the law and go to prison—even if it brings in a marginal profit—than to comply with the law and face no additional costs. After all, the focus is selfish. If violating the law results in greater loss than gain, then it makes sense to comply: You can’t enjoy your money if you are sitting in prison. In either event, cynicism explains commercial behavior. And in either event, principle has nothing to do with it: The question is merely whether an action brings maximal profit for minimal personal risk.

Cynicism applies when analyzing any commercial activity, including law practice. Even common laymen know that “lawyers are all about the money.” There is a sort of “popular cynicism” about lawyers. Colloquially, people talk about “lawyer-liars” who say anything to get paid. They call 500 lawyers on the bottom of the sea “a good start.” And they talk about getting “fucked over” by their lawyers, as if that is what lawyers naturally do. But there is nothing unique about lawyers; they are simply men in commerce venting their naturally aggressive instinct for profit. To win, they resort to any methods, as long as those methods do not greatly diminish the value of victory.

Yet there is a conceptual problem with lawyers’ commercial aspirations. After all, lawyers supposedly embody the law, which most people think should rise above mere commercial gain. In popular understanding, the law is more majestic than commerce. It stands for “justice, truth, fairness and equality” under neutral, reasonable rules that apply to everyone. This is very different from commerce, in which money and property determine status and power, not abstract rules. Theoretically, everyone is equal before the law. That is thematically appealing. And that is why there is tension between a lawyer’s craft and his commercial inclinations.

Sadly, law finds a happy place in commerce. Despite the theoretical contrast between noble legal principles and self-serving commercial hungers, law and commerce go hand in hand. Commercial men make the laws by influencing legislation. Even English common law judges gave voice to “sensible, commercial concerns” in their classic commercial rulings. Lawyers fit right into this “commercialized” legal climate. The law not only serves commerce in theory, but it is also commercially valuable to practice law. To that extent, cynicism easily unravels lawyers’ motivations. Like other commercial men, they are out for themselves. They may say that they “represent clients” in order to “solve their legal worries.” But a cynic penetrates all such pretense. He knows bullshit when he smells it. Most lawyers simply want to know how much money they have billed at month’s end, not how many “client worries” they have allayed. A cynic assumes that lawyers tailor their behavior for personal gain. And because lawyers are essentially commercial actors, this is a reasonable assumption.

But there is a perplexing exception here. While most lawyers merely ply their trade for personal profit, there are some lawyers who fanatically pursue cases for no reward at all: Prosecutors. Prosecutors are State actors. They do not bill fees, nor do they represent wealthy private clients. They defend public ideals by punishing “wrongdoing” and providing “justice” to victims. One may rightly ask: “What do they gain for themselves?” So far, we have seen that lawyers only truly act in their own interest. Do prosecutors, then, represent a “cynical exception” from the usual commercial assumptions about lawyers? What drives a prosecutor? It cannot be monetary gain. They receive a flat salary from the government no matter how many clients they handle. In many cases, they prosecute impecunious individuals for activities that have no commercial value at all. While a private personal injury attorney stands to gain from suing a person for negligently running over an old woman in a crosswalk, a public prosecutor stands to gain nothing from criminally prosecuting the same person for the same conduct. Something else motivates the prosecutor. It is not personal money profit.

Our analysis does not end here. If money does not answer a cynic’s questions, other things can. After all, a cynic assumes that all human motivations are selfish. In most cases, monetary gain is the most basic “selfish end.” But is not the only one. Sometimes people seek sexual pleasure from others. That is a selfish end even if it does not involve money. When a cynic observes a man flirting with a woman at a bar, he does not explain the behavior by reference to financial gain; he explains the behavior by reference to sex. In both cases, selfish gain motivates the behavior; the difference lies in the form of gain.

This helps us understand what motivates prosecutors. Neither money nor sexual satisfaction drives a prosecutor to zealously pursue economically worthless legal cases. What is it, then? I would venture that a heightened, judgmental moral sense drives prosecutors. By pursuing “criminals,” prosecutors feel that they are “doing right.” They have so much moral conviction that they willingly invest countless hours fighting to imprison “bad people.” This may sound noble, but I actually find it a little disturbing. After all, it implies that a prosecutor knows—with absolute certainty—what is “right;” and it also implies that he is willing to go to any legal length to prove it. That requires singular, unswerving moral focus. Prosecutors can have no doubt. They cannot equivocate. They must label their targets “wrongdoers” and muster every argument and every proof against them. While we can all agree that dangerous killers, rapists and robbers “do wrong,” what about hobos, drunkards, innocent trespassers and people who forget to pay for something in their grocery cart? How about a man who unknowingly violates the speed limit? Or some guy who gets caught playing with himself in a public toilet? Do we have the dogged moral clarity to declare that these people are “wrongdoers” who deserve criminal sanction? Do we have the courage to invest countless hours proving these “crimes” and rhetorically lambasting their “perpetrators?” I know I don’t. Yet as a cynic, I have an explanation for prosecutors who do: They get a euphoric, righteous charge from using the law to punish so-called “lawbreakers” because it vindicates hypersensitive, personal moral convictions. This is personal gain. If prosecutors feel inwardly good about sending an indiscreet masturbator to prison for 15 years, they have acted to fulfill their own personal desires. They have acted for personal gain, even if they do not receive a nickel for it.

This may seem a bit abstract. But there are other, more pragmatically cynical explanations for prosecutors’ motivations. Prosecutors are well-known public officials. They are executive officers. As such, they receive both praise and criticism for exercising their political powers. While the law embodies principles, political power knows only expediency. This places prosecutors in an awkward position. After all, they do not prosecute every single legal violation. It would be neither fair nor practical to do so. In principle, they should prosecute every violation in order to show that the law never flinches when someone violates it. But they only prosecute crimes when they feel it would have some collateral effect beyond the defendant. This lends itself to numerous selfish motivations, including: the desire to win re-election; the desire to appear “tough on crime” in order to seek higher political office; and the desire to curry favor with more influential political figures. Quite simply, prosecutors charge crimes in order to advance their own careers. Perhaps one day a prosecutor hopes to take a high-paying job as corporate counsel. To fulfill his ambition, he waits to prosecute “high-profile” cases so he can use them as bargaining tools in his employment hunt. Perhaps a prosecutor may wish to make a person’s life difficult because he does not like him. That may sound petty, but it is still a plausible, selfish motivation for selectively prosecuting a crime. If an action appears to bring some benefit to the actor, a cynic rules nothing out. Prosecutors have immense power; and they have many opportunities to benefit themselves by using it. In such circumstances, cynical analysis applies.

In sum, prosecutors appear to represent an exception to the usual cynicism surrounding lawyers’ motivations. After all, private lawyers are unashamed commercial actors who have little desire beyond winning money, while prosecutors are public officials who stand to win no money from their legal successes. But upon closer inspection, we see that prosecutors, too, have selfish motives. They prosecute crimes not just to “serve the public” or “protect justice,” but also to placate innately hypersensitive moral sensibilities and to advance their own careers. These are personal motives. As such, they fit nicely within the cynical analytic framework. Lawyers and prosecutors may truly have selfless motives. But cynicism protects us from disappointment by reference to common experience: All too often we find out that superficially noble actions are mere ploys for personal gain. That holds as much for lawyers as it does for prosecutors, even if they measure personal gain in different terms.

THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, INC.

By : Mr. William F. Biggins, M.B.A., Chairman and Chief Operating Officer, Opportunity Partners Ltd., a Delaware Corporation Consisting of Professional Corporations

Private enterprise drives this Nation. From our earliest history, men ventured to America to stake their own ground. They wrung fortunes from the barren salt of the earth. They defended hearth and home against bandits and raiders. And they did all this without assistance: They worked. They fought. They gained. Americans are pioneers; they survive no matter what life throws at them.

Despite our proud heritage, we find ourselves in dangerous times. Our free market system teeters on the brink. Unemployment rises to Depression-era levels. Hard-working Americans have lost their homes. Our currency has lost international value and our trade deficit burgeons. Put simply, we face an unprecedented crisis. Last November, Americans voted for Barack Obama to “bring change” to the United States. Now, Congress debates the best way to save our Nation from economic ruin.

Obama and his Democrats say that free market “excess” led to this crisis. They say that “unregulated” banks, financiers and corporations deceived, plundered and drove Americans into poverty. They say that greed, self-interest and unrestricted free market practices cause destitution. Applying these views, they now seek to reduce private businesses to State control. They seek to monitor private economic activity and punish legitimate attempts to win private profits. They say they want to protect Americans.

We say they are wrong. We salute House Republicans for refusing to jump on the Obama Socialist Bandwagon because they know that free enterprise is not the problem. Rather, they understand that government—not business—led to this crisis. If government had not squandered trillions on undeserving welfare recipients or fraudulently “injured” veterans, private business would have been able to hire more workers. If government had not taxed companies into the ground, they would have been able to expand operations rather than curtail them. If government had not made it difficult to sell stock to the public, more Americans would have more wealth. Finally, if government had not made it so costly to comply with inane laws, every American would have a job right now.

Put simply, American government is hostile to private enterprise. That hostility has made it impossible for private enterprise to provide employment; and now every American suffers for it. Government says it is merely trying to protect Americans. In fact, it is hurting them. When government slaps private business with fees, taxes, regulations, oversight and inspections, it increases costs. When costs increase, there is no money left for jobs. When there are no jobs, Americans go homeless and hungry. Thus, while government may think it is protecting Americans by regulating private business, it is actually driving them into poverty. Americans would rather have money than know that every building has handicapped access. Americans would rather buy a home than know they work in an integrated workplace. Americans would rather send their children to college than protect a worthless bog in Oklahoma.

Government is the problem, not the solution. This is what Obama and the “socialist-Democrats” do not understand. They believe that we can save the Nation by expanding government power. This is madness.

We believe that America needs a complete overhaul. The question is not whether Democrats or Republicans control Congress or the White House. The question is how to make America more efficient. For decades, modern American government has grown to be remarkably inefficient. If America were a private business, it would have gone bankrupt years ago. It wastes money. It operates on perennial deficits. It expends valuable energy on initiatives for “freedom, foreign aid and equality” that will generate no future profit. It struggles to see that every man can enjoy constitutional liberty.

From an efficiency standpoint, this is sheer lunacy. It is time to discard wasteful systems. The Constitution has failed. To restore prosperity to America, we must incorporate. Throughout our history, private enterprise sustained the government. Private enterprise generated the wealth that made government strong. Yet in recent years, government has spurned the very enterprises that made it strong. We will no longer tolerate this. Now, private enterprise will rule this Nation, not the government. To that end, we will reconstitute “The United States of America, a Federal Republic” as “The United States of America, Inc., a private corporation.”

Corporate management will restore efficiency to America. As in any corporation, a prudent Board of Directors will oversee State affairs in America. Popular sovereignty does not work. It does not make sense to give everyone the vote; now, only shareholders will be able to vote. Shareholders with more shares will have more voting power. This is only just. After all, those with more money and property should have greater political rights than those with less. In the past, government wasted valuable resources in a futile attempt to guarantee “equal access” to the vote. What good does it do to empower people who do not matter? Under the new corporate regime, management will serve only those who matter. If Americans truly want to influence management, they must buy in. Junior shares will cost $500. Senior shares will cost $1,000. Elite shares will cost $1,500. And preferred elite shares will cost $10,000.

We must think differently. In today’s economic climate, it makes no sense to waste time fighting for worthless people. We must devote our national energy solely to those with economic power. When private enterprise flourishes, so does everyone else. When jobs are plentiful, people are happy. Under a corporate regime, government can concentrate its efforts on economic matters, not meaningless theoretical abstractions. It will no longer need to focus on unprofitable matters such as “equality,” “Due Process,” or “fairness.” Now, the inquiry will be straightforward: “Will it make money or not?” Additionally, by transforming government into a private venture, we will no longer be forced to waste money on public accounting, transparency or free information. We will also massively reduce the size of government by abolishing antiquated institutions such as the Senate, the House of Representatives, the Supreme Court and the State Department. By adopting a corporate structure, we guarantee efficiency without carrying dead weight. If a program or institution does not make a profit, we cut it. And by eliminating federal law, no one can question the Board’s decisions. This will reduce litigation and speed results.

Corporations are efficient because they are free to pursue profitable ends without explaining themselves. The old constitutional government had other duties beyond profit. It even had to maintain a “public” appearance. Now, the Board can meet in private. It will owe no duty to brief the press or even to tell the truth. As long as it maintains economic strength, it will do its job. If the shareholders do not like it, they can elect new Directors.

Americans do not want equality, justice or freedom. They want good-paying jobs and homes. Private corporate management is far better equipped to provide jobs and homes than a bloated public commonwealth dedicated to muddled, inapplicable ideals. Furthermore, Americans want the chance to profit from their own labor. They do not want to hand over their paycheck to subsidize illegitimate children, lazy mothers, the sick, the elderly, the crippled, the dying, the retarded or the insane. They want to know that their corporation works for them, not someone else. Under a corporate regime, they will have a direct stake in the future of the country. No more will Americans say: “What good will it do to vote? I won’t even get to keep my money.” Now, they will have the chance to work hard, make their own money and buy shares in the corporation. That, in turn, will give them the chance to vote for Directors who will maximize their profits. Moreover, Americans will have a direct interest in the country’s success, because shareholders will receive annual stock dividends from the company. What better reason is there to work hard for the Nation than for the chance to receive a big dividend check at year’s end? Under the constitutional system, government only took citizens’ money. Under the corporate regime, the company will give money back to its industrious shareholders.

We must do what must be done. No federal tinkering or spending binges will rescue America from the financial hole created by public government. Rather, only full-scale privatization can save this Nation from utter ruin. We have lived in a constitutional system since 1787. Since that time, we have learned a great deal. Private enterprise gave the Republic the strength it needed to fulfill constitutional ideals. Now, constitutional ideals are too costly to bear. Now, idealistic government threatens to suffocate the very private enterprise that sustained it in the first place. Now, the weak govern and the strong struggle to pay the bills.

It is time to reverse this unnatural order. The Constitution has run its course. The age of abstract public government is over. The age of efficient corporate management is about to begin. People want profit, not principles. Principles do not pay mortgages or create jobs. By incorporating this country, we can give the people what they want. Together, we can return America to the people who matter. In so doing, everyone will be better off. Incorporate TODAY.