by Tom Baugh
However, the teachings of Luth, cast in the semi-involuntary sacrifice of Lam, began to change the way in which the individual tribesman viewed the traditional meritocracy. Out was the ethic that a trade or skill master was revered for his knowledge and industry, and as a source of potential advancement for others. Luth replaced this ethic with the absurd and blasphemous concept that God abhorred skill and knowledge. Instead, the plan of God taught by the Lamist tradition, is that the skilled "classes" were fixed, as were the worker "classes". As such, the workers banded together under the Lamist tutelage to resent the mastery of their fellows. And, rather than aspiring to join them, saw the skilled masters as one step short of evil, and petty.
This formalized jealousy and envy, despite their ancient prohibitions, served the shamans' agenda. One by one, and in little ways barely perceptible, workers began to resent their employers. By resisting the merit by which the masters had gained their skill, the workers denied themselves those same skills, and thus their own advancement. And so, the workers moved away from apprenticeship, considered one step short of slavery, into a separate class in which the term "worker" attained an almost godlike quality all its own.
Those workers which did learn trades sufficiently to become craftsmen placed subconscious barriers within their own minds which prevented them from mastering the ways of mutually beneficial trade. They turned away from this one skill which underlay all economic endeavor, including their own employment. Trade itself became perceived, not as the mutually beneficial miracle which Og and Pok discovered, but as an evil in which one party triumphed over the other. Free trade became to be seen as a cheat of some kind underlying the transaction.
If cheating must be, reasoned these workers, as they sat listening to their sermons, then they should be the ones who cheat the evil employers and skilled masters. So, the relationships between master and apprentice, now employer and worker, further deteriorated. Workers began to shuffle through their tasks. They began sniping at the employer for cheating them as they refused to give their all, not only to the masters, but more importantly, to themselves. Their struggles, at first imagined at the forkedtongues of the shamans, became real, and deep.
This semi-organized class envy was fostered by a shamanistic ethic which saw knowledge and advancement and effort and skill as disdained by God rather than His true plan for mankind. This envy destroyed the potential of tribesmen throughout the succeeding generations, as their children sat in the sermons hearing the same lessons that had destroyed opportunity for their parents. And so the working class grew. And the employer class shrank. The employer class, seeing the working classes trending toward producing the barest minimums, began to search for ways to design around the necessary detriment of employment. Just as previous generations of their kind had designed around the detriments of the natural world.
Previously, apprentices had applied themselves to their task with vigor. The apparent compensation of an apprentice was low, compared to that of even a craftsman. Yet, the apprentice was being compensated also by being taught a trade or a skill from an expert, the master. To compensate the master for his time and energy spent on teaching an apprentice, that apprentice worked cheap. So, the master was paid for his instruction by cheap labor. In return, the apprentice was paid for his labor by instruction. Both men benefitted by providing that which they had in excess, skill and time, respectively, and receiving the reciprocal, which they lacked, in return.
But the newly evolving shaman-inspired worker class applied themselves with a sense of entitlement at the virtue of their struggle against the greedy. And so, as they disdained the role of the masteremployer, they saw no value in the instruction they were being provided, and focused solely on the low wages they received.
Even the craftsman class petered out as the pre-Luth craftsmen became the hated master-employer, and a few disgruntled apprentices moved up to replace them. In the old times, the craftsman served the master by producing quality work as well as assisting in the education of the apprentices. The former labor continued to compensate the master for his previous apprenticeship, while the latter compensated the apprentice by additional instruction on behalf of the master. All of this in exchange for higher wages than an apprentice could, or should, demand.
Eventually, the craftsman simply became seen as either junior drones of the master, with hate and envy to be similarly delegated, or as higherlevel workers whose purpose it was to shield the lower workers and advance their causes. This distinction was made purely on the actions exhibited by the craftsmen, who, over time, fell prey to the collectivist pressure to please the greater number of workers rather than the smaller number of employers. This gulf continued to widen as these neo-craftsmen, disdaining the skill and knowledge required to operate all facets of business, again, as evil, failed to move up to supplement the master-employers as in times past.
In a vicious cycle of envy, each Tuesday the shamans fed the workers' righteous indignation. Each Tuesday the shamans whipped these embers of discontent gradually into flames of outrage with soft stories of how God prefers the deliberately weak over the evil, purposeful strong.
There was simply no place in the Lamist tradition for a fair exchange of value between independent minds seeking their own self-interest. In their stories, few references to virtuous employers and workers existed. The few stories of the proper mutually beneficial relationship between employer and worker that did exist were twisted by the Lamists from that intended by the original authors.
"In the afternoon the vintner craftsman returned to the market, and hired another worker, and agreed with him to also pay a twenty-credit. So at the end of the day, as the master vintner saw the work, the craftsman paid the wages, from last to first, as instructed by the master. The first worker, receiving his twenty-credit and comparing it with that received by the newcomer, threw his wage to the ground. He shouted at the craftsman, 'How can you pay this newcomer the same as us, who have toiled in the heat of the day?' And the craftsman said, 'Friend, I do you no wrong, did you not agree with me for a twenty-credit?' The master added, 'Take that which is yours, and go on your way. I will do with my own as I will.' " the Lamist scholar quoted from the hill.
The Lamist's own story was passed down to both them and the Izzites by the snippers. The snipper version told a tale of negotiation of fair exchange between a craftsman who went to a market to hire workers for the master, in the morning, at noon, and in the afternoon. This highly skilled newcomer, who was also paid a twenty-credit, was a free-agent master vintner who had been hired in the afternoon to pinch-reap the best remainder of the harvest before the impending weather destroyed the crop. Given the late hour, his service to gather the choicest fruit, while leaving the desired best one part in ten, was deemed by the craftsman to be worth this pay as well. What little crop the newcomer was able to salvage was worth more than his pay. His work was also worth more than what a lesser skilled worker was capable of, who, in their haste and ignorance, might damage the next year's yield by salvaging the wrong seed.
The original intent of this story was to teach primitive minds the lesson that the workers hired in the morning received exactly the compensation they had agreed to work for. And to not be jealous of the wages received by a newcomer. This story thus taught an important lesson in following through on previously arranged agreements. The further lesson, that some workers are worth more than others due to skill and experience, was lost in the mists of time. That little detail got in the way of all the delightful class envy that the shamans exploit for their power.
Importantly, this story taught that the master, and by his delegation the craftsman, were the sole determinants of who was worth what pay. The master and the craftsman supervisor were not obligated to bow to the pressure of the collective to institute artificial fairness. Nor were they obligated to explain their decisions to anyone. And in return, each worker was free to accept or decline employment under those circumstances. But, once employment was accepted, the worke
r hired in the morning should not have argued, post-hoc, that his payment was unfair.
But the Lamists, to obscure its mercantile origin, twisted this lesson, and many more, into a story of salvation, and once again glazed work and skill with the stain of unfair punishment. And leaving the distinct impression, not that one should become as skilled as the newcomer-master, who had also spent the morning and afternoons toiling for others, also at higher pay. But, instead, to somehow figure out how to skate in at the last minute and get undeserved benefit.
Story after story, each that had the ring of timeless lessons of virtue and skill, were twisted for the continuing indoctrination by the shamans. In turn, the shamans benefitted from sadness, despair, envy and frustrated accomplishment of the faithful. These faithful, seeking the briber's easy way out, turned back to them in desperation with offerings that God might save them from their self-inflicted sorrow.
Saddest of all, the workers' children, sitting beside them listening to Luth each Tuesday, had no chance. Their little minds were warped as they munched on Lam Toast and sipped their bloody grape juice while they watched their parents give offerings to this demon who had destroyed their futures.
And so, the children lost, over time the gap widened further.
Author's Notes: I disdain the use of the word "class", as these distinctions are artificial creations in men's minds used by others to enslave and manipulate them in order to extract unearned value from them. In a free society, no man is a permanent member of any class, unless he chooses to be, which is why we must preserve liberty most of all.
Also, I have taken artistic license in compressing generations of social de-evolution into decades or years. This allows me to avoid a pointless series of begats which would simply detract from the narrative.
Chapter 9, A Tribe Consumed
As you will recall, our tribe created government for the purpose of protecting the productive from force or fraud. And yet, over time, the best intentions of the electorate was turned against itself, until that same government had become the agent of the thief and the lazy. And these thrived.
At first, charity was formalized, donation required by law, and the largess dispensed when work ethic alone would have been sufficient for relief. And then the work ethic itself was demonized. Individual effort and self-interest were seen as evil. Meanwhile, work of the common man, rather than one of many temporary phases of life, became a virtue in itself, cementing the poorest in their place.
At each step along this path the electorate themselves blazed the trail. The prosperity which had bought them this luxury was seen by most as permanent, and easily squandered on foolishness, rather than the hard-won thing it was.
During this time the tribe experienced a de-evolution of the working classes, a class distinction created in the minds of the workers themselves. It was then that the tribal council took the next step toward enslaving the productive of the tribe.
More of the collective saw their potential as fixed, and limited, rather than viewing their lives as a progression of learning and improvement. Their envy then spilled over into the maintenance of the government which had been established to protect their ability to progress along life's staircase.
"Why should we, the workers who enrich the employer, pay as much in taxes as he? Does he not benefit more from society, and thus should pay a greater share of its expense?" they murmured.
"The trading hut would be nothing without the roads that we all maintain. Should not the trading hut bear most of its cost?" they argued.
"The sheriff who protects the merchant from theft provides him far more protection than I receive. Steal all that I have and you have stolen little. Steal all the merchant has and you would be wealthy. Let the merchant pay more for this protection," they griped.
Hearing these complaints, the tribal council noticed the growing power of the collective, and the shrinking percentage of the wealthy merchants. Understanding this shift in power, the tribal council forced the wealthy merchants to pay more than the previous per-capita tax. This, they reasoned, would provide two benefits at once. First, this action would satisfy the growing disaffection of the collective, to their electoral gain. But it would also provide the council better access to more deeply tap the source of wealth in the tribe. And thus doubly increase their own power.
And so, the tribal council moved to tax the tribe, not on the basis that each tribesman received the same guarantee of protection of their life and property, but instead as a portion of their property. Devaluing their lives as meaningless, property would be taxed one part in forty at the spring equinox, and then again at the autumnal equinox. In so doing, the tribal government would seize five percent of the total property of the tribe. The greatest portion of this was seized when the granaries were fat with the harvest, and the lesser when lean after the winter.
The collective rejoiced at their wisdom, particularly that fall when many carts of goods were taken from the trading hut, while the poor handed out less than they had been taxed before. The shaman's larder, presumed by all to belong to God, and reasoning that it had already passed through the hands of the electorate, and thus already taxed, was exempted from taxation. Of no less influence in this decision was the ability of the shaman to rile the congregation against any councilman who disagreed with this point of view.
The carts hauled from the wealthy, productive individuals were so full that the normal tribal government was unable to carry, store, or account for it all. To handle the additional burden, the council hired additional workers for this harvest, workers who would have been busy with the harvest in the fields. Lacking their normal workmen, the farmers turned to other workmen, at higher wages, to salvage what they may from the fields. And so, the harvest was weaker than it should have been.
These workmen, absent from their normal professions and busy in the fields, produced less in their own shops. And so there were fewer furs, and gourds, and leathers, and axes, and less wine in the cellars. This effect was compensated somewhat by these workmen having been paid in a portion of the harvest to offset their opportunity cost of the additional finished goods they had planned to make. However, as the crops would have been harvested anyway while these artisans worked their crafts, the net effect on the tribe was the loss of finished goods. Accordingly, there was less for the council to confiscate when it came their time.
Lastly, the workers for the council became flush with goods which had not yet been inventoried or stored, and for which there was no time for oversight. Many simply stole portions of what they took from others, seeing this theft as their rightful due for the righteous work of the tribe.
Despite all this wastage, the gain to the government was immediate. That fall this gain became the most wealthy repository of accumulated goods that the tribe had ever known, eclipsing even the shamans. At a stroke, the productive and the merchants grew poorer, the government more powerful. And yet, exempting the poor, like The Widow, from increased taxation did little to improve their personal circumstances.
The shaman, whose larder was never diminished, continued to gain in power relative to the productive individualists. The tribal council, and the tribal manager, never once had to work or think to accumulate that wealth. But now the council controlled a pool of wealth which they had taken by force of the vote, at the will of the electoral collective. And, like the thief, they knew only how to spend, and not to preserve or increase.
That winter was cold, and long. The product of generations of productive individual effort of the tribe sustained them, however. Thanks to those generations, the wastage caused by the taxation that fall was barely noticed. But to a primitive tribe that same wastage would have meant freezing starvation for many.
And yet, more still listened to the shaman's sermons, as he twisted the ebbs and flows of nature into evidence of God's wrath for some imagined infraction. This time, the harsh winter became evidence against the wealthy productive, who still maintained warm fires despite the treasure which had bee
n taken from them. And in the warmth of those fires, the productive thought about their diminished circumstances. Just as Og and Pok and all the rest had thought by the stream as they considered the harshness of their environment.
When spring arrived, only a few tribesmen had fallen prey to the cold, and this number no different than the elderly or sick who might fall during any year. But now, the collective had someone to blame. And that someone was the rich, despite the fact that this year no one had gone without to any extent more than the tribe had in the past.
Luth was there to make sure that blame would be laid exactly where he needed it. Through him, that blame would be laid at the feet of those who didn't need him, or his or Lam's intercession in their personal walks with God.
At the spring equinox, the tribal collectors once again made their rounds. Once again, they carted away the one part in forty. The bulk of their haul came, once again, from the wealthy. The poor, having just survived the winter with little excess, as the poor often do, paid barely anything. This season the collectors' numbers had grown, as the rumors of ill-gained wealth from the inefficiency and hurriedness of the oversight brought more thieves to their ranks. Thieves who, absent this easy opportunity, might have engaged in honest work or learned a skill. Thieves who, believing the teachings of Luth, assured themselves that this larder, coming from the wealthy, was righteously taken from their presumably evil hands.
As had happened with the fall harvest, this season the ranks of the workers who might have sown the crops were instead employed as collectors, honest or otherwise. And so, as had been done at the harvest, the planters employed artisans at higher wages, as the finished goods the artisans might have crafted lay undone. But this time, the planters, having seen their harvests seized from them in the fall, had thought about these consequences over the winter. They realized that any excess which had been seized that spring was the excess remainder which had not been seized in the fall, or consumed or traded in the winter. And so, they planted less, sufficiently less to reach the next spring without too much.