Empire
copyright © 2011 by Robert L. Blau
Once upon a time, there was a prosperous state thingy ... Republic, I think they called it. People elected representatives, representatives represented the people who elected them. That kind of thing. Anyway, lots of prosperity. Business, arts, education, sports, the lot. And this Republic was still prospering when the Barbarians attacked.
So there was this tiff. Unpleasantries and so on. And the Barbarians were repelled, and life began to return to normal. But ... and there's always a great, big But somewhere, isn't there? ... not everyone was entirely pleased with the outcome.
When the dust had settled, the Republic's richest citizen discovered that he had suffered some property damage and that one of his businesses had lost a couple of drachma. He was incensed and went to the Republic's chief general to complain.
"This is an outrage!" raged the Rich Man. "The left rear corner of my estate wall is cracked and some of my usual customers didn't turn up because of the fighting. What am I paying you for, anyway?"
"Actually, you aren't paying me," replied the General with aggravating equanimity. "Not just you. The army is paid by the People. All the People. We take orders from the Council and defend the entire Republic, you included, of course. I think my men acquitted themselves admirably. The enemy was defeated with a minimum of loss of life and property. The losses that we sustained were unfortunate, but shared by all citizens."
Well, that wouldn't do at all. "The Council, huh?" said the Rich Man. So he went to the Council.
"This is an outrage!" he repeated to the Council. "The left rear corner ..." and all the rest.
"You aren't the only taxpayer," echoed the Council maddeningly. "We are elected by all the People, serve all the People, and are supported by all the People's taxes."
Well, that really wouldn't do at all. So the Rich Man bought the government so that they would know who they worked for, stop taxing him, and stop serving everybody else. That was much better.
At first, there were growing pains. The
next time the Barbarians attacked, some elements of the army protected
things that did not belong to the Rich Man, but they were replaced by
people who knew who they worked for. Some of the Council members still
prattled about serving "the People." The Rich Man tolerated the
prattling, but when prattling turned to action, those Council members
were also replaced.
The Rich Man soon discovered that he could send the army out to steal stuff from Barbarian countries, which were any countries that had anything that the Rich Man fancied, at other people's expense and at no personal risk to himself. Then, when he made one or two unwise business decisions and went bankrupt, he just had his government make "the People" reimburse him because they needed to learn about personal responsibility. This was more like it.
"Death and taxes, my eye!" scoffed the Rich Man. "Those are things that happen to other people."
When the Barbarians returned, there was no money in the coffers and no army left to fight. They stole everything of value and burned the rest. They beat, killed, raped, or enslaved all of the Rich Man's family, which miffed him a bit, as those were generally his prerogatives. But what really ticked him off was the flaying. Among the avid lot who were eagerly stripping away his skin, he thought he recognized a few.