Given directions, Kandude and Tanemahuta called upon the old councilman, into whose modest but beautifully appointed home they were warmly received. The Councilman said that he was 98 years old and had served in the government of Changrilalaland for over 70 years. He was glad to share some background.
“This tiny country we inhabit was founded over 350 years ago by a community of freethinkers fleeing religious, racial, and social persecution by the colonial and theocratic powers of the Old World. Their ship was wrecked on the same rocky shores of your perilous arrival. They were aided by the Salish Peoples, some of whom joined the establishment of this tiny community and helped keep it hidden from the rest of the world. Our isolation has been assured thus far in that those born here typically have no desire to leave, and those few who happen upon this place, and who may augment our genetic diversity, almost invariably decide to stay.”
“You two are most welcome if you are honest, civil, and willing to work for the good of the community in some area of your ability. You would, if polite and respectful of women and considered by one or more to be suitable, be welcome to reproduce if so inclined, but hopefully in numbers in keeping with the voluntary recommendations of our Ministry of Sustainability.”
“We are honored by your invitation,” said Kandude. “But how do you remain undiscovered in these times of satellites, electronics, and real estate developers? And how did you develop the modern technologies we have seen in your village?”
“Ah,” said the Councilman. “Our village lies at the bottom of this narrow chasm on a small but mountainous island whose rocky shores and vertiginous cliffs discourage exploration. Yet we do, indeed, live in constant fear, these last several decades, of discovery by geographers, extreme adventure vacationists, CIA analysts, and amateur users of Google Earth.”
!-- /wp:paragraph --> “As for technology, despite our extreme self-sufficiency and robust indigenous invention, we have long had a special cadre of secret agents who travel incognito to the outside world to import knowledge and things of sustainable and salubrious value, while avoiding things not aligned with our collective values. Thus, we have hydro and solar electric resources, but no internal combustion engines. We have bows and arrows, but no guns. We have computers, but except for our small intelligence service, no connection to the internet nor to social media. We have educational DVDs, but no video games. We have medical technology and expertise, but no liposuction. We have books and newspapers, but no television. To those well-meaning folks who, using the right of free speech that we deeply cherish, suggest we might pipe in selected media, we give them access to Faux News and The Bachelorette in a secure facility. They swiftly retract their proposals and welcome immediate treatment for PTSD. Of course, we do regret missing Masterpiece Theater.”
Tanemahuta offered that he now understood the significance of the vast web of nets overhanging the features of human habitation and expressed great admiration at their success avoiding invasion by predatory states for over three centuries. The accidental travelers asked many questions about art, culture and governance. Kandude, reflecting on the vigorous advocacy for Christian theocracy back home, asked if religion was practiced in Changrilalaland.
The Councilman reddened a bit. “We are most circumspect about the labels of religion here, young Kandude. Our citizens practice whatever spiritual philosophy and celebrations of meaning suit them, as long as it imposes no beliefs or practices on others, nor does any harm to the common good. For the most part, our citizens find spiritual meaning and fulfillment in interacting with nature, cultivating the earth, and harvesting from the sea, and even more so by doing good for one another. On the day of observance, which many celebrate on a particular day, but which may be held as people wish or not at all, you might see people gather for a hike into the forest and enjoying pleasant meals together, during which time is taken to reflect together on nature’s bounty, the beauty of art and science, and the frail but improvable nature of the human spirit.”
Kandude marveled at the notion that there were here no antagonistic religious sects invoking the absolute certitude of their particular doctrines and authorities, demanding the enforcement of one over the other, and desiring to ban each other’s beliefs, books and practices in the name of God. He reflected that, contrary to the demands of certain contemporary factions in his own country, such tolerance and respect seemed to have been the actual intention of the founders of his own America.
Confessing that he had once been a councilman in his own country, Tanemahuta asked what form of government prevailed in Changrilalaland.
“Ah,” said the Councilman. “Firstly, our people are by nature and upbringing are inclined to choose leaders who manifest erudition, wisdom, honesty and humanity. Those elected leaders are thereby able to exercise inherent authority granted by the people, and they govern by respect and through consideration of our rules of law. These laws are vibrant, adaptive, and conscientiously fulfilled in consideration of first principles of human rights and the common good. They are honored and applied in trust by women and men who are above self-interest, pursuit of factional power, dogma, and exorbitant gifts such luxury RVs, vacations on opulent yachts, and travel on private jets for expensive fishing excursions. None of them are prey to the absurd fallacy of jurisprudence that pretends the law must be governed by procrustean documents fixed in amber and inferred from the presumed intentions of long-dead progenitors solely as understood by an exclusive priesthood of reactionary zealots who belong to the Theofederalist Society.”
“The laws and regulations are curated and administered by experts in their various fields, whose dedication and specialized knowledge is honored and appreciated by the people. We have elections and referenda by acclamation, or more formal means as needed. Consensus typically arises in large part before voting day by respectful and deep conversation across all schools of thought. Ours is an organic democracy, which we are not unaware is in some part a luxury of our modest population.”
“No one who divides people into loyalists or enemies of the state, or advocates the inferiority of certain classes, or dishonors truth in the face of science, facts or reason, or insults and denigrates others, or foments fear, anger and hatred, can ever hope to win a place of responsibility and respect in Changrilalaland.”
Kandude exclaimed, “Dear sir, you must have only people of extraordinary virtue and intelligence in Changrilalaland!”
“Alas, no,” said the Councilman. “Here we have human beings, which means we also have the petty, the dishonest, the belligerent, the narcissistic, and the occasional criminal. But we have a deep culture of love, learning, respect, and common cause, and this inculcates a fundamental belief in human decency and mutual support that has proven both resilient and durable.”
“The ironic fact of human nature is that most people, though flawed, actually want to be good and decent. But the believers of dogma, marketers who strip both products and exemplars of any values other than generation of revenue and achievement of celebrity, and seekers of power, superiority, self-aggrandizement, and acquisition of material advantage divorced from social good, tend to lead others into noxious ideologies, antisocial lifestyles, unalloyed materialism, conflict and corruption. Poverty and ignorance likewise contribute to social decay; we fight both with all our might. The decency of the leaders cultivates the decency of the people and vice versa. Equity and fairness, and the help of each for all, promote the decency of the people and vice versa.”
“If only my beloved Professor B, that most excellent philosopher, were here to explore the merits of your system, dear learned sir,” proclaimed Kandude, “for though he studied both the arts and humanities, he was nonetheless quite certain that it was not the cultivation of basic human decency but rather seeking maximum profit that was all the for the best in this best of all possible capitalistic worlds.”
“Ah yes. Capitalism,” pronounced the Councilman. “The human impulse to pursue enterprise and grow wealth is a powerful and inherent good, as it effectuates hard work, productivity, and human progress. This impulse should be cultivated, harnessed, and rewarded. Here in Changrilalaland, we encourage endeavors that yield a surplus of goods, provide a generosity of services, and grow individual wealth.”
“Wealth is the product of man’s capacity to think and to work. But alas, it can also be the product of deceit and theft as well as exploitation of the weak, the ignorant, and the desperate. It can be the product of explicit larceny, or worse, of elaborate transactions and schemes that contribute nothing to the common good but instead siphon resources from beneficial enterprise. It can be hoarded away in vast amounts that cannot possibly be needed or used by any man or woman but is yet removed from any prudent reserve or productive activity. It can be used to greatly amplify the effective suffrage of the rich over the vote of the rest through the purchase of power and influence. This last is bribery and corruption however named.”
“The moral hazard of unbridled capitalism” the Councilman went on, “lies in the transubstantiation of profit and the accumulation of money into a superordinate end rather than a servient engine of social good. Pure capitalism is both the mother and child of greed and the will to status and power, unmoored from the anchorage of human dignity. Sanctification of profit, and the cynical belief that it must be honored as the supreme dynamo of human endeavor, is as fundamentally primitive a notion as the idea that those with the most and biggest weapons should rule the world. The supremacy of capitalism is not a fact of the human condition, but a value taught by specific cultures, championed by the plutocracy, and fueled by scarcity, fear, greed, and ego.
The Councilman reflected for a moment, and then continued. “Here in Changrilalaland, you will find no factory owner who makes 100 times as much as their workers. You will find no business leader or teacher proclaiming greed is good. Here you will find no one proselytizing trickle-down economics, a malignant and disproven fiction created to justify the extreme accumulation and deferential treatment of the rich and to mollify the festering aspirations of the poor. Here you will find some people who are wealthier than others, but you will not find the wealthy fighting and evading taxes tooth and claw, or resisting and circumventing social and environmental regulations that might reduce their profits regardless of the cost to people and the planet. Here we neither prohibit nor disparage inequality, except in matters of human rights, human dignity, and application of the law. But we do teach that social and economic inequalities are only to be allowed, to the extent possible, if the worst off will be better off than they might be under an equal distribution.”
Kandude and Tanemahuta were somewhat overwhelmed by this philosophical discussion. Kandude could not help wondering whether the late Professor B would regard the whole as communist drivel and mount a learned rebuttal, or would instead be inspired to reconsider his convictions. Kandude himself found the culture and values of Changrilalaland most compelling. He resolved to give these matters much thought when he was less exhausted, broke, and bereft of his beloved Cardoshia.
The Councilman’s assistant brought Kandude and Tanemahuta to a modest but comfortable guest house to refresh themselves, after which they shared a lovely dinner on the deck with the Councilman, his wife and their sustainable family unit of two daughters, two sons-in-law and two grandchildren. They remained as guests for a week, exploring Changrilalaland and learning for themselves that things appeared much as had been portrayed by the Councilman. They saw no homeless people, nor did they see anyone carrying weapons. They saw no bullying. They spontaneously joined various work details and their contributions were much appreciated. The time was filled with courtesy, hospitality, and good cheer.
At the end of the week, Kandude spoke to his good companion. “Tanemahuta, my friend, while it appears that we have landed in an ideal country, I fear that I must return to find and rescue Cardoshia if it is within my power. I understand you may want to forge your destiny here, and I will always be grateful to you for saving my life and giving me your friendship.”
“This is a most agreeable country indeed,” said Tanemahuta, “but I too have left behind interests in the outside world. Moreover, you have also saved my life, and I would like to stay by your side for a possibly precarious journey to your increasingly dangerous country.”
It is the case that mankind are so fond of roving, of securing a place in their own country, of pursuing loves that may be impossible to consummate, of boasting of their travels, that these two happy men resolved to be no longer so and to ask permission of the First Governor to take their leave.
The First Governor opined that the two friends might be a bit foolish but affirmed that she had no right to detain them, asserting that all persons are free. She told them that their passage to the outside world would be by means that protected the seclusion of Changrilalaland and requested their solemn oath to speak of it never. This oath they gladly gave, such was their regard for the genius of the country’s propitious isolation, the brilliance of its culture, and the generosity and goodness of its people.
Before they left, the Councilman gave them the parting gift of a handheld electronic device. “This, gentlemen, is an electronic debit device, into whose account I have deposited the modest sum of 100 units of Changrilalaland’s currency, the minerva, which you will find instantly convertible to the currency of any country on the planet.”
Kandude and Tanemahuta warmly thanked the Councilman, his family, and other villagers who gathered to see them off for their kindness and wisdom as well as the extraordinary parting gift of funds for their journey. Then they were gently blindfolded, sedated, and taken forth by an escort of five women and five men. When they awoke, they found themselves on a park bench in Seattle, each with small natural fiber backpacks containing clothing and items of convenience and the electronic debit device safely secured in a concealed belt on Kandude’s person.