by Tom Baugh
"Don't speak of God without reverence, and don't twist His name to your purpose," he instructed. After having done precisely that his entire life.
"Never work on Tuesdays," he continued. And left the taste of work in their minds as a small sin which is tolerated the remainder of the week.
"Honor your father and your mother," he warned. Most did already, but the council was about to change that.
"Do not kill and do not steal," he listed. These two had been at odds with some of the earlier shamans' methods, but their methods had evolved and grown more influential. He would have to dance around these two to justify the legal theft about to arise, and the tribal fratricide in store for those who resisted, but there would be time.
"Do not lie with anyone not your wife," he preached. Soon, he would help the council understand the benefit that social prohibition meant for control of men and women's bodies and thus their minds. Already, many among them were ready to surrender this portion of their liberty in exchange for a promise of subsistence.
"Do not bear false witness," he said, knowing that soon would arise an entire range of vocations devoted to precisely that.
"Do not envy your neighbor for anything," having coached them to do exactly that.
"Children, I am so moved by God's message for us, but the hour grows late," he said, pointing majestically to the colors of the setting sun.
"Before we depart, I want to tell you a story of inspiration. A couple of days ago, I was walking toward the village, when I met a pair of tribesmen. These tribesmen were deep in thought, worried about how they might provide for you", he told them as he watched The Two Councilmen. Predictably, the pair's faces flushed with anticipation.
Knowing that he had them, and that they envied his sway of the crowd, he continued, "The tribesmen I met were two councilmen, and wanted to help a poor widow." At this he gestured to the councilmen as heads were already beginning to turn. The other councilmen present, who had opposed special treatment of any tribesmen, reddened and shifted their weight uncomfortably.
"God moved them to help her in her plight. But, they have been opposed in their efforts," pausing, and then as if to silence the growing rumbles, "not by bad men. But by men who genuinely want to know that they serve the tribe's wishes." The point had been made to the holdouts. These instantly realized that the assembled collective represented more electoral power than a similar number of individuals. Individuals would be difficult to sway so easily and might disagree about specific issues. Individuals who were too likely to be hard at work rather than assembling to wield power.
"We need to pray for each of our leaders," he began, asserting the government as the leaders of them rather than their servants who had been constituted to protect them from force or fraud. "Pray that they might understand God's plan, and help them in their struggles. And we need to pray for our neighbors whose faith is not so strong."
"Children, fall to your knees with me and pray," he instructed them. As they complied with this simple, harmless direction, as had barbarian tribes before them, he knew he held the power to lead them exactly where they demanded to go. After the prayer, which resembled that ancient shaman's prayer, planting seeds of thoughtlessness in their minds, he bid them rise. They now easily obeyed.
"Children, God also moves us to help those who spread His message," he said softly, almost apologetically. "I have been overwhelmed by the generosity of the tribe. It is tradition that at each gathering we give what we can to help reach our neighbors", he said, never specifically identifying himself as the recipient. Or justifying his authority to decide who specifically needed or deserved the help.
At this, three tribesmen moved among them to deposit small gifts, a few sticks of wood, a loaf of bread and a rabbit hide, beside him. Like the ancient Chosen Ones, these men had been prepared, not with stones, but with these items to seed the rain that would follow. A few tribesmen not prepared moved forward to deposit what little items they may have among them. The rest felt the pang of the collective, and would not make a similar mistake the next time.
"Thank you," Luth said to each tribesman as they approached with their gifts. He would formalize this process later to build a chapel and fill it with the larder of their bribes to God for His favor, but for now, this would do.
"Children, not all are in a position to give the things of this Earth," he assured them, "so we give what we can. But all can give gifts of the spirit. Go forth from here, and tell your neighbors of God's plan, and invite them back here with you each Tuesday as we discuss His plan together." And with this, he walked down from the hill, and greeted each among them with gentle clasps and kind words. More than a few, hoping to gain special favor, invited him to their homes for meals, offers he gladly accepted.
A couple of days later, as Luth walked among the people, discussing their needs and woes, the tribal council met. The councilmen who had attended Luth's sermon understood, without a single spoken word, that the tribesmen who had congregated there that evening were a force waiting at their fingertips to be used. And they intended to use that force.
And so, The Two Councilmen proposed that some tribesmen should be exempted from the tax. After only a little debate regarding the details of this proposal rather than its merit, the council agreed that this proposal should become law.
Now, unlike when the government had first been conceived under that oak tree, the government would single out for special treatment groups of citizens, rather than respecting each individual. The government had been formed to protect the rights and the property of each individual, man, woman and child. But now the burden of the cost for this protection would, for the first time, fall unevenly upon the tribesmen. The council agreed that the following would be exempt from taxation:
Widows, of any age, and their children
Orphans, until they reached adulthood
The senile elderly
All children in a family beyond the first three
There were so few of each of these in the tribe that it seemed reasonable to exempt them. This action was communicated to the tribe through the councilmen as they met the tribesmen one-to-one. Most tribesmen could appreciate that they could, through cruel fate, become, or have become, victims in the first three groups. And all might aspire to have more children, landing them in the fourth. Some of the remainder expressed nothing more than curiosity about this minor change in the fundamental form of taxation.
A few individuals, however, protested this action. They argued that while the adults, such as The Widow, in those protected classes of tribesmen were still allowed to vote, their votes now cost them nothing. Or, in the case of large families, less per person. These holdouts were surprised by the reaction they received for these arguments. The councilmen no longer saw these individuals as voices of reason, but instead obstacles to be dealt with somehow. "How could these men not be excited about the brilliance the council had just enacted?" the councilmen wondered to themselves.
The entire ethic of the tribe had changed subtly. The collective, for the first time, had raised its hand against the rights of the individual with the force of law. This assault was first manifested through Luth's congregation, still a small minority of the tribe. But, many more assaults against the individual would follow as the councilmen began to understand the potential voting power of collectives of an almost unlimited variety. The individuals simply fell through the cracks of these groups. And those tribesmen who were part of one group or another began to perceive their own power as deriving from membership, rather than their personal merit.
This action seemed, for a time, to have no measurable effect upon the tribe. The small amount of tax revenue lost by the exemption had very little real effect upon the tax larder from which the tribal manager drew to fund the maintenance of roads or the enforcement of laws. The largest impact seemed to be the psychological effect on the councilmen themselves. Like a drug, the initial gratitude of the recipients gave them a warm feeling of confidence. The natural a
ntidote, the questioning ire of the few tribesmen who opposed them, they simply ignored, as most addicts might. And, like a drug, the high soon began to wear off.
The councilmen received another waft of this drug at the very next Luth sermon, held on the following Tuesday. By then, word had spread from the initial small gathering of the faithful. The Widow brought two of her friends, Ek brought his wife, and Isha her mother. This time, the crowd was about twice the size as the first congregation, and more carried offerings which they presumed were demanded by God. The previous pump-priming the previous week, like a lounge pianist's stuffed tip jar, had done the trick.
Luth repeated portions of the sermons before, especially those concerning sinful work versus righteous faith, to ensure that the newcomers didn't miss out on the basic principles. The central story of this sermon was new, and involved the wrath of God being meted out to disbelievers who were greedy with their possessions. The corresponding instruction, presumably from God, was that men should offer Him one part in ten of their income for maintenance of the shaman. In addition, the faithful were directed to donate additional sums to the needy in their community.
This frightful story of the wrath of God had the desired effect. So, when it came time at the end of the sermon to offer their wares the material was available in volume out of proportion to the relative size of the crowds from the previous week. A small pile accumulated around Luth, who bade the congregation to applaud when each donation came forward, however small. The tribesmen who donated, many of whom had never received any recognition whatsoever in their lives, beamed as if God Himself was applauding. The greatest applause was delivered on behalf of one small boy who dropped a tiny stick onto the pile.
After the donations had come forth, Luth then singled out The Widow, "Children, let me tell you that God has moved within our tribe this past week. Last Tuesday, as we met, The Widow was suffering from her loss. And she still suffers." The Widow perked up at the mention of her name again. "How does Luth know my needs so well?" she wondered to herself, "he truly must be a man of God."
"And yet, because of your prayers, God moved our leaders. Only a few days ago, the tribal council decided to exempt The Widow, and other needy like her, from taxation," he announced, gesturing to the councilmen who were present. Applause erupted, the councilmen inhaling the drug they purchased with credits seized from others. One busty woman, giddy with excitement, hugged each of them with tears streaming from her eyes.
"Children, this is but a small example of the way in which God moves through us. You saw tonight how a small boy can give what he can to help," he said, to more applause. "And yet, there are neighbors of ours who have not yet seen the plan God has for us," he lamented, shaking his head back and forth as if witnessing a moral tragedy. "Let us now kneel and pray for our leaders to show wisdom. Let us also thank God for the wisdom they have already shown. And, to pray for our neighbors to open their hearts to all who are suffering tonight."
As before, as a simple ritual symbolizing compliance with the collective, the tribesmen fell to their knees as he led them in prayer. As they finished, he gently bade them, "Rise Children, and witness the glory of God's plan." Reaching out a hand to The Widow, he beckoned her forward and helped her up the hill as if she was infirm. The Widow was shaking, tears streaming down her face as she stood beside him, basking in his primal power.
"The Widow, I want you to tell your neighbors how you felt when you heard that the tribal council moved to exempt you from the tribal tax," he urged.
"Well, I, I, I don't know, all I can say is, thank you!" she sputtered to the councilmen as Luth led them in more applause and patted her back. The councilmen soaked in this new hit.
"But, Children, let's be clear about something," he said, turning back to the crowd. "The tribal tax is so small, and the needs of The Widow are so great. While she doesn't have to pay the few bundles of wood or the few rabbits that the tax represents, this really means that she is starting at zero, instead of behind. Exemption from tax can't be burned in the pit, nor feed an empty belly, nor dry the tears of loss, can it?" A faint echo of "no" or "it can't" came from here and there in the crowd.
Turning back to The Widow, he asked, "What is it that you need the most, right now?"
"I, well, I need wood for the fire this winter, and some fur, and food for the table," she said. As she spoke, Luth eyed the pile of goods, and made a quick calculation. "Two should leave plenty," he thought to himself.
"Then God has heard your need, and answered. You two there in the back," he said, motioning to a pair of tribesmen who he had noticed brought nothing with them. The pair had been eyeing the proceedings with a certain amount of suspicion. "Come up here, if you may, and help The Widow take the wood she needs and some fur and food from this pile of gifts. After all, this isn't mine up here, this belongs to God." Their suspicion evaporated, and at the next meeting they would bring with them as much as their neighbors.
After Luth made a big show of loading up The Widow and the two men with as much as they could carry, leaving behind a still-generous offering, he led them in applause. The councilmen present heard all about them whispers of praise for this stranger who had moved them all so skillfully. The lesson of his receiving praise for merely redistributing goods which others had donated was not lost on them.
The next morning, Luth arrived at Ploison's trading hut to deposit the remainder of the goods which he had received the evening before. He spoke to Ploison briefly as the merchant updated his slate, and took his measure as a man who would not be so easily swayed. "No matter," Luth thought to himself, "his kind are always too few to matter."
Once the charity bug took hold in the tribe, the changes in their ethic began to mount. Others, like The Widow, began to see their unusual circumstances not as challenges to be mounted, as had Tab with his infirmity, but instead justification to receive the work of others. One by one, the tribal council began to exclude more and more of the tribe's special cases from taxation. Meanwhile, Luth continued his sermons, which would have seemed strangely like the soft thieves' justifications from generations past.
"Each of us are given our special talents. Some men are best at sowing, some are best at reaping. Some men use their minds, while some work as hard, if not harder, with their bodies. Do you think it pleases God that some men lead lives of ease and comfort while others struggle so hard?"
"It is the workers in the field and in the huts who receive the most favor of God. Their overseers simply reap the bounty which others have provided for them."
"It is more difficult for a wealthy merchant to please God than it is to pass through the eye of a cheval."
"God created his creatures to roam the earth, not to be caged for men's greed."
"When we say that we shall go hither or thither and do this and such, we anger God for our impertinence. None of man's plans matter to God."
"Why should one man collect the rocks of the stream so that others have none? Let him who collects the most rocks distribute them fairly among the others."
"The bounty of the earth is plenty. Let not one man hoard its treasures to the starvation of his fellows. Aren't we all children of God? Should one child hoard the table and elbow his brothers and sisters to the floor?"
"Lam told his flock to sell everything they owned and give it to the poor. Only by doing this were they able to understand God's plan for them."
These sermons resonated deeply with the tribesmen who attended them. A kind of natural selection took hold. Those with whom these messages most deeply touched became the most fervent in their zeal to recruit new tribesmen to attend. But those unmoved or even offended tended to stay away. Accordingly, each new attendee saw the fervor with which the faithful clung to Luth's sermons. Seeing these examples, heavily outnumbered, they wanted to belong, as is the tendency for man. And so the newcomers either absorbed the lessons themselves or began to pretend that they understood lest they stand out as odd. Even if they only pretended to be swayed, th
eir effect on each newcomer was the same, immersion into a unanimous swell of group consciousness which identifies the collective.
Once Luth's congregation reached one in four or five of the tribe, the battle was already lost. At this point, seeing the assembled crowds, the tribal council understood the overwhelming electoral block which they controlled. The weight of this block, more easily reached as a whole, was far out of proportion to any collection of individuals. Yet Luth did not wield the power of this influence directly. But it was certainly in his best interest to see that the council took action which promoted his gospel, without causing any harm to it.
The assembled congregations themselves learned from these sermons a lesson that also resembled a kind of natural selection.
For generations, the tribesmen followed an apprentice-craftsmanmaster model which had served them well. Young boys would work as apprentices for a master artisan, in order to learn their trades. Often, the masters for whom the apprentices worked were their fathers or uncles or older brothers. Sometimes, however, as in the case of Ploi and Emma, these youngsters worked outside the family. In any case, the apprenticeship period lasted long enough so that the individual could function well without constant supervision. And at that point the tribesman was considered an able craftsmen.
After working for a period of time as a craftsman, which varied from person to person and skill to skill, the individual might decide to follow in the ways of the master. As such, the individual might become a master in his own right. Or, he might switch to another trade or skill. Or, as did Pok Jr., innovate to create an entirely new trade or skill.
In this traditional fashion, the apprentices became masters, and then started their own enterprises, taking on their own apprentices, and so on. Each tribesman knew that hard work and application would eventually see them evolve into masters. Even that term meant self-mastery more so than mastery over others. A tribesman's place in society was not fixed, but based on each individual's own merit, industry and efficiency.
