Starving the Monkeys: Fight Back Smarter

by Tom Baugh

  Throughout the history of the tribe, and indeed all of mankind, tribesmen had learned through a combination of experience and natural selection to not do foolish things. Pet a viper, and it might kill you. Not eat, and you die. In countless ways, each of the behaviors which had been thought as good were nature's way of teaching men what was good for them and what was bad.

  One such bad thing was burning certain vines within their huts. Throughout the forest grew a vine with three leaves, that when touched, or the oil of which landed on your hands, would leave a painful rash which might last for days. This rash, if it became infected, could kill you. Soon after the tribesmen had discovered the use of fire, they learned that burning these vines would release its oils as a vapor. These vapors, if inhaled, would lead to painful breathing and burning eyes, and often death. So, as the tribesmen lived close to God's nature they learned these things and attended to their risks, almost without thinking.

  And so, as the woodmen plied their early trade, Og the first among them, it was natural that these vines be pulled from the wood as they harvested it. Otherwise, these vines might make their way into the fires, or burn the hands or shoulders as it was carried. Even so, a certain amount of the vine would make its way on the wood through the various trades, and eventually into the hands of the consumer who would remove it lest it burn. Despite this, from time to time someone would make the mistake of allowing the vine to smoulder on the wood; the results served to refresh the minds of all who might have forgotten.

  But now the ethic of the tribe was changing. No longer was a tribesmen responsible for his own life. Instead, men had learned to turn to the tribal council and the shaman for his guidance, and began to neglect their own intellect and ability. More and more men began to rely on others for guidance as to what was good and what was bad. Others who, despite their best intentions, could not possibly manage to make all the decisions or provide the protection needed for all the tribesmen's lives.

  And so, a few minutes after Brokerog passed that hut, the owner of the hut lit his fire, not checking beforehand to remove any of the poison vine before doing so. Before long, the poisonous vapors had landed upon the tribesman and his two young children. The owner scooped the children out of the hut as soon as he realized what had happened. Fortunately, no one would die, but he and the children suffered painful rashes to their faces and other exposed skin. These minor injuries in a previous time would have made them simply the brunt of good-natured humor as their appearance for a while reminded themselves and others of the danger.

  Not so in the age of the Lamist, however. Luth quickly seized upon this new opportunity as he brought them to the mount with him, "See how the evil rich ply you with poison! Even the little children are the victim of his greed!" The congregation swayed with pity for the children and disdain for the merchant. Others outside the congregation, but within huts near the victims' lot, saw themselves as potential victims as well. Denying their own abilities, they joined the swell. That week the tribal council chamber was thick with tribesmen who had learned to see that ornate hut as the salve for their miseries.

  "You must do something about the poison wood of the merchant!" they demanded.

  "While you sit here and do nothing, the woodmen grow rich while they kill our children!" they shouted.

  "It should be a crime to sell poison to us!" they argued.

  "The tribe inspects our taxes, let them also send inspectors to check all the wood!" they shrieked.

  The tribal councilmen, as they had been selected to do, reflected the indignation of the populace and enacted a new law. "Henceforth, all wood for sale shall be inspected by agents of the tribal council, working under the direction of the tribal manager." The tribal manager, in turn would delegate this work to a director. That director was appointed by the manager and confirmed by the council, who would employ a staff to assist the director in this task. Work began immediately on a new hut to house the wood inspection directorate, and hired men from the wood industry as well as others less qualified. The cost of these inspectors would be funded by fines they would levy, as well as a special assessment placed on each wood transaction.

  Immediately, the wood inspectors fanned out through the tribe. They inspected each and every stick of wood, imposed first warnings and then fines, and collected the special assessments.

  "See how they overcharge us now!" the tribesmen howled, as the woodmen and brokers and merchants passed along the additional cost in the only way possible.

  Like the tax collection before, the new wood inspection laws led larger merchants to hire specialists. These sprang up for the purpose, to assist them in inspecting their wood before the tribal inspectors might fine them. As before, this new cost of compliance began to separate the productive individualist toward the bottom, while the collectivist moved up. And at the bottom, the smallest merchants who struggled simply left the field, this new requirement exceeding that which they could bear.

  Brokerog immediately saw this new development as the opportunity it was. Indeed, only recently had the Cog brothers hoped to form their own brokerage. But the cost of compliance was now seen by them as too risky to endure, as a single poison vine would destroy several days' work in fines. "Continue selling to me, and I will shield you," Brokerog assured them as he hired a specialist to inspect the wood for them. And as he contracted with other independent woodmen who now sought the same protection.

  But this was not enough for Brokerog, who saw further opportunity lurking around the corner. One Tuesday he attended Luth's sermon, and asked to speak, having brought with him a sufficient donation, of course.

  "My friends," he began. "I have seen with my own eyes the pain which greed can bring," he lamented, waving his arm toward the children who, fortunately for him, had not yet healed completely. Luth wondered if this broker was in the wrong profession, thinking that he might have become an excellent shaman.

  "I have consulted with many wise men," he lied, sweeping his arm back to the gravely nodding Luth beside him, who accepted credit as if this had actually happened. The broker had actually simply presented his plan to the shaman as he had asked to speak, and asked no advice.

  "I ask that you join me in demanding that the tribal council approve each merchant, especially brokers like myself, who wishes to trade in wood," he said. His announcement surprised them, surprised that he would ask for laws to be imposed on his vocation. "I know my fellow wood brokers and merchants are as willing as I to be subject to these terms in order to ensure the public safety. I expect they will join me in this request as well," he finished magnificently, to surprised applause.

  A few days later, he repeated this show for the tribal council, accompanied by many in the congregation. He also had in attendance some of the larger merchants who were able to spare the time away from their shops. The smaller merchants, busy with other needs they couldn't afford to delegate to hires, were absent, as well as most of the individual woodmen, like the Cog brothers.

  The tribal council was moved at this seemingly self-sacrificial act, which surprisingly, had the support of most of the wood industry leaders present. One councilman, worried that the tribe was already spending too much, warned Brokerog and the rest, "We can't expect the tribe to pay the cost of this." Most agreed with this sentiment. He continued, "Instead, I propose that the cost of the approval be born by those of you in this room when you apply for approval, and for your annual renewals."

  To the shock of the council, Brokerog said, "This is only reasonable that we should pay. The public interest is too important for petty issues such as who shall bear the cost." After recoiling from their shock, more than one councilman wondered whether this broker was in the wrong business, thinking that he might make an excellent councilman. As the tribal council considered this surprise, Brokerog smiled to himself as they took his bait, yet keeping his countenance wrung with public concern.

  The council considered the testimony of those assembled, and decided that indeed Brokerog's proposa
l was in the interest of the tribe. Henceforth, they decided, a new branch of the wood inspection directorate would be formed, and it would accept applications for what would become known as a license. The application fee for such a license would be one hundred credits, and each annual renewal would cost one hundred credits as well. Licensed woodmen would be required to attend special courses to instruct them as to the proper inspection procedures required for wood which they gathered.

  To protect the interest of the individual worker, all employees of a licensed wood merchant would be covered under the same license as the proprietor. To protect the individual tribesman who might wish to still gather his own wood, and thus maintain public support for the measure, gathering for personal use would not require a license. But, as soon as even a stick of wood were offered for sale or trade, the license would be required.

  Brokerog couldn't have been more happy. The next month, as the law became enforced, he approached the Cog brothers and asked for their license before he could accept their wood. He knew that they had not applied for one, and fortunately for him, they had been too busy with their work to know his role in its enaction. "We cannot afford this license, it will cost us a hundred credits each. We would have to work for weeks to pay this," they cried.

  "Don't worry, my friends. The law allows that if you work for a licensed broker, then you are covered as well," he assured them. "Come to work for me, and I shall save you the cost. You can continue as you have as my employees, and pocket the difference for yourselves" he offered, casting avoidance of this artificial requirement as a benefit to them. He finished with, "Of course, as I have to bear the expense of the license as well as the tax and other regulations, I will have to reduce what I pay you to five squirrels each."

  Reluctantly, they agreed, and abandoned any hope of operating their own wood business. All across the tribe, smaller independent wood shops and individual woodmen abandoned their business ambitions. Their former owners were absorbed as employees for the larger brokerages and merchants able to amortize the costs of the licensing. The collective grew larger and more powerful still as the displaced blamed not the industry which had demanded the licenses for exactly for this purpose. Instead, the displaced blamed only the tribal council who had merely followed the wishes of both the industry and the public alike.

  From then on, individuals might gather their wood for their own fires. But no one, no matter how effective or how capable, or what ideas they might have for improvements in the gathering, would be able to sell a single stick of it without the license. And the wood fuel industry, continuing to aggregate their power in larger and larger organizations, petitioned for larger and larger licensing fees to ensure they would never face competition from below.

  Brokerog, who had nearly been caught at the treachery he wrought on the Cog brothers, learned to never again directly promote his agenda before the tribal council. Instead, he, and others of the larger brokerages, hired specialists for the task, who marketed his industry's agenda both to the public and to the tribal council. Never again would his hands be seen at the controls he operated. Throughout the valley, other industries took notice, and the larger of them banded together to choke away their smaller, individualist competition.

  "Stone tools can kill! Only licensed artisans should make them!"

  "Bad ferment can blind! License and inspect the fermenters!"

  "Don't live in a deathtrap! We must license the hut builders!"

  On and on, in each industry, in the feigned interest of the public, and at their demand, smaller shops fell prey to regulations promoted by the larger, and the fees these regulations required. The separation of the tribe into richer and poorer grew wider, the poor demanding this separation which limited their futures alongside the rich who saw opportunity in obstacles. And the tribal council grew more powerful, and saw their purpose less and less to protect the individual, and more and more to promote the collective.

  But even this was not enough. The crowning glory of the wood influence specialists was to whip up a public frenzy against the smaller operators. These smaller operators, it was claimed, sold inferior grades of wood which smoked too much. And this smoke was imagined to leave clouds of ash and soot throughout the valley.

  "We should force these evil fuel giants to stop polluting our air!" his specialists shouted at the congregation and in the tribal chambers.

  "Stop picking on us," Brokerog shouted back at them, moving credits from his accounts to theirs, their service loyally fulfilled. Eventually, the tribal council was swayed by this charade, and the outcry which leapt at them from the public. "You have polluted the air in the valley for the last time," the council warned him. "Henceforth," they demanded gravely, "you, Brokerog, and all your industry, shall sell only approved grades of wood." Brokerog said nothing as he sat in the hearing, feigning incredulity at the result he had paid so preciously to win.

  "We shall increase the staff of the wood inspection branch. This branch shall not only approve the licensing and inspect for vines, but also shall now ensure that wood is dried for a period of not less than six months before sale," the councilmen dictated to their scribes.

  "Each seven weights of pine shall contain one weight of hickory," they decreed, basing their proportions on reports of studies paid for by the industry. Yet these studies had been presented to them as independent, noble research by the influence specialists. "And each five weights of oak shall contain one of ash", they further arbitrated. "No other blends shall be allowed between the third and the ninth full moon of the year. At all other times only pure oak shall be allowed. In no case shall three parts per gross of sweet gum be permitted."

  The public rejoiced that the evil wood giants had now been put in their place. "In my place, indeed, " thought Brokerog to himself. His enterprise gobbled up the smaller businesses around him which had finally been put under by pointless regulations that ensured only the larger collectives could afford to comply.

  Once his position was assured, walled in safely by regulations which prevented competition by the small, Brokerog could now manipulate the normally good effects of a free market. These effects, such as labor and wages, or supply and demand, now helped him drive moderately-sized businesses under, and thus allow him to absorb their assets and employees and customers.

  In a truly free market, labor, wages, ideas, commodities, finished goods, skills, and all the countless elements of economic value all flow, and like water, seeks its own level. These elements flow to where they can be more efficiently used. In the process the free market rewards those who produce the most value, and punishes those who produce the least. But the market of the tribe, with the walls of regulation placed where they can benefit the collective the most, represented channels or culverts or dams placed to divert the economic flow in unnatural ways.

  To the individual participant in the economy these things were looming and unseen, like a mouse running about his business and unable to grasp the larger drainage channels around him. Yet because of these unseen channels, this flow could either be permanently diverted away from him, killing him from thirst, if he sat atop a culvert. Or drown him in it, if he sat in the drainage channel itself.

  Neither was good, and he cursed not the artificial walls of the drainage. No, he cursed the flow itself, or lack of it. As he cursed he knew instinctively that this flow should simply be falling on him from time to time like the rains with which he was familiar in the forest. The drought or deluge seemed unfair to him. And yet the mechanism of this unfairness was precisely what he had demanded.

  One such natural economic flow is the rising of prices should a commodity be scarce, or the falling of prices should a commodity be in abundance. In a free market, no one person or organization can manipulate these prices very much by artificially withholding or increasing production. Should he try this, his neighbor or his customer will punish him for doing so.

  If an artisan withholds production to increase prices, his neighbor might decide to produce ins
tead to benefit by selling what is now scarce. Supply increases, and prices return to normal. The toolmakers and the others in the tribe had been able to do this, and get away with it, to avoid the inventory tax. The tax itself represented an artificial channel which made each artisan want to do exactly the same thing. And so none of them suffered from competition. The free market had been thwarted by the tax.

  On the other hand, an artisan may increase his production to drive prices down, for whatever reason. But the marketplace will reward him less and less for this as only so many of his trinkets may be in demand. This will punish his competition as well, but unless the artisan is willing to burn through his own cash reserves he will soon stop this foolishness. Unless he has other reasons which make this loss a worthwhile investment.

  Another natural economic flow is the allocation of labor to where it might best be rewarded. Pay too little, and a merchant or artisan loses labor to those who will pay better. Pay too much, and the merchant or artisan is flooded with labor which is not economically efficient. Similarly, should a worker demand too much for his time when compared to his skill, he is soon unemployed. But demand too little and he suffers a hidden cost, but is employed as much as he likes.

  Even this flow of labor and wages, in a free market, represents an opportunity for workers to improve themselves. Want higher wages? Learn new skills and become more valuable. Want to learn new skills? Be willing to work for less in an unfamiliar field. But these rules only work if the market is truly free. If it is constrained by regulations which prevent the free flow of labor, then either the worker, or the employer, or both, suffer from the dam which is built in the path of this flow.

  Brokerog understood all these forces, and the opportunity which their constriction had placed in his hands. Woodmen could only ply their trade in his regulated industry by either working for him or one of his competitors. And so, he began his latest conquest by lowering the wages of his workers, who were constrained by law from simply starting their own wood businesses and competing directly with him. Of course, many grumbled, and some left to seek employ with others in the wood industry and fanned out across the valley, carrying with them news of Brokerog's reduced wages.