by Jack Cady
The second issue is internal. The U.S. is supporting destruction of national wealth to maintain not only an artificial way of life, but to maintain a false economy through useless and destructive weaponry and war. As I comprehend it, the issue is exactly this: The U.S., given its then unique economic and philosophic attitudes, could not fail in its beginnings to become a great nation. It could not fail because its natural resources literally did seem inexhaustible.
We know better now. The resources are exhaustible and many of them are nearly exhausted. Last year, doing research, I came to a realization of just how desperate the circumstances already are. The nation is clearly running out of petroleum, cropland and water. More cropland and water will be destroyed because of the extraction and processing of coal. I can demonstrate all this, although it is not necessary at the time. I will say that one great issue of the next ten years is the issue of water. Meanwhile, in order to support an artificial economy the nation continues to plow millions of tons of coal, steel, precious metals and hundreds of thousands of acre-feet of water into machines of destruction. The U.S. spends its real wealth in resources demonstrating to the world that it is too weak to depend on its moral strength.
We paid for slavery with the self-destruction that was the Civil War. I fear that we will pay as greatly for our current self-destruction. Already there is trouble among us. Once, Americans were concerned with living. Now many of our people seem only concerned with not dying.
The rest of the points of my objection are legal. They are:
In requiring that I pay taxes for the support of war, planning for war, offensive weapons and the maintenance of a standing armed force sufficient to engage combat on a worldwide scale, the U.S. government through its agent I.R.S. is in violation of the First Amendment to the Constitution which guarantees my religious freedom. I am a member of the Port Townsend meeting for worship of the Society of Friends, Quaker. The Quaker belief and effective detachment from war dates from the beginnings of the society in the middle 1660s. The precedent of refusal to pay war taxes in America dates from 1755 when John Woolman, John Churchman and Anthony Benezet refused to pay for the French and Indian wars. Nonviolence and refusal to pay or endorse either side in a combat dates in U.S. history from the revolution when Quakers who refused to kill were stoned or beaten under the brand of Tory. I claim my devout belief in God and the injunction that we may not kill as sufficient reason to refuse this tax. I would expect that opposition to this view would also have to overcome three hundred years of Quaker nonviolence, and two hundred years of U.S. acceptance of Quaker attitudes that insist on nonviolence.
The second point of objection is that the U.S. is in violation both historically and presently of the Geneva Accords. The accords are specific and so are the violations. They involve not only the control and killing of civilians, but the importation of weapons into a country and the manipulation of populations including the fifty percent of population that are now refugees in Cambodia.
The third point is that in asking taxes, the U.S.A. through its agent I.R.S. seeks my complicity in crimes against peace and crimes against humanity as defined by the Nuremberg Principles. These principles hold that a citizen of a nation is guilty of crimes committed by his nation if he acquiesces to those crimes when, in fact, a moral choice is open to him. A moral choice is open to me, and to endorse U.S. actions in perpetrating crimes against humanity is to announce in terms of the Nuremberg Principles that I am co-author of those crimes. I would detail such crimes, but they are numerous and can be detailed later as necessary. They have to do with destruction of non-combatants, destruction of villages, introduction of illegal weapons; in fact, they read like the newspapers.
The fourth point is that the U.S. is in violation of the Hague Conventions on several points including the use of poison gasses. (Also a violation of the Nuremberg Principles.) The current argument of "first use" is no more than political flummery. A nation that historically proved it will use atomic weapons may assume no legal validity by saying that it will not use gas until some other nation uses gas. I am sorry to say that the argument very much resembles the statement by a homicidal maniac that he will not kill again; this in spite of the fact that his psychological condition seems to have deteriorated.
In proof of the above point, the Pentagon request for fiscal year ’75 is for $107 million for research and development of biological warfare. The military is currently defying a Congressional ban on the production of a specific nerve gas known as GB, and another known as VX. Either cause instantaneous death on contact with the skin. I think you can understand why many people would not want their taxes to be paying for this sort of thing.
The fifth point is that the U.S.A. is in violation of the United Nations Charter, Article 1, sections 2, 3 and 4.
The sixth point is that the U.S. in stockpiling weapons, planning for war, and maintaining a large military force is in violation of our basic law and international law deriving in this nation from English law. It is a long accepted principle taught in law schools all over the country, and supported by the courts when it becomes an issue. The law derives originally from the writing of Thomas Hobbes. It states that the duty of the citizen to the state ceases when the state fails to protect, and actually threatens the life of the citizen. At this point, the citizen has not only the right but the obligation to resist.
In requiring that I pay taxes to support a war industry and armed forces capable of contending on a worldwide scale, the U.S. Government is threatening both my moral and physical existence. I am not being protected because the U.S. builds atomic weapons, B-1 bombers, atomic submarines, poison gas, lasers, rocketry, napalm and all of the other expensive paraphernalia of war. These do not protect me. They invoke the suspicion and fear of other nations and they provoke among other nations the building and stockpiling of similar weapons. Despite the assurance of manufacturers that these weapons are to make us strong and free, it is easy to see that they make us weak and vulnerable. They endanger the life of every U.S. citizen. I do not wish to be redundant, but weapons get used. The U.S., by record, has used atomics, poison gas, napalm, indiscriminate bombing against civilian targets and fielded armies against women and children. The nation has proved that it will use its weapons. I see no reason why any other nation on earth should trust a U.S. promise of non-use. This threatens my life. My nation no longer qualifies as protector. I owe no allegiance to tax rules designed ultimately to destroy me and those whom I love. In fact, under our law, I have the obligation to refuse.
My final, legal objection is that the U.S. now gives every indication that it is, in fact, not a nation of laws but a nation of men and corporations. This, despite the resignation from office of Richard Nixon and Spiro Agnew. I charge that the freedom of the citizen is largely illusory, and that the payment of taxes, the keeping of tax records, the invasion of privacy by I.R.S. and other agencies of government, the making of rules by agencies (rules that have the force and effect of law but which are not to be challenged in courts), the maintenance of records or files on the political, religious, economic and moral statements and actions of the individual, the power to levy fines and license by agency rule, and the presumption by government that the citizen is guilty of any agency charge and must therefore bear the burden of proof of his innocence; all of these show that the citizen of the U.S. is no longer free.
I have two main intentions in this tax refusal. The first is quite clear. I do not intend to pay for the destruction of other human beings, nor endorse by word or deed the crimes of the United States. The second intent is a little more nebulous but it is just as strong. It is strong because I love my country.
In this refusal I intend that the United States will display by its actions whether a citizen, raised to believe in U.S. principles of freedom, equality, protection under the laws; raised in fact, under statements like, "With a proper regard for the opinions of mankind," can indeed trust and believe in the way he has been raised. Either the Constitution is sound or it is not. T
he U.S. will either honor its national and international commitments or it will not. The courts will either face the issues or the courts will duck them.
Having loved this country for forty-three years it is now time for the country to either prove worthy of my regard and dedication, or it is time for it to show that what I’ve been taught (and what I have taught hundreds of others in American literature and American studies classes) is indeed a fraud. If the rules of I.R.S. are bigger than the Constitution, the U.N. Charter, the Nuremberg Principles and the Christian teaching of two thousand years then I believe it is time that the U.S. acknowledge this. At least the citizen would not be damaged, as I may have been, by illusions of truth, equality and freedom. I hope, in fact, that this nation may prove worthy of its beginnings as it approaches its two hundredth year. I hope that men like Jefferson, Woolman, Franklin and Penn were not wrong, and that their support of laws and ethical principles was not misplaced. I hope that it proves true that these principles are greater than the opportunistic violences wrought under the excuse of various crisis.
Please schedule my appointment at any convenient time, since I am no longer on jury duty. While I have more than adequate records I will appear without those records. As you probably know, the maintenance of records and the requirement that I show the records are in clear violation of the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution. Also I believe you may be in violation of your own regulations although I am unsure of this particular point. The letter I received also asked for information on my ’72 return. As I understand it, your regulations allow you to see only one return. Then, if errors become evident, you may request others; although you may not go beyond the Statute of Limitations unless fraud is indicated. Will you please clarify this by letter? I assure you that you will not be able, no matter how many obscure rules, to find indication of fraud. However, I have been told by one I.R.S. employee that the rules are interpretable in such a way that he could find something wrong with my tax return, no matter when filed or by whom. This, and my past experience in calling I.R.S. and getting contradictory verbal opinions from two or even three I.R.S. employees makes me believe that both the agency and myself will be in a much stronger position if I come with a tape recorder and accompanied by a witness.
Thank you for your attention to this long letter. I hope that we can treat humanely with each other, dealing in terms of respect and kindness and that a great deal of understanding and learning may pass between us. Perhaps even our country will derive some small benefit, since finally, it is the condition and stance of this nation that I take to be in question.
[Editor’s Note: When Carol Orlock, Jack’s widow, sent us a number of Jack’s stories and essays, "Dear Friends" was accompanied by the following note.
As a Quaker during the Vietnam War, Cady was among a number of "tax resisters" who withheld a percentage of their income taxes to protest expenditures for the war. This money was put in trust to be paid after the war ended.
As I understand it, the IRS took the tax resisters to federal court for nonpayment.
I first learned the story of what happened at that hearing many years later. On March 20, 2004, which would have been Cady’s 72nd birthday, many of his friends and colleagues gathered to celebrate his life. One friend, Terry Mielke, had been present at the tax hearing.
According to Mielke, the hearing was held at the U.S. Federal Courthouse in Seattle. In the courtroom the tax resisters were seated in the area separated by a rail and gate from the front where attorneys and judges sat. The resisters were called upon one at a time to explain themselves. When Cady’s name was called he stood and read aloud "Dear Friends, A Letter to the IRS."
As he finished, the courtroom erupted with applause. Then the judge stood and, still in his robes, descended from the bench, walked across the front area to the rail, came through the gate, walked up to Cady and shook his hand.
He returned to the bench and, as expected, his judgment required the resisters to pay all back taxes, plus penalties and interest.
—Carol Orlock]
The Parable of Satan's Adversary
It’s supposed to work this way:
Imp-Apprentices cruise the street at the lowest and most uninteresting level. They collect soul-remnants of pimps, pickpockets, and other city sweepings. After an Imp-Apprentice bags a thousand such, It is promoted to Imp Third Class.
Third Class deals with slightly more advanced levels of scumsuckers, i.e. drug dealers and Hell’s Angels. By the time an Imp has progressed to First Class, It gets to handle the true toe-jam of humanity: presidents of great nations, and television evangelists. When a First Class Imp bags a big one—say, for example, a plank owner in the The Moral Morality, It is promoted to Demon.
Demons, of course, are the main handlers in the Hot Place. The Demon Third Class, if pushy and ambitious, gets to start His career barbecuing small fry used car salesmen, that sort of thing. He gradually moves up to stoking fires beneath CEOs of corporations and, of course, members of The Senate. That’s the way it’s supposed to work. Sooner or later, though, every business runs into labor trouble.
That is why The Devil (Old Nick or Nickie to his friends, if He had any) sat head in hands with his bottom firmly pressed against a lump of glowing anthracite.
Coal prices were up, don’t even think of oil. He hadn’t found a reputable pitchfork supplier in two centuries. Immorality had turned seedy, and standards had deteriorated to the point where even rock stars were going to Heaven. Now the Imps (goaded into it, He suspected, by the Demons) were talking Labor Union and Strike.
All around Him, Hell was just plain going to . . . but, that makes no sense. Think of it this way: things were not working out. The Devil (Nickie to his friends, if He had any) knew it was time to take a break . . . maybe start a war somewhere, or put new life into the white slave trade . . . something . . . and then He bethought himself of Westwind Retirement Apartments.
He told himself He had been saving those souls back for just such an occasion; prime sinners held in reserve for times when a fella needs a little cheer. Then He shuddered, actually, shivered, like before a chill breeze. Still, a guy had to take a chance.
The Devil (Nickie, etc) took the form of a slight, but distinguished-looking man: a college administrator, perhaps, or a mid-level executive, or maybe a high-level social worker. He smoothed his black hair, adjusted his eyes from red to greenish yellow, brushed a little flaming dandruff off the sleeves of his business suit. He strode forth on polished shoes. His collecting bag for souls lay hidden in an attaché case.
Westwind Retirement Apartments stands defiantly beside a manmade lake (only a little rancid), where ducks cohabit with joyful abandon. Pine trees surround the lake, while young poplars stand on each side of a road leading to the front of the building. Westwind looks for all the world like a rundown Junior High School untimely ripped from a seedy part of town.
It has charms, though, because it attracts clients of a type who regard it as homey, and who The Devil considers bait. Nickie parked his limo, strode through the front doors, and changed into vapor. He drifted along hallways, sniffing around, and hopeful. He took up residence in the dayroom by hiding in a clock. From that clock He could watch those souls who he considered rightly his, and they were bitching, as usual . . .
Whoever designed the hallway of Westwind Retirement Apartments . . . "home of shuffleboard, old broads, and bald duffers," according to Deke, who is a bald duffer, himself . . . whoever designed that hallway showed the sensitivity of rock, probably dolomite.
". . . because," as Miss Victoria-Elizabeth Simpson often claims in a ladylike voice that contrasts with her words, "every step you take down that hallway is one more tick, one more nick, on your gravestone. Thank God I’ll not die a virigin."
And ‘tick’ that hallway does. A polished floor of yellow oak leads between walls painted lunatic-asylum green. At the end of the hall, swinging doors to the dayroom stand beneath an antique clock doubtless bought . . . "stolen, mo
st likely," according to Deke . . . from some now defunct telegraph office.
In the dread halls of Westwind Retirement, that clock ticks, ticks, ticks so inexorably that even those without hearing aids feel their last days passing on its indifferent meter.
They are, and take pride in the fact, a scruffy crew with bodies in roughly the shape of auto wrecks. Their minds and experience, though, are matters no one young and beautiful wants to mess with. "Worse," brags Deke, "than messing with Texas."
For example, Miss Victoria-Elizabeth Simpson is a Southern lady who wears pastel gowns, enjoys riots, and has caused several. From the tip-top of her head to the bottom of her chin (what with face lifts) she remains gorgeous, though, as she admits, "the rest has gone south, back to ma’ dear old Georgia." Miss Victoria-Elizabeth stands 5’3" and looks back on a career as a television personality in days before Barbara Walters even had her first interview (which interview, as Miss Victoria-Elizabeth explains, occurred at age 7, when Babs interviewed a cat: ". . . made poor kitty blush . . . it stayed stoned on catnip for a month.")
Deke sports a large tummy encased in checked pants, and clasped by red suspenders of the type used by pool hustlers—which Deke is. The gang also includes Janice Marie Jobravovich (Chicago cop), Maxie Stern (Reno bartender), Ms. Joyce Ann Summerfield (Fresno 5th grade teacher), and Winchester Morris (pawnbroker). It also includes a saintly creature (a goody-two-shoes) named Dear-Gwendolyn who (though opinions vary) is most likely a girl (or anyway, female).
The gang lounged in the dayroom as television broadcast crud, and as Miss Victoria-Elizabeth sneered during commercials. Dear-Gwendolyn, in gown pink and diaphanous, fretted over fates of soap opera characters. Deke stood at the pool table, hitched up his checkered pants, snapped his suspenders, and studied a complex shot. "Remind me," he said to no one in particular, "to tell about the time I cleaned Minnesota Fats in a night of nine ball. Only time anyone ever heard Fats whimper . . . brought tears to the Fat Man’s eyes."
