Taxes are good. There. I’ve said it. I had to say it after watching a televised debate in which two candidates for president of this country twisted themselves into pretzels trying to answer a moderator’s question, which essentially was:
Are you willing to take a pledge not to raise taxes on anyone, by any amount, for any reason, for as long as you are in office?
It is, of course, a stupid question built on an idiotic premise. After all, do we ask grocers to take a pledge not to raise the price of bread when the cost of fuel for the bakery truck that delivers it has gone up by 60 percent? Why is it OK for retailers, doctors, builders and restaurant owners to raise their prices when warranted, but not OK for the city and school district to charge more when their expenses go up?
There isn’t a good reason you can name, and yet the anti-tax crowd has so poisoned the well against taxation that even highly intelligent candidates for president don’t dare say they can picture a scenario in which raising taxes would be necessary. If they did, they would get crucified in the opponent’s advertising.
Where does it end?
Never mind how it started. This I-solemnly-pledge, never, ever, read-my-lips stuff has to end. So I’m saying it, and this time without a litany of disclaimers: Taxes are good.
I took a look at my own life recently. I live in a nice home on a quiet street in a city of 35,000 along Lake Michigan here in Wisconsin. Let’s take a typical day from my life, pretending for the moment that the kids are younger and still at home.
We all get up and use the bathroom. It’s a Tuesday morning, so I put the trash out on the curb. It’s a January day, and the plow has just come by to clear three inches of snow off the street. My wife and I give the kids breakfast; they put on their coats and walk out to the corner, where soon a yellow bus stops and picks them up.
As I watch them out the window, a police car drives by, as it probably will a couple more times during the day. A few minutes later, I shovel the snow that the plow piled at the end of the driveway, get in the car, and drive to the office on those plowed streets. On the way I drop a couple of books through the return slot at the library.
The kids spend about eight hours at school. The bus brings our son back; our daughter stays afterward for a play rehearsal; my wife picks her up in time for dinner. There are bedtime visits to the bathroom before we all call it a night.
Count the cost
I was taxed numerous times for numerous things on this ordinary day. Sticking just to taxes and fees for local services, I paid for sewer and water, police protection, trash pickup, library, education for two kids, snow plowing, general street maintenance, street lighting, and other less obvious things, like the folks down at fire and rescue, ready to respond if my house should catch fire or someone should fall ill.
What did all this cost me? If I break down a full year’s taxes and fees by the day, a little less than $15. Of course, in the opinion of some, I should be upset, scandalized, angry. Because whatever it cost me, it’s too much!
I’m supposed to hate every dime of taxes I pay. Taxes are nothing more than a necessary evil. I earned the money and it’s mine. What right does the government have to take it? Anything I might use it for is better than letting the government spend it. Right?
Well ... no. The late Supreme Court Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “Taxes are the price we pay for a civilized society.” The public services and facilities we’ve built with taxes are wonderful things, and to support them is more than an obligation — it’s a privilege.
We have work to do in this country at every level — federal, state, county, city, village, town. For one thing, we have many billions of critical infrastructure that badly needs care, and we’ll not get the job done by mindlessly freezing and cutting taxes.
If we warmed up to the reality — yes, the reality — that taxes are good, then maybe we would be more inclined to use them wisely to do those great things that only a healthy public sector can.
Comments on this column or about any article in this publication may be directed to editor Ted J. Rulseh, 800/257-7222; editor@mswmag.com.
