Tax Policy

Anti-tax fervor has become a defining aspect of American politics. (So much so, that here in Indiana we are getting ready to enshrine a so-called “property tax cap” in the state’s Constitution.)  Those of us who question the wisdom of such a measure are often accused of being “for” taxes—a clearly incomprehensible position.

 As I often ask my students: what is a tax? Do we know one when we see one?

The answer begins with the simple premise that there is no such thing as a free lunch. Goods and services cost money, and that money has to come from somewhere. If the city picks up your garbage, payment comes from your taxes; if you employ a private scavenger service, you pay for pickup directly. There may be economies of scale that make the city service cheaper or there may not, but however the service is provided, it has to be paid for.

Policymakers inevitably face a series of questions. The first, and most important, is whether a service needs to be provided at all. What is the benefit to a community of garbage collection, or bus service, or libraries? Do we require police and fire services? A sports arena?

 In some cases, the public benefit is obvious. If we don’t collect the garbage, we risk the public health; if we don’t provide fire protection, public safety suffers.  Of course, we could simply require that property owners buy these services on the open market; in fact, many communities used to do just that. These and other public services were “socialized”—that is, they were provided communally—because it was cheaper and more efficient to have government provide them. They didn’t suddenly become “free”—we just paid for them differently.

If we want services, we have to pay for them. Calling that payment a “user fee” or a “utility bill” doesn’t change that reality. We can certainly debate whether we really need a particular service—some people would be perfectly happy to dispense with massive sports stadiums, others would cheerfully do without libraries. But if we do want them—and our streets paved, our neighborhoods policed and our parks mowed—we have to pay for them somehow.

 Transparency in government is considered a good thing because it allows voters to see what their elected officials are doing, and where their money is actually going. The real problem with the current anti-tax fervor is that it penalizes transparency and rewards official game-playing.  Voters’ hostility to paying taxes—coupled with their insistence on continuing to receive services—sends elected officials a clear message: lie to us.

 “Cap” our taxes and find “nontax revenue sources.” Shift expenses from operating to capital budgets, so you can borrow the  money to cover operating expenses (the bill won’t come due until after you are out of office). Blame the federal government for service cuts. Sell off public assets.

Of course, it’s more costly when we do things that way—but the payments aren’t called taxes, and evidently that’s all that counts.

Considering the Value of Social Networking

Trust me, the irony that I am writing this in a blog is not lost on me. It’s just that lately I have been considering social networking and what role it does/should play in our professional lives. At 24 years old, I am among the first “adults” to have had a Facebook account the entire time I’ve been working, though its only recently gained relevance in my professional life. I am working this summer in a position with a local nonprofit organization actively engaged in philanthropy throughout our state. Many of the grantmaking organizations we are affiliated with and the major philanthropic news sources we rely on have Twitter accounts, bloggers, and live news feeds on their websites. In fact, I heard of more than one internship position this summer that essentially revolves around being the organization’s Facebook/Twitter/blog person.

Easy, fast sharing of information undoubtedly has its benefits. I am largely responsible for news updates to my organization’s website, and I know that pulling from the Twitter feeds of other organizations is a convenient way to get the information I need. In broader terms, our society places much value on being “connected” “networked” and “engaged,” and so it may be said that social networking tools are valuable in-and-of-themselves for an organization. One might argue that simply maintaining a Facebook page (regardless of the content) says to viewers, “We care enough about what you have to say that we’ve put this platform up on the Internet for us to have an ongoing conversation with you.”

Of course, these tools have their limits. While being an active presence in social media shows engagement, there are limits to the sway that outsiders can have on the organizations they engage with. Inviting feedback and implementing it are two very different things. In addition, I recently read an article that found that 7% of the U.S. population logs onto Twitter in any given month. You could certainly use this number to show how fast technology like this has spread, but to me 7% demonstrates that maintaining an active Twitter feed is not going to be the make-or-break factor for most organizations (at least not yet).

It is with that point that I lead to my final thought on social networking. While I certainly see value in it, the time that it takes away from other things concerns me. A few months ago, I pulled the book “What Matters Now” from Seth Godin’s blog (again, the irony), and one essay, by a man named Steven Pressfield, really stuck with me. In the essay, called “Tough-Mindedness” he writes,

“We live in the age of distraction, of Twitter and multi-tasking and short attention spans. […] The antidote to these scattering influences is tough-mindedness, which I define as the ability to draw lines and boundaries within which we protect and preserve the mental and emotional space to do our work and to be true to our selves. Not to the point of insanity (we gotta keep a sense of humor about this stuff), but we also desperately need the ability to play real hardball with ourselves when we need it. Otherwise, we’ll all expire from sheer shallowness.”

Katie Sirakos
MPA 2011