Matthew James Gering[SMTP:mgering@ecosystems.net] replied to a long rant, as by "Martinus Luther":

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something like Belloc and Chesterton's "distributivism".

Distribute what and created by whom? Need I point out the obvious fallacy that wealth is a static sum. It is not, wealth must be *created* before it exists to plunder and share.

Every libertarian or cypherpunk ought to have read "The Servile State" by Hilaire Belloc. It is long polemic against socialism (or what Belloc thought was Socialism), the welfare state & so on. Your ranter obviously hads read the book, and in that context what is being distributed is *land*, as private property to be lived on, farmed and passed on to children.

Abstract wealth and divorce it from the creator and you eliminate the motive to create. You can only live from plundered wealth so long before you slip into oblivion (see the Soviet Union).

I think Belloc would agree with you 100%. See http://www.cs.wesleyan.edu/HTML/Grad_links/mdemarco/gkc/distrib/ for links to pages on Distributivism. Distributivism is usually regarded as a right-wing, conservative political philosophy. Chesterton and Belloc didn't invent it but they popularised it. It derived partly from a distaste for the State, industry, trade unions and the modern world in general; partly from an admiration of traditional rural life; partly from the English Christian Socialism of the 19th century & partly from the Biblical idea of the Jubilee, when debts were cancelled and the land redivided amongst the families of the tribe. It is based on the idea that only free men who own their own land and house really have a stake in society or a chance at a good life. So in an ideal world ownership of property would be distributed as widely as possible (hence the name). Distributivists, always a small an uninfluential group, are divided as to how this desirable state of affairs can be brought about. Some want to achieve it gradually, through education and legislation and an increasing influence of the Roman Catholic church. These ones, following in the footsteps of Belloc (an ultra-nationalist, an anti-semite & in his old age a grumpy bigot), drifted farther and farther to the right, often becoming little different from Fascists. Recently they have become associated with the "Third Way" (i.e neither Socialism not Capitalism) a confused mish-mash of political positions that probably started as a self-justification by some milder Fascists but is now associated with Tony Blair and the British "New Labour" government. Some other Distributivists thought that the people should rise up and occupy the land, taking it from its current owners, whether the rich or the state. This philosophy is pretty indistinguishable from the English far-left Socialism of people like William Morris, drawing inspiration from agrarian revolts throughout history from the Peasant's Revolt to Gerard Winstanley and the Diggers. It isn't very different - apart from its explicitly Christian roots - from the Syndicalism of Joe Hill and the wobblies, or the position of some modern-day Left Anarchists such as the ones associated with the Solidarity Federation. They often say the same things, using different jargon. (The Distributivists looked backward to the middle ages & mainly talked about land, agriculture and small crafts. When they paid any attention to industry, other than to say they didn't like it, they made vague handwavings about "guilds", i.e. local trade-based co-operatives, owning factories. The Syndicalists looked forward to the 20th century, and were mainly interested in industry. When they bothered to talk about agriculture they wanted land farmed in small plots each by an owner occupier - "3 acres and a cow" again - except that in America where everything has to be bigger they made it "30 acres and a cow") To be honest it isn't that different from the position of a lot of Old Labour lefties like me - except we aren't revolutionaries either which leaves us in a bit of a fix... Chesterton was never a Socialist and probably never a revolutionary but he was often a Liberal (in the English sense) and was at least on speaking terms with Socialists and Anarchists (of whose politics he disapproved greatly) If you haven't read "The Servile State" you should. In fact if you haven't read Belloc you should. Not a great writer, not always even a good one, but very, very interesting. Of course I'm biased. In the early years of this century Belloc and Chesterton (& many other writers such as Henry James, Rudyard Kipling, S. Fowler Wright (you really have to be weird to remember him), E.C. Benson and A.A. Milne (the Hundred Acre Wood is just 20 miles from where I was born)) were almost fanatical admirers of my own home county of Sussex in England :-) And they wrote some really OTT poetry to show how good it all was. Ken Brown (about as off-topic as you can get on a Tuesday). The South Country When I am living in the Midlands That are sodden and unkind, I light my lamp in the evening: My work is left behind; And the great hills of the South Country Come back into my mind. The great hills of the South Country They stand along the sea; And it's there walking in the high woods That I could wish to be, And the men that were boys when I was a boy Walking along with me. The men that live in North England I saw them for a day: Their hearts are set upon the waste fells, Their skies are fast and grey; From their castle-walls a man may see The mountains far away. The men that live in West England They see the Severn strong, A-rolling on rough water brown Light aspen leaves along. They have the secret of the Rocks, And the oldest kind of song. But the men that live in the South Country Are the kindest and most wise, They get their laughter from the loud surf, And the faith in their happy eyes Comes surely from our Sister the Spring When over the sea she flies; The violets suddenly bloom at her feet, She blesses us with surprise. I never get between the pines But I smell the Sussex air; Nor I never come on a belt of sand But my home is there. And along the sky the line of the Downs So noble and so bare. A lost thing could I never find, Nor a broken thing mend: And I fear I shall be all alone When I get towards the end. Who will there be to comfort me Or who will be my friend? I will gather and carefully make my friends Of the men of the Sussex Weald; They watch the stars from silent folds, They stiffly plough the field. By them and the God of the South Country My poor soul shall be healed. If I ever become a rich man, Or if ever I grow to be old, I will build a house with deep thatch To shelter me from the cold, And there shall the Sussex songs be sung And the story of Sussex told. I will hold my house in the high wood Within a walk of the sea, And the men that were boys when I was a boy Shall sit and drink with me. Matilda Matilda told such Dreadful Lies, It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes; Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth, Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth, Attempted to Believe Matilda: The effort very nearly killed her, And would have done so, had not She Discovered this Infirmity. For once , towards the Close of Day, Matilda, growing tired of play And finding she was left alone, Went tiptoe to the Telephone, And summoned the Immediate Aid Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade. Within an hour the Gallant Band Were pouring in on every hand,

From Putney,Hackney Downs, and Bow With Courage high and Hearts a-glow They galloped, roaring through the Town, `Matilda's House is Burning Down!' Inspired by British Cheers and Loud Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd, They ran their ladders through a score Of windows on the Ball Room Floor; And took Peculiar Pains to Souse The Pictures up and down the House, Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded In showing them they were not needed; And even then she had to pay To get the Men to go away!

It happened that a few Weeks later Her Aunt was off to the Theatre To see that Interesting Play The Second Mrs Tanqueray. She had refused to take her Niece To hear this Entertaining Piece: A Deprivation Just and Wise To Punish her for Telling Lies. That Night a Fire did break out - You should have heard Matilda Shout! You should have heard her Scream and Bawl, And throw the window up and call To People passing in the Street - (The rapidly increasing Heat Encouraging her to obtain Their confidence) - but all in vain! For every time She shouted `Fire!' They only answered `Little Liar'! And therefore when her Aunt returned, Matilda, and the House, were Burned.