Taxation is the price we pay for failing to build a civilized

Host:
The rain pressed against the tall glass of the city’s financial district, turning the world outside into a blur of gold and grey. Streetlights shimmered in puddles; briefcases hurried past; the air was sharp with the metallic scent of wet steel and exhaust. Inside the 24-hour diner, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzed over the low murmur of two late-night voices.

Jack and Jeeny sat at their usual booth by the window. Between them, steam curled from their mugs, rising like ghosts of unfinished arguments. On the table, a crumpled napkin bore a hastily scribbled quote in blue ink — words that seemed to sting even in their stillness:

"Taxation is the price we pay for failing to build a civilized society. The higher the tax level, the greater the failure. A centrally planned totalitarian state represents a complete defeat for the civilized world, while a totally voluntary society represents its ultimate success."
— Mark Skousen

For a moment, neither spoke. The sound of rain against glass filled the pause.

Jeeny: (breaking the silence, her tone soft but sharp) “Skousen’s idea is brutal — and fascinating. He’s turning the whole notion of taxation upside down. Most people say taxes create civilization; he’s saying they measure its failure. That the more government we need, the less self-governing we’ve become.”

Jack: (nodding slowly, stirring his coffee) “Exactly. It’s a mirror held up to dependency. In a perfect world, you wouldn’t need a government to enforce morality or generosity — people would act with integrity and community by choice. Taxes exist because we don’t. Because greed outweighs conscience, and chaos demands control.”

Host:
The rain deepened, tracing silver lines down the window. Jack’s reflection flickered in the glass — sharp eyes, tired expression, the faint outline of a man built on skepticism and truth. Jeeny leaned in, her face soft, thoughtful, alive with conviction.

Jeeny: “But that’s the paradox, isn’t it? We create systems to keep our worst instincts in check, but those systems grow until they start feeding on the very people they were built to protect. The more we regulate, the less free we become — but without regulation, freedom devours itself.”

Jack: (smirking) “That’s the human flaw — we want freedom without responsibility. Civilization, ideally, should be self-regulating. But people don’t change because they should; they change because they must. So we tax, we police, we legislate — and call it order.”

Jeeny: (eyes narrowing) “But Skousen goes further — he calls taxation a symptom. Like a fever in a sick body. The higher it rises, the more diseased the system becomes. But if that’s true, what’s the cure? Can a society ever become so moral, so cooperative, that it governs itself voluntarily?”

Jack: (laughing under his breath) “I doubt it. Humans love ideals, but we’re addicted to control. Even when we say we want freedom, we want it supervised. A voluntary society sounds beautiful — until someone stops volunteering.”

Host:
A low rumble of thunder rolled through the distance. The lights flickered once, briefly, before settling again. Jeeny’s hand hovered over her cup, her reflection fractured in the coffee’s surface — as if torn between faith and realism.

Jeeny: (softly) “Still, I don’t think Skousen’s just being cynical. He’s challenging us to imagine better. What if taxes weren’t necessary because compassion and accountability weren’t enforced — they were innate? Isn’t that what civilization is supposed to be? The evolution of conscience?”

Jack: (leaning forward, voice steady) “It’s a beautiful idea — but naive. Civilization isn’t conscience, Jeeny. It’s compromise. It’s rules made for people who don’t follow them naturally. You want a voluntary society? You’d have to erase human nature first — the greed, the fear, the ego. That’s what Skousen’s quote exposes: the distance between what we dream and what we are.”

Host:
The rain softened, leaving behind the hollow quiet that comes just before midnight. Neon light from the diner’s sign bled through the window — red, humming, like a pulse.

Jeeny: (gently but firmly) “You sound like you’ve given up on people.”

Jack: (meeting her eyes) “Not given up — just learned to read them. Look around. We’re more connected than ever, yet lonelier. We talk about freedom, yet we want someone else to make it safe for us. That’s the irony — people demand less government while demanding more protection. It’s not civilization that’s broken. It’s character.”

Jeeny: (sighing) “And yet, somehow, we keep trying. Maybe that’s our grace — our refusal to stop believing we can do better, even when history tells us otherwise. A voluntary society isn’t a utopia; it’s a direction. A compass, not a destination.”

Jack: (smiling faintly) “So you’re saying even failure has value — as long as it points somewhere worth walking.”

Jeeny: (returning the smile) “Exactly. Maybe civilization isn’t a place we arrive at. Maybe it’s something we’re always building — one act of decency at a time. And taxes… maybe they’re just the toll we pay for how far we still have to go.”

Host:
The moment hung there, delicate as light on glass. Outside, the city seemed to exhale — streets empty, air still.

Jack leaned back, his eyes softer now, the lines of cynicism giving way to something gentler.

Jack: “You always find the heart in things, don’t you? Even in economics.”

Jeeny: (grinning) “That’s because economics is just the study of how people choose — what they value, what they fear, what they refuse to share. At its core, it’s a moral story. Skousen saw that. He wasn’t just talking about taxes; he was talking about the soul of a society.”

Jack: (nodding slowly) “And how far we’ve drifted from it.”

Host:
The clock above the counter ticked softly, its hands crawling past midnight. The waitress refilled their cups, leaving a faint ring of steam between them.

The world outside shimmered with wet reflections — lights, puddles, movement — all distorted, all alive.

Jeeny: (quietly, almost to herself) “A totally voluntary society… imagine that. A world where people do the right thing not because they have to, but because they want to. Where contribution replaces compulsion. That would be the real mark of civilization.”

Jack: (his voice low, contemplative) “Maybe that’s heaven — and taxes are what keep us reminded we’re still human.”

Host (closing):
The rain began again, soft and persistent — the kind that makes the world look washed clean but never truly dry.

Jack and Jeeny sat in silence, two silhouettes in the glow of late-night philosophy, their conversation dissolving into the hum of the city.

Mark Skousen’s words remained, a challenge written across centuries:
"The higher the tax level, the greater the failure."

And somewhere beyond the glass, the city breathed — not perfect, not voluntary, but still trying to become civilized.