Allow me then to call attention to a contingent made up mostly of young males, who might well be expected to conform to the 20% unemployment rate that is typical for their cohort, but instead have good steady incomes  that would be the envy of many professionals.  The reason behind this group’s favored circumstances is not that they enjoy some special advantages, educational or otherwise.  Indeed, most have only rudimentary education and virtually none have attended college.  Nor are they in possession of some particularly marketable skill, nor the beneficiaries of outside financial backing, nor driven by some sort of extraordinary work ethic or religious zeal.  (in fact, nothing could be further from the truth.)  Nor, for that matter, do they lack competition. Retrenchment, product redesign, constant retooling, relocation, and employee turnover are the norm in their bitterly contested world.

Can’t guess this group’s identify?  Hint one: its representatives are ubiquitous (perhaps this very moment dutifully manning your particular street corner)  Hint two: not only does this group get no government assistance they experiences nothing but relentless interference by the Feds in the practice of their daily jobs.  Yes, of course, I am speaking of the noble practitioners of the drug trade.

Mind you, I am not suggesting the government solve the problem of the unemployed by supplying them with free bags of crack cocaine and sending them onto the streets.  (although the idea would be well within Congress’s penchant of focusing on narrow, short-term gains at the expense of real-world consequences, not to say, common sense)  Nor am I endorsing commerce in illegal substances in general.   And, yes, I freely admit there are factors contributing to the success of the drug sector that I have not mentioned.  And admittedly, the careers it offers can suffer abrupt changes in lifestyle.  But, setting aside the distasteful nature of its business,  you have to give entrepreneurship its due wherever it is found.  The illegal-drug industry stands as living proof that a combination of the normal drive for material gain, a free market, and an absence of governmental regulation inevitably results in self-sufficient commerce.

Which brings me back to the army of unemployed.  Think of the injustice of their lives dribbling away in idleness most probably on account of the mismanagement of others.  And think also of the potential they represent.  If the drug industry can succeed (as indeed it has) with its ranks of ragamuffins, think what a  population of the unemployed could do with its vast resources of latent talent, business experience, technical expertise, and unbounded motivation.  Wouldn’t it be preferable for all concerned to release that potential rather than smothering it in checks from Washington’s paper mills?  Why not release that potential?  Why not endow the unemployed with the economic freedom we have managed to bestow on drug dealers?

Thus my original contention—i.e., given a decent opportunity under the right circumstances, there is no question but that  the unemployed would pull themselves up by their own bootstraps.  There is, I am confident, a true, bottom-up solution to the unemployment dilemma.

What might those “right circumstances” be?  I envision a new type of short-lived corporations called UCORPs that would give the unemployed a chance to get on their feet.  First, UCORPs would be relieved of all but the bare minimum of governmental restrictions necessary to protect public health and worker safety.  They would be exempt from minimum wage, workman compensation, corporate income tax and unemployment insurance requirements.  Second, these new entities would be furnished a set of software tools to help them get a start in the commercial world.  What UCORPs would not enjoy is government financial or advisory assistance.

THUMBNAIL SKETCH OF UCORPS MAKEUP

1. Term:  the maximum life of UCORPs to be five years at the end of which they would have a choice of liquidation or conversion into a regular corporate structure.  For its operations to be acquired by a regular corporation prior to its five-year termination date, a UCORP would first have to be dissolved.

2. Requisite officials: president, treasurer, secretary, and general manager.  No board of directors.  Company records to be kept in a professional manner and made fully available for inspection by any employee upon request.

3. Ownership: entirely employee owned.  Common stock not transferable.  Only one class of stock.  UCORPs could borrow money but could not pledge company stock as collateral.

4. Personel: must have been officially unemployed for at least six months before being eligible to join UCORP.  Screened at entry by computerized application form.  UCORP’s to be non-union.

5. Compensation:  Employees including the founding officers agree to work their first month without pay.  Compensation of executives to be no more than five times that of the average worker salary exclusive of executive pay.  Dividends, bonuses and commissions not permitted.  Every payday each employee to receive a number of shares equal to the dollar amount of his or her paycheck.

Upon any change in the status of the UCORP whether on account of its sale, dissolution or merger, the company’s accumulated profits to be divided in accordance with each employee’s share holdings.  Employees who leave  the company for any reason must surrender their shares at current book value.

6. UCORP required to contribute one-percent of its total compensation to the UCORP Association.  Association to provide services for the industry including acting as an ombudsman in governmental affairs, handling arbitration cases, furnishing consulting services, promoting the industry image, and refereeing complaints.

7. UCORPs given immunity from civil prosecution.  Financial disputes resolved by compulsory arbitration or by a small claims court.

8. UCORPs would be prohibited from displacing existing operations.

GETTING STARTED

Establishing a UCORP would be no more difficult than completing an Internet-based questionnaire with a unique name for the new identity, its address, and the identification of its four officers: the president, treasurer, secretary, and general manager.  The purpose of the proposed corporation would not be questioned nor would any fees be assessed.

Upon application, the system would verify the eligibility of the proposed officers including their citizenship, requisite age, and the existence of a permanent address.  No more than two officers could be related to each other and none could have a criminal record or been recently bankrupt.  No particular qualification or experience would be required except for the treasurer who would be expected to have verifiable experience in bookkeeping or accounting.

If accepted, the new UCORP would be officially registered and be given without charge a commercial bank account at a nearby bank, and automatic membership in the UCORP Association.

In addition, the new UCORP would be provided a free, easily customizable website containing pages for its description, the marketing of its product and services, the posting of positions available, “FAQ’s,” and contacts.

HYPOTHETICAL SCENARIOS

CASE I:  An existing company, Acme Furniture, Inc. designs its products in the US but relies on China for their manufacture.  This arrangement normally works out well, but is judged impractical for Acme’s proposed new premium line that would require close supervision, short-runs, timely deliveries, and, frequent, last-minute changes.  To start, the company initiates a low-cost UCORP to handle the new activity.  Acme locates a qualified candidate to head the new facility then builds and equips a factory close to its main offices.  For the next five years, the employee-owned UCORP operates profitably under a labor contract with the company.  When the UCORP is forced to liquidate after this period, its personnel share the accumulated profits and, for the most part, elect to stay on the job as company employees.

CASE II: Several Hispanic ex-employees of Circle Design have, for months, been meeting regularly at a local coffee shop to share their grievances.  Intimately aware of Circle’s lost sales opportunities, they band together and present their former employer with a scheme to expand its operations into South American markets.  The company accepts their proposition and provides a start-up loan for the new UCORP—care being taken to ensure its  activities do not displace any of Circles’s current workers.  After three years the arrangement proves so successful that Circle offers a handsome buyout package that the UCORP’s employees share along with the accumulated profits in their dissolved outfit.

CASE III:  Elmer Hodgkins, a victim of the downturn in the construction industry, had neither business experience nor professional connections.  On the other hand, he grew tired of sitting around watching TV all day and was energized by the UCORP movement.  Enlisting his wife and two former associates—the bookkeeper and office manager of their defunct former employer—Elmer applied for and was awarded incorporation.  Without a dime to spare among them, the new UCORP’s officers first priority was generating income.  While Mrs. Hodgkins applied for micro loans and on-line lenders, the other three scoured the city’s businesses and governmental offices for temporary employment.  Given their willingness to work for low pay, jobs were found and each such assignment gained them references and a better understanding of the niche they could best fill.  By the end of their UCORP’s second year, they were earning more  than they did when originally employed.  After another year they were able to hire others and add company profits to the income they were earning directly.

CASE IV:  Georgiana Polankitz long believed many would relish the tasty  ethnic pastries handed down by her grandmother if they available.  When she lost her sales job with a department store, she briefly considered trying to earn a living selling these but a cursory review of  the city’s costly ordinances governing food service scotched her ambition.  However, when UCORPs came into being, she formed one of her own and quickly made a success of selling her wares to local bakeries.  From this modest start, she used the Internet to grow her bakery nationwide and employ fifteen people by the time she was forced to convert it into a normal subchapter S-corporation.

CASE V:  After being laid off as an auto mechanic, Don Axelsmidt tried turning his hobby of making radio-controlled model airplanes into a profitable business.  Enlisting three friends to serve as silent partners, he formed a UCORP and used his savings to get started.  Unfortunately, he was forced to close down after two years when he simply could not compete with foreign competition.  However, thanks to the proliferation of new UCORPs and the improved labor market they engendered, his handiwork skills enabled Don to find a good paying job in short order.

CONCLUSION

It is too much to hope, of course, that the powers that be would undertake anything like the above proposed solution to the unemployment problem for obvious reasons: it costs too little; does nothing to expand government; excludes unions; and if, God forbid, it were successful, it would provide yet one more demonstration of the superiority of the free market.

On the other hand, I cannot help speculating that were UCORPs introduced, they would reduce the jobless rate and the human misery that it exacts.  The increased economic activity they would bring about would not only help the unemployed but the economy as a whole.  Finally, UCORPs would measurably reduce the cost of federal and state unemployment insurance that, over the last four years (2008 through 2011) paid out $434 billion to 17.6 million Americans.  Makes one wonder if “safety net” is the appropriate term for entitlements that imperil the economy, but, I suppose calling them “danger nets” would make them a harder sell.

 “One form of religion perpetually gives way to another.  If religion did not change it would be dead.  In the long history of man’s search for God and the basis for right living, the changes always come as something better.  Each time the new ideas appear, they are seen at first as a deadly foe threatening to make religion perish from the earth, but in the end there is a deeper insight and a better life with ancient follies and prejudices gone.”

Edith Hamilton in The Greek Way.

“God has become more remote and more incomprehensible, and, most important of all, of less practical use to men and women who want guidance and consolation in living their lives…However—and this is vital—the fading of God does not mean the end of religion.  God’s disappearance is in the strictest sense…a theological process; and while theologies change, the religious impulses which gave them birth persist.

“The disappearance of God means a recasting of religion, and a recasting of a fundamental sort.  It means the shouldering by man of ultimate responsibilities which he had previously pushed off on God…

“The prophesy of science about the future of religion is that the religious impulses will become progressively more concerned with the organization of society…”

Julian Huxley in Man in the Modern World

“…any such startling event as is sure to arise sooner or later, may serve as a nucleus to a new order of things that will be more in harmony with both the heads and hearts of the people.”

Samuel Butler in Erewhon

SYNOPSIS:

There can be no question but that, throughout history, religion has played a major role in human affairs.  Whereas its performance has been decidedly mixed—often advantageous, sometimes clearly detrimental—what cannot be challenged is the power it has demonstrated along the way.  In recent times, the influence of religion has been diluted largely by the advent of scientific knowledge, but, as anecdotal evidence repeatedly suggests, its latent power still resides alive and well in the human soul.  In the opinion of the author, that power, if harnessed, could be of major benefit to mankind.  To unleash this formidable force, he suggests that a new religion, freed from theist dogma and ancient texts, be promulgated.  And to this end, he humbly proffers “Cartism,” a set of twelve religious tenets compatible with science and in tune with today’s culture.  A distinguishing feature of Cartism is its applicability to the behavior of organizations, private and governmental, as well as to that of individuals.  Given the new lease on life offered by Cartism, religion could once more undertake its traditional role—that it to say, exert its extraordinary power to make us live more righteously than we would otherwise.  As to the practicality of his scheme, the author points out that our religious beliefs have already under­gone numerous instances of ‘punctuated equilibrium’ and there is no reason to believe it is incapable of yet another such transformation.

A FEW PRELIMINARY REMARKS:

First, let me say it’s impossible to make a case for a new religion without risking annoyance on the part of both believers and skeptics who are, no doubt, perfectly happy with their chosen affiliation.  I would want to make clear, however, that, despite my differing opinion, I have nothing but respect for those holding strong, altruistic convictions.  Indeed, I will count on those qualities as I try to introduce a possible new way of looking at things.

Second, given the multiplicity of interpretations that can be drawn from the word, ‘religion,’ it would be virtu­ally impossible to discuss the subject intelligibly without initial agreement on a working definition.  For the purposes of this article, ‘religion’ refers to a system that applies a formalized, enforceable set of rules upon the personal behavior of the members of a given group.  In short, religion is treated herein, in its broader sense, as a social phenomenon rather than as an obser­vance of a particular accepted faith.

Third, one cannot discuss religion without invoking the name of God, but the question is always, which God?  Again exercising my prerogative as author, I intend to arbitrarily exclude those theist interpretations that refer to a nebulous, passive creator who had simply set things in motion and let them take their course thereafter.  Whether such a figure is called a life-force, fate, karma, nirvana or one of a dozen other similar terms, its vagueness precludes any useful role in debate.  The God of whom I speak is the same one who resides—albeit, I’m sure, more comfortably—in the Bible.

OUR UNCERTAIN FUTURE

Why stir up religious controversy?  Isn’t there enough controversy as it is?  Well, yes and no.  If one is sanguine about humanity’s future, the answer is, as far as religion is concerned, leave well enough alone.  And this view may well be justified.  On the other hand, there is plenty of room for an opposing, pessimistic view.  There are too many millions of underprivileged people living in squalor and billions in penury; too many tribal conflicts being fought by children bearing assault rifles; too many terrorist organizations; too many laboratories de­veloping biological weapons; too many nuclear weapons in our arsenals; too much economic turmoil; too many potentially dangerous technologies such as robotics, and genetics, and nanotechnology; too much envi­ronmental degradation; too much prevent­able disease; too big an increase in population; and so on.  Yes, maybe a new generation of visionary world leaders takng advantage of new technologies will put it all to right, but I wouldn’t count on it.  In any case, it wouldn’t hurt to have in place a second, more dependable, more powerful means of protecting mankind’s future, a new religion.

THE ROOT OF THE PROBLEM:

Consider the set of skills demanded of the successful cave dweller.  Throughout the dim begin­nings of human evolution, the contest between different species of humanoids must have fueled a never-ending, life-and-death struggle for resources and ter­ritory.  Heads were bashed in first and ques­tions asked later.  Nor would conflict have necessarily been confined to skirmishes between species thanks to interspecies rivalry between clans.  And even within his own clan our cave dweller would have had to demonstrate aggression whenever his place in the hierarchy was challenged—‘might makes right’ being not merely a slogan, but a fact of life learned at the knee.  In short, the traits we now regard as anti-social—brutality, enmity, short-temperedness, hatred, cunning, greed, fear, domination, distrust—would have been essential adaptations.

More amiable traits must have been useful to our cave dweller as well.  We can surmise that—all other factors being equal—any clan whose internal dynamics depended exclusively on every-ape-for-himself brute force would have been at a disadvantage against more cohesive clans that placed a high priority on cooperation, altruism, and self-motivation.  Thus evolution would have favored groups in which a cave dweller’s standing depended on whether he displayed friendliness or hostility toward fellow clansmen; whether he shared a kill he had made; whether, in the hunt, he had stepped  forward to help spear the beast; whether his mate provided care when fever struck; and so on.  For the most selfish of reasons, then, cave dwellers must have polished their social virtues within the group with the same ardor they exhibited viciousness outside it.

Given these conditions, need there remain any mystery as to the origin of our so-called dual nature?  Obviously not.  For the overwhelming preponder­ance of human history—something like ninety-five percent—mankind wasn’t schizoid.  The traits that we now distinguish as good or evil were both good.  Thus we are stuck with eradicable enmity towards those we regard as foreign and eradicable bonds of friendship toward those with whom we are familiar.

THE PROBLEM’S SOLUTION:

Based solely on the forgoing, one would have to conclude that the barbaric side of human nature would have forever restricted us to primitive, self-contained hunter-gatherer clans.  Obviously that has not been the case.  Some additional factor must have intervened to make larger groupings possible.  That factor was religion.

Both the archaeological evidence and our investigation of the great apes suggest that, from the very beginning, our primitive ancestors had the ability to abstract information.  We can assume, therefore, that as they acquired the abil­ity to capture those abstractions as words as early as 200,000 years ago, they went about naming everything that impinged upon their lives—rocks that they could shape and those they could not, plants edible and inedible, woods that could be worked and those that were too hard or soft, and, of course, animals that could be safely hunted and those too dangerous.  And once those things had been named, our ancestors found their new labels could convey some corresponding, more abstract, characteris­tics.  For example, they might have applied the word ‘deer’ to a particularly fleet-footed boy and, with the addition of verbs, Tom the ‘deer’ could be dispatched to fetch firewood before a waning campfire died.  Thus, as time went on, words served to cre­ate more and more interconnecting strands linking the primi­tives to their environment and to each other.

Among the elements affecting our ancestors’ lives most forcefully were those over which they had no control.  One week their waterholes would be filled with sweet refreshment and, a fortnight later, be caked with mud; their foodstuffs made plentiful or scarce; and their personal com­fort either advanced or denied.  And since they recognized a cause-and-effect linkage in those things they could control, it was only natural for them to assume there was likewise a cause behind those things they could not.  Surely there was some power that made the skies blacken and storms unleash, the air electrify, and forests catch fire.  Just as there must have been a cause for one woman to be fertile and the next sterile, for some children to succumb to disease and others spared, for one hunter to be trampled to death and another miracu­lously escape injury.  It is not difficult to imagine, then, that our ancestors would give these unseen, but very real, powers, the name of gods.

As they crouched on the floor of their caves, these forebears of ours made note of the hierarchy that pre­vailed in the forest outside.  Thanks to their improved stone tools and hunting skills they had no trouble anointing themselves king of beasts, but they could not help being acutely aware of their inferiority compared to the gods so they unhesitatingly raised them to the very apex of the power pyramid.

How natural it must have been, then, for our ancestors, eager to influ­ence the mighty gods in their behalf, to begin hurling linguistic messenger lines at them.  And when it appeared that they had indeed responded favorably to at least some of their entreaties, our ancestors must have been sufficiently encouraged to pass along ever more ro­bust lines of communication until man’s two-way link to his new gods was capable of channeling their prayers and receiving return messages.  Now our forbearers could imagine they had answer to their many perplexities.  What made the sun rise and the moon disappear and the sea­sons change?  Why did a few brighter stars move dif­ferently than the others?  Their all-powerful, all-knowing gods controlled all these things.

History does not reveal how long it took for the shrewdest clan members to seize control of these communication channels.  I suspect it was not long because the takeover was so rewarding.  Once a new shaman established himself as the god’s exclusive mouthpiece, he was in position to dispense their favors and punishments.  And with that authority came the perks of the office.  While the clan’s laymen were out risking their necks hunting boar,  the shaman could contentedly stay in the cave, chow down last night’s leftovers, and, having eaten his full, turn his attention to the handsomest of the clan’s unattended females.  And thus was the trail blazed for the many generations of holy men to follow.

More pertinent to our story was the spiritual authority assumed by the new shaman.  Thanks to his ability to call upon his flock’s religious impulses that reached practically as far back in time as their most basic instincts, he could, as it were, fight fire with fire.  In short, the brutish side of mankind’s character had met its match.

RELIGION OPENS THE DOOR TO CIVILIZATION

Clans would always have had reason to coalesce.  Larger groupings would have been better able to defend themselves, secure more territory, and support more specialists.  On the other hand their mutual enmity would have made them so chary of uniting that they would never have gotten around to it but for the intercession of religious authority. With shamans running the show, neighboring clansmen could be persuaded to merge their circles of brotherhood and peaceably join.  The two united clans would then have had the numbers to subsume a third, and so on, until entire tribes took form and the march toward ever larger groupings begun.  A turning point in the cultural history of mankind had been reached.

There might be reason to quibble over some particulars with my thumbnail (some might say “oversimplified”) account, but not its main point—i.e., religion played an essential role in the evolution of modern man.  That seemingly sweeping statement is irrefutably anchored in the historical record.  My proof: the fact that every known culture on earth has a religious history.  This holds true for peoples in all climes from the most tropic to the most frigid, for every size grouping from the lowliest hamlet to the largest metropolis, from the most primitive isolated tribes to the most sophisticated populations, and from the most poverty stricken to the wealthiest.  There can be only two explanations for religion’s universality. One option is that religion was already embedded in mankind’s makeup before individual branches diverged out of Africa and that each of those branches retained its original religiosity through the ages.  Alternatively, it could be argued that each culture developed its particular religion independently.  Either way, it is clear that the universality of religion was no accident.  Religion must have been an indispensible adaptation for human survival.  Could there have been groups that failed to develop a religious defense against extinction?  Possibly.  The point is that they are not around to tell their story.

THE STATE OF RELIGION TODAY

Throughout recorded history religion continued to play a major role, both beneficial and malevolent, in mankind’s affairs.  It spurred exploration of the seas, moved armies across continents, seized lands, evicted entire populations, sponsored artistic endeavors, persecuted dissenters, initiated bloody conflicts, preserved ancient writings, administered far flung areas, dispensed charities, swindled the poor, appointed and dethroned monarchs, and, for diversion along the way, burned martyrs at the stake.  Indeed, mankind’s political history and religious experience are so interlocked it is impossible to separate the two.

In opposition to my thesis, I’m sure there are those who would grant the validity of these historical arguments but nevertheless consider them irrelevant in today’s world.  Religion, these sophisticates would say is an artifact of bygone days being swept aside by science.  They might grant that remnants remain as the detritus of thousands of years of acculturation, but these too will inevitably disappear with time.  In any case, my atheist friends would argue, there is no legitimate role for religion in today’s events.

And they would not have to look far for evidence in support of their opinion.  Signs of religion’s impotence are everywhere.  In Europe young people have left the church in droves.  In the United States, the once dominant, traditional faiths are being elbowed aside by a factious array of evangelicals, new era enthusiasts, and an assorted collection of nondescript cults.  Rather than a sign of religious renewal, the proliferation of mega-churches is another symptom of the same downward trend.  Religious services in themselves are not popular enough stand on their own; what it takes to hold the faithful together is a massive investment in bowling alleys and basketball courts.   Similarly, the rise of Islamic extremism, beneath its histrionics, is one more indication of religion’s internal weakness in today’s world—its rabidly insecure leadership understandably terrified that Islam cannot survive modernity.

In its less benign manifestations, religious divisiveness yields not simply discord but out and out brutality ranging from sectarian violence to ethnic cleansing,  from outright persecution to final-solution extermination, from terrorist attacks to open warfare.  Against a background chorus of pious mumblings from church leaders on be­half of world peace, Muslims and Christians attack one another in Egypt, Lebanon, Chechnya, Indonesia, the Philippines, the Sudan, and God knows where else;   Catholics and Protestant still skirmish in Ireland; Greek Orthodox Slavs vie against Albanian Muslims  in the Balkans; Hindu versus Sikh on the Indian subcontinent; Israeli Jews struggle with Palestinian Muslims; and the melancholy list goes on.  All too often, it appears, God’s message of universal love has to be emphasized by bursts of machinegun fire.

UNDERMINING RELIGION’S POTENCY

The multiple difficulties faced by religion nowadays primarily stem from their blind adherence to their ancient texts.  Like Morley’s ghost in Dickens’s Christmas Carol, they are immutably bound by heavy chains to these dogeared volumes—destined to painfully drag them through time come what may.

Really I cannot cease to wonder what it is about these holy writs that so binds the faithful to them.  Surely these people are aware that they hearken back to a time when writ­ers were notoriously lackadaisical with respect to accuracy.  The priorities of scribes back then were to amuse, to dramatize, to enhance their individual reputations, and, most importantly, to dish out wartime propaganda in support of their particular tribe. Verifiable truth was the last thing they had on their minds.  Even if one sets aside the sacred texts’ hyperbole, ignores their fiction, and tries to concentrate instead on their substantive meaning, he will still find them frustrated reading—their kernel of instructive moral messages all but smothered in repetitive, mind-numbing exaltations to their respective divinities.

Then, of course, is the question believers should ask themselves: which of these texts is the authentic one?  Should one embrace the King James version of the Christian Bible, the Roman Catholic version, the Koran, the Veda, or the Talmud to name but a few of the score or so holy writs being heralded as God’s irrefutable word?  To my mind, any impartial person faced with a choice between them would have to conclude that only one, at the very most, was legitimate.

Religion’s obsessive habit of digging into the past exposes it to a contagion best left buried, the ancient plague of absolutism.  Absolutism practically guarantees that the uncompromising position of one denomination will encroach on that of a competing faith, and tensions rise accordingly.  As a result, even in its most benign version controversies such as whether or not to approve abortion, allow or disallow polygamy, honor the Sabbath on Saturday or on Sunday, consider the collection of interest a normal business practice or as usury, taxation of church property or not, subsidize religion or not, require women to wear a headscarf or not, allow religious observances in public schools or maintain strict separation, and so on.  Thus the adherents of religion are forced to fritter away their moral authority on spurious issues—issues that have nothing to do with religion’s core responsibility and everything to do with distracting it from fulfilling its vital role.

Then there is the more serious matter of interpretation.  The more liberal minded among the faithful feel they may pick and choose as to which portions of their holy books they adhere to and which may be dismissed as illustrative fiction.  The insolvable problem this presents is how to separate the wheat from the chaff if, indeed, there is any wheat to be found.  Such confusion can be readily solved by assuming its wheat all the way—that is, by taking the entire ancient text literally.  But this creates a new and larger problem than before.  It puts religion squarely in opposition to science—a fight that religion cannot win.  So, whichever way the holy books are interpreted, there is no question of the damage they inflict on religion’s cause.

Thus, whereas in its earlier incarnation one could have expected religion to roll up its sleeves and lead the way to world peace, that is not what one sees at all.  The muscle-bound giant lies sprawled on the deck half comatose—a shadow of its former self worn down by its burden of chains and books—a pitiful victim of its self-inflicted injuries.

COMATOSE BUT NOT DEAD

With all due respect to my atheist friends, in their eagerness to count religion out, they are missing the point.

Religion is very much with us today.  One can hardly open a newspaper without coming across some manifestation of it one way or another.  But one need not even have to go that much trouble.  An honest conversation with his mirror image would do.  Over hundreds of thousands of years, religion has become engrained in our psyche and no intellectual protestation can banish it.  I challenge religious skeptics to visit a cathedral, or listen to an oratorio or attend a religious ceremony without experiencing some mystic rumblings deep within themselves.  And even if they have become so desensitized to spiritual stimuli that they feel no response to these sensations, I would urge that they take themselves to their nearest neighborhood neurologist who could, with a bit of drilling, insert a few wires into their heads and prove that, like everyone else on earth, they possessed a site in their brains dedicated to religious impulses.  In short, consciously on unconsciously, we are all to some extent religious whether we will it or no.  We simply can’t wash religion out of our hair.  Nor need my atheist friends agonize over their plight.  It is, as I will try to show in the following text, a good thing.

As history records and present events confirm, religion is not only ubiquitous, it can induce incredibly powerful reactions. Think of religious rituals in which Muslim adherents deliberately slash their backs and in which Malaysian zealots tote heavy loads uphill that are secured to their bodies with hooks driven into their skins.  Or consider the deprivations, persecutions, sacrifices, ridicule, poverty, captivity, torture, and even death itself people subject themselves to out of devotion to one religious cause or another. Yes, we can tut-tut from the sidelines and look down our noses on such acts as misguided fanaticism. We can dismiss them as aberrant embarrassments to the human race and smugly remind ourselves of our own rationality.  But there is nothing rational about failing to take into account what such acts are screaming at us.  Indeed, intentionally ignoring facts that are staring us in the face borders on criminal stupidity.  Zealotry, along with other such compelling evidence on all sides, is proof of religion’s potency–potency that can be transmuted into the strongest redemptory force known to man—potency that practically demands that it be put to work!

LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

Religion’s tenacious hold on the patently indefensible holy books forces it to exhaust its energy and resources in unproductive, self-preservation measures on a wide front—measures so commonplace we scarcely give them a second thought despite the huge cost in their expenditure.  Contrast these attempts to hold together religion’s crumbling dogmas with the science’s effortless survival.  What it takes to keep the Bible afloat, for example, versus the serene life and times of say an innocuous textbook on trigonometry.  Does anyone feel obliged to attend weekly sermons attesting to its validity?  Have costly edifices been erected as proof of its substance?  Are thrice daily pledges of allegiance to its author required? Is the reader asked to contribute to its promulgation among trig-adverse heathens? Are there learned tribu­nals arguing the merits of its various interpretations? conflicts?  No?  Why not?

However flippant these conjectures may sound, the point is that scientifi­c truth stands on its own.  It does not need external life support.   What if there were a religion with the same credentials?  Imagine religion being given a new life and then rising from the floor, bursting its chains and ridding itself of its archaic encumbrances.  Religion, hand-in-hand with trigonometry standing on its own two feet?  Religion resuming its historical role as one of mankind’s vital survival mechanisms.  A giant striding forth to set the world aright.

UTOPIANS TO THE RESCUE

In my book about a utopian planet, “Homage to Luxenben,” the good citizens of that place, aware of their own fallibilities, wisely decided that they needed a religion to keep in check their emotional impulses that were scarcely better than our own.  Not being bound by precedent, they were free to base their new religion on any system they chose.  Looking over their shoulders at earth’s disarray, they recognized, however, that this apparent latitude carried with it a danger that could wreck their entire enterprise.  Were they to select a faith based on arbitrary assumptions, it was bound to be challenged, sooner or later, by a competitive arbitrary system and unwanted conflict would arise.

To gain lasting, universal acceptance, they realized they needed to structure their faith on the bedrock of an indisputable truism.  After casting about for ideas they settled on the most fundamental precept they could think of; the fact that they were a species of animal and, as such, lived within nature’s dominion and were subservient to her laws.

For some, this humble statement seemed no more than an unpromising dead end, but its supporters pointed out that much could be securely built upon it and thus won the day.

The Utopians’ next step was to name their new religion.  Being of a scientific bent, they were well aware of how big a part feedback played in all of nature’s systems and thus was necessarily destined to play a major role in their lives as well.  To solemnize this obligation, they chose “Cartism” to evoke the image of an ancient wooden cart, representing their civilization, creaking its way down the road of time.  As they rolled along, the cartwheels were pictured as gathering information from the road and feeding back that information to the planet’s organizations being carried on the cart’s bed.  Once the organizations made adjustments appropriate to the received data, the changes would then be taken by the wheels back down to the road for testing after which the never-ending cycle of improvements would repeat.

When the Utopians undertook the task of defining the provisions of Cartism, they, of course, turned to nature for guidance.  Again wary of allowing arbitrary prejudice to enter into their decision, they adopted the only injunction of nature they had complete confidence in; the one commandment that she addressed to all her life forms: “Thou Shalt Survive.”  All that remained was to implement that injunction.  So it was that the Utopians created twelve behavioral sub-commandments to which every Cartist was expected to subscribe.

THE CARTIST’S TWELVE SUB-COMMANDMENTS

The first four sub-commandments come straight from the horse’s mouth as it were—that is to say behaviors that can be dependably inferred from nature’s all-encompassing demand:

ONE: THOU SHALT PROMOTE THE EVOLUTION OF YOUR SPECIES

Nature expects every member of a species to help better its condition.  Cartists are therefore expected to engage in constructive work, to instruct the young, to conserve resources, and to assist the needy.  By the same token, they shall refrain from counter-productive, anti-evolutionary activities such as performing military service, criminal behavior, and polluting the environment.

Despite the prohibitions contained in this sub-commandment, there will always be those who sin against it: autocratic leaders, murderers, thieves, rapists, thugs, and other assorted miscreants among us.  It shall be the duty of Cartists to actively support civil law and the police forces established to enforce them.

 TWO: THOU SHALT LIVE IN A HEALTHFUL MANNER

The robustness of the community depends of the health of its individual citizens.  Within their physical limitations, Cartists, as a matter of religious obligation, are required to adhere to wellness practices such as eating a healthful diet, engaging in regular exercise, controlling their weight, and abstaining from harmful substances.

THREE: THOU SHALT LIVE WITHIN THY MEANS

Cartists are to emulate nature’s determination to accomplish her purposes in the most efficient manner possible—i.e., they are to live frugally, invent ways to economize, make provision for the future, and avoid debt.

FOUR: THOU SHALT REPRODUCE INTELLIGENTLY

It is self-evident that for a species to survive, its reproductive strategy must be efficacious.  Cartist couples must have the means to care for their intended offspring, to obtain professional prenatal care, and to be attentive to their children’s needs.  Spawning overlarge families and producing children out of wedlock are expressly prohibited.

Cartism has adapted four of the following sub-commandments from those customs that, having proven their worth over millennia of prehistory, were encapsulated into Judeo-Christian tradition (an exception offered without apology to the previous disparagement of ancient religious texts.  A couple of pages, however credible, amid thousands of discreditable ones, cannot I’m afraid redeem the rest.)

FIVE: DO ONTO OTHERS WHAT YOU WOULD HAVE THEM DO ONTO YOU

Success for humanity as a whole, and ultimately for each individual member, depends upon its cohesion and social harmony.  Cartists are therefore instructed to treat fellow Cartists with all the consideration they would have given, in past times, to members of their own clan including : trustworthiness, friendliness, coopera­tion, reciprocity, enforced equality, and altruism, tact, integrity,  mutual assistance, nonviolence, respect, generosity, humility, fairness, patience, reliability, and self-control.

SIX: CARTISM IS THINE RELIGION.  THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHER RELIGION BEFORE IT.

Mother Nature is a jealous divinity.  Cartists are proscribed from introducing foreign ideologies that might dilute or distort their true faith.  This injunction is not to be interpreted as a means of instituting a statist culture for Cartism has a self-corrective mechanism within itself.  As in science, its principles, old and new, are always open to informed challenge.  Long held theories can be modified, or even scrapped, in the light of newer information.  Cartism, first and foremost, is a work in progress ever seeking knowledge that will bring it closer to nature’s truths.

SEVEN: THOU SHALT SANCTIFY FAMILY LIFE

The institution of marriage is a naturally-evolved cultural artifact that has proven to be a major contribution to societal health and prosperity.  Cartism thus supports strong family life in which love, respect, and harmony between family members are the hallmarks.  Moreover, strong Cartist families strengthen each of its members.  It follows that family discord is to be considered a violation of the faith.

EIGHT: THOU SHALT NOT BE DISHONEST

Cartism abhors lying.  At the governmental level, it misdirects policy; at the commercial level, it encumbers transactions; and, at the individual level, it destroys relationships.  And, at all levels it exerts a drag on society by requiring more law enforcement, more lawyers, more accountants, more prison guards, and other non-productive workers.  Under Cartist doctrine, deliberate lying is sinful and liars excommunicated.

Thus far Mother Nature has contributed four commandments of her own, our ancestors have contributed four more, but whereas these eight may have sufficed in biblical times, they cannot do so today.  Today our behavior is bound to be controlled, in part or in whole, by the organizations we subscribe to, be they governmental, commercial, and/or social.  It’s true, of course, that civilization could not have advanced without them.  But it is true as well that organizations have plunged us into wars, destitution, famine, plagues, and every other adverse situation that can be imagined.

A religion devoted exclusively to influencing individual behavior leaves a yawning gap in social mores.   What’s the point, after all, of educating a young man to respect the lives of others if he is conscripted into an army that requires him to kill every enemy he can find.  Or sensitizing a young woman to environmental issues, only to see her fall into the employ of a polluter.  In short, the attainment of a truly harmonious society is possible only if is governed by a single underlying religion that has the ability to be applied to every form of organization from bridge clubs to multinationals.  Hence the addition of four more sub-commandments to the list.

NINE: ALL ORGANIZATIONS MUST BE SUBJECT TO AN INTERNATIONAL CODE OF JUSTICE

In a Cartist society, military action by marauding armies is, by definition, a violation of Sub-commandment Nine.  Armed force must reside exclusively in the hands of an international police force and armies are forbidden.

TEN: ORGANIZATIONS MUST BE STRUCTURED ORGANICALLY

Among the most important ramifications of this sub-commandment is the requirement to copy nature’s division of animals’ nervous systems into two parts: one devoted to routine, involuntary functions such as governing respiration, blood flow, etc. and the second part left subject to voluntary action.  Cartists believe this administrative arrangement is requisite for good governance in our public and private institutions for it forces the two, nominally independent parts to interact in a separation-of-powers, semi-competitive fashion.  For example, the voluntary part, in a fit of pique, might consider going to war but would be prevented from doing so by warnings from the involuntary side that the war’s demands would exceed the country’s carrying capacity.  Similarly, situations could arise when an involuntary system, on the verge of a breakdown, would be forced to call on the voluntary side for help.

ELEVEN: ORGANIZATIONS MUST BE GOVERNED BY FEEDBACK MECHANISMS

Since all organizational planning is based on assumptions regarding future conditions and since these conditions can never be fully ascertained, the best-intentioned, best informed decisions are often wrong and the poorly-motivated, least-informed decisions are almost invariably wrong.  Hence all important decisions in both the public and private sectors must be backstopped by feedback mechanisms that note the discrepancies between the forecast and actual results and take appropriate action to bring the two into line.

For example, lawmakers must be enjoined to accompany each new piece of legislation with a vig­orous testing mechanism designed to expand the law’s scope if it proved effectual or to automatically shut it down if it did not.

The successful performance of quantitative feedback requires the accurate collection of input information, the free flow of that input, the unbiased comparison of the input with preset parameters, decision-making based on that comparison, the automatic implementation of the decisions once made, and the initiation of a new cycle that repeats the steps taken by its predecessor.

TWELVE: ORGANIZATIONS MUST INTEGRATE THEIR ACTIVITIES WITH NATURAL PROCESSES

There is more to nature than meets the eye.  Her beauty is only skin deep, so to speak.  Beneath it lies a fantastically intricate clockwork system composed, not of perfectly machined gears, but of perfectly integrated cycles.  One function of these cycles is, obviously, the restoration of balance.  Put another way, nature can be thought of as maintaining a double-entry accounting system.  Isaac Newton disclosed one of her typical entries—i.e., that every action produces an equal and opposite reaction—but countless others abound everywhere one looks.  Chemical equations must balance, matter can neither be created nor destroyed, a falling leaf trades its potential energy for a quota of dynamic energy, and so on.

To synchronize our cycles with those of nature, mankind, too, must balance its  input/output ledgers.  For example, before it can spend money on one of its manifold projects, government must take into account the impact of withdrawing the same amount of money from the economy.  The manufacturing industry cannot push its goods into the world without taking into consideration how those goods are to be recycled.  Miners can extract mineral deposits only to the extent new sources are discovered.  Fossil fuel electric power plants cannot inject pollutants into the atmosphere without compensating cleanup initiatives.  In each case, monitoring must be continuous and remedial action automatic.

Once such mechanisms are in place, they can be woven into nature’s web of life and mankind can stand proudly on a par with other animals on nature’s handsomely decorated stage.

THE POST-CARTIST ERA (to be covered in the next issue)

The religious giant arises.  Recruiting new inductees and qualifying them as registered Cartists.  The new religion’s structure and financing. Observance of its sub-commandments.  The formation of Cartist sects.  Inaugurating New Luxenben.  Religious services.

.

The simplest way to describe the comprehensive system I envision is to imagine it already exists when  Sydney Hanson, a prospective convert, enters its website.

APPLYING FOR MEMBERSHIP:

Upon clicking on the “Join Now” button, Sydney is presented with a short quiz to determine if he understands the religion’s precepts and is in accord with them.    Immediately upon completing the quiz, Sydney is advised that he has passed it or is given the reasons he failed to do so.  We’ll assume the former and that Sydney accepts a pledge to uphold his new religion’s principles including the requirement that he is never guilty of intentional misrepresentation—an unpardonable sin under Cartism that would result in his lifelong excommunication from the faith.

Sydney is then asked to fill in a password-protected, two-part questionnaire that will become available to all members on a read-only basis.  The first part is devoted to establishing his identity including his home address, date of birth, and such other data that would be necessary to establish a unique, verifiable profile.  Ideally, some sort of physical scan would be made part of this step.

The optional second part gives Sydney the opportunity to voluntarily enter whatever other information about himself that other members might find helpful such as his education, occupation, employer, family relationships, achievements, publications, non-professional interests, current photo, political affiliation, e-mail address, and so on.  So that this page is kept current, at least once a year the system displays it and asks Sydney to make any necessary revisions.

Provided the system is able to cross-check Sydney’s identity, he is welcomed into the faith and, naturally enough, asked for a voluntary contribution commemorating his new status.  (It should be pointed out that Cartism requires no entrance or membership fees) Sidney’s page is then incorporated into the membership database and he is provided a search box to query it.  Thenceforth, anytime he wishes, Sydney can look for, let us say, a competent, co-religionist dentist in his area.  Alternatively, Sydney might elect to join a Cartist book club whose members’ viewpoints were generally compatible with his own.  More interestingly, Sydney, who is planning a vacation in Bruges, can hope to find an English-speaking Cartist resident of that Belgium city, of similar age and interests, with whom he can correspond regarding his trip.

THE BULLETIN BOARD

As part of his membership package, Sydney is provided a page on which he can write anything of the moment that he believes would be of interest to his circle of Cartist acquaintances—let’s say his opinion of a movie he’s seen.  Likewise, Sydney can delete anything on his board he chooses.  And, as social media demands, Sid’s friends can freely enter comments on his board.

THE LEDGER

Finally, Sydney is asked to become familiar with part of his membership site known as the “ledger.”  The ledger is designed to encourage Sydney to enter any particularly laudatory action or especially egregious behavior with which Sid is personally aware regarding a fellow Cartist.  Whereas Sydney is not obligated to file such observations, it is impressed upon him that he, as a good Cartist, should do his part to help maintain the flock’s standards.  In short, he is told, the ledger is not a mere adjunct to the religion but an essential element—a substitute for an omniscient god, if you will, keeping his flock under constant surveillance.  Moreover, it is in Sydney’s long term interest to cooperate in this regard.  For him, like other Cartists, to benefit from their associations with their coreligionists, they have to know whom they can trust and whom they cannot.  How else is he to be sure his Cartist dentist is an accredited professional with a clear record?  Or be totally confident his Belgium correspondent is, as he professes, a university student?

Before his ledger is activated, Sydney is advised of two of its important mechanical characteristics; one, postings to it are inerasable and, two, they are double-entry.  Allow me to explain.

With regard to the first, Sid learns that his ledger postings will initially be entered in an editable review window and must be confirmed by him before being published after a twenty-four hour, built-in delay—the delay designed to give Sid every chance to rethink any rash comment before it is made an irrevocable part of his ledger.

The second distinguishing characteristic of the ledger system is that all entries are automatically made in duplicate—i.e., they are addressed to both the originator’s ledger and to that of the specific fellow Cartist being addressed.  Assume, for example, that Sydney’s neighbor, Elliot, had, in Sid’s absence, rushed Sid’s kid to the hospital when the boy fell off a tree and broke his leg.  The ledger gives Sydney the opportunity to commend Elliot for his Good Samaritan deed by leaving a permanent record on his ledger and a copy on Sydney’s own testifying to his appreciation of another’s good conduct.

By the same token, Sydney can also turn his ledger to advantage by reproving George, his stock broker, for his fraudulent handling of client funds.  Naturally, George can enter his own defensive rebuttal which would be, of course, again recorded in duplicate—one copy in his own ledger and one in Sydney’s.  Had Sydney’s original complaint been libelous, the altercation could thus turn out to be more detrimental to his own reputation than to his intended target.

Thus the system has its own built-in restraints against overuse.  A habitual complainer, for example, would accumulate such a clutter of negative remarks as to reflect more badly upon him than upon those he accuses—clearly a self-defeating exercise.

RED FLAGS

As mentioned earlier, the sin of deliberate lying is taken very seriously under Cartism, threatening as it does the religion’s very foundations.  One lie begets another and, before long, the well is poisoned in much the same way that doctored experimental data undermines scientific research.  In view of this danger, any member who becomes aware of an outright lie by a Cartist is expected to post a red flag on the accused liar’s site while incurring a white flag on his own page.

A red flag initiates an investigation by the system’s administrative office which, if substantiated, results in excommunication, as every member is warned when he enrolls.  In grey-area cases in which the supposed lie cannot be proved, the outcome can range from a dismissal of the charge to the suspected offender being placed under probation.  Given the seriousness of the offense, there is an appeal process that need not be gone into here.  Needless to add, false charges carry a heavy penalty of their own.

And the above is a bare bone outline of what, I believe, would be required of a computer system to properly launch Cartism into the worldwide web.  Certainly other useful features could be added, but I will leave those to the inventive people who put these  things together.

THE FUTURE OF CARTISM

I would not dare prophesize how Cartism’s fate might unfold.  Indeed, the very notion that it might have a future at all beyond this modest blog sounds as outrageously pretentious to me as it must sound to my readers.  But, I cannot help speculating on the possibility however remote.  Were a website along the lines I’ve outlined instituted, I believe it would attract enough followers to form, in time, a viable community.  After all, Cartism costs nothing, threatens no one, and demands little while, at the same time, confers the benefit of fellowship in a congenial group of mutually helpful people.  Opposition would arise, no doubt, from the traditional faiths, but I doubt that the new religion would noticeably add to the difficulties they already face in an increasingly secular world.

All I can say in conclusion is that, if there is any hope for humanity’s overcoming the formidable obstacles that lie ahead, it rests on its ability to make rational decisions.  And yet, rationality is precisely what the mass of people lack everywhere in the world one looks.  It is in critically short supply.  Why?  Humanity is born with brains whose miraculous functioning is designed to arrive at rational decisions, but, right at the start, we encumber those vulnerable instruments with memes that retard their thought processes.  Cartism, I believe, would help exorcise people’s brains of those memes and give reason to hope for a better world.

 That said, the above news item reminded me of a post I wrote in September of 2010 [see “Ideas from Abroad” under “Commentary” ] and so I elected to resume my globetrotting in the unlikely case our industrious lawmakers may have overlooked some promising foreign innovations that, were they instituted here, could benefit us as well.  Despite the legitimacy of my project and my extensively documented entreaties, my excursions elicited not even one of sponsorships that were so freely awarded to congressmen and thus were reluctantly confined to my home computer.

CHILE’S PRIVATE SOCIAL SECURITY SYSTEM

Chilean workers must contribute at least 10% (but no more than 20%) of their wages to their individual retirement account which, in turn, must be invested in their choice of  several, conservatively-managed, pension funds.  At any given time, a worker can query the value of his account and take pride in his financial progress.  Meanwhile his savings provide significant support for the Chilean economy.  Over the last thirty years during which the scheme has been in place, the funds have averaged 9.23% above inflation.  When compared to the U.S. Social Security tab of 12.4% of wages with a return between 1% and 2%, the Chilean model would strike most reasonable people as unquestionably superior.  Unfortunately, it seems that a majority of our elected representatives gag so violently on the word “private” that they can’t get past it to make what should be a self-evident determination.

GERMANY’S DEUTSCHE POST

Over a decade ago, Germany privatized the pickup and delivery of first class mail.  As a result, rates fell by 16%, service levels improved, and overall employment increased because of the companies’ penetration into foreign markets.

NEW ZEALANDERS EXERT FISCAL DISCIPLINE

Struggling with governmental expenditures of over 50% of GDP, in 1990 the country went on a five-year diet during which its budget held steady, actually falling from NZD39.3 billion to NZD38.8.  This clamp on public spending gave the private sector room to grow with the result that government spending fell from 53.5% to 43.1% GDP and the budget reversed from a 4.5% deficit to a 2.8% surplus—all this accompanied by a 3.1% drop in taxes.

IRAN SOLVES SHORTAGE OF TRANSPLANT ORGANS

In Iran, payment for organs is transparent and effective.  A kidney recipient pays the donor between $2,300 and $4,500 and the government chips in another $1,200 plus one-year of health insurance.  Charity is available for those who cannot afford their organs.  In the United States, our high-minded, moral scruples keep 108,000 agonizingly waiting for the organs that could save their lives.  And many, of course, wait in vain.  In the first nine months of 2009, over 3,000 Americans died waiting for a kidney transplant and another 1,000 waiting for a liver.

ISRAEL’S SUCCESSFUL ECONOMY

Since 2005, Israel’s GDP has expanded 34% compared with 6.4% in the U.S.  By focusing on exports, the Israeli economy has surpassed the 24 developed countries in terms of its risk-adjusted rate of return (7.6%) over the past decade.  Hong Kong (6.7%) and Norway (6.5%) placed second and third in this compilation.  Israel’s exports consisted primarily of high-tech equipment, generic drugs, and chemicals.  Several thousand Israeli companies are forging ahead in many technological fields including medical devices, imaging, chip design, wireless communications, and Internet applications.

BRAZIL DEFEATS POWER THIEVES

Thanks to new smart meters costing between $150 and $400 apiece, Brazilian utility companies can remotely detect illegal hookups, shut off power to free-loaders, and better manage their networks.  It is estimated the meters may save the utilities $4.7 billion a year.

JAPAN GAINS ON SEVERAL FRONTS

Between 1989 and 2009, Japan’s life expectancy at birth grew from 78.8 to 83 years, a gain of 4.2 years thanks to an improvement in health care.  Of the 50 cities in the world with the fastest Internet service, 38 were in Japan. ( 3 in the US)  Unemployment is 4.2%. (about half that in the US)  In the realm of world trade, in 2010 Japan enjoyed a current account surplus of $196 billion. ( US deficit was $471 billion)

BRAZIL NARROWS THE GAP BETWEEN RICH AND POOR

Between 1990 and 2008, the share of total income garnered by the top fifth of the population fell from 65% to 59% while the bottom fifth’s share grew from 8% to 10%.  Meanwhile, inequality in the U.S. continues to steadily increase.

PORTUGAL DECRIMINALIZES DRUGS

As noted on my September, 2010 posting, beginning in 2001, Portugal liberalized its laws regarding drug use adopting a more lenient attitude toward addicts.  Instead of being treated as criminals, users were encouraged to seek treatment at one of the centers set up throughout the country.  Emphasis is placed on prevention and health matters.  According to an objective study by the CA TO Institute, these reforms have achieved a number of positive results among which are: a reduction in HIV among drug users, a reduction in drug-related deaths, a decline in adolescent drug use, a reduction in the load on criminal justice system, and cheaper drugs on the street.

AL QAEDA POINTS THE WAY TO BETTER NETWORKING

In contrast with the U.S. military’s top-down hierarchical structure, our top-ranking officers have admitted that Al Qaeda’s loosely organized networks have proven to be more resilient, faster reacting, and, in some respects, more effective.

If may be, of course, that, unbeknownst to me, the media is getting its information straight from an unimpeachable source such as the Reverend  Al Sharpton whose investigative skills were honed on the Tawana Brawley mystery.  But lacking that assurance, I feel obliged to raise a few questions that my reading of the papers has left open:

1. What would have prompted a decent volunteer watchman with no record of violent behavior  or prejudice (indeed he seems to have a number of close black friends) to kill a young man even if he suspected him of intruding?  Surely Zimmerman’s training and normal inhibitions would have prevented him from taking such an extreme action.

2. Why, in God’s name, has the Sanford Police Department and/or Sanford City Officials withheld information regarding their decision to release Zimmerman when they must have known that their explanation would have gone a long way to defuse the situation.

3. Blacks are a minority group in the United States and thus vulnerable,  like all other minorities,  to discrimination.  Fortunately for them, and all the rest of us, the arm of law prevents such discrimination.  It acts as a wall screening minorities from abuse.  Why then do I see a parade of black leaders participating in a mob demanding that Zimmerman be arrested—i.e., that the protective wall of law be torn down because, in this case, they disagree with its decisions.  Walls torn down aren’t easily reassembled.  Black leaders are entitled to all the demonstrations they like, but they are not entitled to unlawful demagogy.   They would do well to keep in mind that, absent the law, one mob can be replaced, God forbid, by another less amenable to their interests.

4. Why were the first photos that Martin’s family turned over to the press of a boy several years younger than the actual seventeen year old Trayvon who was involved.  Was it a matter of purposeful mischaracterization to gain sympathy?  And if so, why?  For  that matter, was helpless Trayvon a member of his school’s football team as one of the later released photos suggests?

5. What could the Martins tell us of Trayvon’s attitude toward white authorities prior to the night of the shooting?  Was he, like so many black youngsters, inculcated with the impression that all white police are pigs out to “disrespect” (I hate the word) him.  No doubt there have been all too many instances of unwarranted rough treatment by the cops, but by thus stigmatizing all law enforcement in that negative context, black leaders have made kids vs cop confrontations unnecessarily hostile and potentially dangerous.

6. Was Trayvon’s use of marijuana suggestive of his willingness to step over the norms?

7. Now a few queries about some puzzling aspects of the case.  Given the precisely known start and stop times of the incident, it should be possible to closely map out the tracks of both participants.  One account I read indicated that Zimmerman was on his way back to his truck when he was confronted.  Just how close to the truck did he get?  What was Trayvon’s motivation in pursuing him back if, in fact, that was the case?  In short, is it possible that an angered Trayvon was the actual pursuer?

8. Common sense suggests to me that the neighbors’ account requires further scrutiny.  They admit  hearing cries for help but were nonetheless unable to determine which of the two combatants was doing the shouting.  Sorry, I find that hard to believe.  Black young men of seventeen don’t sound anything like twenty-eight-year-old hispanics and vice versa.  Barring some last-minute improvisation, their story doesn’t wash.

9. Why was Zimmerman’s back covered with pieces of grass?  It strains the imagination to picture him shooting Trayvon and then rolling around on the ground in exultation or for any other reason.

10.  On what part of his body was Trayvon shot and from what distance?  Again, if the shot was fired at very close range, it would suggest that, one,  Zimmerman was extremely myopic; two, that he was an impossibly bad shot and did not trust himself to hit anything farther than a foot away; or, three, Trayvon was responsible for their being in close proximity.

Well, presumably the forthcoming inquiry will answer these and many other questions about the confrontation that I don’t have the wit or knowledge to depict.  In any case, let us hope that an impartial and transparent investigation will prove that, in the United States, justice prevails despite the racial and political overtones in which it is immersed.  Such an outcome would pay the greatest tribute we can muster to atone for the poor boy’s death.  Anything less would be the ultimate in disrespect.

Before I even had a chance to open my mouth, the young aide behind the reception desk opened one of hers.  Staring di­rectly at me with one of her attractive, blond heads, she spoke in that self-conscious manner Luxanders tend to adopt when they first learn to speak monaurally.  Her other head, meanwhile, sucked diligently on a mint and looked down at the floor—techniques which had been suggested, no doubt, by her speech therapist.

“Don’t tell me.  Earth, right?”

I nodded.

“I’m getting so good at this,” she beamed as she clicked a few keys on her computer.

“So you have to be Mr. Stelzer.  Wait a minute.  We have you down twice.  This morning and Thursday.”  And with these words she flicked a switch on the intercom and related the confusion of dates to some higher authority.  Whoever was on the other end of the line resolved the matter; the day before Neuman had requested their office to contact me and they had set up a tentative time accordingly.  It seemed that I had coincidentally preempted his request with my own.  This same authority went on to say good-naturedly that I was, of course, welcome on any account and that Mr. Neuman would be brought down presently.

“Looks like you’re authorized all right,” the aide said cheerfully.  “If you’ll just read and sign this, we’ll have all the formalities out of the way.”

And with that, she handed me a clipboard containing a preprinted form.  “Everybody has to,” she added matter-of-factly as she extended a pen.  The form read:

 CONFIDENTIALITY AGREEMENT

1. By executing this agreement, Mr. David Stelzer (hereinafter called the “Visitor”) confirms his understanding that the activities of Space Ventures, Inc. (hereinafter called the “Company”) within the Institute’s Research Center (hereinafter called “Research”)are of major commercial importance to the Company and…

2. That the Company’s ability to profitably market its innovative products and services, resulting from the aforesaid research activities, is highly dependent upon its ability to exercise exclusivity.

3. Therefore the Visitor herein agrees that all information provided him by (a) a member of the staff of Research and/or (b) a person affiliated with Research-related activities, regardless of where such information was disclosed, shall be deemed a Trade Secret subject to the full terms and conditions of the Trade Secrets Act, TS 5427, including its disciplinary clauses for any violation thereof.

Signature:_______________________Date:_________

I glanced hurriedly over the text, scribbled my name at the bottom, and returned the clipboard.

“Do you have any questions?”

“Look, I fiddled with enough paperwork on Earth to last a lifetime.  I don’t give a damn what it says.”

“I know exactly how you feel.  Nobody hates paperwork more than I do.  But they do take this stuff seriously, believe me.”  With the push of a button un­derneath her desktop, the aide swung open the wire mesh door leading to the visitors’ area.  “Sorry about all the security.  We deal with so many types here, you just never know.  It’s not as though they’re all nice like Mr. Neuman.”

The girl rattled on as I passed by her work station.  “My, what a coincidence,” she beamed.  “Here, after all this time, you turn up to see Mr. Neuman just when he finally decides to see you.  Has to be mental telepathy, doesn’t it?  That’s what makes things so fascinating around here.  Discovering traits in Semi orders that we don’t even have ourselves.  I mean we have mental telepathy, of course, but it’s all internal and hard wired.  Big deal compared to your wireless.  Can you imagine?  Now don’t tell me you two met at the Pageant and decided to get together.  That would take away all the fun.”

“Uh, no.”

“Good.  Anyway, now you’re getting together at last.  That’s the important thing.”

Completing this barrage of words, the girl motioned me over to a row of hard-backed seats then, with scarcely a pause in her delivery, continued. “He should be down in a minute, but I guess you know how disorganized Mr. Neuman is.  There’re some Semi comic books on the table just in case he’s in one of his moods.  Don’t get me wrong.  Normally, he’s a sweet guy to work with.  One of my favorites here; he really is.  Sometimes I sneak him a little bar of chocolate on the sly even though he’s not sup­posed to get any.  Except from his instructors, you know, to motivate him.  But if you ask me, Mr. Neuman’s too motivated as it is.  Intense-like, you know what I mean?  What he needs is a little time off.  A chance to unwind with a member of his own species.

“Wireless mental telepathy.  Isn’t that hilarious?”  Un­able to restrain themselves, both her lovely heads gig­gled uncon­trollably, forcing the embarrassed extraction of the sugar mint that was meant to prevent just this kind of relapse.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she quickly recovered her composure and thrust the mint back into what was once again her passive mouth.  “I’m practicing all I can.  Hope to God I catch on soon; another box of mints and I’ll need a larger size dress!”

Whether deliberately or not I couldn’t say, but the girl paused long enough for me to observe how regret­table such an eventuality would be.  She giggled happily in response to the compliment and resumed her monologue.  “Gee, thanks—you and my boy friend,” she laughed again.  “He can’t understand why I like working here.  Com­pletely grossed out whenever he comes to visit.  He knows how important diversity is.  Intellectually, I mean.  But that’s as far as it goes.  Can’t help himself, I guess.  What do you think?”

“Well, I’m sure he’s a very fine young man, and if you and he…”

“I knew that’s what you would say.  You seem so nice.  Gosh, before I started work here, all you Semis seemed pretty much alike.  I mean not really alike but all the same, sorta.  Can you believe that?  Now—most of the time, anyway—I can take one look and tell where you’re from.  Like the minute you walked in, right?  It’s a crying shame, isn’t it?  I mean about Earth.  It’s bad enough to read about stuff like that in history books, but to watch the video that they brought back.  I mean it literally makes me sick.  But here I am telling you and bringing back all those memories.

“Working here is so much fun.  I only started a few months ago.  Before that I had to take a two-year course to get my certificate in comparative evolution before I could even apply.  It’s just so fascinating!  Like we’ve learned how easily Semi brains can short out and send a whole civilization off the cliff.  So you can see how important Research is.  Wouldn’t it be great if…I mean for the good of all Semi species, you know.  Gosh, I shouldn’t be talking about all this stuff.  Don’t listen to me.  I don’t understand half of what’s going on around here anyway.”

She moved her chair to the visitor’s side of the U-shaped counter so as to be able to continue in a more confi­dential tone.  “I hope you can help him.  He’s such a nice guy.  Most of the time he’s fine, but once in a while he gets really down, you know.  I can’t imagine what he’s depressed about now that he’s off Earth.  He doesn’t talk much to us about what’s bugging him—keeps it all bottled up in­side.  Post-traumatic stress, I guess.  Maybe with you he can have a good cry.  Get whatever’s ailing him off his chest, you know.

“It’s none of my business, but if you ask me he ought to be spending some time on the outside—a cute young boy like that—needs to be having a good time once in a while.  You know.  Be dating girls from the breeding pool.  Did he have a girl friend on Earth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Really?  Or are you just saying that?”

“I honestly don’t know him that well.  If I had to guess, I’d say no.  He’s so wrapped up in religion.  Doubt that he had much of a social life.”

“I kinda suspected that.”

The girl stopped talking as abruptly as she had started, and I was left with nothing better to do than sit, gaze ahead at the metal partition separating the visitor and resident areas, and speculate on my volatile young friend’s current frame of mind, and, more puzzling yet, why Research gave a damn about it.

The partition was pierced every eight feet or so along its length by small, glazed windows and it was behind one of these that I first caught sight of what I had just learned was Neuman’s cute face topped, as usual, by his white yarmulke.  I waved, drew my chair closer to the wall, and picked up the intercom hand­set.

Neuman smiled wanly in return.

“Mr. Stelzer!  Hi!  How ya doing?”  Apparently he didn’t trust the phone arrangement, for he spoke loud enough for his voice to pierce the partition—albeit in muffled form.  “Jeez, long time no see.  Been so busy studying stuff, hardly had time to think about anything else.  Christ, it’s good seeing a familiar face—especially since there’s just one of ‘em.  This two-headed crap can get on your nerves.”

“I suppose a lot of things could get on your nerves in here,” I said gesturing for him to tone down his speech.  “How have you been, young man?”

“Hey, everything’s coming together.  I was kinda flaked out at first.  Still get the heebie-jeebies once in a while, if you want to know the truth.”

“So I understand.”

“Rosanne been talking to you?  Aides don’t know what the hell is going on around here.”  Then doing his best to ensure that the receptionist heard, Neuman began bellowing again, “Some of ‘em don’t even know it’s not polite to eavesdrop on per­sonal conversations.”

I turned around to convey an apologetic glance, but the girl seemed too busy to notice.  Pausing only long enough to slip on a set of earphones, she ap­plied herself industriously to her keyboard as if to demonstrate that she had no interest in our conversa­tion whatsoever.

“She seems genuinely concerned about you, son,” I gently admon­ished.

“Yeah, I know.  Just like to give her a hard time.”  Neuman’s voice resumed a more normal level.  “Anyway, I wanted to be sure I had my act together before I saw you.”

“Listen, I had plenty of trouble getting used to this place, myself,” I said.  “Took me a couple of weeks before I could even begin to relax.”

“Me too.  Even longer.  But I’m squared away now.  Mr. Mulhouse’s been a lot of help.  Rosanne, too, I guess,” Neuman said jerking his thumb in the direction of the aide.  “And there’s an exercise yard whenever I want.  Like I said, I’m doing okay.”

“How did you ever get in this place?” I asked.

“Lucked out, I guess,” said Neuman, then seeing the incredulous look on my face, added “I mean it.  You can’t imagine the royal treatment I’m getting here.”

“What kind of royal treatment?”

“I can’t talk about it now.  Maybe later, you know.  I can tell you that it shows how God’s paving the road for me every step of the way.  Like your showing up today.”

“It was Matilda’s doing, actually.  Our dorm’s house-mother.  She found out you were here and told me how to reach you.  Good-natured creature with a big heart and big wings.  Spotted you from the air at the Pageant.”

“There you go!  A seraph!  He uses ‘em all the time.”

“If you say so.  Has he told you when they’re going to let you out of this place?”

“Doesn’t have to.  I can leave whenever I want.”

“You could walk out of here today?”

“Sure.  That’s the deal.  But I’ve got a lot more to learn before I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“I told you. It’s a secret. A company thing.”

“Right.  But whatever it is, couldn’t you learn on the outside?  Believe me, they’ve got every sort of educational opportunity for Semis you can imagine.  Libraries, special classes, the Internet.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Stelzer.  But it’s not what I need right now.”

“Look Neuman, I’ve heard all kinds of rumors about this place.  You’re in Product Development.  What the hell does that mean?  God only knows what goes on around here.”

“You’re damn right God knows.  And he wants me to stay here.”

“You still talking to him?”

“What’d you think?”

“I think we left him behind three months ago.”

“Correction.  You left him behind.  And a lot longer than three months ago.  Not me.  You have no idea what’s going on, Mr. Stelzer.  This isn’t some silly-ass game.  God’s here all right.  Just as much as on Earth.  A hell of a lot more so, if you want to know the truth.  Don’t worry about that.  I’m not making this stuff up, you know.”

One look at the poor kid’s face told me he wasn’t, so I changed tactics.  Two could play the God game.  “You just said yourself that God sent me here this morning.  Why?  Just to make noise?  No.  He sent me to get you out of here.  Maybe he’s decided you’re beginning to talk too much to your friend Mul­house and not enough to him.”

“Nice try, Mr. Stelzer.”  Neuman smiled tolerantly.  “But when God starts using you as an instrument, that’s when I go into real estate.”

“You’re so sure?  You’re the only one in the whole universe God talks to?”

“Not the only one, maybe, but…”

“But you’re somebody special.”

“Yeah.  If you want to know the truth, I am.”

“That special?”

“Special enough.  Stop bugging me.”

“Just tell me how special and I’ll stop.”

“I’ll tell you later.  I’d explain but…”

“But what?  I came here to see how you’re doing, Neuman.  Not to hear riddles.  Tell me how special.”

“Special, that’s all.  On account of who I am.”

“That’s what I’m asking.  Who are you, Neuman?”

A tense silence followed.  Whether the keyboard clicking actually stopped or I simply became unaware of the noise, I can’t say.  All I know is that it took all the self-control I could muster to raise my eyes to his as I awaited his an­swer.  Neuman glanced at the aide and leaned so far forward that his forehead pressed hard against the window pane.  Unable to return his gaze any longer, I concentrated on the matted patch of skin and hair that threatened to force its way through the rein­forced glass.  The stage whisper became a horse croak.

“God’s prophet.”

Another long pause ensued while one question after another churned through my mind.  I settled on the most obvious.  Gesturing toward the aide, I asked in a whisper that matched Neuman’s, “Do they know who you are?”

“Oh, sure.  I was whispering just to make it sound more important.”  And to prove his point, Neuman practically shouted, “Neuman, Prophet of Israel!”

“And how do they feel about it?”

“Like I told you.  They’re helping me.  God’s arranged everything.”  Neuman was annoyed that he had to repeatedly make the same point.

“And when did God let you in on the good news?” I asked.  I struggled to avoid making the question sound sarcas­tic, but I need not have bothered; the boy was too wrapped up in the import of his disclosures to take offense.

“Even when I was a kid, I felt something—God’s being there—you know what I mean?  The rest of the kids couldn’t care less whether he was dead or alive.  To them, being a Jew was nothing but extra trouble—a kind of birth defect they’d outgrow once they got through bar mitsve.  But to me, being a Jew was the most important thing in my life.  More important than home, school, anything.  When I davened it wasn’t like I was talking to God; it was more like God talking to me.  Especially after cheyder when I’d sneak into the shul when it was dark.  Just the two of us in there to­gether.  Like here he was the most important thing in the whole damned universe and he was paying attention to me.  To me, personally.  So the whole time I was growing up, I wanted to do something for him—not shnor from him like everybody else—actually do some­thing for him.  I guess it doesn’t make any sense to a goy like you, but that’s what I’ve been wait­ing for all my life.  Learning what he wanted me to do.”

“And now you know.”

“Yeah.  I told you already.  Everything’s finally coming together.  It took a long time.  God really knows how to put you through the wringer.”

Amen to that, I thought to myself.

“He knows exactly what he’s doing though,” Neuman continued.  “It toughens you up.  All the time I was growing up and taking all that shit from my family and from the other kids, I knew that somewhere down the line I was going to be able to dish it back out.  In spades.  Kick life in the balls.  Once God and I teamed up.  You know what I mean?”

“Not exactly.  But go on.  That’s why you stayed at Brith Shalom teaching Hebrew?”

“Sure.  To stay in touch—to be ready, you know.  Kinda like I’d keep one hand raised to heaven and so God would know he could call on me any time he wanted.  All he had to do was put his orders in it and I’d do whatever he wanted.  Prophets don’t have to be told twice.”

“You’d go forth and make everybody Jewish?”

“Not just Jewish.  Shit, you’re supposed to be Jewish. Tsadikim, real honest-to-God tsadikim.”

I tried to mentally construct a society filled with gray-bearded, saintly old men in black frock coats going about solving one world crisis after the other by the judicious administration of maxims from the Midrash, but the image was still incomplete.  Thankfully, Neu­man was willing to fill in the de­tails.

“You know what God wanted the world to be like—for everybody  to be Jewish like in the shtetl—before the pogroms—nobody lying, nobody stealing, nobody too poor, nobody too rich—eltern being able to stick their necks out the door without getting mugged.  Or some motor­cycle fartin’ exhaust shit in their face.  People being good to one another, one guy al­ways ready to lend the other guy a hand.  Where shabbes really meant some­thing—everybody at shul thanking God for what they already had instead of tearin’ through some damned shopping center buying more.  And afterwards taking a nice quiet stroll instead of watching a bunch of idiots tearing each others’ heads off on TV.  People havin’ dignity, for Christ’s sake. Lamden studying at the besmedresh.  Birds singing and wind breathing through the trees, and the sound of Kiddush coming out of the houses.  And at sunset, the land whispering to God that it’d been a good day.  And God echo­ing with the wind that it was.”

“That’s very nice, Neuman, but it…”

“See, that was the trouble.  Always that goddamned ‘but.’  Nobody ever listening.  Did you hear what I was saying in the car?  Hell, no.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t take it personal.  Shit, nobody else ever did either.  It could’ve been so fuckin’ good.  Imagine.  No stinking factories turning out crap nobody really wants.  No Madison Avenue clowns forcing shit down your throat.  No super-rich, rip-off artists lying around getting fatter and fatter and every­body else sweating their balls off.

“Imagine kids growing up in real Jewish families learn­ing what respect, and duty, and modesty were all about.  Families growing closer together instead of dryin’ up and stinkin’ like goddamned fish on the beach…

“What the hell’s the use of talking?  Earth’s so fucked up, it’s never goin’ to get straightened out.”  Neuman came to an abrupt halt and stared blankly through the glass.

Neumania was growing more confusing.  I had lost track of what had been officially promulgated by God and what had been Neuman’s annotations.  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.  Prophets don’t quit just because they don’t like what they see.”

Neuman was impatient with my inability to follow the train of thought he had taken such pains to elucidate.  “I never said I was quitting,” he corrected irritably.  “Back then I thought God wanted me to make the whole world kosher.  I guess it sounds crazy—a Jewish kid with nothing to his name but a bunch of pimples.  Me trying to bring Judaism to a world that couldn’t care less?  But who else was going to do it?  All those phonies out there grabbing for them­selves—shit, I don’t have to tell an expert like you.  Every­body but Samuels.  He didn’t give a damn about money or a house in the suburbs, or any of that crap.  But Samuels was too old.  So it made sense—at least to me it made sense.  When God wanted me, I’d be there.  At Brith Shalom.  With my hand up.”

Neuman’s pause seemed to invite comment, but I was wrong.  “Neuman, there are all different kinds of prophets and…

“Will ya shut up for one damn minute so I can fin­ish?  You wanted to hear, didn’t you?  One day in the shul—I’ll never forget.  That’s when I started hearing him.  Kinda muffled at first, then clearer and clearer.”

Neuman had talked for a quarter of an hour but, as far as I was concerned, his train of thought—empty boxcars and all—had thus far remained sidetracked.  Finally, it seemed, we began to lurch our way to some sort of destination.

“What did he say, Neu­man?”

“Like I told you.  I was to be his prophet.”

“You told me that already.  But he must have said some­thing else.  He didn’t make you a prophet just so you’d have something to put on your employment applications.”

“Nothing, except to wait.”  Neuman smiled inexplicably.  “I had to figure the rest out for myself.  That was part of his plan, too, I guess.  I knew what he wanted the world to be like and I could see what a mess it was in.  That’s what mixed me up at first.  God running the show and it turning into one big floperoo.”

I do not know why I had expected anything more from Neuman’s theological speculations than from anyone else’s. Whatever the paths taken, whatever the energy and time ex­pended, and whatever the eloquence expended along the way, all religious discourse, in my experience, ended with the same banality.  Now that Neuman’s too had arrived at this inevitable juncture, I en­deavored to put it to bed so we could both get back to the reality of his present circum­stances.

“Ah, the ultimate enigma,” I pontificated.

“Enigma, shit!  That was the answer!” trumpeted the Prophet of Israel.

“And what did they do?  Turned around and worshipped every fool thing they could lay their hands on.  And the same for the rest of the commandments.  Christ!  God warned ‘em a thousand times.  It was like he dragged them over to these stairs.  Going up was hard, he told ‘em, but at the top it was flowers, sweet music, and smiling angels; going down was easy, but at the bottom was fire, black smoke, and screechin’ devils.  Guess what?  The crazy bas­tards said ‘fuck it, if God wanted us to go up, he shoulda put in an escalator.’  They couldn’t wait to go to hell.  Tumbling down the stairs, sliding down the banisters, falling all over themselves at the bottom, for Christ’s sake.  Like there was going to be a shortage of accommodations.

“Jews, too?” I asked.

“Of course, Jews, too.  Like I told you, he wanted the whole Earth to be Jewish.  And he chose us to get things started.  But we let  him down.  Look at you, for instance.”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize.”

Not deigning my excuse worthy of response, Neuman went on.  “So, what did God do?  What would you expect him to do?  He threw in the towel just like he said he would.  ‘Because they rejected my ordinances and did not walk in my statutes.’  Look, the world’s not coming to an end by accident, you know.  Every­where you look he’s stompin’ people like kids stompin’ ants.  He’s had it up to here.  (I assumed Neuman’s gesture of hand to neck was to be taken figuratively.) ‘Wherever you dwell your cities shall be waste and your high places ruined.  The end has come upon the four corners of the Earth.’

“It’s so goddamned obvious, I don’t know why it took me so long to dope it out.  ‘Hey, he’s not teachin’ ‘em about atom bombs, death rays, viruses, and nerve gas for nothing.’  That’s what’s happening, right?  God’s sitting there watch­ing the fuse burn.  Earth’s gonna be an example the rest of the universe is never going to forget.”

The boy’s narrative had become more inexplicable than ever.  “Stop, Neuman.  I don’t understand.  What’s the point of you, a Prophet of Israel, trying to save a world that God’s out to de­stroy?  Talk about futility…”

“Futility?  Shit!  It’d be blasphemy!”  Neuman was pleased to see I had finally begun to catch on.  “It hit me like a ton of bricks.  I hadda choose sides, too.  From then on, buddy, it was fuck mankind.  I was on God’s side.  The more pollution the merrier.  Highway fatalities were like a body count of the enemy.  Fifty last weekend; shoot for sixty the next.  Every day that went by it mounted up.  Terrorist attacks and the next thing you know we’re talking serious megadeaths.  Epidemics and famines, a one-two punch, man.  Civil wars, insurrections, an uppercut to the jaw.  Tribal warfare, drought, forest fires.  Bull’s-eye, man.  You could always count on action somewhere.  Let me tell you, God knows where to find people.  Poor people, especially.  Every fuckin’ step towards doomsday was a step in the right direction, you know what I mean?”

“Sort of,” I said.  “But it takes a little getting used to.”

“Sure, me too for a while,” Neuman confessed cheer­fully.  “But, Jesus, it felt good when it clicked.  For once in my goddamned life, I was on the winning side!  Before, I never used to read magazines, watch the news…none of that stuff.  Afterwards I was a goddamned spy gathering intelligence.  And after evening prayers I would tell God how things were go­ing.  Not that he didn’t know already, but it gave us war buddies something to talk about.

“To show you how good we were getting along, I figured God could take a little ribbing, so I asked him if sometimes he didn’t feel kinda guilty about all the things he was doing to mankind.  And he says, no, why should I feel guilty?  And I say, because of what’s in the New Testament about his loving everybody.  Not that I ever read it myself, I told him.  Then he says, neither did I.  We had a good laugh over that.”

Neuman may have accounted for God’s motives—his was, in fact, one of the more satisfactory theological explanations I had heard—but his own motives remained obscure.  “Prophets are supposed to do good.  To point the way up.  To put tacks on the banisters.  What kind of prophet just watches the world go to hell and does nothing but kibutz  from the sidelines?”

“You haven’t heard the whole story yet.”

“Sounds to me I have.  Everything goes according to plan.  All right?  No contest.  God wins and mankind loses.  He kills everybody off, except, of course, his old war buddy.  Then what?  You’re a prophet without portfolio.  Your shtetl’s a ghost town and you’ve got nobody to preach to but skeletons.  Nobody’s left to save.  End of story.”

“The Lord provides,” the prophet answered serenely.

“Provides what?  How could you sit around Brith Shalom day after day waiting for—damn it, Neuman, God only knows what you were waiting for,” I said in exasperation.

“A new Israel.  Besides Earth.”

“Besides Earth?  Another planet, you mean?”

“You’re getting it, Mr. Stelzer!” cried Neuman excit­edly as he coached me past this hair-raising curve in the trackage.  “I got my marching orders.”

“What did he say, Neuman?”

“I told you I had my hand up.  Waiting for instructions.  Waiting for this,” Neuman exulted as he stood up, reached in his pocket, and threw down his trump.

Neuman’s sudden movements did not go unobserved.  The receptionist’s right head looked up and was instantly re­buked for its trouble.

“Personal stuff, Anne!” the boy bellowed. “Hasn’t got a damned thing to do with you.  And you can tell that to your girl friend, too!”

The poor girl exchanged glances and then, shrugging her shoulders, went on with her typing chores.  Neuman glanced around and, satisfying himself that the confidentiality of our conversation had been restored, fished from the wallet that now lay on the shelf in front of him a newspaper clip­ping that he proceeded to carefully unfold and smooth out against the glass divider.  Despite its creases and faded print, I was able to deduce that God, whether out of stead­fast determination to act in mysterious ways or simply to save a few bucks, evidently elected to reach out through the classi­fieds—more specifically, Employment Opportunities, General.

“You gotta understand it couldn’t have been a coinci­dence,” Neuman explained.  “I never looked for a job before in my life, but this uncle of mine kept hassling me about a real job, so just to get the sonofabitch off my back I prom­ised him I’d look in the papers that night, and there it was.

“I kept staring at this ad and feeling my hand get hot.  You know, the hand I was holding out to God.  So I cut it out and threw the rest of the rest of the paper away.

Neuman pressed the scriptural passage hard against the glass for me to read:

EMPLOYMENT, MISCELLANEOUS E-19

FULL-TIME SPECIMEN WANTED

Male human being between ages of fifteen and twenty-one wanted for display at prestigious zoological garden.  Permanent posi­tion for the right person.  No experience required.  Thirty hour work week: six hours a day Wednesday through Sunday.  Mondays and Tuesdays off.  Occasional evening viewings for zoo benefactors.  Participation in animal-act per­formances strictly voluntary.

Nutritious diet that can be readily supple­mented with treats when specimen becomes profi­cient at in­gratia­tion.  Other compen­sation includes shelter, twenty-four hour coffee bar, janitorial service twice a day, qualified veteri­narian on staff, spending allowance, and free burial.

Upon demonstration of satisfactory on-the-job ap­titude, specimen will be allowed to substitute promenades through public areas of gardens in lieu of caged confinement.  Must like children. In­formal small zoo ambiance with big zoo facilities.  Send re­sumé and full-length nude photo to Box 152-C.  Equal op­portunity em­ployer.

“God runs blind ads?” I questioned.

“You expect him to give an address?”

“Not when he’s asking for pictures of naked boys.”

Neuman shrugged and returned to the account of his res­urrection from Earthly ties.  “You’re missing the whole point.  Don’t you see?”

“I see Earth coming to an end and I see a scrap of newspaper.  What I don’t see is the connection.”

“Christ, you’re slow.  Not a scrap of paper.  A ticket.  A spaceship ticket.  So I could bring Judaism to its new home.  Right here, in New Israel.  ‘Where God hath prepared for them a city.  For behold I create new heavens and a new Earth.’  ”

I couldn’t resist.  “And Luxenben had a market for yarmulkes he couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Neuman laughed.  “But it wasn’t the main reason.”

Bowing my head, I covered my eyes with my hand to blot out Neuman’s beatific expression and grope with the enormity of the boy’s conception.  Certainly he was not the first to recognize that, eventually, God was bound to react to mankind’s excesses.  But, heretofore, no one had the vision to extend his calculations beyond the prophesied end of the world—the post-apocalyptic era, as it were.  Neuman, on the other hand, had the genius to start where past sages had stopped.  God, he coolly reasoned, would have no reserva­tions about destroying all human accomplishment save for the one endeavor with which he was personally affiliated—that is to say, Judaism.  Every­thing else—science, art, culture—was nothing but an exercise in human vanity; Judaism and only Judaism had just claim to immortality and, if mankind couldn’t handle it, God would simply find a species who could.

In like vein, Neuman had no trouble identifying himself as the only human being to whom God could entrust the trans­fer.  As the Lord’s superloyal confi­dant and sometime recon­noiterer, was he not entitled to be the chosen of the cho­sen? the last prophet of old Israel and the first of the new? the Zionist’s Zionist?  God in his wisdom had no doubt selected the ideal planet, prepared the fertile soil thereon for Judaism’s transplanta­tion, and, in due course, would conduct his humble servant thither to labor in the fields.  It made perfect sense, as the boy claimed all along.

Having at last comprehended Neuman’s background thesis, I went on to fill in the details.  To begin with, how had he managed to stretch a one-column by four-inch ad­ver­tisement in the classifieds to fill a gap of literally as­tronomical proportions?  I uncovered my eyes, massaged my brow, and resumed my interrogation.

“You took an ad—an ad that sounds more like a practical joke than anything else—and assumed it had anything to do with you?  Nothing except its humaneness even suggests another planet.  And even if you knew it was another planet, nothing said it was the right one.  You said yourself you didn’t even look at anything else.  For all you knew, God was running on the following page and the planet he wanted you on was a million light years in the opposite direction.”

Neuman regarded me sympathetically.  “Jeez, you think I could afford to take chances?  I’m the one who’s carrying all the re­sponsibility, remember.  That night, after I found the ad, I couldn’t sleep—all those questions, like you said, whirlin’ round in my head.  By five, I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I ducked out of the apartment.  I didn’t know where in the hell I was going, but just as I hit the street, I see this bus coming like it’d been waiting for me all night.  Just for me, you know?  So I took the bus and the next thing I knew, we’re driving uphill straight towards this fuckin’ huge shining thing burning its way out of the ground.  What a sight!  You wouldn’t believe it!  The sky was glowin’ red all ‘round with white steam jettin’ out.  Chunks of black clouds flyin’ by so fast you were afraid they were going to knock something down.  Orange rays shootin’ out against the buildings.  Streams of blue light coming in.  Each one wiping out the dark until it was beat down beneath the horizon.  Then just as we got past the top of a hill, the whole goddamned thing came crashing through the windshield.  The bus got so bright I couldn’t stand it.  Honest to God, I almost fainted.”

“The sun’s rising is not a sign,” I said.  “Stopping would be a sign.  Did it stop, Neuman?”

“It was a sign, believe me.  You had to be there,” the boy said defiantly.  “Anyway, the next thing I remember is that my head’s go­ing ‘round with the wheels.  ‘Thank you, God, for choosing me.  Thank you, God, for choosing me.’  Round and round they kept talking.  Every now and then I’d see somebody on the street and I held my hand up like the pope does, you know.  Don’t get me wrong.  It wasn’t because of my being so important; it was because I felt so bad about they’re be­ing left behind.  A few of ‘em waved back, but a lot of ‘em just stared.  I guess you couldn’t blame them for not wan­tin’ to die like that.  Anyway, by the time we circled back, all I could do is shake a guy’s hand at the bus stop.  I didn’t let on who I was, but you could tell he knew something pretty big was go­ing on.”

Neuman paused in his testimony while I indulged in more brow kneading and nose pulling.  “But that morning with the exploding sun, you hadn’t even applied yet.  Who said you’d get the job?”

“Like I told ya.  I just knew, that’s all.  I sent in my application that same day.  I said I was good with kids—re­member, that was in the ad—and, being Jewish, I didn’t mind being cooped up as long as I had books.  And seeing that it was such a prestigious zoo and everything, they ought to have a representative of one of the oldest races. Not of just any Johnny-come-lately they pulled off the streets.  I told ‘em I didn’t eat a lot, but it had to be kosher.  And I refused to be displayed nude, but they had my pic­ture and if they wanted to hang it outside my cage that was their business.”

“Right, the photograph?”  I couldn’t resist making it sound like a question.

“I knew some guy in the neighborhood.  He took out a scrapbook and I picked a couple of poses.  Twenty-five bucks.  But I kept on my yarmulke and my talis kotn,” Neuman added emphatically, making clear he had had no inten­tion of reporting to his new assignment out of uniform. “You had to hand it to him.  Never asked a single ques­tion.  Then after that I went back to the shul to get the books,” Neuman went on.  “Stole ‘em is what I did.  I felt lousy about that.  I really did, but what good would books do ‘em once God pulled stakes?”

“No good at all,” I agreed.

“But I needed ‘em.  To show Luxenben what Goture wants.  That it just wasn’t some fool kid making it all up.”

“Goture?”

“Yeah.  I made that up.  Nature’s what they call God up here.  But I kept forgetting it.  So I made ‘Goture’ up and they said that’d be okay for a while.  Personally, I don’t give a damn what they call him.”

“And you’re doing all these things without even knowing who submitted the ad?”

“Neuman was disdainful.  “Goture did.  How many times must I tell you he doesn’t play games?  You ought to have figured that out for yourself by now.”  The boy seemed proud that he had thought through every detail.  Al­most every detail.

“Okay,” I said reviewing his strategy.  “So he hires you.  And now you’re a prophet in a cage with a nice stack of books next to your feeding box.  How are you going to convert anybody to Judaism?”

Neuman nervously worried his yarmulke around the top of his head.  “D’ya suppose God would just plunk a greenhorn like me down in some kind of stadium, all of a sudden, telling fifty-thousand Luxanders to be Jewish?  ‘Course he wouldn’t.  I’ve got to know something about this place.  What the Luxanders are like.  The stuff they believe in.  So I need to practice on a few at a time.  So why not a zoo, right?  Anyway, prophets always land behind bars.  It goes with the territory.  And a zoo’s a lot bet­ter than a fuckin’ prison, right?  Besides, the ad said once I got to know the ropes I’d be able to wander around talking to people.  Trees, birds, me in robes.  Goture tellin’ me what to do next.  Perfect set up.”

“No question.”

“They called a couple of days later just like I knew they would.  They said kosher meals weren’t a big deal since they had to cook separately for each species anyway.  So I had the job, and I was supposed to meet ‘em on the river­bank, you know.  I scouted it out ahead of time, and I guess you know the rest.”

“Not quite all the rest, Neuman.”

“Jesus, it had to be on the QT.  That’s the way they wanted it.  I guess you were pretty surprised, huh?  You did okay, though, keeping your cool like that.”

“I would have been a lot cooler if I’d known what was happening.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Something besides waltzing around in the sand like a kibbutznik.”

“And blow the whole mission because some mishug­gener real estate man decided to play nursemaid.  I couldn’t take the chance.  How was I supposed to know you’d come along?”

“Okay, I got all of that.”

“Good.  I’m glad we got it straightened out.”  Neuman had revealed everything important in his life from beginning to end and no further conversation was needed.  He smiled, relaxed, and broke into prayer.  “Sh’mah Yisrael, Adonoi ehlohanoo, Adonoi echud.”

If Rosanne’s typing slowed coincidentally, the boy was too self-absorbed to take note of it.

“Well, take care of yourself, young man,” I said, rising from my chair.  “If you want to get in touch, they know how to find me.”

“Sure, Mr. Stelzer.  Thanks for coming.”  Neuman waved good-bye and, still mumbling to himself, sauntered back to whatever cell or cage he had come from.

I had to hand it to the boy.  When all was said and done, his story had its own internal logic.  Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with reality.  Unfortunately, too, in the best Jewish tradition, Neuman had designed his unreality to wring out whatever pleasure there was in going mad.  Let normal maniacs experience the grandeur of Napoleon’s exploits or the thrills of Tarzan’s trapeze artistry; those were the fun-lov­ing paths to schizo­phrenia.  His choice was to experience all the selflessness, all the angst, and all the misery that only a prophet could endure.  Dementia kosher style.

If Neuman’s motivations made sense in their perverted way, Research’s did not and my suspicions remained.  Matilda had said the institute was not a penal institution, but it was not a hospital either.  If they were merely trying to relieve the boy of his obsessions, then why didn’t they send him to a mental institution?  And why did they seem to be catering to his delusions instead of refuting them?  If I couldn’t get any answers out of Neuman, perhaps I might from his caretakers.

Rosanne smiled sweetly at me when I stopped by her station. “I bet you heard enough, huh?  If he hadn’t ended it, we would have.  We try not to let him get too tired.”

“Can I see his case worker right away?”

“Mr. Mulhouse?  Let me find out for you.” Rosanne en­gaged in more switching on her intercom.  There was a brief conversation and a verdict.  “I’m sorry.  Mr. Mulhouse is tied up for the day.  How about tomorrow at ten-thirty?”

“Fine.”

She then handed me an envelope.  “It’s a copy of your agreement and a brochure explaining the Trade Secrets Act.  I’d read it carefully if I were you.”

“Thanks.”

“See you tomorrow,” Ros’s uplifted face was innocence itself when I was about to leave.  Anne’s, on the other hand, was down turned.  I suspected it was an effort to conceal a constrained smile as the girl took off her earphones and gathered up the pages of her transcription.

I tossed the envelope away in the first refuse container I came across.

Given the reception such proposals have received thus far, there seems to be no harm in throwing another into the hopper.  Why not allow both the euro and the drachma to circulate as official currencies?  It is, after all, not such a radical notion; several countries today operate in that dual-currency mode either formally or informally.

The transition might come about in some such manner.  Let’s say Greece were to pledge as collateral a wad of fixed assets—a number of islands, say, a fleet of ships, their Ouzo distillery, the Parthenon, whatever—and, in exchange, the EU would allow the country to introduce enough drachma to meet all its obligations.  At the end of a fixed period of, say, twenty-five years, all drachma would be recalled at a one-to-one conversion rate.  With such a suddenly replenished treasury, Greece could comfortably meet its debt payments and begin to rebuild its economy introducing its critically needed reforms along the way.  Normal trade would resume and protests fade away.

Assuming that the euro would be treated as “good” money and the “drachma” as bad, the rule that “bad money drives out good” would likely take hold.  Euros would get squirreled away in bank accounts and drachma used in most internal transactions.  Especially at first, a lopsided open-market rate would likely prevail.  But several favorable changes would also result.  Greek goods would be more competitive on the world market, tourism would expand thanks to a strengthened euro, and interest rates fall.  Then, in time, as drachmas became more respectable and the settlement date approached, they would, I believe, be forced to rise in value.

Bondholders left with drachma could convert them in the free market that, initially at least, would leave them with heavy exchange losses.  On the other hand, they might prefer to hold drachma until such time Greece got on its feet and its currency stabilized.

At the end of the prescribed period, therefore, Greece would hopefully be on its feet able to withdraw the drachma, take its pledged assets out of the pawn shop, and see the Parthenon returned to its original site to the relief of all concerned.  Works for me.