Statism is turning America into Detroit – Ayn Rand's Starnesville come to life
Look at this description
of Detroit from today’s Observer:
What
isn’t dumped is stolen. Factories and homes have largely been stripped of
anything of value, so thieves now target cars’ catalytic converters. Illiteracy
runs at around 47%; half the adults in some areas are unemployed. In many
neighbourhoods, the only sign of activity is a slow trudge to the liquor store.
Now
have a look at the uncannily prophetic description of Starnesville, a
Mid-Western town in Ayn Rand’s dystopian novel, Atlas
Shrugged. Starnesville had been home to the great Twentieth Century
Motor Company, but declined as a result of socialism:
A few
houses still stood within the skeleton of what had once been an industrial
town. Everything that could move, had moved away; but some human beings had remained.
The empty structures were vertical rubble; they had been eaten, not by time,
but by men: boards torn out at random, missing patches of roofs, holes left in
gutted cellars. It looked as if blind hands had seized whatever fitted the need
of the moment, with no concept of remaining in existence the next morning. The
inhabited houses were scattered at random among the ruins; the smoke of their
chimneys was the only movement visible in town. A shell of concrete, which had
been a schoolhouse, stood on the outskirts; it looked like a skull, with the
empty sockets of glassless windows, with a few strands of hair still clinging
to it, in the shape of broken wires.
Beyond
the town, on a distant hill, stood the factory of the Twentieth Century Motor
Company. Its walls, roof lines and smokestacks looked trim, impregnable like a
fortress. It would have seemed intact but for a silver water tank: the water
tank was tipped sidewise.
They
saw no trace of a road to the factory in the tangled miles of trees and hillsides.
They drove to the door of the first house in sight that showed a feeble signal
of rising smoke. The door was open. An old woman came shuffling out at the
sound of the motor. She was bent and swollen, barefooted, dressed in a garment
of flour sacking. She looked at the car without astonishment, without
curiosity; it was the blank stare of a being who had lost the capacity to feel
anything but exhaustion.
“Can
you tell me the way to the factory?” asked Rearden.
The
woman did not answer at once; she looked as if she would be unable to speak
English. “What factory?” she asked.
Rearden
pointed. “That one.”
“It’s
closed.”
Now
here’s the really extraordinary thing. When Ayn Rand published those words in
1957, Detroit was, on most measures, the
city with the highest per capita GDP in the United States.
The
real-life Starnesville, like the fictional one, decayed slowly, then collapsed
quickly. I spent a couple of weeks in Detroit in 1991. The city was still functioning
more or less normally, but the early signs of decomposition were visible. The
man I was staying withn, a cousin of my British travelling companion, ran a bar
and restaurant. He seemed to my teenage eyes to be the embodiment of the
American dream: he had never been to college, but got on briskly and
uncomplainingly with building a successful enterprise. Still, he was worried.
He was, he told me, one of a shrinking number of taxpayers sustaining more and
more dependents. Maybe now, he felt, was the time to sell up, while business
was still good.
He
wasn’t alone. The population of Motown has fallen from two million to 700,000,
and once prosperous neighbourhoods have become derelict. Seventy six thousand
homes have been abandoned; estate agents are unable to shift three-bedroom
houses for a dollar.
The
Observer, naturally, quotes a native complaining that ‘capitalism has failed
us,’ but capitalism is the one thing the place desperately needs. Detroit has
been under Leftist administrations for half a century. It has spent too much
and borrowed too much, driving away business and becoming a tool of the
government unions.
Of
Detroit’s $11 billion debt, $9 billion is accounted for by public sector
salaries and pensions. Under the mountain of accumulated obligations, the money
going into, say, the emergency services is not providing services but pensions.
Result? It takes the police an hour to respond to a 911 call and two thirds of
ambulances can’t be driven. This is a failure, not of the private sector, but of
the state. And, even now, the state is fighting to look after its clients: a
court struck down the bankruptcy application on grounds that ‘will lessen the
pension benefits of public employees’.
Which
brings us to the scariest thing of all. Detroit could all too easily be a
forerunner for the rest of the United States. As Mark Steyn puts it in the National Review:
Like
Detroit, America has unfunded liabilities, to the tune of $220 trillion,
according to the economist Laurence Kotlikoff. Like Detroit, it’s cosseting the
government class and expanding the dependency class, to the point where its
bipartisan “immigration reform” actively recruits 50–60 million low-skilled chain
migrants. Like Detroit, America’s governing institutions are increasingly the
corrupt enforcers of a one-party state — the IRS and Eric Holder’s amusingly
misnamed Department of Justice being only the most obvious examples. Like
Detroit, America is bifurcating into the class of “community organizers” and
the unfortunate denizens of the communities so organized.
Oh
dear. No wonder the president would rather talk about Trayvon Martin. If you
want to see Obamanomics taken to its conclusion, look at Starnesville. And
tremble.
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