Kyle Berg

About 2 1/2 weeks ago, some of the other volunteers I met in Barracas were nice enough to offer me a ride most of the way home. As we drove down Avenida Libertador, the law school of the University of Buenos Aires came up on our right. The girl driving gestured emphatically and bragged about the school. “Where else in the world can you go to law school without paying?” she asked. “At least not paying right now,” I said half-heartedly, not wanting to make a discussion out of it, yet feeling compelled to make an economics quip for some silly reason. Fortunately, it went right over everyone’s head and nothing became of it.

As I waited an exorbitant amount of time at the Juramento train station, my mind kept going back to that brief, seemingly insignificant moment. It was one of those where living in a foreign culture allowed me to see the locals and yet examine myself in a different light. Why did it bother me that someone was bragging about a “free” education? Sure it’s not really free. Someone is paying for it, just not the student. But who cares? The same thing happens in the U.S. with countless issues. Why think about this now? What struck me was the pride and emotional attachment she had formed with “giving” an education to anyone who wanted it. Even though she worked in human resources and wasn’t interested in law school, the idea that any Argentine could study to be a lawyer made her feel something special.

No matter how much we discussed the matter, more than likely, she would cling to the pride she felt with the country’s “free” education. I could talk about the poor condition of the University and how I’ve heard its own students make jokes regarding its lack of materials or modern facilities. Then I could continue with the idea that the education really isn’t free because the teacher salaries, buildings, and electricity are funded by taxpayer pesos. Finally, we could debate the idea of funding by taking from a certain population segment versus only requiring the customers to pay. But again, the emotional attachment would not only remain in tact, it would become more fervent.

It may not seem like much, and I cannot explain this subjective moment. But it was an instant where an idea cemented itself as a firm conviction. I became aware of the fundamental reason I could never condone the seizure of one’s belongings in order to give them to others (a.k.a. socialism). No matter how subtle, and in spite of every heart wrenching appeal, it is based on envy. As a Christian, how can I support a mindset that promulgates covetousness while simultaneously discouraging personal responsibility?

First, I put myself on the hypothetical receiving end. A few examples came to mind and each was was rooted in envy.

As a college student: I don’t have the money to pay for school and my parents didn’t save like other families. (It’s the obligation of others to fund public universities so I can attend free of charge or at least received subsidized tuition and loans. Envy).

As a farmer: My product isn’t fetching the price I would like. (Others ought to spend more of their paychecks by paying government regulated prices so I can stay in business. Envy).

Sports team owner: So many other cities are paying for stadiums with public funds. (My team needs one too. Envy).

Next, I considered the matter as if I were a lawmaker and thus responsible for taxation. Still, no matter the desired outcome, I could not justify taking from others. I could not find biblical justification to force others to comply with my projects that went beyond the basic functions of government. Everything was based on a comparison to others and a use of emotion rather than on a foundational principle or conviction.

It can be disheartening to realize how much public thinking is based on envy. After being told how bad our lives are or what we don’t have what someone else has, we demand action. We forget any economic or historical context and don’t think about how our actions affect our fellow citizens–no matter how indirectly.

Were economic arguments made without emotional pleas, they would be dismissed out of hand. For instance, if I walked down the streets of Fargo and robbed $100 from every house in my neighborhood that was better off than mine, I would be without justification. Yet I do the same thing when I demand that those same homeowners pay higher taxes to cover my schooling, farm subsidy, stadium, small business, or any other entity. Only under the stealth method of obligatory withholding does it come across differently and make people like me seem like heartless monsters. But it is a process to which we acclimate and it makes me yearn for the day when we can call envy by its name and enough people say “Where does it stop?”