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August
9, 2007
Fred Dates
Hillary
Thoughts
on Socialist Medicine
by Fred Reed
In thinking about socialized medicine, a couple
of points merit thought:
First, the people who are most against it least
need it. Usually they are columnists of the
political right and the people who read them.
Columnists without exception are of intelligence
above the average, as are almost all of their
readers. With few if any exceptions, they are well
educated. Consequently they tend to be prosperous,
savvy, and very likely to have good insurance.
They also have little or, more likely, no real
contact with anyone who might need socialized
medicine. For example in Washington, which I know
well, the klaxons of left and right berate each
other from the cocktail parties of Georgetown and
Cap Hill, eat in posh restaurants, and vacation in
the Greek Isles. They do not know the people of the
truck stops and gas stations.
Second, opponents of socialized medicine seem to
think that such a system would be subject to
exploitation by grifters and scam artists. They are
right. Note that the grifters would not be people
receiving care, but Republican doctors who would
pad their bills and otherwise skim off unwatched
cream. We are all against corruption until it is
our turn at the trough. Note also that a woman with
a broken leg does not pretend to have two broken
legs so as to get an extra cast.
It seems to me that the underlying question is
not that of socialized medicine but rather: What is
our attitude as a nation toward people who are not
very smart? Who furthermore are culturally
impoverished? Who are among the substantial
fraction of Americans who can barely read?
They exist in large numbers. Half the white
population have IQs below 100. The proportion among
various non-white groups is much higher. Throw in
legal aliens with fourth-grade educations and
little command of English, and people in small
towns where the idea of going to college is only
slightly stranger than that of going to Mars.
Few of them are welfare cheats. Usually they
have worked hard all their lives. Often they vote
Republican. They are just
"stupid" is unkind
but perhaps best conveys their condition, though
some of the apparent stupidity is in fact
ignorance. They can't balance a checkbook, must
less understand rollovers on a 401(k). They don't
understand what 18% interest on a credit card
means, and can't read, much less understand, a
contract. ("The party of the first part,
hereinafter
.") They aren't smart enough to be
entrepreneurs. Very likely, they have never read a
book in their lives.
Try to imagine never having read a book. You
can't do it.
Word-crafters of my acquaintance rail against
Hillary for supporting socialized medicine. They
seem to think that the beneficiaries of the program
would be people like themselves, only shiftless. "I
studied and worked my way up and made something of
myself, and I take care of myself. Why don't these
lazy bastards to the same?" Easy. Because these of
my friends have IQs averaging in excess of 140,
while the lazy bastards (who in fact are neither)
check in at maybe 90.
I often hear it said that people should be able
to invest as they think best the payments they make
into Social Security. Of course what is really
going on is an attempt by stock funds to get their
hands on lots of other people's money. Still, the
argument is made that freedom and free enterprise
demand that government not take, etc. "It's our
money. Let us invest it." This ignores the fact
that over half the population is absolutely,
irremediably, hermetically incapable of investing
intelligently.
Now, what do we do with people who have obeyed
all the fabled American rules, who have worked,
perhaps at pathetic wages and no benefits, and
never cheated, and been honest citizens, and then
the bottling plant went to China and they're old
and have nothing? What?
We could be good social Darwinists and let them
rot. They are not cutting edge people, not Verilog
mechanics or optical engineers or hedge-fund
managers. Who needs them? All right. If this is
your position, say so. Look me in the eye and say,
"Screw'em. I don't care what happens to them and
I'm not going to spend a red cent on them." Say
this, and I will understand you.
An obstacle to thought here is that the people
in the editorial suites and cocktail parties are
twiddlers of abstractions. Waving a shrimp speared
on a toothpick, holding a glass of vintage
Sobriquet, they speak of second-order supply side
multiplier effects of marginal increases in labor
costs and what Burke and Adam Smith said. You've
seen their websites: "Rothman on Kleinfelter."
"Kleinfelter on Fergweiler." "Fergweiler on
Theftwunkel." Intellectual sparring is their
world.
It's different to Mary Sal Wooten in a decaying
trailer somewhere on 301 South, with her retinas
peeling like wallpaper from diabetic retinopathy,
ankles swollen and darkening toward gangrene, and
the hospital won't take her because it isn't an
emergency and she can't afford her medicine.
Really, truly no-shit can't afford it.
What do we do with people like her? People who
just flat can't handle the complexity of today's
world? It seems to me that anyone who wants to
think about socialized medicine has to answer that
question before starting.
When I was a kid in King George Country,
Virginia, the answer commonly was the federal
government. Dahlgren Naval Proving Grounds was
there. It hired a lot of the local country kids,
rednecks as we now say, as gate guards, truck
drivers, maintenance workers, and so on. These jobs
legitimately needed doing, and those hired did them
well. The jobs carried benefits and pensions. But
the private sector won't if it can avoid it.
What other solutions are available? Many say,
"It's a job for private charity." This is another
way of saying, "Screw'em, I ain't paying a cent."
Yet others say cut taxes and the resulting economic
boom will lift all boats. This is another way of
saying, "Screw'em, I ain't paying a cent."
But let's at least have the dignity to say what
we mean. The truth is that large numbers of people
cannot take care of themselves beyond showing up at
work every day and spinning lug nuts on the
assembly line. They aren't going to invest wisely
from youth because they aren't smart enough.
Employers aren't going to provide retirements
unless forced to. Hospitals won't take them if they
can avoid it. Do we say, "Screw'em, let'em croak"?
Apparently. Then let's say so plainly.
Reed
Archive
Copyright 2007 by Fred Reed and reproduced here by
permission of the author.
About
the Author (by the author):
Fred Reed is a Marine combat veteran, police
reporter, amateur biochemist, former long-haul
hitchhiker, and part-time sociopath living in
Mexico. Fred, a keyboard mercenary with a
disorganized past, has worked on staff for Army
Times, The Washingtonian, Soldier of Fortune,
Federal Computer Week, and The Washington
Times. He has been published in Playboy,
Soldier of Fortune, The Wall Street Journal, The
Washington Post, Harper's, National Review, Signal,
Air&Space, and suchlike. He has worked as a
police writer, technology editor, military
specialist, and authority on mercenary soldiers. He
is by all accounts as looney as a tune.
Visit the "Fred
on Everything" website to read his previous
columns and sign up for his regular e-mail
feature.
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The essays in A Brass Pole in
Bangkok, are sometimes wildly funny,
sometimes deadly serious, always merciless
in their unmasking of the pretenses and
charlatans of society. Fred, a former
Marine, subscribes to no ideology ("an
ideology is just a systematic way of
misunderstanding the world") but
exuberantly wreaks havoc on practically
everything, and delights in everything
else: the psychotherapy swindle, squalling
feminists, race racketeers, damn fool
wars, red-light districts in Asia, and
tequila fests in Mexico, where he
lives.
A
Brass Pole in Bangkok: A Thing I Aspire To
Be, by Fred Reed
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Buy Fred's new reprehensible book,
Nekkid In Austin! Another
collection of Fred's collected outrages,
irresponsible ravings, and curmudgeonry
from "Fred On Everything" and some
innocent magazines that, he says,
foolishly published him. Wildly funny,
sometimes wacky, always provocative essays
on the collapse of America.
Nekkid
in Austin: Drop Your Inner Child Down a
Well, by Fred Reed
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