The Tree of Liberty

 

“The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.” — Thomas Jefferson

James Madison- Federalist No. 48, February 1, 1788

 

"An ELECTIVE DESPOTISM was not the government we fought for; but one which should not only be founded on free principles, but in which the powers of government should be so divided and balanced among several bodies of magistracy, as that no one could transcend their legal limits, without being effectually checked and restrained by the others."

James Madison- Federalist No. 48, February 1, 1788

Milton Friedman's greatest regret, payroll withholding tax

 

Milton Friedman's greatest regret.

The federal government discovered the perfect crime in 1943: make employers collect taxes before workers ever see their paychecks. You think you earn $60,000 per year, but you actually earn $75,000 and hand over $15,000 to politicians without ever touching it. The psychological difference is enormous.

Before payroll withholding, Americans wrote quarterly checks directly to the Treasury. Picture yourself sitting at your kitchen table, writing a $3,750 check to the IRS every three months. The pain was immediate and visceral. Politicians faced constant pressure to justify every dollar because citizens felt the extraction in real time.

Withholding transforms this concrete loss into an abstract accounting entry. Your employer becomes an unpaid tax collector, and you never experience the actual cost of government. Worse, most people celebrate their tax refunds as government generosity rather than recognizing them as interest-free loans they provided to politicians. The Treasury collects your money throughout the year, spends it immediately, then returns your own cash and receives gratitude.

This system enables the explosion in government spending you witness today. Defense contractors billing $640 for toilet seats, agricultural subsidies for corn syrup, and congressional salaries for 535 people who rarely show up to work. When taxation feels painless, voters stop demanding accountability for how their money gets spent.

Milton Friedman helped design withholding as a wartime emergency measure and later called it his greatest regret. Free market economists recognized that the psychological pain of direct taxation creates political pressure for fiscal restraint. The temporary always becomes permanent in government hands, and the emergency justification disappears while the extraction mechanism remains forever.

The Corruption of Central Banks

 

Andrew Jackson destroyed the Second Bank of the United States in 1836, delivering the single greatest blow to financial tyranny in American history. You won't hear this story told correctly in any economics textbook, because it reveals how central banking works: as a government-sponsored cartel that redistributes wealth from productive citizens to politically connected bankers.

The Second Bank held a 20-year federal charter starting in 1816. It controlled the money supply, issued currency, and held government deposits. Sound familiar? Nicholas Biddle, the bank's president, wielded more economic power than any elected official. He could trigger financial panics at will by restricting credit. He bought newspapers and bribed congressmen. When Jackson opposed recharter in 1832, Biddle deliberately crashed the economy to punish him.

Jackson called it "a hydra of corruption" and he was right. The bank created artificial booms through credit expansion, then triggered busts when politically convenient. Biddle openly bragged about manipulating markets. Free market economists and Jackson both recognized the core insight: this was legalized counterfeiting with government backing, not free market banking.

The political establishment united against Jackson. Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, and the entire Whig Party defended the bank. Biddle spent millions buying influence. The press attacked Jackson as an economic ignoramus. Every "respectable" voice supported recharter. Jackson stood alone with the American people.

After Jackson killed the bank, the country experienced the strongest economic growth in its history. From 1837 to 1862, America operated without a central bank. Industry flourished. Wages rose. Innovation exploded. This wasn't coincidence. When you stop subsidizing financial speculation and let productive capital find its natural home, prosperity follows.

Central banks don't stabilize economies: they destabilize them for private gain.

Astronomical Seasons 2026

 

The summer solstice marks the start of summer. In the Northern Hemisphere, the summer solstice is in June; south of the equator, it is in December.

According to the astronomical definition, the start of summer falls on the summer solstice. In the Northern Hemisphere, it’s the June solstice; south of the equator, it is the solstice in December.

Meteorologists use a different method of defining the first day of summer. And, in some countries, the beginning of the seasons is determined by average temperatures rather than fixed dates or astronomical events.

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Theodore Roosevelt "The Man in the Arena"

 

The former president of the United States Theodore Roosevelt, slightly more than a year out of office, delivered perhaps his most famous speech at the Sorbonne in Paris on 23 April 1910.  Although its formal title is “Citizenship in a Republic,” it is probably more widely known as “The Man in the Arena.” His statements at the Sorbonne were part of a larger European trip that also included visits to Vienna, Budapest, and Oslo, where on 5 May 1910, he delivered his acceptance speech for the 1906 Nobel Peace Prize, which he had won for his efforts in bringing an end to the Russo-Japanese War.  I share here the most famous passage from “Citizenship in a Republic” — a personal favorite of mine, for whatever that’s worth — accompanied by the important paragraph that precedes it and some of the important lines that follow it:

Let the man of learning, the man of lettered leisure, beware of that queer and cheap temptation to pose to himself and to others as a cynic, as the man who has outgrown emotions and beliefs, the man to whom good and evil are as one. The poorest way to face life is to face it with a sneer. There are many men who feel a kind of twisted pride in cynicism; there are many who confine themselves to criticism of the way others do what they themselves dare not even attempt. There is no more unhealthy being, no man less worthy of respect, than he who either really holds, or feigns to hold, an attitude of sneering disbelief toward all that is great and lofty, whether in achievement or in that noble effort which, even if it fails, comes second to achievement. A cynical habit of thought and speech, a readiness to criticize work which the critic himself never tries to perform, an intellectual aloofness which will not accept contact with life’s realities—all these are marks, not as the possessor would fain to think, of superiority, but of weakness. They mark the men unfit to bear their part painfully in the stern strife of living, who seek, in the affectation of contempt for the achievement of others, to hide from others and from themselves their own weakness. The role is easy; there is none easier, save only the role of the man who sneers alike at both criticism and performance.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. Shame on the man of cultivated taste who permits refinement to develop into fastidiousness that unfits him for doing the rough work of a workaday world. Among the free peoples who govern themselves there is but a small field of usefulness open for the men of cloistered life who shrink from contact with their fellows. Still less room is there for those who deride or slight what is done by those who actually bear the brunt of the day; nor yet for those others who always profess that they would like to take action, if only the conditions of life were not exactly what they actually are. The man who does nothing cuts the same sordid figure in the pages of history, whether he be cynic, or fop, or voluptuary. There is little use for the being whose tepid soul knows nothing of the great and generous emotion, of the high pride, the stern belief, the lofty enthusiasm, of the men who quell the storm and ride the thunder. Well for these men if they succeed; well also, though not so well, if they fail, given only that they have nobly ventured, and have put forth all their heart and strength. It is war-worn Hotspur, spent with hard fighting, he of the many errors and the valiant end, over whose memory we love to linger, not over the memory of the young lord who “but for the vile guns would have been a valiant soldier.”

America 250: Boston Tea Party Led to A Nation

 

252 years ago today, the British Empire closed the busiest port in North America to teach one colony a lesson and accidentally turned thirteen colonies into one country. On December 16, 1773, a few dozen Bostonians had thrown 342 chests of East India Company tea into the harbor. The damages came to roughly £9,659. Lord North, the Prime Minister, decided to make an example. Parliament passed the Boston Port Act. King George III signed it on March 31, 1774. It took effect at dawn on June 1. The Royal Navy moved warships into Boston Harbor and dropped anchor. Every dock was sealed. No ship could enter or leave. Not a barrel of flour, not a load of firewood, not a letter. The port would stay closed until Boston paid the East India Company in full and promised to behave. The intent was to isolate Massachusetts and force her neighbors to watch her starve. What happened instead is one of the strangest political miracles in modern history. Down in Williamsburg, a 31 year old burgess named Thomas Jefferson and a few friends, including Patrick Henry and Richard Henry Lee, pulled a dusty old book off the shelf of the House of Burgesses library, a record of how the Long Parliament had once handled a tyrant, and proposed that the entire colony of Virginia observe June 1, 1774 as a day of "fasting, humiliation, and prayer" in solidarity with Boston. The Royal Governor, Lord Dunmore, dissolved the House two days later for treason. The burgesses simply walked across the street to the Raleigh Tavern and kept meeting. June 1 came. In Virginia, every Anglican church was draped in black. The bells tolled all day. Plantation owners shut their doors. Jefferson wrote later that "the effect of the day through the whole colony was like a shock of electricity." The same shock ran through every colony south of New England. Wagon trains of food started rolling toward Boston from as far away as Charleston. The Marblehead fishermen offered to give the Boston merchants the use of their docks for free. A Quaker miller in Pennsylvania sent a hundred barrels of flour. Israel Putnam personally drove a herd of sheep from Connecticut to feed the city. Three months later, 56 delegates from twelve colonies sat down together in Philadelphia. It was called the First Continental Congress. None of them had ever met under one roof before. Parliament wanted to punish a city. It created a nation. 252 years ago today, in a harbor full of Royal Navy frigates, the American Revolution stopped being a Massachusetts problem.