Samuel Florman: The Aftermath

Pretty soon dozens—perhaps hundreds—of people were busy altering and restoring old clothes, making new garments out of any odd materials that could be found, and reshaping, dyeing, and decorating models of “the sack.” Bartering began to take place, the pace of which grew increasingly brisk. It would not be an exaggeration to say that apparel became a form of currency.

Such traditional currency as people had in their possession—dollars, rands, and euros—were used hardly at all in market exchange. This was particularly so after the Coordinating Committee announced that it had no plans to ask any future government to redeem such money. The expectation was—and still is—that the future government will print new currency, backed solely by its own credit. In this regard, it is fortunate that for the past two decades and more, most national governments moved away from using gold as a guarantee of currency. Therefore, reliance on the state’s pure credit, or pledge, is a concept which knowledgeable people are ready to accept. It’s ironic that we find ourselves in the land of gold and diamonds at a time when these materials have lost their value. Doubtless, they will continue to be prized for their aesthetic qualities, and it is rumored that a few Inlanders have traveled to distant mine sites with the intention of collecting private hoards. It is also rumored that the future government will nationalize, or confiscate, or otherwise proscribe such personal accumulations of mineral wealth.

In any event, the use of clothing as a medium of exchange is only one example of the free market that has emerged throughout the Ulundi Circle. Toys are another. “Leave it to engineers to forget about toys,” Sarah said when she learned about the brisk trade that had arisen in handmade dolls, miniature wagons, and other such items.

There has also been a lively commerce in writing implements. The Planning Subcommittee, believing that ample quantities survived in various parts of the Ulundi Circle, and also that the Queen of Africa administrators were adequately supplied, felt that the matter was well in hand. They planned for future demand, but underestimated the desire that ordinary folk would have for writing materials right from the start. Consequently, there has been a great demand for hand-crafted quill pens and for inks made of carbon black and vegetable oils. A few Inlanders with access to a deposit of graphite started to make primitive pencils that were very much sought after. The wooden holders were carved, split in half, and carefully notched. Then small “lead” rods—made by mixing graphite dust with clay—were inserted and the wood reassembled.

The main supplies of paper are mostly earmarked for technical enterprises and for bureaucrats like me. As a result, late into the night, hobbyist papermakers have plied their craft, trading their prized product for other goods and favors.

There are few families that have not made an effort to improve on the rather Spartan living quarters authorized by the Planning Subcommittee. Thus, carpentry, masonry, and thatching have also been important aspects of the unofficial market.

Occasionally, when a fair barter transaction cannot be negoti ated—if a child yearns for a toy and the parents have nothing to offer in return—gifts are freely given. Often, future favors are the consideration, sometimes recorded, sometimes “to be remembered.” Many IOUs have been executed: “Patricia owes Joshua the equivalent of a bead necklace,” or: “Harry owes Bill the equivalent of ten hours carpentry fixing up his furniture.”

Obviously, when Sarah told Herb that free enterprise was already at work, she spoke truly, and Herb knew it.

Yet, in rebuttal, Herb contended that this unofficial market has a free and easy spirit that is unique to this time and place. After all, the basic necessities of life are provided without charge by “the state,” and the common disaster is still fresh in everyone’s consciousness. This inspires a neighborly feeling that cannot be expected to last indefinitely. Already the force of a more traditional trading impulse is manifest, and more than a few people find it difficult to suppress their acquisitive instincts. The potential for more earnest business dealings is clearly in the air. The free enterprise of tomorrow may be very different from the free enterprise of today.

Whatever the prospects for the future, I thought, there must be some way to get Herb thinking in a different direction. At least I had to give it a try.

“Hey, pal,” I said. “I know where you’re coming from. But we can have a good society, even if we aren’t altruistic angels. Captain Nordstrom has told us of the egalitarian traditions that prevail in Norway, where conspicuous consumption is considered shameful. You can help us establish such traditions here. I understand what you have against free enterprise. But it’s like Winston Churchill said about democracy, it’s not a very good form of government; it’s just the best there is.

“Let the capitalists do their thing, to the benefit of all of us. You can join the left-wing party that keeps the robber barons in check and looks after the little guy. Also, as we rebuild, the central government will have to play a responsible role in most major industries. At the same time, we can find morally acceptable ways to put self-interest to work.”

But, as Herb had a habit of saying in jest, and this time pronounced in dead earnest, “My mind is made up. Don’t confuse me with facts.”

Once we realized that Herb and Roxy were not to be dissuaded, we began to ask for more details. They told us that the cooperative would be based on agriculture and animal husbandry, although possibly some form of light manufacture might be added in the future.

Tom laughed. “I can’t see either of you harvesting crops, much less herding cattle.”

“You seem to forget that I come from Texas,” Roxy protested, “the world capital of cattle ranching. And Herb is a quick study.”

Sarah said, “And you’ll continue your work as a champion of dance in our community, I hope.”

“Oh, yes,” Roxy said.

Mary added, “Herb can still practice, or rather, apply his knowledge of law. We’ll need him for that.”

“You can count on it,” Herb said.

“Will this new commitment mean the end of your involvement in our Environmental Protection Agency?” Sarah asked.

“Certainly not,” Roxy said. “We’ll find time for that no matter what else we’re doing.” She was quiet for a moment.

Suddenly, she said in a firm voice: “You guys have to realize that when we talk about the environment, and when we plan for an idealistic community, we’re dreaming about the future. We’re thinking about our baby.”

“Baby?” Mary asked in a tremulous voice. “Baby?” she repeated, excitedly. “You too?”

“Baby?” Now it was Sarah, also flustered. “I was going to break our news next week.”

Suddenly, all six of us were laughing and crying, hugging each other in wild celebration. Everyone started to talk at the same time, all asking the same questions: “Since when?” “How many weeks?” “How do you feel?” “Which doctor have you spoken to?”

Finally, Tom put his arm around Herb, squeezed his shoulder, and said: “You can’t move up into the hills now. Our kids have to go to the same nursery school.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Herb replied. “They’ll go to the same university. Can you get a decent university built in eighteen years?”

“I guarantee it,” Tom said. “With a world-class engineering curriculum.” Seeing Sarah’s frown, he quickly added, “And an excellent liberal arts program, of course.”

In the next few minutes we had pretty much mapped out the courses and faculty structure of this university of the future, including outstanding departments of dance, law, and the history of technology.