The Anarchism.net editors are thrilled to present a web version of Matt Stone’s (ed. Richard D. Fuerle) anarchist novel On the Steppes of Central Asia. The novel, apart from being an exciting story, presents a thorough and fully conceivable yet thought-provoking version of a well-functioning anarchist society. It provides both a framework for a non-State system of justice and a solution to the problem of “anarchy in a world of governments.” On the Steppes of Central Asia is a source of inspiration for anarchists as well as a convincing argument for anarchism.





Chapter 1 At the time this all happened I was a journalism major in my junior year at Harvard. I was an editor of the Crimson, the student newspaper, and had ambitions to be an investigative reporter, like Woodward and Bernstein. “Smell the dirt and dig” was my motto.

My years at Harvard had been a real eye-opener for me. I always had tried to keep up with current events, and thought I knew a lot about politics and economics. But at Harvard I learned the theoretical basis for many of my beliefs. For example, in economics, I learned about market failures that result in pollution, recessions, unemployment, and inflation, and the actions government could take to solve these problems. I learned how regulations prevented business people from producing poor quality or dangerous products, and how antitrust laws broke up monopolies and protected consumers.

In sociology, I learned about how racism resulted in poverty for blacks, how the absence of enough public housing aggravated homelessness, how more social programs would help relieve crime, teenage pregnancy, illiteracy, broken homes, child abuse, and poverty. In polisci, I learned how greedy special interests obtained government money and contracts, and advantages in the marketplace, for themselves at the expense of the general welfare, how corporations manipulated the politicians to avoid taxes and regulations, and how our government protected our freedom and fostered prosperity.

In history courses, I learned about the evils of the Industrial Revolution - child labor, pollution, crowded cities. How, until the FDA, charlatans sold dangerous medicines, and how the robber barons monopolized industry. In philosophy, I learned, from Rawls, that if we assume we do not know our future position in society, we will all agree now to distribute wealth equally. It all fit together. It was a weltanschauung of a nation, or even a world community, of people working together through government for the common good, repressing the divisiveness of greed and racism - one big happy family.

I am telling you this so you can see where I’m coming from, and you will be able to see why what was about to happen to me was so shocking and upsetting.

One day in the early spring of 1990, I received a strange letter at the student newspaper office from a place named Ulaanbaatar, which I had never heard of, in the Republic of Mongolia, of which I knew next to nothing. Indeed, I doubt that I could have even pointed to it on a globe. It was from a man named “Kley Urtnasan,” who identified himself as the Minister of Cultural Exchanges of the Republic of Mongolia. In the letter he invited me to come to Ulaanbaatar for three months to work at the Mongolian Free Press, helping to publish their English-language edition. It included a small salary, and I was promised an experience that would “change the way you look at the world. Your life will never be the same again.” That seemed like overselling to me, for what would probably be at most an interesting, but irrelevant, diversion in my career. I would have to pay air fare, but I would live in his house and be given access to government officials as well as many community leaders. Interesting, I thought, but not for me.

That weekend I visited my mother and told her about the offer to go to Mongolia. Immediately she was totally against it. “It’s too dangerous,” she said. She charged through her collection of old magazines until she found, in World Press Review, a short article about the massacre of Communist leaders that had occurred there. Some had been dismembered and sold for body parts, at least according to the article. “These people are barbarians,” she said in a distressed voice. I assured her I wasn’t going to go since I didn’t have the air fare and already had several good job prospects for the summer anyway.

I thought no more about it until, a few days later, I received a call from my cousin Eric, who has some job at the State Department. After the usual small talk, he got down to business.

“Matt, I understand you received an invitation to visit Outer Mongolia.”

“Yes, I did. How did you know?”

“Well, your mother told my mother. You know how news travels.”

“I guess so.”

“Matt, have you made up your mind about accepting yet?”

“Yes, I don’t think I’ll accept, though it does sound like it could be a memorable experience. I could probably get a good story out of it.”

“Matt, before you say no to this offer, some very important people here in Washington would like to talk to you about it.”

“Oh, gee, no kidding?” What the hell is going on, I thought.

“Yes. Can you fly down right away?”

“Well, I suppose so. You paying?”

“You bet. Your ticket’s at the airport. You leave in two hours, at 10:32.”

“Hey, this is kind of sudden.”

“I know, but it’s very important. Will you do it?”

“How long will this take?”

“Just a few hours. You’ll be back by dinner.”

“OK, I guess I can do it.”

“Terrific, Matt. And, Matt, one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t tell anybody, not even your mother, that you are coming here or that you talked to me.” Smelling a story, I slipped my little tape recorder into my pocket and headed for Logan International Airport.

When I got off the plane, there was Eric and another man. The first words out of his mouth were, “Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”

When I assured him his secret was safe, we were whisked off to Foggy Bottom in a dark limousine with tinted windows.



Chapter 2 At the State Department, I was led to a large room with a big table. I was offered Danish and coffee as people came in and sat at the table. Mr. “Smith” was in charge, and he introduced everyone by first name only. They began by taking turns questioning me. They seemed to be following a script - get vital statistics, find out how I felt about my country, our government, my family, my ambitions. After about an hour, I was getting exasperated.

“OK, come on, guys. Let’s get to the point. What’s this all about anyway?”

Mr. Smith nodded and a man introduced as “Bob,” produced an extensible pointer from his pocket, walked to a map on the wall and began to explain.

“As you know, Matt, the Soviet empire is disintegrating,” he said, pointing at the map. “Its satellite countries - Poland, East Germany, Czechoslovakia, Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, and even some Soviet Republics, are no longer under its hegemony. Internally, it is on the verge of civil war as its various republics push for independence. Its economy is in shambles, and the military, KGB, and the bureaucracy are fighting over the pieces. China, too, has already had one rebellion in Tiananmen Square, and we expect more anti-Communist revolts as the aging leadership dies off. We are concerned, of course, with how this will all turn out - who will control the nuclear arsenal, for example.”

“Yes, yes, Bob,” interrupted Mr. Smith. “We know that. Let’s get to the point.”

“Yes, sir. Situated strategically between the Soviet Union and China, on the steppes of central Asia, is Outer Mongolia. Until recently it was also a Communist country, known as the Mongolian People’s Republic. However, the Communist government is being ... I think ‘supplanted’ is the appropriate word, by a new government which calls the country ‘The Republic of Mongolia.’ At the present time, the Communists control less than half of the country. Normally, we would be happy to see this. However, the new government is very (he paused) ‘unusual.’ While the United States must deal with all sorts of governments, this government is unbelievably barbaric. Not only have they killed many of the old Communist officials, but they have sold their body parts! All manner of vice is tolerated openly, not only prostitution, gambling, and drugs, but even baby selling!”

“Yes, it’s a bad situation,” said Mr. Smith.

“There have even been reports of cannibalism,” interjected someone.

“But what makes it so intolerable is that this government is spreading,” continued Bob, who was getting visibly agitated and was starting to lose his professional demeanor. “Why, at the rate it’s spreading, it could reach Europe in 10 years, and then the United States could be next.”

“Matt,” said Mr. Smith, “as you can tell, we are very concerned about this situation. We have a small consulate in the principal city, Ulaanbaatar, and we keep an eye on things, but we need to do more. We need more information.”

“That’s where you come in,” said Carl. “The invitation you received from the Minister of Cultural Exchanges will give you an inside look at the government and the society.” I nodded.

“Bob, tell Matt about Teacher,” said Mr. Smith.

“Yes, sir,” Bob continued. “We believe that, although the government seems to be democratic, it is actually secretly controlled by a man we know only as ‘Teacher.’”

“Do you remember Mao’s little book?” asked Mr. Smith. “Well, Teacher has a little book, too, and that book is the Bible of the government.”

“Oh, do you have an English translation?” I asked.

“Well, no, not yet, but we are working on it.”

Suddenly a flash of suspicion crossed my mind. Here they were, desperate to learn about Teacher and they haven’t even gotten a translation of his book! It was like trying to learn what Adolph Hitler would do in 1938 without reading Mein Kampf. Something was fishy.

“As you have probably surmised,” continued Mr. Smith, “we want you to accept this invitation and provide us with information about the government and the people who run it.”

A spy! They want me to be a spy, I thought.

“In particular,” continued Mr. Smith, “we want you to find out who Teacher is.”

“Are you going to kill Teacher?” I blurted out. Then, embarrassed that I would even think such a thing, I blushed.

“No, of course not, Matt,” said Mr. Smith. “We only want to know his background, his education, what kind of a person he is, so that we can understand him and predict his future actions. Assassinations are illegal, you know.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot,” I said, sounding like a disciplined schoolboy.

“Matt,” continued Mr. Smith, “you will not be the only person we will have there. We do have a small staff at the consulate. While you will not have diplomatic immunity, we don’t believe that you will be in any particular danger since the government invited you and you will be staying with a government official. But this isn’t a vacation or just an educational experience. It’s a job, a very serious job.” He paused. When I didn’t say anything, he continued.

“I realize that this is rather sudden for you, but this is a critical situation and we need to act before it gets any worse.” He paused and again waited for my response. I was thinking.

“Matt, your country needs you.” Another pause.

“Of course, you will be on salary and we will cover all your expenses.”

I’m as patriotic as the next person, but it was not my country I was thinking of. It was the great story I might get. One which could propel me to the top of my profession. But I was worried that being on the government payroll and having to feed them information would compromise my journalistic integrity. Finally, I said, “I’ll do it, but under the following conditions. First, I don’t want any government salary, just a ticket there and back. Second, I won’t tell you anything that was told to me in confidence or that I feel would be wrong to disclose. And third, if I get a good story, you let me break it.”

“Matt, you’ve got a deal,” said Mr. Smith without any hesitation.

Suddenly, I felt like Thomas Edison who sold one of his most valuable inventions cheaply. Afterwards, the buyer told him he would have paid a lot more and Edison replied that he would have accepted a lot less. I would have gone even if they had demanded more of me, but I think they were so glad to have me go that they would have accepted almost any terms.

At that point, Mr. Smith left and his assistants took over. Apparently, they had assumed I would accept because they had already prepared my acceptance letter and a packet of reading material. Significantly, I got nothing in writing that identified the U.S. government or the State Department. After school was out, I was to return to the State Department for three days of intensive briefing, then leave from my home city so that no one would know of my relationship to the U.S. government.



Chapter 3 It was difficult to concentrate on my studies after that, but somehow I managed. Everyone knew where I was going, but no one knew of my State Department connection. Finally, the school year ended and I dashed back to Foggy Bottom. Eric was at the airport again to meet me. I pumped him for information about Mongolia, but he knew very little. Apparently he was just there because he was my cousin.

Back at the State Department I was suddenly besieged by very serious, but superficially friendly people, who had a whole schedule ready for me. I sat in a comfortable room, well supplied with various audio-visual equipment, charts, maps, coffee, and donuts, and various experts came in to lecture or talk to me. I was taught a few words of Mongolian each day. I got lectures on their history, their culture, relations with the Soviet Union and China, and all the current information available. I was told what to look for, how to “open people up” without being suspicious, where to go to meet people who might know something, what to do if I got caught - everything an amateur spy needs to know.

According to the State Department, the situation in Mongolia was really bad. The court system was in shambles and bizarre decisions were common. There was vigilante justice by citizens and hired killers (known as “Hunters”) and the “military” consisted mostly of poorly disciplined part-time hotshots. Official killings of former government people were still occurring. Those that weren’t killed were forced to work as slaves in factories. Criminals were killed in hospitals for their blood, kidneys, corneas, and other body parts. Babies and children were sold. Animals were forced to fight other animals or people. One could buy anything - child pornography, heroin, crack, any medical drug, weapons. Prostitutes were freely available, including child prostitutes. There was little regulation of business and they gouged customers, made unsafe products, and established monopolies. Public health and the environment also suffered from poor government regulation. There were quacks selling patent medicines and dangerous or useless medical devices. There were no programs for the poor or elderly, no welfare, and many were starving in the streets. It sounded like a combination of Sodom and Gomorrah and Hell. I was getting scared. Then two grim-faced nameless men showed me a videotape of screaming Communists being dragged into an operating room where their valuable organs were removed. I threw up, yelled “I quit,” and ran out.

But they re-assured me that Kley had guaranteed my safety. Also, the U.S. government had other persons there, “spies,” I suppose you could call them, who would look after me as best they could. My contact would be an American woman named “Regina” who worked for the consulate, and she would help me and advise me. So I calmed down and agreed to go.

Before leaving for Ulaanbaatar, I was given my final briefing. Don’t use any Mongolian words at first I was told - a student would not be that well prepared. And never lose sight of my mission - identify Teacher.

As the plane brought me closer and closer, my fears grew larger and larger. “God, what will happen to me?” I worried. Here was a place inhabited by people who looked like Genghis Khan and acted like barbarians. I know that sounds racist, but it is a lot easier to be frightened of people who look different. I began to wonder if I would even get out alive, yet alone accomplish my mission. All the power of the U.S. government suddenly evaporated as the plane neared its destination.



Chapter 4 After a trip that was so long I thought I could not endure it any longer, the plane finally landed at the Ulaanbaatar airport, the Republic of Mongolia. We taxied up to the terminal, and, as I walked down the stairs from the plane, I saw a slender Mongolian man in his ‘50s and a plain Mongolian woman a little younger looking at me. He had to be Kley.

“Hello,” I said, “I’m Matt Stone. Greetings from America. You must be Kley.”

“Yes,” he replied in perfect English, “and this is my sister, Yom.” His sister nodded, but did not smile or say anything.

My first impression was of the airport. It was small, but seemed to be expanding because workers were everywhere. I expected that everyone would look Mongolian, like Kley and his sister, but only some did. There were many Chinese and Caucasians, presumably Russians. I thought this might be just because this was an airport, though it seemed too small to have so many international travelers. The thought occurred to me that they might all be spies, like me.

“Where are all these people from?” I asked.

“Oh, all over,” responded Kley. “Some are workers, tourists, curiosity seekers, even spies, I suspect,” he added, looking at me.

“No kidding,” I said nervously, “spies, too?”

He didn’t respond, but I thought he had a who-are-you-kidding look on his face.

After I got my luggage, Kley guided us to an armed customs officer. He was chatting with some young girls, but he shaped up as soon as he saw Kley.

“Would you open your bags, please?” he asked sternly. I did and he rummaged about a bit, then waved us on. I looked back and saw that he had gone back to chatting with the girls. For a government that was supposed to be really tough, he certainly was awfully relaxed.

In the car, Kley turned to me, “Matt,” he said, “why did you say, ‘Greetings from America?’ Who sends the greetings?”

“Well,” I stumbled, “just people from the student newspaper. It’s just an expression.”

“I see. Here we find that expression puzzling. It contradicts Teacher’s First Principle - the unit is the individual.”

At the word “Teacher,” my ears perked up. “What do you mean?”

“The First Principle means that only individuals can act, have rights, or be responsible. Since ‘America’ is a country, not an individual, it can’t send greetings or do anything else. Expressions like ‘society needs,’ ‘the United States said,’ or ‘the general welfare demands’ are deceptive and lead to unclear thinking, according to Teacher.”

I ignored his point since all I wanted to hear about was Teacher, not an English lesson.

“Who is Teacher?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“He is the architect of our society,” he replied.

“Do you know Teacher?”

“I know Teacher well,” he answered. “I have studied all of Teacher’s writings.”

“No, I mean have you met him in person?”

“Perhaps. Teacher’s identity is known to no one, so no one knows if they have met him.”

I did not want to appear to be too curious, so I changed the subject.

Kley’s house was more like a cottage. Made of stone, it was small, cozy, and gave off an aura of security and permanence, not what I expected, but then, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Inside, the house would have shocked Americans of both left, right, and center. In the living room was a gun case - not too unusual except that, in addition to several rifles, it contained a machine gun, clips of ammunition, hand grenades, and even a bazooka! Kley assured me that this was not unusual. I could just imagine a dispute over the neighbor’s dog ending up as a small war.

Kley was particularly proud of a beat-up Russian rifle. He had gotten it when he and some other rebels had ambushed a small army patrol and had killed all the soldiers. The rebels then put on the dead soldiers’ uniforms and returned to the army garrison at night. There they shot and killed the commandant, a man who was particularly hated for torturing and killing dissidents. Kley told me several times how he put one of the bullets into the surprised man, each time reenacting the entire scene for me. It seemed like the high point of his life.

Then, when I was looking for some aspirin in the medicine cabinet, I found a bottle labelled “opium.” I nearly flushed it down the toilet before I got caught holding it, but then I realized where I was. The cabinet was loaded with drugs unapproved or illegal in the U.S. God, maybe Kley and Yom are drug addicts, I thought. Of course, Kley said, the opium was great for toothaches and pain and the other drugs all had legitimate medical uses. But I wasn’t sure.

In the bedroom there was a TV, VCR, and a nice collection of porno flicks. What else. Foods from all over, plants in every nook, and a cat too big to be 100% domestic, but still friendly. To them this was normal. To me guns meant danger and insecurity, drugs meant a shallow meaningless life, and porno meant an inability to feel genuine love. In the United States I was an unconventional, free-thinking person; here, I felt like a conservative, inhibited Puritan. Maybe I was just a snob.

I was utterly exhausted from too much adrenalin so I headed off to bed as quickly as I could. While I could not sleep on the plane, I found no trouble sleeping here and soon fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning I woke refreshed. I dressed and wandered out into the living room. Kley apparently heard me and came out of another bedroom. We sat in the living room drinking coffee, eating bread, and making small talk.

Then, to my astonishment, Kley’s sister came out of the same bedroom. “Oh, my God,” I thought, “this place really is Sodom and Gomorrah. Incest. Right in the open.” I tried to hide my shock by directing the conversation to an innocuous subject.

“How did you learn such excellent English?” I asked.

“It’s a long story,” said Kley, “but briefly, my parents left Mongolia when the Communists took over. They lived all over, even in the United States for a while, where I was born, as a matter of fact. But, after my mother died, my father got very homesick and came back.”

Since Yom had not yet said anything in English, I asked, “Was Yom born in the U.S. also?”

“No, Yom was born on the steppes. The Communists sent Yom’s father to a prison camp and he died there. Yom’s mother and my father met in Ulaanbaatar and eventually married. Now they are both dead, but Yom and I are still together.”

“Oh,” I said. So she was only his step-sister. I decided I had better try to avoid jumping to conclusions in the future.

“That’s an unusual story. But, you know that when you introduce Yom as your sister, you create some confusion.”

“Yes, that does happen,” he laughed. “But she is my sister, my step-sister, and for a long time she was only my sister. Now it is hard to get out of the habit.”

“So you’re really married, I guess.”

“No, we don’t have any procedures for formal marriages here, except for religious ceremonies, and we aren’t religious. Many people just live together. Some write up formal contracts and some have informal understandings. Yom and I just understand each other.”

“So what happens if there is a separation or a death?”

“Whatever the parties agreed to. And, if they didn’t make an agreement, then they let a Decider decide who gets what.”

“What’s a Decider?”

“He’s like a judge. He decides controversies.” I left it at that for the moment.



Chapter 5 The next day Kley invited me to do his “rounds” with him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I was happy to get out and start gathering material for my story. We drove into town, parked, and started visiting shops and small businesses. In each place, someone would come over with profuse greetings and Kley would ask a few questions from his notes, jotting down things as they talked. I began to wonder if he was some kind of government inspector.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Oh, you must excuse me for not explaining,” he said. “I am a Facilitator. I have a store.”

“What kind of a store?” (I thought he was a full-time government minister, but, in a small country like this, I suppose the lower level positions don’t provide full-time employment.)

“In English, we call it an ‘ABC’ Store, which stands for ‘Agent for Buyers and Consumers.’ Basically, I match up sellers and buyers using a computer. This saves sellers the cost of advertising, store facilities, sales people, credit checks, and other selling expenses, so I get lower prices for my customers. Also, because I represent thousands of buyers and consumers [a ‘buyer’ bought for resale, a ‘consumer’ used it] I have a lot of leverage with sellers. The customers benefit from one-step shopping with low prices, credit, and other services.”

“So you have a big store?”

“No, it’s a small store. We don’t stock any goods, we just provide information on products and services that can be purchased, guarantees, and credit. I’ll take you there tomorrow and you’ll see how it works.”

As he explained it, he was like a middleman between customers and suppliers. A supplier, in addition to or instead of maintaining his own store, or supplying little stores, also could use a Facilitator. The Facilitator had only a computer that kept track of goods, services, and prices - he stocked no goods.

“Maybe you could better understand what a Facilitator does in a historical context,” he continued. “For many years the Communists provided everything - people had no choice but to deal with them. But when Communism collapsed people were confused. They didn’t know where to get things, who could repair things, who could do the job they needed done, that kind of thing. Often sellers took advantage of them and supplied poor quality goods and services.”

“So a few of us started acting as agents for the buyers. We would deal only with sellers who provided good quality and guarantees. Eventually, no one dealt with the crooks and they were mostly gone. Now we have our own association, where we share information.”

“What information do you share?”

“Mostly, information about which buyers and sellers not to do business with. Buyers who complain too much or don’t pay on time are weeded out. And, sometimes a tradesman or merchant we recommend does not do a good job or cheats a customer. If that happens, we tell the other Facilitators in our association so we don’t place orders with him again.”

“Does it happen a lot?”

“Very seldom. It is difficult to stay in business if no Facilitator places orders with you. We like to say that everybody we deal with can cheat you - but only once.”

“So suppose the customer is cheated. Then what?”

“I guarantee all products and services, and the merchants have to honor that guarantee.”

“Suppose there is a dispute between a customer and a merchant, and the customer refuses to pay?”

“I tell the customer and the merchant, ‘If you want to continue doing business with me, you must submit the dispute to a Decider.’”

“A Decider. You said he’s like a judge.”

“Yes. When disputes like this arose, we needed someone to decide who was right. So we asked certain individuals of honest reputation to do this. They started charging a fee and now that is their business.”

“Kind of like a court.”

“In some ways,” he answered. “But courts have a monopoly. Deciders don’t - anyone can become a Decider. A court can subpoena witnesses, order testimony, fine, jail, or order people executed. A Decider can only decide.”

“Whoa, this is too much. One thing at a time. First, why do your customer and the merchant go to the Decider instead of just shooting it out?”

He looked at me like I was crazy.

“Why would they shoot it out? Someone might get killed. Over a few byams [their money]? As Teacher says, ‘People do what they have an incentive to do.’ The merchant goes because if he doesn’t we don’t order from him and he’s out of business. The customer goes because he wants to recover what he lost and, if he doesn’t pay his bills, we won’t order for him. Besides, I pay all his expenses if he wins. I do that so customers know I stand behind them.”

“Suppose one party doesn’t like the Decider. He thinks he’s biased or something?”

“Well, a Decider must cultivate a reputation for impartiality and honesty, otherwise he loses customers and will be out of business. But, typically, each party will submit the names of three Deciders and they select one both have chosen. If they can’t agree on a Decider, one party can have a Decider decide without the other party being present. That is more expensive because the Decider must be more cautious and investigate the facts more carefully.”

“But what rules do the Deciders apply?”

“Whatever rules he thinks the parties were working under. His job is not to make rules, but to discover rules. So if it is a marriage dispute he tries to find out if the parties belonged to a particular religious or ethnic group and, if so, what rules are commonly used by that group. If it is a contract dispute, he finds out the rules used in that business. That kind of thing. If worse comes to worse, he may assume that the parties knew about and accepted the decisions of other Deciders in similar circumstances. It’s kind of like the Common Law in England.”

“I don’t know if that is really fair.”

“Why not? The parties are getting what they probably expected to get. Isn’t that fairer than imposing on them what some sleazy politician thinks they should get?”

“Well, maybe.” (I was surprised that Kley referred to politicians as “sleazy” since I thought he was a politician. But, then, maybe he considered himself to be an appointed public servant or a patriot or something.)

“OK, but suppose a witness is needed. Then what?”

“Well, the Decider tells everybody to come at a certain time - and he is always on time, too, mind you, or he loses customers. Not like the U.S.A. where a case can take years to come to trial and even then you have to wait hours to be heard.”

I bridled at this criticism, but pushed on, convinced this could not possibly work.

“Yeah, but what if the witness doesn’t show?”

“The Decider tells the witness that if he doesn’t show he won’t decide any cases for him until he does. The other Deciders also refuse to decide cases for him - there is a Decider association, too, you know.”

“So what happens to the poor witness if he has a grievance against someone?”

“He has a problem. He can agree to be a witness anyway, and pay any extra costs he caused. He can refuse, but then his insurance may go up because his Insurer will have trouble recovering from someone who causes him a loss. In fact, most Insurers require policy holders to testify in all cases in order to get a policy. Some people may try to take advantage of him when they find out he can’t sue anyone. So, incentives, he will show up.”

“Is that from Teacher’s Book?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see The Book sometime?”

“Sure, there are copies all over, but not in English.”

“Oh, well, maybe you could read some of it to me.”

“Yes, I’d like to. I’m a great admirer of Teacher.” I wondered again about the relationship between Kley and Teacher, but decided to hold off asking for now.

“Getting back to this trial, so everybody shows up. Suppose they lie. Do they go to jail?”

“No. But the Deciders get very upset if people lie to them. They tell all the other Deciders and you get on what you might call a “shit list.” They won’t believe you anymore. Next time you need them they may not be there to help you.”

“OK, suppose the Decider says the merchant is wrong and he refuses to pay. Then what?”

“He would be very stupid to do that since he would probably be out of business - the Facilitators wouldn’t recommend him anymore.

“OK, so he’s out of business - but he still doesn’t pay. Then what?”

“Then the Decider gives the customer a Disclaimer against the merchant for the amount owed.

“Oh, is that like a judgment?”

“Sort of. A judgment entitles you to seize property. But a Disclaimer just says that a Decider will not entertain any suit by the defendant against the plaintiff or his agent for the amount of the Disclaimer, plus a reasonable fee for collecting it, or reasonable damages resulting from its collection.”

“Then what?”

“Then the customer takes the Disclaimer to an Extractor - what you might call a debt collector. The Extractor takes the defendant’s car, furniture, whatever, and sells it and gives the amount of the claim to the customer, keeps his fee, and gives the rest to the defendant.”

“You know that just might work.”

“What do you mean ‘might work’? We do it all the time. It does work.”

“Yeah, but that’s just for civil actions. Suppose someone breaks a criminal statute?”

“We don’t have any criminal statutes, so no one can break one.”

I almost fell over. I knew it. This is nuts. Total chaos.

“You mean someone can kill somebody and get away with it?”

“Well, he might, if nobody knows he did it. But that’s true anywhere.”

“Yes, but suppose everybody knows who did it. Isn’t that a crime?”

“Yes, but we don’t have a formal criminal code. We have only Teacher’s Principle 9 - everyone chooses his own morality. That means that I cannot impose my moral standards on you. You can live by whatever standards you wish, even murder, but remember, those are the standards you have chosen. When you commit a murder, you tell people that that is your moral code - it is OK to kill. So, if it is OK to kill, you have no complaint if you are killed. You define your own criminal code.”

This was just too much for me to grasp. I was getting the idea that murderers would be punished, but I wasn’t exactly sure how.

“OK, let’s say John kills Bob. What happens?”

“Bob’s relatives, friends, Insurer, or someone he may have designated, goes to a Decider and asks for a Disclaimer for Bob’s death. The Decider checks to see that no other Decider has given a Disclaimer for Bob, advertises that a suit has been filed, determines that Bob is dead and invites John to defend himself.

“Suppose John skips.”

“If Bob’s agent thinks that may happen, he can hire a Hunter to hold him, but if John is found innocent, Bob and his agent will owe John damages. Besides, if John skips and is found guilty, that will show that he has not repudiated his morality and he can be held to it.”

“Then what?”

“John usually shows up and defends himself. If he doesn’t, the trial goes on anyway. Since this is a serious matter, three Deciders will hear the case. That’s so that all the Deciders will abide by the decision - it’s part of the agreement of their association. If John is found guilty, he is given a chance to repudiate the morality he accepted in killing Bob.”

“You mean he can say that he no longer believes that it is OK to kill people and get off the hook?”

“Partly. Principle 1 implies that we are all responsible for our acts. Therefore, if a loss occurs it should fall on the person who caused it. The plaintiff states how much he wants for his claim against the defendant. The defendant can agree to pay it or he can offer a smaller amount. If they can’t agree, the Decider sets the amount.”

“Suppose John doesn’t repudiate his morality?”

“Then Bob’s agent may hire a Hunter to go after John and John could end up dead on an Extractor’s table, his body sold for parts.” We got interrupted and I was left in a shocked state of mind. I could see it would take me a while to straighten this out.



Chapter 6 Today, we visited Kley’s “store.” Outside was a big sign that said, I am told, since it was in Mongolian, “Facilitator - Big Discounts for Guaranteed Products and Services. Credit Available. Free Delivery.” Inside I was introduced to everyone, but I especially noticed Xiaoli Chung, whose name we Americanized to “Sharlee,” a pretty little Chinese girl with the innocent face of a child, a warm smile, and long black hair, cut in bangs in front and falling halfway down her back. She managed the accounts. Some customers were ordering things and others were browsing through catalogues. I was amazed at all the things one could get. How about a machine gun, a kilo of heroin, a visit from a prostitute (pick out the one you want from pictures), or a slot machine? It was a fascinating place. Suppliers would let Facilitators know of any changes in prices or supplies, so Kley’s “rounds” to stores were mostly to negotiate deals for discounts. I was impressed and wondered why we didn’t have Facilitators like this in the U.S.

Since Kley was going to be tied up at the store, I asked Sharlee if she would have lunch with me, and, to my surprise, she accepted.

We went to a small cafe and bought some sandwiches, then walked to a park near Kley’s store and found a secluded spot to eat. She told me about some of the strange things that have happened here, and we had some good laughs. I tried to get her to tell me about her background, but she seemed reluctant to say much, other than that she had a family in China and was working here to send them money. After I walked her back, I asked her for a date, but she told me she could not get involved with anyone right now. Then she turned back to me and said it would be nice to see me again for lunch.

That afternoon Kley took me to the Mongolian Free Press, where I would be working. I was introduced to my boss and co-workers and shown to my desk. To my surprise, they had word processors on a network - I expected typewriters from the 1930s. My job consisted of selecting and editing English language articles from magazines and newspapers for publication in the paper, and also correcting the English of articles my co-workers had translated from other languages. I also was expected to write a few articles myself about my impressions here. The English language version was just being started, apparently due to an increased interest that people had in learning English. This was, I understand, largely motivated by business people, who found that English was becoming the international language for business. Thus, the paper contained a lot of business news and articles about how to socialize properly with foreigners.

Ulaanbaatar was not a big city (about 600,000), but I was surprised at how modern it was. There were plenty of cars and taxis and the stores were clean, neat, and loaded with merchandise, unlike a Communist country. There was new construction everywhere, but it was all small projects - no big skyscrapers or shopping malls - as though no one was confident enough to invest more than he could afford to lose.

In the center of the city was a square with a park area and a monument the Communists had placed there to honor heroes of the revolution. Surrounding the square were old government buildings. Some were now used for businesses, especially by Deciders, Extractors, and Hunters. Two were the embassies of China and the Soviet Union.

Kley’s cottage was a little over a mile from the square. His store and the newspaper were in the business district, only a block apart. The park that Sharlee and I went to was near the business district.

Until recently, the currency here was the tugrik, but the new government stopped printing it because the plates had disappeared. It was widely believed that the Communists had them. The Communists could, if they needed money or wanted to destroy the economy, print and pass large amounts of tugriks. So, for these reasons, people avoided taking tugriks. Their value was falling and they were used only for small transactions. While the new government dillydallied about trying to decide whether to issue a new currency, foreign currencies were used - the Russian ruble, the Japanese yen, and even the United States dollar. But it was too difficult to keep track of their constantly changing values. Then, an enterprising banker, with a long name beginning with “Byam ...” started printing notes called “Byams.” Each Byam was worth one ounce of gold; there were millibyams (1/1000 of a byam), centibyams (1/100 of a byam), and decibyams (1/10 of a byam) for smaller transactions. The gold actually was stored in his bank, though some was in banks in Japan and Switzerland, and this was certified by an accounting firm and guaranteed by an insurance company. Each note, to be redeemed for gold, had to be brought to the bank to be authenticated, which brought business to the bank. Soon Byam..., the banker, discovered that people would pay a lot to have their ads on the notes, and before long the back of the notes was cluttered with ads for everything imaginable, even discount offers and coupons. I’m sure this more than paid for the cost of printing the notes and storing the gold, but it was the strangest currency I’ve ever seen.



Chapter 7 I decided I had better check in at the U.S. Consulate and meet my contact, Regina. I called first to let them know I was coming. The consulate was a small but solidly built brick house on a side street, not far from the main square. There was a heavy steel fence around it, and two guards were at the gate. After I identified myself, they let me in and announced on an intercom, “Matt Stone is here.” Soon, a very stiff looking man came and introduced himself as “John Templeton, diplomatic attache.” He asked me a few questions about my trip, accommodations with Kley, and the like, just to make sure I wasn’t going to panic and fly home, I think. Then he took me to a secluded office in the back. He knocked, someone said, “Come in,” and I met Regina.

She was tall, slender, blond, in her ‘30s, I would guess. She held out her hand. “Hi,” she smiled, “I’m Regina, your contact.” She exuded confidence, as though she could handle any situation. This time there were many more questions about kley, his house, his sister. I couldn’t help thinking that she thought Kley might be Teacher. When she asked questions about Kley that seemed too personal, I held back, and I think she sensed it.

She explained that we could not meet here at the Consulate any more because she was not officially part of the Consulate. We would have to meet at her apartment. If anyone asked, we would say we met at a book store nearby. Once a week, Friday night, I would go to her apartment. If I couldn’t make it, I would go Saturday night. She gave me her phone number, but she warned me to be careful what I said on the phone, as she suspected the phones were tapped.

From Regina I learned that, although Kley had invited me here as an official of the Mongolian government, it was actually an organization called the “Preservationist Society” that had sponsored my trip. They had gotten me the job and arranged for me to stay with Kley because of his excellent English. The next time I saw Sharlee I asked her about the Preservationist Society. She said it was organized to preserve and protect this society. It included many important government and business leaders. The members met regularly in an old church and were responsible for many civic activities such as parades and celebrations.

As the days passed, my job took most of my time during the day but, like a reporter, I was free to leave occasionally when I wanted to, as long as I got my work done by deadline. Through the job and Kley I was able to talk to many people, but few were very interesting. Frankly, the job seemed routine and boring compared to my primary work as a spy, gathering information for the United States government and an article I decided to write about this society when I got home.

Each day Kley and I would walk into town and back again in the evening. These walks gave us a good opportunity to talk and I looked forward to our give-and-take conversations. But the best part of my day was lunches with Sharlee. Almost every day I would meet her at Kley’s, and we would walk to Our Spot in the park, where we would eat, talk, and relax. I know she liked me a lot, but she never let us become more than friends.



Chapter 8 Most Saturday nights Kley and Yom would invite their intellectual friends from the university (the Mongolian State University) over and we would all sit around in the living room talking about philosophy, politics, economics, and world problems. Kley would usually play a big role, but Yom was mostly silent.

I remember one of these bull sessions well, because it was the first I attended and I was really shook up by their positions. They were arguing which ideas were the most evil.

“Of course, government is right at the top,” said someone, “but I nominate religion for second place.”

That threw me right away because I thought of government as good and necessary and certainly Christianity, for me at least, taught only love. So I protested. They were delighted to encounter some opposition and we spent several hours debating. It came down to, I think, that they looked at results - people killed or tortured by governments or Christians in the Crusades, the Inquisition, and pogroms - while I looked at intentions - what governments and Christianity said they were trying to do. They made some attempt to show that the ideas behind government and religion necessitated the violence that resulted, but I didn’t agree with them and the discussion, for me, was inconclusive. It was during that discussion that Yom made one of her very few comments, to the effect that it was false ideas, not diseases, famines, and natural disasters, that caused man the most misery.

Nominated for third place was Puritanism, all with much laughter. It was distinguished from Christianity since other religions also taught sexual restraint. I wasn’t going to argue too much with that since I am a horny most of the time, with hornymones pumping. But I wondered why all these older folks were so interested. Maybe it was just a joke.

Then someone proposed some more abstract ideas for the list, like subjectivism, and some other “isms,” and I had trouble following them. It was all great fun, with lots of interesting and humorous stories interspersed. One, I remember, went like this: A commissar fell in love with a beautiful peasant girl. When she spurned him, he took her and raped her, but she grabbed a knife and cut off his peter. So he went to a Russian surgeon who was a member of the party and could keep a secret, and he sewed it back on. Unfortunately, he was a surgeon only because his mother was a powerful member of the party, and he sewed it on upside down. The Commissar tried to hide this from his wife, but she eventually found out and demanded an explanation. “Oh,” he said, “it is part of a new government program to increase the birthrate by aiming the sperm up instead of down. It was my patriotic duty to volunteer.”

“But Ivan,” she said, “I’m 50 years old.” Thinking fast, he replied, “Holy Lenin, Natasha. Why didn’t you tell me? Our records show you are only 29!”

All of the participants at these meetings are very anti-Communist, but some were more radical than others. I still remember the remark made by one especially embittered person, who had lost his parents to the Communists. “The only proper place for heads of state is in the basket beneath the guillotine,” he said.

An interesting participant in these meetings was a psychologist whose name was unpronounceable, so I’ll call him Ziggy. Ziggy was developing a technique for improving mental health called “Reality Acceptance.” He believed that psychological “distress,” as he called it, was due to the failure to accept reality, particularly the reality of our own fallibility and mortality. When we stop trying to be “gods,” as he put it, we become at peace with ourselves and achieve happiness. The refusal to accept the reality that we are only fallible and mortal beings alienates us from what we are and causes us to hate and deny what we are - the source of our distress. He gave much of the credit for these ideas to Karen Horney, an American psychoanalyst who wrote “Neurosis and Human Growth.”

While Ziggy had not yet fully developed his ideas, I found them interesting and I told him I hoped he would finish his work and publish it. He traced headaches, religions, even wars to “reality denial.” Of course, that produced some lively discussions. The therapy was aimed at reducing the unpleasant emotions that the false view of reality produced. It was based on the idea, consistent with the idea of accepting responsibility for one’s actions, which is always prominent in this society, of accepting responsibility for one’s emotions. That is, one learns not to blame others for one’s anger, depression, anxiety, etc., but to accept the fact that it is one’s own mind that is generating these feelings. The therapy tries to reduce the intensity of these unpleasant emotions by a process called “emotion exhaustion.” A patient is told to deliberately try to magnify the emotion to its maximum and hold it there until it weakens. While this can be rather unpleasant, it is done under supportive conditions. The emotion is, supposedly, “exhausted” for a while. Several treatments may be needed.

After Ziggy explained all this , I commented, “You people place so such emphasis on logic and reality, I don’t understand why you are interested in psychology.”

“Oh,” Ziggy laughed, “you are mistaken if you think that emotions are not logical. They are very logical. For example, if you are rejected, you may feel angry and worthless. If you feel angry, you may want to kill. If you want to kill, you may worry about being killed and maybe you won’t be able to sleep. If you feel worthless, you may imagine that you are someone special who is not worthless, and you may hate those things about yourself that make you feel worthless. You may also hate those same things in other people. And on and on like this. It is all very logical. There are no illogical emotions. It’s just that the logic is based on a false premise.”



Chapter 9 As soon as I could, I got more information from Kley about Hunters and Extractors. Hunters are like the people who read “Soldiers of Fortune” magazine in the U.S. But, while they are treated as dangerous nuts in the U.S., they are heroes here. They hunt down, for money and/or pleasure, those people who the Deciders have said that, if they are killed by a plaintiff or his agent, Deciders will entertain no claim for the killing against the plaintiff or his agent. Hunters have their own organization, where they share information and where prestige depends on the number of kills.

Extractors are sort of like debt collectors gone berserk. Their job is to get as much money as possible out of a person, up to the value of the Disclaimer against him. This means collecting property and selling it. Extractors try to convince debtors to pay, threatening to tell the Decider that the debtor isn’t cooperating if they can show he is hiding assets. If the Decider holds that the debtor has endorsed the morality of theft, the Extractors will take his property, but will not charge it against his debt. If he wants to cooperate, but can’t get a job, the Extractors will set him up in a ‘slave factory,’ where he will be fed, housed, and clothed while he works off the debt.

Hunters and Extractors often work together, or are even the same people. They also function as detectives for Insurers, who are anxious to collect from anyone who violated one of their client’s rights and cost them money.

The efficiency of some of the Hunters and Extractors is awesome. Some have personality profiles on different people so they know who would be likely to commit a particular type of crime. They have records of criminals (and likely criminals), associates, friends, girlfriends, tastes, pictures, habits, fingerprints, everything. They have bartenders, barbers, and waitresses who would call them if they heard something useful - then collect a percentage for the information. Typically, even before a case goes to trial, Extractors have signed up the plaintiff and have located the defendant and his property. As soon as the Disclaimer is issued and the defendant fails to pay, the property is seized. Many a defendant has left court to find his car gone and a man standing there with a check for the difference between the price the car sold for and what the defendant owed. Here, truly, crime does not pay. Crime is especially unprofitable for the rich because it is easier to locate their property and they usually have enough to cover the entire debt.

Some Extractors maintain a file on everyone, not just criminal types. They collect information on people’s assets, for use in collecting debts, on credit worthiness which is sold to prospective creditors, medical and sexual history which is sold to prospective mates or their parents, and job performance which is sold to prospective employers. I expressed concern to Kley that false information would do a lot of harm. He agreed, “It could ruin the business of the Extractor. He would have to refund money paid for that information and who will buy from him if his service is of poor quality?” Of course, I was worried about damage to the person the information is about, but he didn’t catch that. Since gathering information isn’t illegal, there is no way to stop this practice.

Once, Kley and I went with two of his friends who worked as detectives for insurance companies and also as free lance Extractors. We sat in the car and watched them confront a man who owed a debt. One Extractor was a huge ugly man who wore a cuirass of lacquered leather strips, complete with scimitar, bow, quiver of arrows, and a dagger strapped to his muscular left forearm. The top of his head was shaved, except over his forehead, and ropes of hair draped down from the side of his head. A long dangling mustache added to his ferocious appearance. He just stood and glared, never saying a word. I don’t know about the Mongolians, but he sure scared the hell out of me. The other man, small and well-dressed, did all the talking, alternating between pleading and not too subtle threats, until the assets were turned over. It was crude, but effective. When they were done, the scowl disappeared from the big man’s face and they both had a good laugh. To them it was like putting on a performance in a theater. They knew it was a good performance when they succeeded quickly.



Chapter 10 Unfortunately, one of Kley’s friends is in the insurance business, so today I got a long lecture on insurance. There are several types of insurance available. First, you can cover your losses from natural events. The cost of the insurance depends on the probability of the loss and the amount of coverage. Of course, precautions such as fire alarms, sprinklers, and so on reduce the cost. Just like everywhere. The same is true of medical insurance, where rates depend on health, age, sex, and habits.

The insurance against the acts of others is different. Normally, the Insurer agrees to pay only if you agree to file a claim with a Decider, cooperate in the trial, and assign any Disclaimer you were awarded to the Insurer, up to the amount the Insurer pays you under the policy. The Insurer may make deals to reduce his costs. For example, he might agree to give a whole neighborhood a reduced rate for burglary or personal injury insurance if 80% of the houses signed up and a partial refund if no claims are filed. The people then have an incentive to watch out for their neighbors. The same sort of thing is done with a business area.

Life insurance is also unusual, in that it also typically contains a clause that requires assigning a claim to the Insurer if the insured’s death is caused by the acts of another person. Thus, the Insurer pursues anyone who kills the insured person, accidently or deliberately, to recover from him the amount of the insurance policy. Insurers have detectives who have a good reputation for recovering policy payments from people who kill one of their clients.

The other kind of important insurance is personal liability insurance. This came up during the conversation, when the insurance man, I guess in an attempt to sell me insurance, mentioned how his company had saved people from slave factories and Extractors’ tables.

“You mean someone could accidently cause a huge loss and then end up a slave or on an Extractor’s table!” I said excitedly.

“Whoa,” said Kley. “He is talking about a policy that requires the Insurer to loan money to buy off a plaintiff if the defendant intentionally violated a right. Parents sometimes buy it for their children. Before you panic, remember that there is no liability at all unless a right is violated. You must change someone else’s property in a way that prevents him from achieving a value from that property or no right is violated. If you accidently violate a right and have no insurance and cause a huge loss, no Decider will say that in your moral code it is OK to violate the rights of others. Therefore, he will continue to hear cases brought by you against the plaintiff. If you don’t have the assets to pay the debt, you will not be forced to work - the plaintiff will have to wait for his money. If you are employed when the accident happens, you may get fired, but your employer is jointly liable for the loss if you were doing your job. There is no bankruptcy, so people are very careful. We probably have one of the world’s lowest accident rates. Also, many people carry insurance against accidental violations, especially if they are doing something that may accidently violate a right, like dynamiting, seizing property for debts, or driving a vehicle. Incentives, again.”

I still didn’t like it. “I know you always say, ‘on whom should the loss fall - the person who caused it or the innocent party?’ but it still doesn’t seem right that an accident could cost someone all his present and future property.”

“Fate can be cruel. But sometimes the Decider will say that blame must be shared. A person cannot set up a trap and have you walk into it and accidently violate his rights and cause him a big loss. If a person has something valuable that could foreseeably be accidently damaged in a certain way, he is obligated to take precautions to prevent that from happening. If he does not, then he is a least partly to blame, and part or all of the loss will fall on him.”

“But it’s still possible to end up in debt for the rest of your life?”

“In theory, yes. But I have never seen it happen.”

Nevertheless, I worried about it. I did not have access to a car, but Kley drove me around in his, a 1988 BMW. He offered to let me drive it if I got insurance, but I still had visions of having an accident and ending up on an Extractor’s table, so I declined.



Chapter 11 It was Friday night. I told Kley and Yom I was going to some of the night spots. I went to a bar near Regina’s apartment and stayed a while, nursing a drink and listening to a pretty, costumed Mongolian girl sing American songs in Mongolian. Then I headed for the apartment.

Regina was waiting, but, to my surprise, not in a lady’s business suit, but a slinky dress. She had her hair down and was really quite attractive. We drank, engaged in small talk, then returned again to Kley. I still did not want to tell her about personal things, like Kley’s relationship with Yom or things in his house, so she dropped the subject and went back to small talk.

Soon, we were kissing and things just went on from there. It was the first time I’ve ever been seduced, and I kind of liked it. But I couldn’t help feeling that I was not the object of Regina’s affections. It was too fast for me to believe that she really liked me. After all, we had just met and I was probably 10 years younger. Maybe it was just for sex or maybe she was a Mata Hari, trying to use sex to get information. I don’t know, but she didn’t pump me for information again about Kley. We both knew what she wanted, though. I suppose I should have been angry about being used this way, but I wasn’t. I went back to Kley’s that night feeling great.



Chapter 12 “What is the difference between a criminal case and a civil case?” I asked Kley.

“Well, first, we don’t have criminal cases and civil cases. We only have cases where the right violation was unintentional and where it was intentional. In both cases, if the parties can’t agree, the Decider decides how much money it would take to make the victim whole. They do take into account the mental shock the victim suffers if the violation was intentional, so awards are higher for intentional violations. The Deciders try to obtain some uniformity among their awards. In either case, the Decider gives the victim a Disclaimer for the amount of the award. That means that the Decider will not hear any case brought by the right violator against the victim or his agent for the amount of the award, plus reasonable collection costs. Usually, the right violator just pays the amount of the award immediately to avoid collection costs.

“Once the award, if any, is given, the Decider determines the morality to which the right violator subscribes. If the right violator has cooperated and paid the award, or has made arrangements to pay it, the Decider will probably say that the right violator respects the rights of others and either only accidently violated the plaintiff’s rights, or, if deliberate, he now repudiates that morality. But, if the right violator does not cooperate, the Decider may say that stealing, raping, or whatever, is the right violator’s chosen morality as to his victim, and that, since his victim has equal moral standing with the right violator, he will not hear any complaints by the right violator against his victim, or his victim’s agent, alleging that the right violator’s rights have been similarly violated. That’s called a ‘Rights Disclaimer.’ The victim may then designate others to act as his agent in dealing with the right violator. If the right violator is a thief, all his property may soon be stolen by his victim’s agents. If he is a thug, he may be beaten up repeatedly. If he is a rapist, he may find himself being raped, either by men who enjoy doing it or were hired to do it by the woman he raped. And so on. Some times the victim has to pay someone to do this and sometimes they pay him. If he pays, of course, he may get many, many people to do it.”

“Who would want to pay to beat someone up or rape someone?”

“Well, some people like to do things like that. I understand the police in your country frequently beat people up.” That was an unjustified slur on all police, I felt, just because of a few highly publicized cases of abuse, but I decided to skip it for now.

“Also, the right violator may have other enemies who will be happy to cause him trouble. Eventually, the right violator decides that he cannot live by his own morality. Then he goes to the Decider and tells him he repudiates his morality. The Decider agrees to accept his repudiation as long as he cooperates in compensating his victim.

“Very rarely, usually only in a war situation, a person kills another person and does not repudiate that morality. The plaintiff would be a person designated by the dead person when he was alive or a relative or friend. The right violator, if he can be caught, is a dead man. Hunters, who might be compared to outlaw motorcycle gangs in your country, will hunt him down. Depending on the circumstances, they may be paid, it may be for free, or they may even pay for the privilege. They wear small decorative sticks hanging from a thick leather belt, one stick for each person they’ve killed. For them it is a sport, though sometimes the victim will be killed in a hospital to make money from his body parts.”

“Suppose a criminal had a Rights Disclaimer against him for something other than death, but didn’t care about being raped, beaten up, having his property taken, or whatever, and persisted in the criminal behavior. Does he go to jail?”

“No, he gets ostracized. Other people will no longer permit him to come onto their property. He can stay on his own property or leave the country.”

I wondered, also, whether the decision of the Decider could be appealed.

“The appeal process, “ Kley explained, “works like this. In each court is a representative of the Decider’s association, known as an Appeals Agent. If he agrees with the Decider’s opinion, he stamps and signs it, which binds all members of the association. If he doesn’t agree, he doesn’t bind the members to it. Since Deciders guarantee approval of their decisions by the association, the Decider must either change his decision to get approval or refund his fees. If the latter, the plaintiff may try another Decider or he may give up. This prevents ‘crazy’ decisions, and creates a consensus among the Deciders as to the law and the amount of evidence needed. Since each Decider is a member of the Decider’s association and they each have one vote on what standards will be applied by the association’s courtroom representative, only rarely is a decision not approved. So, no one waits more than a few seconds for the appeal process to be finished. I know this is complicated, but if you think about it a little, I think you can understand it.”

“Yes, I think I get it. But let me try to find some examples where it won’t work.”

“Sure, but it’s been applied to all kinds of circumstances and believe me, it works. Let me ask you something - in the United States do you have criminals desperately working to raise money for their victims? Or do you have them loafing in prisons, with all their medical and legal expenses paid for by the victim’s taxes, while their victims get nothing?”

I laughed nervously, but didn’t answer.

Because of the armed citizenry and the efficiency of the legal system, I believe the crime rate here is lower than anywhere else in the world. Most crimes that do occur are committed by foreigners who have just arrived here and do not appreciate what they are up against. Foreign diplomats, especially, who are in the habit of arrogantly violating laws with impunity are in for a big shock. First, there is no diplomatic immunity. And second, while humility and cooperation indicate a repudiation of right-violating moral principles and elicit help from a Decider in working out compensation, arrogance and contempt indicate that one adheres to his right-violating principles. This raises the shackles of the Decider and he may demand immediate restitution or else. After many years of living under arrogant Communist rulers, the media can make a Decider an instant celebrity if he “throws the book” at one of these diplomats.

According to Sharlee, members of the Preservationist Society are keenly alert to this problem and try to help the diplomat, guaranteeing payment or even loaning him the money. They also try to educate new diplomats on the laws and the procedures, and most diplomats are careful. But sometimes their teenage children don’t get the message.



Chapter 13 “This society is really different,” I said as we walked along.

“Yes, I guess it is,” replied Kley. “But, if you think about it, there are really only two differences.”

“Yeah, what are they?”

“First, according to the First Principle, only individuals can act. Corporations, governments, labor unions, and the like cannot act. Therefore, under Principle 6, they have no rights. They have no right to sue, hold property, or anything else. Only individuals can have rights.”

“And the second difference?”

“That all individuals have equal legal status. No king or dictator has any more rights than anyone else. There is no privileged class of right holders. Since giving non-individuals legal status is just another way for the people who control the non-individuals to gain superior rights, you might say that we are fanatics when it comes to equality.”

“But you still have corporations here.”

“Not exactly. They call themselves ’corporations’ but they are really just associations. The president of a corporation is an agent for the shareholders and has a contractual relationship with them. All the shareholders are personally liable for the actions of their officers, provided the officers act within the scope of their agency.”

“Well, suppose there is a big accident. Does that mean the shareholders will have to pay?”

“Possibly, but not likely. Corporations all have insurance - a lot of it - because, of course, they can’t sell shares easily without it.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem fair.”

“Why not? If you go into business and hurt someone, why should the loss fall on your victim and not on you? It seems fair to me.” There was a long pause in the conversation.

“I still say the U.S. system is better.”

“OK,” said Kley, “let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you the truth about our society, but then we see how the same thing applies to the U.S.”

“Fair enough,” I said, “let’s start with racial discrimination - I’ll bet you have lots of that.”

Kley gave me that look again - a combination of bemusement and hurt - and shifted into his patient explanation mode.

“Yes, we do,” he said, “but only socially. In business I don’t think there is much because it costs money and the whole object of business is to make money.”

“You mean no one is refused a job or a promotion because of his race or ethnic group?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that. I thought that by ’discrimination’ you meant bias that makes no business sense - that is, bias that lowers profits. There’s lots of discrimination if you just mean bias.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Well, some small businesses hire only their friends, relatives, and group members just because the trust and camaraderie helps the business.”

“But what about larger businesses?”

“Well, for example, the Chinese are usually very meticulous people, so they are often hired as bookkeepers. Like Sharlee, for example. Gypsies, on the other hand, have a reputation for stealing, so they have trouble getting jobs involving trust, and so on.”

“But that isn’t true of all Chinese or all Gypsies.”

“Of course. But the cost of ascertaining whether or not it is true of a particular Chinese or Gypsy is usually too high to make the effort worthwhile. Why should the businessman bear this cost?”

“I don’t know, but it isn’t fair.”

“Fair? There you go with that ‘fair’ crap again. Define ‘fair’ in a defendable way, from basic principles. Everybody has his own idea about what’s fair.” He paused. “But some things are being done. The Gypsies formed a bonding agency. A Gypsy goes to the agency, pays a fee, convinces them he is honest, and they give him a bond. The bond guarantees to anyone who hires him that if he steals, the agency will cover it up to a certain amount. Bonded Gypsies have no trouble getting jobs. In fact, they are more valued by employers because anybody else they would hire would not be guaranteed.”

“But socially there is irrational discrimination, right?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t use the word ’irrational.’ I never could figure out what that word means, either, other than that the speaker didn’t like someone’s values. Whether social discrimination is bad or good depends on whether you value cultural homogeneity or cultural diversity. For me, I like diversity - it makes life much more interesting.”

“So you discriminate.”

He laughed. “Yes, but not the way you think. For several reasons. First, in my job I need to know lots of people, so I can’t keep to my own group. Second, my sister is a mathematician at the university, so we have a lot of intellectual friends - and they discriminate only on your ability to think well. But I do like to see different cultures - their foods, customs, dress, and so on. It’s like a big laboratory - everybody trying out something different - and I get to pick out the best.”

Then it was his turn.

“What about the United States? I suppose you don’t have any racial discrimination there?” he asked.

“Some, but it’s illegal.”

“Whoa, who are you kidding? It’s not illegal, it’s legally required.”

“No, it’s prohibited.”

“Is it? I read all about your colleges that discriminate on the basis of race in admissions, faculty hiring, scholarships, financial aid, and even in grades. And businesses have all kinds of programs to hire, promote, and educate people based on their race. Are you going to tell me that isn’t being done at the instigation of your government people?”

“No, what you say is true, but it was to make up for past discrimination.”

“Ah, once again, violating the First Principle and fighting reality. And, of course, to threaten a person with force if he doesn’t contract on your terms is a clear violation of his rights.”

“Well, it’s true that in the United States the government tries to force the races to come together in jobs, housing, and schools.”

“That could cause a lot of hostility. Why would anyone want to create racial strife?”

I tried to explain that it was supposed to alleviate hostility and inequality, but Kley just couldn’t see it. “Equal things is not equal values. Second Principle,” he said.

“Besides, how do they know which race you belong to?” he asked.

“I guess the bureaucrats or the courts have to decide that.”

“Sounds like Nazi Germany,” he muttered.

I didn’t reply, but I was deeply offended. After all, I came from the civilized country and it was his country that was barbaric. How dare he, with the total lack of civilized standards here, compare my country to Nazi Germany? I was so upset, I didn’t pursue the conversation.



Chapter 14 But the next day I picked it up again.

“OK, getting back to comparing your country and mine. I know you have slave factories here, but we don’t have slavery, of course.”

“Well, they are called ‘slave factories’ by those who are running the propaganda war against us, but the people there aren’t really slaves.”

“No? Well, how do people end up in these slave factories?”

“Well, let’s say a Decider finds that a person has committed a crime. The defendant may say, ‘Yes, I did this, but I’m really sorry. I repudiate that morality and I want to compensate the plaintiff for what I did to him. But I have no money and no job.’ Or, he might say that he has a job that pays only enough for his food. The Decider has a list of jobs in so-called ‘slave factories’ that pay more and provide room and board at the factory. He tells the defendant to pick one. The defendant, of course, picks the one he thinks is most pleasant or pays the most or whatever preference he has. If he refuses to go to the factory and work, the Decider says his repudiation is not sincere and issues a Rights Disclaimer. If the defendant works at the factory, they pay his salary directly to the plaintiff until the debt is paid.”

“So the defendant isn’t imprisoned in the factory?”

“Oh, no, of course not. He can leave anytime he wants to, and there is no problem. But if he slacks off or quits, the plaintiff can go to the Decider and ask him to issue the Rights Disclaimer.”

“But the defendant could just leave the country?”

“Yes, but very few Mongolians will. This is our home, and we would not be happy living in another culture, speaking a strange language. Foreigners often try to flee, but that is anticipated and they are usually stopped before they get out.”

“Doesn’t that violate their rights?”

“It may - in which case the right violator will have to compensate them. But they can usually be stopped without violating rights. The airline and train people have made deals with Extractors and Hunters and will tell the defendant that they will not sell him a ticket. The toll road operators won’t let him on the highways. Of course, he can get someone to smuggle him out, but then he may find himself hunted even in another country. The Hunters can tell you stories of their exploits in foreign countries.”

“But if someone accidently violates rights, he can’t end up in a slave factory?” I said, still worried about having an accident.

“That’s true. Since the defendant never accepted a right-violating morality, no Decider will give a Rights Disclaimer against him. If the defendant doesn’t have any property, the plaintiff is out of luck until he gets some.”

“Besides,” he continued, “you should not be upset about those people in the ‘slave factories.’ Remember, those people have done terrible things to other people. The least they can do is work to compensate their victims. Contrast that with the slavery in your society, will you? In the United States any person can be forced to labor, even though he has done no wrong at all! Indeed, if he has done wrong, he cannot be forced to labor! Try to defend that if you can.”

“What are you talking about? No one is forced to work in the United States. The Constitution prohibits involuntary servitude.”

“Your constitution is like constitutions all across the globe - they say you have rights, but they are either ignored or interpreted out of existence. Don’t you have to fill out tax forms or go to jail? Isn’t that forced labor? Can’t you be criminally sanctioned if you don’t serve on a jury or testify as a witness? Isn’t that forced labor? What about the draft? Military work is very dangerous labor.”

Of course, I tried to point out that these were the duties of citizenship, not slavery, but Kley couldn’t see it. To him one could incur a duty only if one agreed to incur a duty. No one could say just out of the blue that you suddenly had a duty to do work for him. It came down to the Sixth Principle. A civic duty meant that governments were units with rights, which the Sixth Principle denied. Another case of where you end up depends on where you begin.

The following day we continued to defend our countries. I began the attack.

“I’m not a prude, but here obscene material is everywhere, even the worst stuff - bestiality, child pornography, sadism.”

“Yes, that is another big difference in our cultures. In America, ‘obscene’ means ‘sexually stimulating.’ Here it means ’treating people as though they were things.’ That’s why we each think the culture of the other is obscene. To many Americans, our culture is obscene because the open sale of erotic materials is not prohibited. To most of us, your culture is obscene because people are treated as national resources,’ not as autonomous beings.”

“Not true, people aren’t treated as resources.”

“No? I often hear your politicians refer to American children as your country’s greatest national resources, as though they were trees or minerals. Aren’t you treating a person as a resource when you treat him as a means to your ends instead of as an end in himself?”

“Yes, but we don’t do that in America.”

“No? Can a person’s property be seized without his consent? Can a person’s body be seized without his consent? Can children be forced into government-controlled schools for indoctrination? Can ... ”

“Whoa! The answer to all that is ’no.’”

“Hah! What about taxes and eminent domain? Isn’t that seizure of property without consent? What about arrests for gambling or selling drugs or sex? Isn’t that seizure of one’s body? What about pledging the flag and teaching the ruling elite’s view of history and civics? Isn’t that indoctrination of children?”

There was a pause in the conversation. “What about the poor, handicapped people, and orphans?” I said. “I’ll bet you don’t have all the programs that we do to care for these people.”

“No, not all the ones you have. Ours are voluntary and, I think, more personal and effective, and certainly more efficient. Most of those people find a niche - some job that they can do. But no one starves and no one is out in the cold. We have no government welfare programs because no one can obtain a claim to another person’s property by becoming sick or injured or poor.”

He paused and I braced myself for his attack on the United States. I expected him to argue that most of the costs of these programs goes to the bureaucrats that administer them, not to the people who are supposed to benefit from them, or that the programs encourage slovenliness, but he didn’t.

“All of your programs require seizing money from some people to give to other people. None of the programs can be justified unless the harm done in seizing that money is less than the good done by the programs. But there is no way to measure that harm and that good. So how can you defend those programs?”

We went on for a while, arguing like this, with neither one of us convincing the other.



Chapter 15 One of the more interesting parts of town was the Artists’ Colony. As in Communist countries everywhere, housing became very run down, and it was particularly bad in the area now known as the “Colony.” After the Communists were defeated and no one strangled the free market anymore, incomes rose rapidly and people living in the Colony moved to better neighborhoods. The old houses were either sold cheaply or even just abandoned. In the meantime, artists who craved free expression were coming here from China and the Soviet Union (and even Eastern Europe) and that was, of course, where they settled.

In the newer neighborhoods, the neighbors claimed the streets and controlled them through neighborhood “clubs.” These clubs made sure that there were no prostitutes or other undesirables on the streets, so none of the houses on the street were ever sold for purposes like that, since customers couldn’t get to the house. But in the Colony, the artists cared only about their art, not vices, and prostitution and other vices found a home in the Colony with the artists. While “respectable” people did not want these people living near them, they did love to go to the Colony for the excitement, the uninhibited freedom, the vices, and to purchase art and collectibles. So, the Colony prospered and, as it did, the houses and businesses in the Colony improved. Designed by artists, many were beautiful or outlandish, but always interesting.

When I was in the Colony I always felt relaxed, like I didn’t have to control myself or worry about the approbation of others. I remember when my roommate, Tom, got an interview for a job he really wanted badly. He went to an expert tailor to have a good suit made. The tailor asked him if he hung left or right. Tom didn’t know what he was talking about, but apparently all men either hang left or right and the tailor made his pants accordingly. When I’m feeling comfortable here in the Colony, with all these anti-establishment rebels, I always remember that I hang left, and chuckle.



Chapter 16 Remember how I was saying that everything here was upside-down or backwards? This came up again at one of these group meetings. Kley and one of his friends were discussing how difficult it was to get people to stop loving and taking pride in their criminals. (A criminal is a person who intentionally violated another person’s rights.) In particular, it was hard to teach children about Genghis Khan without them taking pride in his exploits. (That was done by talking first about an obvious criminal, such as Stalin, then comparing him to Genghis Khan.) People did not want to see Genghis Khan as a criminal, but as a great hero. Why, they pondered? Someone suggested it was the them-and-us idea - not seeing everyone as an individual, but as a member of a group. His group conquered their group and we were members of his group. It was hard to get people to accept the First Principle - the individual is the unit. Ziggy suggested that the “herd instinct” was a way for people of low self-esteem to feel important and powerful by identifying with a powerful group.

Then, to draw me into it, Kley started to talk about Abraham Lincoln, our “second greatest criminal,” who was so much admired. Since I really loved Lincoln, those were fighting words.

“How can you call Lincoln a criminal? He was our greatest President,” I said, outraged.

“I was using as a rough measure of criminality, the number of persons murdered. I believe it was about 500,000 in the Civil War. Therefore, Lincoln is second only to Harry Truman, who incinerated 300,000 innocent people at Hiroshima and Nagasaki alone and many more during the rest of World War II.”

“But those killings occurred during a war.”

“Come on. You’re not going to argue that morality should be put on hold whenever some sleazy politician says, ‘It’s a war,’ are you?”

“No, but these were moral wars. World War II was self-defense and the Civil War was to free the slaves.”

“I don’t agree. The people murdered at Hiroshima and Nagasaki were not aggressors - they were innocent men, women, and children. And Lincoln made it quite clear that the war was to preserve the Union - his power - not to free the slaves. Moreover, one does not free slaves by making a war. Innocent people died. Lincoln bore responsibility for the war. He was a criminal. In addition, you know, Lincoln also closed newspapers and jailed his opponents.”

“But that was necessary to conduct the war.”

“Hah! You’re saying Lincoln’s needs are more important than his victim’s needs? How do you measure the importance of their needs so that you can establish that? Let’s face it, Lincoln was a ruthless tyrant and deserved to be assassinated.”

I was still fuming, though I saw his point. If you analyzed everything, even wars, in terms of individuals, not groups, you could reach his conclusions.

“Lincoln was eloquent, too,” he continued. “People think if you’re eloquent, you must be morally OK. Not so. But, again, if people did not think in terms of ‘our country,’ ‘the confederacy,’ and so on, but in terms of Bob Smith, Ted Jones, ...”

“Or Punsalmaagiyn Ochirbat [he was the overthrown Communist ruler],” someone piped in with a laugh.

“Yes, or Punsalmaagiyn Ochirbat, then they could not pick up a gun and go to war. Wars, therefore, are a result of faulty thinking - thinking in terms of groups being the unit instead of individuals.”



Chapter 17 My relationship with Regina is more businesslike than loving. She needs a man - I fit her general requirements. Something like that. Conversations with Kley are philosophical, challenging, and difficult. With Yom they are virtually non-existent - “You like eat this?” due to her poor grasp of English. With Sharlee conversations are personal - our feelings, hopes, and desires. But with Regina they are about relationships - who is running what, who is in control. I’m sure she didn’t pick me because I have or will have any power, but it seems clear to me that she believes that knowing the right people is the way to get ahead.

I try to explain Kley’s ideas to her, like the idea that values are the end, and physical things are the means, so that relationships involving force are unproductive because they necessarily reduces the achievement of values. She is smart enough to understand the argument, and she doesn’t disagree; it is just not relevant. Her attitude is, “So what? What does that have to do with the real people I have to deal with?” It is, I admit, a good question. The answer is “probably nothing.” Is philosophy irrelevant, I wonder? How can it be irrelevant when everyone must live by some philosophy - some idea about how the world is and how it ought to be. Maybe the problem is that I am presenting her with an alien philosophy without first ferreting out her philosophy and identifying its flaws. Maybe, like those civilizations that the archaeologists are always finding built one atop another, one cannot build a new structure until the old one is destroyed. I don’t know. I don’t get very far trying to identify her philosophy because she just isn’t interested in talking about it and I’m not very good at figuring it out.

With Sharlee, though, it is a lot easier. Sharlee is not a brilliant philosopher, but she is intellectually honest and does not hesitate to agree with a position if she feels it is correct, even if it is contrary to what she had believed. But, unlike Kley, she takes a more spiritual view. “Our bodies are vehicles for our spirits. It is the honor of our eternal spirit that must be cherished, and violating the rights of others brings dishonor to the spirit.”

Although Sharlee and I are now very close, I have never told her that I am a spy. We do talk a lot about Teacher, though, as I try to obtain information from her that might help identify him. But, though she knows a great deal about the society, she knows no more than I do about Teacher’s identity.



Chapter 18 “How far will people go to achieve their values? As long as the importance of the cost is less than the importance of the value they hope to achieve, they will do it. Look at your country. The U.S. government is over $3,000,000,000,000.00 in debt. Why? So that 435 Congressmen can get reelected,” Kley said.

“Hah!” I laughed. “By the way, what would you do about that debt?”

“That is a difficult question. Of course, since the individual is the unit, it is not the government’s debt, but the debt of the members of the government organization. Clearly, it is not the debt of the victims of government, since they did not consent to borrowing the money. So the government people should pay it back to the lenders. However, if you loan money to someone knowing that he is going to use the money to commit a crime, you become part of the criminal conspiracy. The Deciders will not help criminals divide up loot or proportion losses from their crimes. Since the government is a criminal organization, to the extent that people loan money to its members, knowing that the money will be used to commit crimes, they become part of the criminal conspiracy and Deciders will not help them recover the money from their co-conspirators.”

“In other words, the national debt would be repudiated?”

“Yes, I think that’s how it would turn out.”

“OK, but let’s back up a little. Why do you say the government is a criminal organization? What crimes are you talking about?”

“Well, during the wars the U.S. government people have fought, innocent people have been intentionally killed and property has been intentionally destroyed. Trillions of dollars have been stolen through taxation and fines. People have been assaulted and imprisoned for vices, which violate no one’s rights. Threats were made to seize property or imprison people if they did not follow regulations that they have every right to ignore. Vital drugs have been withheld from sick or dying people because they were not ‘approved.’ All these things are intentional violations of rights and are therefore crimes.”

“You mean they would be crimes if they were done by a private individual?”

“Yes, and since no individual has any special status, they are crimes when done by individuals in government as well.”

“But government people are authorized to do these things.”

“You can’t authorize a person to commit a crime. Are you saying it is wrong for me to kill a man, but it is OK if I authorize you to do it?”

“No, of course not, but I’m saying that if we all agree on the rules, then enforcing the rules among ourselves is by our own consent.”

“Oh, I agree with that. Let me know when you get everyone to agree on the rules.” And with that he left.



Chapter 19 I saw him again when we had dinner that evening.

“I don’t understand how you can be so critical of government when you are a government official,” I challenged.

“Hah! Good question. You know, Teacher says, ‘A man who defends inconsistent principles is consistent with a principle he cannot defend.’ Fortunately, I don’t think I’m defending inconsistent principles. I consistently defend human rights, as taught by Teacher. I oppose government because its members violate those rights, and I am in government to prevent other government people from violating rights. So I’m consistent. Speaking of our government, Matt, you came at a good time.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Because in a few weeks we are having a national election. You’ll get to see democracy in action.”

“Great,” I responded. But I was already wondering about this democracy. It was certainly a democracy unlike any other I had ever heard of. But, as the election got closer, it all seemed more normal. We went to political rallies and heard speeches by the two candidates. (Kley translated portions.) Oh, were they boring! Mostly recounting historical glories and a lot of generalities about what a great people they were and how things are getting so much better. Crowds were small, but there was lots of media coverage.

Election night we went to the polls and I watched Kley and Yom vote while the cameras rolled. But then I noticed something - not unusual at the time, but later it proved significant. Behind Kley and Yom was a man with two adorable children. I didn’t think anything of it then, but later, when I happened across another polling place, there was that same man again with his two children. He was voting twice! “Damn,” I thought, “I wonder if the election is rigged.”

So I stayed behind until the poll closed and the media left. Two men came out with the boxes of votes and dumped them into the trash! “It is rigged!” I concluded, excitedly. “What am I going to do now?”

I decided not to confront Kley with what I had discovered - he might be in on it and my life might be in danger. But the next Friday I headed for Regina’s apartment with my first big piece of information. Boy, would she be proud of me!

After some small talk, I told her about discovering the rigged election. She was extremely impressed.

“Great work,” she said, “I’m glad you’re on our team.” And then she gave me some encouragement.

I can’t help comparing Regina with Sharlee, who is exactly the opposite of Regina. Instead of being aggressive, she’s passive, instead of being businesslike, she’s warm and friendly. It’s the difference between hard and soft. But Sharlee is only a friend. She will not date, though I can never find the reason. And, despite her apparent cheerfulness, there is a sadness about her. I can’t help it. I’m falling in love with Sharlee, even though I’m seeing Regina.

I continued to relay information to Regina on our designated Friday night rendezvous. But, for several weeks, I did not find out anything. As the value of my information dropped, so, it seemed, did my value to Regina, and she became more and more critical of my efforts. Not only that, but I was becoming less and less against this society. Despite the warning I’d received at the State Department in Washington that they would try to impress me favorably - I was becoming favorably impressed. Less and less did I want to help the U.S. government.



Chapter 20 One day we came upon a beautiful home, set apart by itself in a park-like area.

“Do you see that house?” Kley asked.

“Yes.”

“The problems that house is creating are symbolic of many of the conflicts across the earth. When the Communists took over they seized the house from the local representative of the Tsar and gave it to their own han [ruler]. Since then it has been occupied by descendants of the Communist han. The present occupants are very nice people, well-known and well-liked.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that the descendants of the Tsar’s agent want it back.”

“Oh. But what does that have to do with world conflicts?”

“It’s just like the Palestinians who want the land back the Israelis stole, the Northern Irish Catholics, who want the land back the Protestants stole, even the American Indians, who want their land back.”

“So, what’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know. People cannot acquire or pass on title to property obtained by theft. If the descendants of the victim are gone or cannot prove a chain of title, there is no problem - any innocent person can acquire title by possession. That is probably the situation with most of the American Indians. But here there is another complication. The Tsar’s representative got the property by theft, too - the Tsar stole it.”

“So what is going to happen?”

“The Deciders are considering it.”

“What about Teacher. Can’t he tell the Deciders what to do?”

Kley gave me a strange look, almost like he was insulted.

“Teacher is not a secret ruler, Matt. He can’t tell anybody to do anything. He just gives an opinion once in a while.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, trying to appease his annoyance with me.

“And the Deciders are not rulers either. They don’t have to take a case, even when both parties want them to.”

“You mean someone can suffer a wrong and the Deciders will not help him?”

“That’s right. Each Decider is free to accept or refuse a case. Of course, if they refuse a case they don’t make money and if they refuse too many cases they will be out of business, so they have an incentive to accept cases, even difficult ones. But if the situation is especially repugnant or farcical, they might refuse. For example, do you remember that scene in ‘The Merchant of Venice’ where Shylock asked for a pound of flesh? If that had happened here the Deciders probably would have refused it.”

“Hard cases make bad law,” I replied, remembering a quote from one of my courses, “so they refuse hard cases.”

Of course, predictably, Kley responded, “I don’t agree. It isn’t the hard case that makes the bad law. It’s the bad principles used to decide the case that make the bad law. A hard case is an opportunity to test whether a legal principle is correct. It is like the 1919 solar eclipse that gave Eddington an opportunity to test Einstein’s theory of general relativity. If, in correctly applying the legal principle, the result is unacceptable, then either the legal principle is wrong or the principle by which we judge acceptability is wrong. We should be grateful for hard cases because a hard case is an opportunity to correct an erroneous principle. As Teacher says, ‘He who proves us wrong earns the anger of a prideful fool, but the gratitude of a wise man.’ It is like a physics experiment that doesn’t conform to a law of physics - it shows the law is defective and advances our knowledge. The Deciders also think of themselves as scientists who are discovering laws of human interactions. And a good scientist loves an anomaly - it is a clue to a new or deeper understanding of nature. For the same reason, the Deciders love a hard case. If they decide it wisely, their reputation goes up, both for their courage and their wisdom.”

“Then why do you think they wouldn’t take the Merchant of Venice case?”

“I said they probably wouldn’t take it. Maybe I’m wrong, but the contract called for a specific remedy - a pound of flesh, so they can’t give money damages without ignoring the contract. And, of course, they don’t want to say that they will ignore a contract. On the other hand, I can’t see a Decider giving a Disclaimer for a pound of flesh under these circumstances, either. So he will probably refuse the case. It’s not like most hard cases, where a poor person loses to a rich person. It’s more like a manipulation of the law that both parties agreed to.”

“So,” I said, “the law here is not written in stone.”

“Well, the basic law of respect for human rights is written in stone, but within that framework the law here is more like the Common Law in England. I like to think of it as being analogous to the discovery of laws in physics. Like Einstein supplanting Newton, the laws here simultaneously become both simpler and more complex. Simpler in the basic principles, more complex in the ramifications. That’s because, unlike laws elsewhere, the laws here are discovered, not created. I mean that a law like ’an acceptance of an offer is good when received’ is discovered by studying what rule businessmen have been using - a law isn’t created to benefit the most powerful interest group or to satisfy a lawmaker’s ideology. It’s fascinating to underst