A comment by Ryan from Absurd Results on this post about the Georgist “Single Tax” and Thomas Jefferson’s “Ward System” gave me the opportunity to once again formulate, summarize, and clarify my political wish list. Ryan wrote:

As for Georgism, I have to admit, I find it intriguing—even more so when combined with Jefferson’s ward system. Actually, I think the ward system (which sounds a lot like Michael Rozeff’s panarchy) would be essential for a single tax regime, for it would more likely keep closed the door to statism by making the wards compete for citizens.

Still, the ward system worries me a little because the political class—that is, those that have the power to tax, taken collectively—has a knack for finding ways to expand its jurisdiction. It’s for this reason that I’m partial to Hans Hoppe’s notion of a private law society. Under his conception, security is provided on a subscription basis instead of on a jurisdictional basis. This takes a so-called “public good” like security and moves it into the private sphere, thereby eliminating the need for taxation. I have to think that by taking away the two hallmarks of Statism—taxation and jurisdiction—freedom would flourish.

I replied [links added]:

I’m not sure that even under conditions of “anarchy,” or a state of nature, that we could get away from the need for territorial defense, security, and “government.” A single landlord, or landholder, is in a sense a “government,” claiming jurisdiction over a particular territory, and having the need to secure his claim. By what right would he maintain his claim? I’d suggest that Georgism might form the conditions for establishing the justice of his claim vis-a-vis other landholders and would-be landholders in the immediate area, as well as the fund by which the people in that area might defend their claims relative to each other and relative to external threats. The need for so-called “national defense” is to my mind the strongest objection to anarchism (though I’d clarify it’s not so much the need to defend the “nation” as it is to defend a would-be anarchic territory from existing nations). The anarchic impulse, and the impulse of the ward system, is to devolve the authority and responsibility for such defense to smaller and smaller areas, ultimately vesting it in the individual landholders themselves, who would likely find it advisable to confederate with others for their mutual defense, keeping their confederacies as small as is consistent with the needs of territorial defense (recognizing that the larger the confederacy and the more concentrated its power the larger the threat to the freedoms of its constituents). As I see it, these base-line confederacies formed strictly for territorial defense could co-exist with the kinds of associations and private law systems envisioned by Rozeff’s panarchy.

I have to credit “Our Enemy, the State,” by Albert Jay Nock, who considered himself an anarchist, for selling me on both Georgism and Jefferson’s “ward system.”

How might we ever get from here to there? First and foremost, by puncturing the pretensions of the State. And I can think of no better authority to quote on this score than Martin Luther King, Jr., for whom a federal holiday is named for Christ’s sake:

You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws. This is certainly a legitimate concern. Since we so diligently urge people to obey the Supreme Court’s decision of 1954 outlawing segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws. One may well ask: “How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?” The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.”

“Tom,” she said.  “What you aimin’ to do?”
He was quiet for a long time.  “I been thinkin’ how it was in that gov’ment camp, how our folks took care a theirselves, an’ if they was a fight they fixed it thirself; an’ they wasn’t no cops wagglin’ their guns, but they was better order than them cops ever give. I been a-wonderin’ why we can’t do that all over.  Throw out the cops that ain’t our people.  All work together for our own thing–all farm our own lan’.”
“Tom,” Ma repeated, “what you gonna do?”
“What Casy done,” he said.
“But they killed him.”
“Yeah,” said Tom. “He didn’ duck quick enough.  He wasn’ doing nothin’ against the law, Ma. I been thinkin’ a hell of a lot, thinkin’ about our people livin’ like pigs, an’ the good rich lan’ layin’ fallow, or maybe one fella with a million acres, while a hunderd thousan’ good farmers is starvin’. An I been wonderin’ if all our folks got together an’ yelled, like them fellas yelled, only a few of ’em at the Hooper ranch —-”
Ma said, “Tom, they’ll drive you, an’ cut you down like they done to young Floyd.”
“They gonna drive me anyways.  They drivin’ all our people.”
“You don’t aim to kill nobody, Tom?”
“No. I been thinkin’, long as I’m a outlaw anyways, maybe I could — Hell, I ain’t thought it out clear, Ma.  Don’ worry me now.  Don’ worry me.”
They sad silent in the coal-black cave of vines.  Ma said, “How’m I gonna know ’bout you? They might kill ya an’ I wouldn’ know.  They might hurt ya. How’m I gonna know?”
Tom laughed uneasily, “Well, maybe like Casy says, a fella ain’t got a soul of his own, but on’y a piece of a big one — an’ then —-”
“Then what, Tom?”
“Then it don’ matter.  Then I’ll be all aroun’ in the dark.  I’ll be ever’where — wherever you look.  Wherever they’sa fight so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there.  Wherever they’s a cop beating up a guy, I’ll be there.  If Casy knowed, why, I’ll be in the way guys yell when they’re mad an’ — I’ll be in the way kids laugh when they’re hungry an’ they know supper’s ready. An’ when our folks eat the stuff they raise an’ live in the houses they build — why, I’ll be there.  See? God, I’m talkin’ like Casy.  Comes of thinkin’ about thim so much.  Seems like I can see him sometimes.”
“I don’ un’erstan’.” Ma said.  “I don’ really know.”

“Me neither,” said Tom.  “It’s jus’ stuff I been thinkin’ about.”

Even so, I still have a dream.

Today I’m thinking, as I do every day, of another black man wrongfully imprisoned because of the color of his skin, whom I’m honored to call a friend; and praying from the depths of my soul that some day soon he will be free at last.