How much tax is too much tax?

I was looking at the Marginal Revolution site today and stumbled across an interesting little post (and subsequent discussion) by economist Tyler Cowen on Robert Nozick's famous "Wilt Chamberlain" argument around tolerable wealth and taxation.

For the uninitiated, Nozick's line was that if people were prepared to pay to see Wilt play, then he was entitled to higher compensation because of his demonstrably superior ability. Nozick used Chamberlain as a real-life example to demonstrate that non-entitlement theories of justice (most pointedly, that of John Rawls) were inherently unjust.

Now, as my earlier stated interest in both the Young Hegalians and the Frankfurt School probably indicate, I obviously take some issue with Nozick's assumptions. Broadly identifying myself as a 'reconstructed' social democrat (with a pragmatic streak), I found myself locking horns on numerous occasion with my favourite undergrad lecturer. Now, despite our philosophical differences, he went on to act as my Honours supervisor and [first] PhD supervisor, and was an unabashed fan of Nozick, and probably wouldn't have been too out of place amongst the alumnus of the Chicago School. He always thought that the Chamberlain argument was a trump that no-one could match. I disagreed then, and still do.

Anyway, having not ventured into the philosophical conundrum of the most appropriate levels of taxation for an age, it both made me a little nostalgic ove past arguments (I don't knock around with many economists these days), and reminded me that people are still arguing the point. From my own perspective though, the notion that the best (and only) fair level of tax is 0% is both illogical and immoral, and never cease to be amazed at the amount of people who are willing to risk foolishness to advocate it.

Comments

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

Search This Blog