Subject: L. Neil Smith's "Unanimous Consent and the Utopian Vision"
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Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1992 12:03:26 +0000

The following is the transcript of a speech given at the
December 1987 Future of Freedom Conference held at the Pacifica Hotel
in Culver City, California.

Copyright (c) 1987 by L. Neil Smith. All rights reserved.
 ***************************************

UNANIMOUS CONSENT AND THE UTOPIAN VISION
          or
I DREAMED I WAS A SIGNATORY IN MY MAIDENFORM BRA

by L. Neil Smith

The relative invisibility of Libertarianism after 40 years of
backbreaking, heartbreaking labor, has little to do with any lack
of money, ideas, personnel, or anything else Libertarians may
occasionally whine about. It isn't the fault of an evil northeastern
Liberal conspiracy. Nor, as the more timid among us often recommend,
is it reason to tone down Libertarian rhetoric, to soften principle
or its expression, to make it more conservative or "practical"
in approach. All of that has been tried, again and again.

What Libertarians lack, in their hearts and minds, what they fail to
communicate to others, is a vision of the new civilization they intend
creating. It may be sufficient motivation, for Libertarians, that
America today, politically, economically, socially, is repulsive. It
may be enough, for Libertarians, that what they propose is morally right.
It is not enough for others. Most people require a fairly concrete picture
of the future which will motivate them to learn what Libertarians mean by
"right" and "wrong", and inspire them to work toward its fulfillment.

It may appear contradictory that the achievement of practical ends relies
on fantasy. Nothing could be further from the truth. What Libertarians
need is a foot in the door. There's no conflict between imagination and
realism, any more than there is between "radical abolitionist" and
"moderate gradualism". Each has a role in the creation of progress.
Neither can afford to try operating without the other. Division-of-labor
is more than an abstract economic principle, it's a matter of life or
death for the cause of individual liberty. Utopianism, far from being a
hindrance or embarrassment, is a vital, effective means toward that goal.

Libertarians take their own philosophy too much for granted. Their concept
of what it can accomplish is too abstract. They wrongly assume others can
see its potential as clearly as they do. They often fail to see it
themselves. As a remedy, they must ask themselves, each day for the rest
of their lives, certain fundamental questions. Why are we Libertarians?
What do we wish to accomplish? What constitutes success? By what signs
will we know we've won? What's in it for us? What's in it for me?
What do I really want?

Their present answers range from the negative to the obscure. 'Well,
you know ..." "Because I want to see that bastard (the idea's to
insert the bastard of your choice) get what's coming to him!" "Because
what's going on now is wrong and I want to stop it" "Because I'm afraid
civilization's gonna collapse unless we do something". A common
variation noted by Dave Nolan is, "Because I know civilization is
going to collapse - and I wanna be around to say 'I told you so'!"
The best of this rather unsatisfactory lot I first heard from English
Libertarians who said, "Because, even if I were convinced my efforts
would came to nothing, I can't honestly imagine doing anything else."

I'd like to share with you some of my answers. Before I began spreading
them around through my novels, they were somewhat different from those
of most Libertarians. To the extent that I'm a fanatic, they're
responsible. They're what drive and motivate me. They're the reason I'll
keep disturbing the peace until I'm hauled off to some 21st Century
Super-Dachau and lasered to death, or the pigeons are paying respects to
my statue in some private city park.

One, of course, comes from years of filling my head with "garbage",
pulp science fiction in which I watched cultures, societies, whole
galactic empires created, tinkered with, torn down, and built all over
again by talented (and some not-so-talented) yarn-spinners who, like
me, were obsessed with finding out what makes civilizations tick.
They taught me that the future is malleable, mutable, sometimes even
by one person standing at a sensitive-enough leverage point. I've
been looking for that leverage-point ever since. I have an idea what
I want the future to look like. I want a principal role in its making.
In short, I have my own Utopian dream, rooted in the Libertarian
philosophy of Unanimous Consent. I want to see it come true soon
enough to enjoy it myself. That's what I really want.

Many years ago, Joan Baez commented smugly that there are no right-wing
foIk songs. I'd noticed the same thing, but as a professional guitar
player busily compromising his new-fledged Objectivist principles to
the Goldwater campaign, I was disinclined to gloat about it.

There are no right-wing Utopias, either, no novels of the colorful
Buckleyite future. The conservative view of heaven is the status quo ante
- a dead, flat, black-and-white daguerreotype of a past that never
existed. Any status quo will do, as long as it ain't Red. If people
are tortured in banana republic jails, it's acceptable as long as
they're not Communist jails. If a long train of abuses and usurpations
are visited upon individual freedom in this country, it's fine, as
long as they're not left-wing abuses and usurpations, and even better, if
they're in the name of National Security.

Traditionally, Utopia is the territory of the left. Imaginative stories
gave ordinary people images of what had previously been abstractions, and
this had more to do with the progress of socialism than anything Marx,
Engels, Lenin or Geraldo Rivera ever did. The dictionary, in a burst
of candor, defines Utopia as "the ideal state where all is ordered
for the best, for mankind as a whole, and evils such as poverty and misery
do not exist": not only self-contradictory in practice, but more than
sufficient reason why Utopia is a province populated, almost
exclusively, by the enemies of freedom.

However, the word "Utopia" only became synonymous with ''impossible
dream" when the internal inconsistencies, the inherent cynicism, the
utter failure of socialism became unmistakable to everyone. In some
instances, its sterile, no-exit character was already visible in the
pages of otherwise optimistic Victorian novels before it became
political reality, and Utopia bored itself to death. Socialist
victories in the real world became disasters, creating economic,
social, and military devastation, smashing the Utopian promise
along the way.

Thus Utopian novels fell out of print when idealists on the left
stopped believing their own fairy tales. Dispirited, disoriented,
beaten in a way they never understood, reduced to petulant nihilism,
they couldn't dream any more. Rather than being exceptions, today's
few, sad, threadbare left-Utopias make the case. Read B.F. Skinner's
*Walden Two*, for its constipated lack of scope. Examine Ursula
LeGuin's *The Dispossessed* for its injured socialist perplexity.
Try Arthur Clarke's *The Songs of Distant Earth*. He's peddling
shopworn goods and he knows it. He ought to, he lives in
Mrs. Bandaranaika's Sri Lanka!

The great tragedy is that, when Left Utopia fell into dishonor, it
took all the rest with it. Shattered socialist dreams have discredited
any dreams at all of a rational, humane, social order. Libertarianism
was born an orphan in an age of disUtopias like *Brave New World*,
*1984*, and Eugene Zamiatin 's *We* . Ayn Rand wrote disUtopias,
*Anthem*, *Atlas Shrugged*, *We The Living*, admirably showing us
the dirty, bloodstained underside of collectivism's brilliant promises.
But she and others like her made too few promises of their own. She
pointed out a great deal to avoid, but very little to aspire to, which,
I submit, is piss-poor motivational psychology.

Before I began writing, there were semi-Libertarian Utopias, glimmers
in the works of Robert Heinlein and Poul Anderson, the short stories of
Eric Frank Russell, brighter, more explicit pictures drawn by H. Beam
Piper and Jerome Tuccille. But somehow they failed to stick to my
philosophical ribs.

Nor were our "basic" Libertarian works much better. Where most Utopian
fiction failed to be Libertarian enough, Libertarian non-fiction failed
to be Utopian at all. Where was the glowing promise in John Hospers'
*Libertarianism*, Murray Rothbard's *For A New Liberty*, Roger
MacBride's *A New Dawn*, or David Friedman's *The Machinery of
Freedom*? Where was the excitement in Paul Lepanto's *Return to Reason*,
Harry Brown's *How I Found Freedom In An Unfree World*, or Bob
Lefevre's *This Bread Is Mine*? Where was the color in Hazlitt's
*Economics in One Lesson*? Where was the fire in any of them? Was it
enough merely to be satisfied that most of our "beginner's books"
weren't too boring?

If Rand had written *The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress*, or edited its
pessimistic ending, if Heinlein had written *Atlas Shrugged*, pacing
it like *Door Into Summer*, Dave Bergland would be in the White House
right now, auctioning off the furniture, because we'd have captured
people's imaginations. Their hearts and minds, money and votes would have
followed faithfully behind.

People want Utopia. They've watched Star Trek until the emulsion wore
off the celluloid and helped Star Wars outgross World War II, because
Kirk, Spock, and Luke Skywalker assure them that there is a future, one
worth looking forward to, in which human beings (and other critters) will
still be doing fascinating, dangerous things. Having a good time.

It says here 84% of us got hooked reading *Atlas Shrugged*, which
I've described as anti-Utopian. But it wasn't just to watch
civilization crumbling around my ears that I waded through that
kilopage. Its fascination was in an all-too-brief glimpse of a small,
working, slightly kinky Libertarian society. *Atlas Shrugged* is mainly
disUtopian, but, in the end, every bit as cheery as Piper's *A Planet
For Texans*, and almost as delightfully bloodthirsty.

Those of you who haven't read my novels may well ask what kind of
Utopian vision I think Libertarians ought to communicate. Once, in a
moment of mixed premises and moral depravity, I defined it in terms of
"freedom, immortality, the stars". No, I didn't dig that out of the
pages of The National Enquirer, I meant freedom in the Libertarian
sense of society without coercion, immortality as a foreseeable
extension of individual freedom into time, and the stars as an equally
logical extension of that freedom into space, as human beings reach
for what seems to me to be their evolutionary Manifest Destiny. For
our purposes, Utopia might just be a place where people look forward
to getting up in the morning.

I do have more specific desires, a more detailed dream. It's expressed
in the Covenant of Unanimous Consent which I first wrote as a kind of
substitute for the Constitution and the Bill of Rights and later included
in my science fiction novel of the Whiskey Rebellion, The Gallatin
Divergence. The Covenant now circulates in more than forty countries,
thanks, among others, to Dagny Sharon and Libertarian International. It
has Signatories in a majority of the states and provinces of North
America. I wouldn't be surprised if the desire and dreams expressed in
the Covenant are similar to your own. If we differ, it's because I
don't believe it pays to be bashful about it. We must share the dream
with others, so they'll begin to work toward fulfilling it, too.

For practice, let's try building a Utopia right now. You already know
the rules. Morally, in this future society, each individual is free
to live his or her life as an end in itself, and to defend it against
anyone who would compel otherwise. Ethically, this is accomplished by
adopting a single custom: individuals are forbidden (the specific
mechanism, you'll appreciate, is still being debated) to initiate
force against others. Socially and economically, a voluntary exchange
of values, rather than force, is the customary basis for human
relationships.

H.G. Wells used to start with the premise "What if ...?" What if you
could travel to the Moon in a gravity-proof ball? What if you fell
asleep and woke up 200 years later? What if you found a way to become
invisible? I have a what if for you. What if one Commandment, "Thou
shalt not initiate force", became the fundamental operating principle
of society, soon enough for all of us to see it?

For the moment, we'll skip over how we got to Utopia from disUtopia,
although it is the critical question. That's not quite the cop-out it
seems. We're trying to envision a new society uncontaminated by a
previous social order. In science, this is called a controlled
experiment. In writing, this is called poetic license. On the other
hand, our Utopian vision, what it says to us and to others, can be a
major force, in itself, in getting us from here to there. So I guess
that makes things even.

We'll also skip over the possibility, some say inevitability, of
thermonuclear war or a spectacularly unpleasant economic and civil
collapse. There are reasons, as you'll see later, why I'm unconvinced
of the inevitability of it all. In any case, it'll either happen or it
won't. If it does, we'll either live through it or we won't, and we'll
succeed in carrying off the Millennium, with or without an introductory
catastrophe, or, in the long run, like John Maynard Keynes, we'll all
be dead.

A frequent error Utopia-builders make, understandably, is leaving
items they're unaware of out of their extrapolation. In the surviving
Utopian mutation of the leftist repertoire, Doomsday predicting, Paul
Ehrlich, the Club of Rome, the Ozone boys, and most science fiction
writers make a mistake amidst their orgasmic cries of disaster: they
aren't figuring on Signatories to the Covenant in particular or
Libertarians in general.

Before we get smug, remember I said this is our fault. Look how it
happened: think of all those "Buy Gold, Buy Silver, Buy Irradiated
Garbanzo Beans" ads, pamphlets, and seminars we're so fond of. In our
projections of the future, we've made the same mistake - we forgot
about us! Aren't we gonna affect the future? You bet your dried
war-surplus fruit preserves we are!

The shape of the future is always determined, just like the present
was, by two factors, almost exclusively. The first is the virtually
unlimited power of the individual human mind, and of the free market
system which is its most monumental achievement. The second factor,
often forgotten, is no less important: the inefficacy of evil.

It won't surprise anyone at this conference to hear of the power of
mind and market. The human mind may inhabit what one cynic called "a
sort of skin disease on a ball of dirt", but its grasp encompasses
the span from subatomic particles to the intergalactic void. The mind
alone is the reason our species became dominant on this planet in a
microsecond of geologic time. Yet, aren't we confronted every day with
the victories and gloatings of evil? How can it be inefficacious when it
owns the world?

Let's ask what condition humanity, its culture, technology, and economy
would be in, if villains always won. Hasn't there been overall progress
in the human condition over the last several thousand years? Would
there have been Scientific Method, an Industrial Revolution, a
Declaration of Independence, a Non-Aggression Principle, or a
Covenant of Unanimous Consent if evil were all that omnipotent? Despite
the most hyperthyroid governments, the most pointlessly murderous wars,
and the most disgustingly despicable badguys in all of history, 20th
Century America offers the highest standard of living and the greatest
individual liberty that has ever been available.

None of this is any testimony to government, war, or badguys, but to
the human mind and the ineptitude of its enemies. The mind and market
always find a way. The point liberals, conservatives, and many
Libertarians always miss is that this isn't any reason not to ask
what kind of world a truly uninhibited human mind would create,
economically, socially, technologically. The three areas overlap,
but we'll begin with economics.

The economic future will be as different from our times as ours are
from pre-industrial eras. No one in 1687 could imagine freedom from
the constant threat of death by starvation, exposure, or disease,
which characterized those times. Few in 1987 can visualize a future
of vastly greater wealth, world peace, and no bureaucrats to pry into
every moment of their daily lives. Historical blindness works both
ways, of course. Those born in the future will react with a mixture
of embarrassment and amusement when we try explaining to them. The
insane were once beaten, tortured, and chained, a practice that seems
ludicrous and terrible to us. The IRS will seem equally barbaric to
our grandchildren. We'll try to tell them, but they'll attribute it
to senile dementia and never really believe us.

With taxation gone, not only will we have twice as much money to
spend, but it will go twice as far, since those who produce goods and
services won't have to pay taxes, either. In one stroke we'll be
effectively four times as rich. There's no simple way to estimate
the cost of regulation. Truckers say they could ship goods for
one-fifth the present price without it. Many businesses spend a
third of their overhead complying with stupid rules and filling out
forms. The worst damage it does is to planning. Since you don't
know what next year's whim of Congress will be, how can you plan?
Plans that require ten, twenty, fifty years to nature? Might as
well forget them.

Let's figure that deregulation will cut prices, once again, by half.
Now our actual purchasing power, already quadrupled by deTAXification,
is doubled again. We now have eight times our former wealth! What
kind of world will that result in? Future generations won't remotely
grasp the concept of inflation, or that the State once imprisoned
people for competing with its own counterfeiting operation. They'll
be used to a stable diversity of competing trade commodities, gold,
uranium, cotton, wheat, cowrie shells, which will not only flatten a
lot of wildly swinging economic curves, but give newspapers something
to print besides government handouts: "Cowries sold late on the
market today at 84. Oats and barley at 42. Uranium at 87." 87 what?
Sheep, gold grams, kilowatts, gallons of oil, who cares, as long as
they're free market rates, determined by uncoerced bidding, buying,
and selling?

Hardly anyone, of course, will carry sheep, seashells, or barrels of
oil around with them. 21st Century barter will be carried out on
ferromagnetic media in electrical impulses. But I suspect a few of us
surly old curmudgeons, having spent our lives being swindled with
paper and plastic, will insist on something in our pockets that jingles.
Young folks will look knowingly at us and wink.

The future, as I see it, canes in segments: first, continuation, for
however long, of things as they are, counterpointed by our increasing
success at convincing people of the necessity and desirability of
Unanimous Consent.

Having sold people on freedom, we'll make changes from whatever's
left of what we have now to a truly free society:
degovernmentalization of culture and the economy characterized by an
eight-fold increase in individual purchasing power, and an end to the
importance of the State in our lives. Eight times richer, we'll be
free to do whatever we wish with our new wealth. Why stick with
black and white when you can have color TV in every room? Why drive a
'77 Ford when you can afford a brand-new Excalibur? Why eat hamburger
when you can have steak and lobster every night?

Increased spending appears in the economy as increased demand,
leading, despite government economists, not to shortages, but
increased production - somebody's gotta make all those TVs,
Excaliburs, steaks and lobsters - which creates other delightful
consequences. With all that loose money, there's new investment in
established companies and zillions of new ones trying to satisfy
everyone's newfound consumer greed. New factories will spring up,
old ones expand, obsolete machinery will be junked and new installed.

More people will be working, producing goods and services demanded by
a newly-rich population. As labor becomes scarcer, wages will skyrocket,
hours shorten, work-weeks truncate. "Headhunters" will flourish, not
only stealing managerial talent, but bribing assembly workers to desert
for even better wages, conditions, and benefits. Unable to figure out
what happened, unions will dry up and blow away. Despite increased
wages and benefits (leading to more buying, demand, production, and jobs),
prices will plummet as demand drives industry to greater efficiency.
Plants now standing idle half the time will operate fullblast around
the clock. Society will be geared to operating 24 hours a day, seven
days a week.

Against a chronic labor shortage, capitalists will take measures
like free training, day-care, occupational therapy. Everything
socialism expected from government, the market will provide, as
companies compete ruthlessly for workers. Companies desperate for our
talents will have to change their petty, coercive manners. Restraints
on your freedom, insults to your intelligence, will disappear, simply
because, for once, they need you, not some anonymous, numbered,
plug-in module, but you.

Oh, they'll resist. They'll try imports and foreign labor, but it'll
be their undoing, as living and working standards - and expectations -
arise abroad. And free world trade will have another effect:
increased demand, increased production, more jobs and lower prices.
Monotonous, isn't it?

They'll try more automation, but that's another trap because it
always results in more - not less - employment. For every
quill-pushing 19th Century clerk perched at his desk, how many
computer designers, engineers, manufacturers, assemblers, installers,
repairmen, number jockeys, and key-punchers are there today? For every
buggy-whip maker, how many folks involved in automotive ignitions?
And automation has another side-effect: it increases production,
which lowers prices.

In a free society, the availability and quality of goods and services
increases constantly while prices drop. Wages and living standards
improve continuously. What we now call a "boom" is normal and permanent,
and, with no government around bloating the currency, good times have
nothing to do with inflation. The "forced draft" advances in
technology we associate with war are a snail's pace, when an entire
people is free to pursue the buck with all ten greedy little fingers.
Which is why them future whippersnappers'll think we're hallucinating
about the bad old days of price-control, strikes, inflation, tariffs,
and the IRS. And they'll want to know why we didn't buy out those
pestiferous oil-sheiks with our lunch money.

Most problems are trivial, viewed in the proper perspective. The
high-tech solution to our strange desire for flat clothes wasn't a
bigger, more complicated automated ironing-board, but simply clothes
that stayed flat. The wrong perspective can lead to disaster. In the
1890s, according to Bob LeFevre, the government decided, Club of Rome
fashion, that mere private corporations would never withstand the
costs of prospecting, drilling, extracting, refining, and
distributing petroleum. Therefore, oil should be a State monopoly.
A book I have from the 50s opines that no single government could
finance an expedition to the Moon and it would be done by the United
Nations. (If you think Challenger was a mess, think what that would
have been like.) These predictions should be kept in mind whenever
we contemplate the inevitability of disaster or the impossibility of
our dreams. The only prediction we can make safely about the future
is that it will be far more fantastic than we can safely predict.

We now live in a cramped, narrow, depressed culture, largely unaware
of its limitations simply because there's never been anything better.
Faced with sizeable problems, we mistakenly view them from the level
to which we're limited by this society. Solving our problems demands
a vastly wider scope. We have to learn to think big, bigger than
we've ever dreamed or dared.

Take the objection that firing 15 million bureaucrats would cause a
depression. They're unlikely to support us if it means doing away
with their own jobs. LP candidates keep a low profile on this subject.
But think big: as Hospers pointed out, millions of GIs were absorbed
into the post-WW II economy without a ripple, despite less than free
market conditions. We can get the Utopian message across, even to
government workers, with a slogan like Australian John Zube's "Vote
Yourself Rich". A booming free market has chronic labor shortages. No
one will have to persuade bureaucrats to enter the private sector.
They'll desert in hordes. The State will shrink like the little dot
when you turn off your TV, and vanish.

Other crises are amenable to the same sort of reasoning. I'm not a
very enthusiastic catastrophist, although current government
liabilities seem to spell doom for Western civilization. Social
Security is short several trillion bucks, and it now looks like the
early 21st Century will go down in a flourish of Molotov cocktails.
In 1666, a great London fire wiped out a third of the total wealth of
England, a catastrophic loss amounting to 10 million dollars. Could
it be we're using the wrong scale to assess our problems? Trillions
seems like about as much money as there'll ever be, but "seems" is a
pretty conditional word. We still have enough time to create a market
so vast and strong that several trillion dollars seems trivial by
comparison. The Utopian vision will buy us time and hasten the day
when a free economy straightens out the messes left by our predecessors.

Trade and automation will shoot living standards up dizzily. Those
prone to Future Shock are in for a rough ride. New materials,
production methods, life-styles and opportunities will arise by the
myriad every day. Every hour. Already in our times, a manufacturing
counter-revolution is occurring. Investment casting, laser and
electron discharge cutting, detonic welding, computer-controlled
machining, are decreasing the plastic and cardboard in our lives,
increasing titanium, steel, and glass. There may be fewer stampings
and spotwelds over the coming decades, more solid forgings. At
the same time, plastics seem more like steel and glass every day, while
cardboard gets stronger and longer lasting. As uranium was once thrown
aside to get at lead and tin, we're stumbling over untold sources of
wealth, energy, and comfort. Nations won't just emerge, they'll splash
like the over-ripe melons Marx mentioned, but in a different way than
he intended, into the 21st Century.

Marshall McCluhan's one-horse Global Village will turn into Times
Squared. New territories opened by the free market will make
over-population one of the future's biggest jokes. Antarctica,
Greenland, Northern Canada will feel the plow and deliver up their
wealth. The floor, surface, and cubic volume of the sea, the Moon,
Mars, the Asteroids, the rest of the Solar System, and open space
itself will be subdivided. Even if total population reaches 40 billion
- or 400 billion - we'll have more elbow-room than we have now.

In the coming century, poverty and unemployment will be a dark, half-
believed nightmare of the remote past. Elaborate discussion of 
private charity will be academic in a world where any basketcase 
who twitches once for yes and twice for no is desperately needed for
production quality control. They'll put chimps and gorillas on the
payroll. Killer whales and dolphins will be buying split-level
aquariums on the installment plan.

Pollution will be another dead issue. No competing industry can 
afford the waste of energy and materials. Without an EPA to "protect"
us, individuals will sue polluters, because every square inch of the 
Earth will be private property. Not that there won't be wilderness -
when they auction off the National Forests, I'll be right there, 
bidding with the other hunters and fishermen. Heaven is being able to
fire a rifle in any direction from my front porch and not hit anyone but
trespassers.

As with charity, our concern with police and security is a waste of
breath. Peace will break out uncontrollably. Cops will be re-trained 
for office-jobs. With victimless crime laws repealed, cities 
populous and prosperous again, 99% of the crime we endure will
vanish. Our descendents won't understand how it became an issue. 
Middle-class values are market values. Wider respect for property, 
education, and long-range planning will mean less crime. A single
mugging in Central Park will get four-inch headlines in New York's 
several dozen newsplastics. In the absence of laws against duelling, 
people will be more polite to each other, less inclined to offer 
unwanted advice. Either that or, thanks to natural selection, they'll 
soon have faster reflexes.

Lacking gun control to protect them, the few criminals left won't 
live long enough to transmit their stupid-genes. The next century 
will give us a welcome look at the other side of a familiar paradox: 
people free to carry weapons usually don't need them. Prisons will 
be abandoned when those who never did anything to hurt anyone are 
released. The rest will be out working to restore their victims' 
property or health. Crimes against persons and property, including
murder, will be civil offenses, with volunteer agencies acting for 
those without relatives or friends to "avenge" them. Restitution may 
even be possible for murder, given techniques of freezing corpses 
for later repair. Those who commit irrevocable murder will suffer 
the cruelest punishment of all: exile to a place where there's a 
government!

Our opponents' concern with conglomerates and monopolies is as
misplaced as ours with charity and crime. Before the 19th Century
government invasion of the market, super-companies had reached 
optimum size and were beginning to shrink. Today, although
government keeps competition off their backs, huge companies must 
divide themselves into dozens of competing subsidiaries in order to 
survive. Increased competition will doom these dinosaurs, break up 
concentrations of wealth and paper frozen by securities and tax laws, and
produce companies smaller than today's. Survivors will be stuck 
with the boring old laissez-faire task of pleasing as many 
customers with the best quality goods and services possible at the
lowest possible prices.

It's possible you're way ahead of me by now, and you may have noticed
I haven't been following my own advice. All these predictions have 
been pretty abstract and impersonal. Now it's time to answer the
question "What's in it for me?" Basically, we're all going to have our 
cake and get to say "I told you so", too. Right off, the free market
boosts our purchasing-power eightfold, and this, of course, is only the
beginning, although I hesitate to risk your willing suspension of 
disbelief by estimating wages and prices several decades into a
Unanimous Consent boom. So let's just way we now have eight times 
as much disposable wealth. Even this modest multiplier offers us a 
range and choice of goods and services unimaginable today.

Your basic material well-being will be easier to maintain when a 
loaf of Grandma's Automated Bread goes for a nickel and steak for 20
cents a pound. $2 shoes? Wristwatches at a dime a dozen? How about 
suits and dresses for ten bucks, disposable outfits for a dollar? The
toughest decision may be durability versus disposability: an 
imposing 2087 Rolls-Rolex Fusionmobile good for generations, or a 
plastic Mattel-Yugo easily discarded when you're tired of it; a 
Saville Row three-piece ironclad business suit, or a toilet-paper 
toga. Increased leisure-time and lots of loose money will mean what
it always has, more emphasis on expensive, hand-crafted, one-of-a-
kind items. We all may wind up running second, third, or fourth 
businesses on the side, which means more jobs, more buying, and so
forth.

How about spending two to four grand on a home that's built to last, 
helped out by the slump in land prices when government holdings hit 
the market? The trend will be back to single private dwellings, on 
substantially larger lots, paid for in full out of this month's 
paycheck. If you can afford a home in the city and another in the
mountains or at the beach, why not? An unhappy note for Howard 
Roark. Higher Living-standards will encourage a most unRandish 
human vice for embellishment. They'll bring back the Baroque, 
Roccoco, Victorian gingerbread, medieval gargoyles, and the new times
will bring their own elaborate forms, as well. Aztec Modern, anyone?

Choose between a $500 automobile, a $2000 airplane, or some 
combination. Without government support for highways, we may all 
be soaring to work on rocket-belts, and Laissez-Faire Airlines will fly
you anywhere in the world for twenty bucks. Highways and railroads
will benefit from a free market. Speed, safety, and efficiency will
improve. 60-lane, 300 mile-per-hour ribbons of plastic will power 
your electric car by induction, provide guidance if you want to read 
or watch TV, dissipate rain, fog, ice and snow. Or, as I predicted in The
Probability Broach, highways may evolve into contoured swaths of 
grass for steam-powered hovercraft. Or both. Or something entirely 
different.

Our grandchildren will have a good laugh over the "Energy Crisis" of 
the last decade, which diehard Carterites are presently trying to 
revive, not just because the shortage was purely political in nature 
(which will puzzle them) but because free market technology will 
ultimately make fossil fuels obsolete. Fusion, using water for fuel, 
lasers or particle accelerators for sparkplugs, and producing, as its
only by-product, clean, inert, useful, helium, will be running our 
civilization the day after government gets out of the way. Fusion is 
the thermonuclear reaction that powers the stars. Quasars are 
billions of times more energetic, and we don't know what powers
them. When science and industry are free of interference, we may find
out, and energy will be practically limitless, virtually free.

I could go on for hours discussing miracles you can read about in 
Popular Science, Analog, or any of the 15 novels I've written. I've 
elaborated on them to this extent because I believe they're only 
possible under free market conditions, which explains why we never 
got the picture-phones and flying automobiles which science fiction
promised us in the 30s and 40s. Read those other publications with
that caveat in mind, you'll get the idea.

More important are the social, psychological effects of liberty. I 
can't tell you what it's like to be free, having never had a chance to 
try. I'd be up against the unpredictability of human action any 
Austrian economist or quantum physicist delights in lecturing about. 
Those few leftists who still believe in a static notion of how things 
ought to be, which they're willing to impose at bayonet-point, work 
their butts off making society dull and boring. In Unanimous Consent
Utopia, the one rule is that no one imposes his views on anyone else, 
which makes for an open-ended culture, impossible to describe in 
detail. There's no single Libertarian future, but as many different 
futures as there are individuals to create them. For each Sunday-
supplement guess I could make about who'll take care of the street 
lights or paint the stripes down the middle of the road, coming 
generations will produce thousands of answers not even remotely 
similar to mine. Our future may be weird and confusing, but it'll never
be dull and boring.

So instead, try an experiment with me, one that'll give you a clearer 
picture of the future than I could draw in another hour or another 
hundred hours. Lean back in your chair. Relax. Imagine now that you'll 
never have to worry about money again. Never again for the rest of 
your life. You'll never waste another golden moment of your precious 
time tearing your hair, biting your fingernails, or shredding the 
inside of your mouth over paying the bills. There is no limit to what 
you can afford. It's no longer a significant factor in your plans.

Now say quietly to yourself: "All my life, I always really wanted ___ 
''. Fill in the blank. Finish the sentence yourself. Only you know what 
it is you always really wanted. "All my life I always really wanted 
___ ''.

You may be surprised. How many things have you denied yourself, 
never even acknowledged, because there wasn't enough money? 
Because your dreams were consumed to feed the bureaucrats, build 
bombs, atomic submarines, and government office buildings?
Unanimous Consent will change all that. Everything you always 
really wanted could be yours, if you were free. Retirement? Save it 
out of pocket change. Kid's education? New home, car, boat, plane? 
All of the above? Nothing more than ordinary, easily-accessible 
dreams which will hardly dent the family budget. If you were free.

"All my life, I always really wanted ___ ".

Is it illegal? A machine gun to mow down beer cans on a lazy country 
afternoon? A nickel bag that really costs a nickel? An android sex-
slave? A dynamite collection? A date with a one-legged jockey? 
Driving your car at 185? It's yours, as long as you don't hurt anyone. 
If you were free.

"All my life, I always really wanted ___ ".

The number of Signatories to the Covenant of Unanimous Consent is 
doubling every year. Everything you always really wanted can be 
yours before the 21st Century is three decades old. The only thing 
the Covenant can't give you, the only goods it can't deliver, is power. 
And through that one "failure", that single "sacrifice", we achieve 
everything else.

"All my life, I always really wanted ___ ".

That, my fellow Libertarians, is the promise of Unanimous Consent, 
an invention so fundamental, so potent, revolutionary and unstoppable,
that Scientific Method and the Industrial Revolution pale by
comparison. Now you understand why I'm a fanatic, why I must make 
you a fanatic, why, doubling our number every year, we must create 
an entire nation, a whole world of fanatics. I'm fighting for 
everything I always really wanted! That's what's in it for me! That's 
what Unanimous Consent is all about!

Everything. You. Always. Really. Wanted.

To the traditional strategies of our movement, education and politics,
add a third, Unanimous Consent Utopianism, which will break trails 
for the other two. While others teach and run for office, I'll continue
writing science fiction. Educators and candidates will find, as they're
already finding, that their students and voters came to them because
of promises I made them.

That's the only way our future's going to happen. We're going to win 
as soon as we recognize, as soon as we communicate, as soon as we 
act on one simple fact. In order to "capture the hearts and minds" of
America and the world, in order to have the major part in determining
what the future is going to be, we must first pull off a coup d'etat in 
the Province of Utopia.

"All my life, I always really wanted ___ ''.

It's as simple as that. It really is.