Of course, Frédéric Bastiat‘s work offers not one gift but many, and not merely for Whitewater, but for all people in all places. Still, today, one might consider just one essay from his powerful understanding for our small city.
If Whitewater were to look to one place for guidance, on rights, responsibility, and a sound political-economy, then she would do well to look to Bastiat’s That Which is Seen, and That Which is Not Seen (Ce qu’on void et ce qu’on ne void pas). It’s true and beautiful in original and translation (so true and beautiful that one almost imagines it cannot be translated poorly).
(About a century later, Henry Hazlitt wrote Economics in One Lesson as a gloss on Bastiat, of That Which is Seen, and That Which is Not Seen, and really just an introduction to Bastiat for an American audience.)
The introduction to the essay That Which is Seen, and That Which is Not Seen:
In the department of economy, an act, a habit, an institution, a law, gives birth not only to an effect, but to a series of effects. Of these effects, the first only is immediate; it manifests itself simultaneously with its cause – it is seen. The others unfold in succession – they are not seen: it is well for us, if they are foreseen. Between a good and a bad economist this constitutes the whole difference – the one takes account of the visible effect; the other takes account both of the effects which are seen, and also of those which it is necessary to foresee. Now this difference is enormous, for it almost always happens that when the immediate consequence is favourable, the ultimate consequences are fatal, and the converse. Hence it follows that the bad economist pursues a small present good, which will be followed by a great evil to come, while the true economist pursues a great good to come, at the risk of a small present evil.
In fact, it is the same in the science of health, arts, and in that of morals. It often happens, that the sweeter the first fruit of a habit is, the more bitter are the consequences. Take, for example, debauchery, idleness, prodigality. When, therefore, a man absorbed in the effect which is seen has not yet learned to discern those which are not seen, he gives way to fatal habits, not only by inclination, but by calculation.
This explains the fatally grievous condition of mankind. Ignorance surrounds its cradle: then its actions are determined by their first consequences, the only ones which, in its first stage, it can see. It is only in the long run that it learns to take account of the others. It has to learn this lesson from two very different masters – experience and foresight. Experience teaches effectually, but brutally. It makes us acquainted with all the effects of an action, by causing us to feel them; and we cannot fail to finish by knowing that fire burns, if we have burned ourselves. For this rough teacher, I should like, if possible, to substitute a more gentle one. I mean Foresight. For this purpose I shall examine the consequences of certain economical phenomena, by placing in opposition to each other those which are seen, and those which are not seen….
In years past, today, and for years yet ahead, Whitewater’s policymakers would have profitted and will profit by reading and embracing Bastiat’s teaching.
Few have, some will, others won’t.
Those who have, and those who will, by doing so offer much to their fellow residents. All of it is simple and clear, by design to be readily intelligible.
Those who won’t (just as those many over the years who haven’t) will give the city nothing but disappointment and failure, however fancily adorned. When their schemes go awry, they will have only themselves to blame.
A new year begins – the more deeply policymakers think about their choices, the better the city’s prospects. The more superficially they consider their proposals (as some have so embarrassingly done in years past), the more disappointment they will experience, and inflict on their fellow residents.
Even a little Bastiat, properly applied, would go a long way to making the city a better place.