THY NEIGHBOR'S GOODS
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simple is complex when you get into it; for simple has eight defi–
nitions: one is "easy to understand"; another is "silly." Pass the
six others. The simple thing becomes clear as you get on. - Thy
neighbor's goods are things thy neighbor holds under protection
of law against all coveters; which is both easy to understand and
(for the most part) silly.
If
the charge of silliness need prosecution, there is evidence;
from the beginning up to now, theer is evidence. A handful of
years (some thirty) after Georgia was settled by the whites, the
Indians were so indebted to the settlers they had to pay over an
armful of counties, millions of acres. That "legal possession" goes
back to seventeen-something.
If
current history can better tweak
the doubtful nose, take the evidence of, say, a Georgia hill-billy.
Hill-billy inherits a little land in Texas from some half-forgotten
kinsman who built a house, a barn, a skill for twisting a longhorn
over on its back, a knack of hiring cheap Mexican labor just at the
right time to pick cotton and of letting it float on then, like grease
down a sink, and a style for drawling "thar" through a droopy
moustache and a sweep of the hand at an estate that brings a good
living and would fetch ten thousand dollars at the sorriest of
auctions.
Hill-Billy goes West to pursue cotton in a grander manner in
the broad black land. In a little while he discovers oil somewhere
beneath the tap roots. From poor planter to rich driller in a sheer
flight, as luck has it. He hires five hundred men at wages that
pulvarize children's teeth. The law confirms his "rights" through–
out; which is silly, no less.
Ideologies worn upon the sleeve are exploit-ologies under the
skin. And one need not go to Europe to observe it. Democracy is
belied in door-to-door campaigns all over America, there being as
many embattled fronts as there are segments in the Rhine.
In democratic ideology there are no quarters for the under–
paid, the under-fed, the unemployed. But these underlings are
right widely quartered in our democratic state, the losers in war
of attrition. War in Europe is merely more spectacular.
It is 11:45. The Central of Georgia freight is blowing for
Phinizy's Mill Road. It is mezzo-soprano. Two longs, a short, and
a very long. Phinizy's Mill, built in the early 1800's, was one of
the pioneer cotton mills in Georgia. Eli Whitney had first operated
