Socialism is not freedom
Several years ago, a young man was invited to visit a powerful “socialist” country as its special guest. Part of that visit included a trip to one of its small satellite countries on the Baltic Sea. The young man was overjoyed at this prospect because his mother’s relatives lived there, and this would be an excellent opportunity to visit with them. Years earlier, when he was much younger, he had the opportunity to visit them with his mother when times were much dour.
As he prepared for this new adventure, his mother gave him some American money, and asked him to buy his “Tante” aunt a couple of pairs of nice shoes as they were difficult to come by there. He agreed, pocketing the cash, and thinking nothing further of it.
When he finally arrived in the former hometown of his mother, he had the opportunity to reunite with his relatives. Remembering his promise to his mother, he asked his aunt to accompany him to the special store in the hotel in which he was staying. The store had all sorts of merchandise that catered to not only the guests of the hotel but to party officials of the region. Ordinary citizens of the country were not permitted to shop in this store. His aunt was at first reluctant to go, but then agreed, somewhat timidly.
The next day she accompanied him to the store but then stopped short outside the entryway to the store. She stood there, shaking, holding on to her shopping tote. The young man beckoned her inside but she refused to enter. After some cajoling, she agreed to enter the store but still with some reluctance. “For God’s sake it’s only a store, Tante!” he yelled. As she stepped inside, her eyes opened wide in awe and in some undescribed form of terror.
There were so many items available, quality items and variety, too. Her host guided her over to the shoe department. She looked at the array of boxes on the shelves. It was explained to her that her sister said she could pick several pairs for purchase. She understood as she trembled with a tear beginning to well up in her eye. After a while, a short while, which was unheard of when women shop for shoes, she made her selections. She then sat down waiting to be helped by a sales clerk. After some time, a clerk made her way to the waiting couple and asked if they wished assistance. The young man was amazed because why else would they be seated in the shoe section, but no matter. The young man explained that he wished to purchase several pairs of shoes for his aunt. The expression on the clerk’s face was puzzling and her visage changed appreciably.
She asked who the person was seated in the fitting area. The young man explained that it was his aunt. The clerk looked at the elderly woman sitting in the chair with her shopping tote and purse. He explained to the young man the lady could not be served as she was not a certified visitor. The young man explained that he was to be making the purchase for her. In the background in the mostly empty shop, the young man could hear but not understand as the other sales staff chatted, whispering to each other, as they stole glances toward their fellow employee.
The young man began to realize that there was an issue here. Quickly, he retrieved his passport, his letter of introduction and his U.S. cash. At first, the clerk was reluctant, citing store or “official” policy. The young man became insistent, then resorted to good old Yankee ingenuity and started unfolding “the cash.” The clerk’s eyes widened and then reluctantly agreed.
In the meantime, the young man could see his aunt was looking nervous, even agitated, as she kept looking around as if some Bogeyman would spring up and accost her. The clerk eventually returned with several boxes of shoe selections in various sizes for the aunt to try on. In a whirlwind motion, the old woman rushed through the boxes, not opening all of them, tried a few on, quickly made her selections and directed her nephew that her selections were final.
The young man took the selection to the sales counter, where the clerk began the transaction. The invoice was totaled and presented to the special customer. The young man then unfolded the greenbacks and counted them out with some additional ones added to the pile. In the background, the sales staff could not help themselves staring or gawking at the process. Meanwhile, the aunt sat there trembling. The transaction was completed, the clerk bagged the items and handed them over to the customer, even handing over the extra greenbacks. The young man eschewed, taking the cash back with a wave of his hand. The clerk, with open eyes, agape mouth and bowed head uttered her “Spasiba! Spasiba!” The young man then took his aunt by her arm and quickly exited the shop, knowing all the while the eyes of the sales staff were exclusively on them. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in that store at that moment in time.
As the young man exited the store with his aunt in tow, he could see that the old woman was becoming more agitated. There was a fear in her eyes, her head spinning on its axis akin to a character in the movie, “The Exorcist.” The young man did everything he could to calm the old woman, reassuring her of his special status and scolding her that she was just being paranoid. She was in a state of trepidation. She was in fear that they were being followed by the KGB or the state’s police and that they would put her “ins lager,” translation prison. He reassured that this would not be the case, insisting that they were not being followed; they were.
As they boarded the tram and seated themselves to return to the aunt’s apartment, the young man queried his aunt as to why she made such a hasty decision regarding the purchase of the shoes, asking if she was sure she got the correct sizes. His aunt stated that it did not matter as she could always sell them, or her nephew could do it for her as he was some sort of specialist at that sort of thing. Apparently, he had a penchant for selling used tires. The young man shook his head in wonderment, and they returned home with the purchases without further incident.
When the young man returned to his home country, he reflected on his entire visit and began to compare the two systems of government — the one that he just recently encountered in the Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic and his own in the United States of America. He soon realized that “socialism” is incompatible with freedom, no matter what form is peddled. There are those who now proclaim that not every form of socialism has been tried and to give their form a chance. Take this personal story to heart and ignore their pleadings. Be grateful for what we have — it is precious!