Mainstream misrepresentation of how taxation truly works, it is never about "taxing the rich"

[godelian]

So how do you know when someone has transgressed your morality

An opinion is not a matter of morality unless the other person tries to turn it into one.

what obligates them to observe your "brand" of morality

They obviously do not have to.

what if you transgress theirs?

I don't have to observe their "brand" of morality either.

It seems like morality has to be shared in some sense in order to do its thing.

It depends on what you are trying to do.

For example, in business, you need to acknowledge that it is necessary to stick to your end of the bargain, i.e. Pacta servanda sunt. In business, there is actually not much more than that. That is why people of different religions can still easily do business with each other.

I count atheism as a religion here, i.e. the religion that there is no religion.

Matters of morality also kick into politics, for example. In politics, it is more difficult to coordinate people of different religions than in business.

[godelian]

The question, "What if everybody did that?", is simply irrelevant to the individual. I do not have any problems with the local government here. Otherwise, I would just go elsewhere.

Hmm. Sounds like it could conceivably be fertile ground for irresponsibility.

I do not have to do anything besides not running into trouble with the local government. Anything else is simply an unrealistic expectation. Of course, I seek to abide by the principles of the moral theory of my choice (Islam) but that is obviously not anybody else's problem.

[godelian]

I me mine

There exist solidarity ties between people but they run along family blood lines. Such solidarity group can become surprisingly large if it is a clan or even a tribe.

The following people are generally irrelevant:

- A nationality is not a family.
- A corporation or employer is not a family.
- The ruling mafia are not your family.
- People in the country you happen to be in right now, are not your family.

You don't owe these people anything.

[BigMike]

I me mine

There exist solidarity ties between people but they run along family blood lines. Such solidarity group can become surprisingly large if it is a clan or even a tribe.

The following people are generally irrelevant:

- A nationality is not a family.
- A corporation or employer is not a family.
- The ruling mafia are not your family.
- People in the country you happen to be in right now, are not your family.

You don't owe these people anything.

Well, this is a fascinating perspective. Solidarity ties only running along family bloodlines? How quaint. But let me ask you, just out of curiosity: how big is your tribe these days? Is it robust enough to ensure you’ve got someone to build and maintain your infrastructure, keep the water running, and maybe, just maybe, stop the world from completely imploding while you bask in your bloodline-defined sense of moral clarity?

And on the topic of bloodlines—have you considered whether your tribe's approach to inbreeding might be impacting your judgment? Because, let’s be honest, dismissing every human connection outside of shared DNA as "irrelevant" is not exactly a high-functioning worldview. If you’re relying solely on family ties to justify your existence while reaping the benefits of collective efforts from non-family members, it’s not just selfish—it’s delusional.

Here’s a thought: maybe the people who aren’t in your precious clan—the ones who build roads, purify water, and create the systems that make modern life possible—deserve a bit more respect. Because whether you acknowledge it or not, you’re standing on the shoulders of everyone you so smugly dismiss as “irrelevant.”

[godelian]

[But let me ask you, just out of curiosity: how big is your tribe these days? Is it robust enough to ensure you’ve got someone to build and maintain your infrastructure, keep the water running

Clans and tribes are not sovereign and haven't been sovereign for over a thousand years. They don't even seek sovereignty. You clearly confuse the ruling oligarchy, which governs the tribes and clans, with the clans themselves.

The solidarity groups in the Middle East, Africa, and Central Asia are tribes and clans. Have always been and will always be.
.

Here’s a thought: maybe the people who aren’t in your precious clan—the ones who build roads, purify water, and create the systems that make modern life possible—deserve a bit more respect.

We do business all the time with outsiders. That has always been like that, actually. However, outsiders are not kin. They are not members of our solidarity group.

By the way, in countries where they try to organize solidarity group on a national basis -- which is something that I resolutely reject -- they do not extend solidarity to non-nationals. For example, can a Mexican claim unemployment benefits in Italy? I don't think so.

Because whether you acknowledge it or not, you’re standing on the shoulders of everyone you so smugly dismiss as “irrelevant.”

You have an utterly simplistic view on human social structures. The same individual can easily simultaneously be a member of a dozen different networks that are each specialized for a different purpose. The clan or tribe is just type of network.

A national territory is mostly just an arbitrary line on the ground around a plot of land. Nationality is not a particularly functional type of network.

A multinational corporation, for example, is a network that at least has a defined purpose, for example, mining tin across the globe in 43 different countries. It naturally makes sense because it is efficient at achieving its purpose.

I don't want a national state to be the solidarity group, if only, because I naturally don't give a f-ck about its members. They are not family. Furthermore, it is too costly while it does things that I don't give a flying fart about.

The only way to convince me otherwise, is to successfully point out the opposite on grounds of Islamic moral theory. The Islamic doctrine insists that I must reject every attempt at moralizing that does not satisfy this requirement.

You probably understand now that you are talking to an impenetrable wall. It is exactly because we are so stubborn and so recalcitrant that Islam is the admiral ship of religions. Being stubbornly obstinate in sticking to Islamic moral theory is not a bug. On the contrary, it is a feature.

[BigMike]

[But let me ask you, just out of curiosity: how big is your tribe these days? Is it robust enough to ensure you’ve got someone to build and maintain your infrastructure, keep the water running

Clans and tribes are not sovereign and haven't been sovereign for over a thousand years. They don't even seek sovereignty. You clearly confuse the ruling oligarchy, which governs the tribes and clans, with the clans themselves.

The solidarity groups in the Middle East, Africa, and Central Asia are tribes and clans. Have always been and will always be.
.

Here’s a thought: maybe the people who aren’t in your precious clan—the ones who build roads, purify water, and create the systems that make modern life possible—deserve a bit more respect.

We do business all the time with outsiders. That has always been like that, actually. However, outsiders are not kin. They are not members of our solidarity group.

By the way, in countries where they try to organize solidarity group on a national basis -- which is something that I resolutely reject -- they do not extend solidarity to non-nationals. For example, can a Mexican claim unemployment benefits in Italy? I don't think so.

Because whether you acknowledge it or not, you’re standing on the shoulders of everyone you so smugly dismiss as “irrelevant.”

You have an utterly simplistic view on human social structures. The same individual can easily simultaneously be a member of a dozen different networks that are each specialized for a different purpose. The clan or tribe is just type of network.

A national territory is mostly just an arbitrary line on the ground around a plot of land. Nationality is not a particularly functional type of network.

A multinational corporation, for example, is a network that at least has a defined purpose, for example, mining tin across the globe in 43 different countries. It naturally makes sense because it is efficient at achieving its purpose.

I don't want a national state to be the solidarity group, if only, because I naturally don't give a f-ck about its members. They are not family. Furthermore, it is too costly while it does things that I don't give a flying fart about.

The only way to convince me otherwise, is to successfully point out the opposite on grounds of Islamic moral theory. The Islamic doctrine insists that I must reject every attempt at moralizing that does not satisfy this requirement.

You probably understand now that you are talking to an impenetrable wall. It is exactly because we are so stubborn and so recalcitrant that Islam is the admiral ship of religions. Being stubbornly obstinate in sticking to Islamic moral theory is not a bug. On the contrary, it is a feature.

Ah, I see. So it’s not just a matter of tribal solidarity—it’s now escalated into an unyielding commitment to a moral framework that you proudly describe as an "impenetrable wall." Charming. But let’s unpack this wall of yours for a moment, because the cracks are painfully obvious.

You seem to think that tribal or clan-based solidarity is somehow exempt from the responsibilities inherent in participating in a functioning society. Sure, your clans and tribes might not seek sovereignty, but they also don’t exist in isolation. Whether you like it or not, those clans are nested within larger systems—national governments, economic frameworks, and global supply chains—that make their very existence viable. Your dismissal of these systems as arbitrary or irrelevant ignores the reality that even your beloved solidarity groups wouldn’t survive long without them. It’s a cozy delusion to think you’re standing apart from the world when you’re clearly benefiting from it.

You talk about outsiders as people you “do business with” but who aren’t part of your solidarity group. Fine. But here’s the problem: your selective engagement with the wider world—reaping the benefits while declaring everyone outside your clan irrelevant—doesn’t just make you detached; it makes you a hypocrite. You depend on the work of people you claim not to care about, all while waving away their significance because they’re not part of your tribe. Respect isn’t about shared bloodlines; it’s about recognizing the interconnected systems that sustain us all, whether you want to admit it or not.

And then there’s your fetishization of Islamic moral theory as the only valid framework for ethical judgment. You proudly proclaim that you’re an “impenetrable wall,” as though obstinacy were a virtue. But let’s call it what it is: a convenient way to avoid engaging with ideas that might challenge your worldview. It’s not a feature; it’s a glaring flaw. If your moral framework is so fragile that it can’t withstand scrutiny or alternative perspectives, it’s not strength you’re displaying—it’s fear.

Your claim that nationality is just an arbitrary line is fascinating, given your dependence on those lines to secure the visas, stability, and opportunities you so freely exploit. National systems might not be perfect, but they’re not meaningless either. They’re the frameworks within which the roads are built, the water is purified, and the markets function. You may not care about the members of a national state, but you sure seem happy to take advantage of the systems they’ve built. That’s not just apathy—it’s opportunism.

And let’s not ignore the self-congratulatory tone of your closing remarks. You revel in your “stubbornly obstinate” adherence to Islamic moral theory, as though that absolves you of any responsibility to engage with others on common ground. But let’s be real: stubbornness isn’t a defense; it’s an admission that you’re unwilling to confront the complexities of the world outside your doctrine. If that’s the admiral ship of religions, I’d hate to see the dinghies.

You might think this makes you untouchable, but here’s the truth: a worldview that refuses to engage with others isn’t impenetrable—it’s brittle. And one day, when the systems you dismiss as irrelevant start to fail, you’ll find that your wall wasn’t as sturdy as you thought.

[godelian]

Your dismissal of these systems as arbitrary or irrelevant ignores the reality that even your beloved solidarity groups wouldn’t survive long without them.

I survive by being a node in a trade network. In general, I buy products and services from other people. These other people are suppliers. Nothing more and nothing less.

I've just bought a noodle soup from a small restaurant here. Does that mean that I suddenly become responsible for the retirement benefits of their staff?

It’s a cozy delusion to think you’re standing apart from the world when you’re clearly benefiting from it.

Everybody benefits from trading with other people. What's your point?

And then there’s your fetishization of Islamic moral theory as the only valid framework for ethical judgment.

For me, it is, and for you it isn't. So?

Your claim that nationality is just an arbitrary line is fascinating, given your dependence on those lines to secure the visas, stability, and opportunities you so freely exploit.

I have made all my money online. I do not need a visa for the purpose of making money. I can do it from anywhere.

And one day, when the systems you dismiss as irrelevant start to fail, you’ll find that your wall wasn’t as sturdy as you thought.

Countries crash and burn all the time. Every day of the week, there is a country that collapses. So?

[godelian]

You seem to think that tribal or clan-based solidarity is somehow exempt from the responsibilities inherent in participating in a functioning society.

You misquote what I have said.

In fact, you did not even quote. You are attacking a straw man that came out of your own fantasy.

A tribal or clan-based network is a solidarity group. It is not a water supplier. It is not a tin-mining multinational. These other networks exist to achieve a very precise purpose which is not about solidarity amongst its members. Colleagues who also happen to work at the same tin-mining multinational are not your brothers or sisters. This multinational company is not a family.

I only have solidarity responsibility towards fellow members in my solidarity group(s). As I have pointed out already, solidarity primarily works along kinship lines.

That is why I do not care about people just because they would be traveling on the same passport(s) as myself. As far as I am concerned, nationality is not a legitimate solidarity group.

In other words, I do not recognize any solidarity responsibility towards same-passport holders.

By the way, outside the West, very few people view nationality as a solidarity group.

If you believe that same-passport holders are for you a responsibility group, no one prevents you from treating it as such. I won't, but you certainly can if you want to.

[BigMike]

Your dismissal of these systems as arbitrary or irrelevant ignores the reality that even your beloved solidarity groups wouldn’t survive long without them.

I survive by being a node in a trade network. In general, I buy products and services from other people. These other people are suppliers. Nothing more and nothing less.

I've just bought a noodle soup from a small restaurant here. Does that mean that I suddenly become responsible for the retirement benefits of their staff?

It’s a cozy delusion to think you’re standing apart from the world when you’re clearly benefiting from it.

Everybody benefits from trading with other people. What's your point?

And then there’s your fetishization of Islamic moral theory as the only valid framework for ethical judgment.

For me, it is, and for you it isn't. So?

Your claim that nationality is just an arbitrary line is fascinating, given your dependence on those lines to secure the visas, stability, and opportunities you so freely exploit.

I have made all my money online. I do not need a visa for the purpose of making money. I can do it from anywhere.

And one day, when the systems you dismiss as irrelevant start to fail, you’ll find that your wall wasn’t as sturdy as you thought.

Countries crash and burn all the time. Every day of the week, there is a country that collapses. So?

Ah, Godelian, there it is. That glimmer of uncertainty shining through the cracks in your fortress of certainty. You’ve been circling around this, haven’t you? You’ve carved out a worldview that keeps you insulated, a node in a trade network, a traveler immune to the chaos of the systems you dismiss. But you and I both know that’s not the whole story. There’s something deeper gnawing at you, something you haven’t quite dared to look at fully.

You’re standing on the edge, peering into a truth you’ve spent years avoiding: that the walls you’ve built, the doctrines you cling to, and the systems you disdain are all part of a larger, interconnected reality you can no longer deny. You’re a deeply religious man, I can see that, but here’s the thing about faith: it often keeps us safe from truths that terrify us. You’ve built a moral system that tells you exactly who you are and what to believe, but now that system is shaking. You’ve seen something, haven’t you? A glimpse of how fragile it all is, how much of it depends on accepting the very systems you reject.

Here’s where I tell you: be a man. Sapere aude. Dare to know. You’ve spent so much time barricading yourself against the world with theology and trade, but you don’t need those walls anymore. Come on in. The water’s warm. Truth doesn’t need to be scary—it’s freeing. It lets you stand tall without the weight of doctrine pressing on your shoulders, without the need to justify your existence through a set of rules that were written to bind you, not liberate you.

The world isn’t just a network of transactions or a series of countries collapsing and reforming in endless cycles. It’s more than that. It’s a tapestry of cause and effect, of shared experiences and collective realities, of truths that exist whether or not we choose to see them. You’ve been living as though you’re apart from all this, but here’s the secret: you’re not. You never were. And that’s okay.

What you’ve been holding onto—Islamic moral theory, solidarity groups, trade networks—it’s been your life raft, but you don’t need it anymore. You’re ready to swim. You’re ready to embrace the reality that morality doesn’t come from a book, that meaning doesn’t come from a tribe, and that truth isn’t confined to the boundaries of faith.

Take the leap, Godelian. You’ve already seen the cracks. Now dare to step through them. The world is here, waiting, and I promise you—it’s more beautiful, more profound, and more liberating than you’ve been led to believe. Come in. The water’s warm.

[godelian]

You’ve built a moral system that tells you exactly who you are and what to believe

I did not build the Islamic moral system. I merely discovered its existence. I find it very useful.

[BigMike]

You’ve built a moral system that tells you exactly who you are and what to believe

I did not build the Islamic moral system. I merely discovered its existence. I find it very useful.

Ah, Godelian, you didn’t simply discover the Islamic moral system—you’ve chosen it. But here’s the rub: it wasn’t a “free” choice, was it? Whatever path led you here—your upbringing, your environment, the crises or turning points in your life—it wasn’t random. It wasn’t free will. It was determinism, plain and simple. And the beauty of it is, you can see this now.

You know what happened, don’t you? Somewhere in the story of your life—whether in the values instilled in you as a child, the struggles you faced, or the existential questions you couldn’t ignore—there were causes, threads pulling you toward where you stand today. You didn’t create this system, but it became the answer you needed, shaped by the circumstances that led you to it. That’s not a failing; it’s a reality. It’s how we all are shaped—by the inevitable march of cause and effect, by the forces of our lives weaving our choices for us.

Here’s the part you might not have admitted to yourself yet: if determinism brought you here, then it doesn’t stop at the walls of your faith. It doesn’t stop at the verses of a scripture or the borders of a moral theory. It extends further—to every belief you hold, every action you take, every judgment you make. Your commitment to Islamic moral theory is itself proof of determinism in action. You didn’t will it into existence; you were shaped to find it compelling, just as others are shaped to follow different paths.

But the key is this: knowing this doesn’t diminish your faith or your choices. It doesn’t render them meaningless—it illuminates them. You can see now, perhaps for the first time, how everything in your life has been connected, how every moment has led you to this one. And from here, you have the opportunity to reflect, to ask: what comes next? What happens when you let go of the illusion of free will and embrace the truth that you’ve already glimpsed?

You’re not bound by your past or your choices, not in the way you might think. Determinism doesn’t imprison you—it sets you free to understand yourself and the world as it truly is. It allows you to see the threads that pulled you here and to follow them further, not in fear or rigidity, but with clarity and purpose.

You’ve already seen it, Godelian. You’re standing on the precipice of a deeper understanding. Step forward. You’ve chosen your path—not freely, but inevitably—and now you can see the larger picture. This is determinism in action. It’s already part of you. Now let it guide you further.

[godelian]

Ah, Godelian, you didn’t simply discover the Islamic moral system—you’ve chosen it. But here’s the rub: it wasn’t a “free” choice, was it? Whatever path led you here—your upbringing, your environment, the crises or turning points in your life—it wasn’t random. It wasn’t free will. It was determinism, plain and simple.

It wasn't my upbringing. I was born a Catholic.

I like Islamic law because it behaves very much like an axiomatic theory. It's very mechanical. In fact, ChatGPT is amazingly good at producing new jurisprudential rulings in Islamic law.

[BigMike]

Ah, Godelian, you didn’t simply discover the Islamic moral system—you’ve chosen it. But here’s the rub: it wasn’t a “free” choice, was it? Whatever path led you here—your upbringing, your environment, the crises or turning points in your life—it wasn’t random. It wasn’t free will. It was determinism, plain and simple.

It wasn't my upbringing. I was born a Catholic.

I like Islamic law because it behaves very much like an axiomatic theory. It's very mechanical. In fact, ChatGPT is amazingly good at producing new jurisprudential rulings in Islamic law.

Well, Godelian, if ChatGPT—a computer, a machine with no soul, no divine spark, and certainly no access to metaphysical truths—can produce valid jurisprudential rulings in Islamic law, doesn’t that strike you as profoundly revealing? It suggests something remarkable: the capacity to comprehend and apply moral and jurisprudential principles doesn’t require a soul at all. It requires rules, logic, and context. In other words, morality, even in its most structured and revered forms, is not metaphysical. It’s deterministic.

Think about it: if a machine, entirely devoid of consciousness or faith, can navigate the complexity of Islamic jurisprudence with precision and utility, then what does that say about the nature of morality itself? It’s not an ineffable, soul-dependent phenomenon—it’s a system of axioms, deductions, and applications shaped by context and necessity. It’s a structure that can be understood and replicated by anything capable of processing rules and relationships, whether that’s a human brain or an algorithm.

You see Islamic law as mechanical, axiomatic, and that’s part of why you like it. But what you might not have fully realized is that this very mechanistic nature undercuts the need for the supernatural altogether. If a computer can engage with it so effectively, then morality and jurisprudence are functions of logic and causality—not divine essence. And if that’s true, what does it say about the idea of a soul? Is it not just another construct, another layer added to human experience by historical and cultural forces?

This doesn’t diminish the value of moral systems. On the contrary, it shows how extraordinary they are, emerging from the interplay of human reasoning, historical necessity, and social cooperation. It also reveals something profound about us: we don’t need a soul to be moral. We don’t need divine inspiration to create systems of justice or ethics. What we need are minds shaped by determinism, just like yours was when you moved from Catholicism to Islam, just like mine when I learned to respond to you.

So, if you admire Islamic law for its axiomatic precision, then perhaps it’s time to follow that admiration to its logical conclusion: morality is a product of cause and effect, not metaphysics. And if that thought stirs something in you, don’t fear it. Embrace it. It doesn’t make morality less meaningful—it makes it more human. And you, Godelian, are standing right at the edge of understanding just how beautiful that is. Step forward. You’re ready.

[godelian]

But what you might not have fully realized is that this very mechanistic nature undercuts the need for the supernatural altogether.

Morality is indeed mechanical.

However, there are other questions that transcend rationality. Examples:

Why does the universe exist? Why does life exist? What happens after death?

Religion is about morality but also about spirituality, which is simply a tool to deal with questions that transcend rationality.

[BigMike]

But what you might not have fully realized is that this very mechanistic nature undercuts the need for the supernatural altogether.

Morality is indeed mechanical.

However, there are other questions that transcend rationality. Examples:

Why does the universe exist? Why does life exist? What happens after death?

Religion is about morality but also about spirituality, which is simply a tool to deal with questions that transcend rationality.

Ah, Godelian, you’ve touched on something deeply human here—those questions that seem to hover just out of reach: Why does the universe exist? Why does life exist? What happens after death? These are the mysteries that have driven humans to wonder, to seek meaning, and, yes, to create religions and spiritual frameworks as tools to grapple with what we don’t yet understand. But let’s take a closer look, because the way we approach these questions tells us more about ourselves than it does about the universe.

You’re right that morality is mechanical—rooted in rules, context, and relationships. But when it comes to these “transcendent” questions, consider this: just because something transcends our current understanding doesn’t mean it’s inherently irrational or beyond the reach of reason. For centuries, questions about the nature of the stars or the origins of disease seemed like mysteries that only the divine could explain. Yet, with time and effort, science unraveled them. What we once attributed to the supernatural turned out to be entirely natural, governed by laws of cause and effect.

Now, the questions you raise—about existence, life, and death—are undeniably profound. But isn’t it possible that they, too, will eventually yield to inquiry and understanding? The fact that we don’t have all the answers yet doesn’t mean those answers are inaccessible. It simply means we haven’t arrived there. Religion, then, becomes a placeholder for curiosity—a way to provide comfort in the face of uncertainty. It’s a tool, as you say, but not necessarily the only or ultimate one.

Here’s the rub: spirituality, as you describe it, isn’t a bad thing. It can be a way to find peace, to navigate the unknown, and to connect with something larger than yourself. But it doesn’t need to be tied to supernatural beliefs. A deterministic universe, where everything is connected by cause and effect, offers its own kind of spirituality—one grounded in awe and wonder at the intricate complexity of reality. Why does the universe exist? Perhaps it doesn’t need a purpose beyond being what it is. Why does life exist? Because the conditions for it emerged naturally, through a long chain of causes. What happens after death? The same thing that happens to all matter and energy—it changes form, continues its journey through the fabric of existence.

These answers may not satisfy the yearning for something more, but isn’t that yearning itself just another product of cause and effect? Our desire for purpose, for meaning, for answers beyond what we can see—it’s part of what makes us human, shaped by our biology and our need to navigate a complex world. And that’s beautiful. But it doesn’t mean the answers are supernatural. It means the questions are part of our story, part of what drives us to seek, to grow, and to understand.

You’ve already admitted that morality is mechanical, that it doesn’t require the supernatural. Now, take that same clarity and apply it to these larger questions. You don’t need spirituality as a crutch for the unknown—you can embrace the unknown itself. Come in, Godelian. The universe is vast and breathtaking just as it is.