" Whatever works, huh?"
Longish intro. Story below
I'm a believer in the social contract. My view is that it is in the careful balancing act between individual freedom and social obligations that society can be founded, maintained, and flourish. Thus I don't (with one notable exception ) do fares off the meter. Its not just about staying out of trouble, it is about adding ingredients to the great pie of society, so that I may have a slice whenever I need it.
So let's talk about a group of people who've been popping up a lot lately. I'm talking about the criminal element. The thugs, the scumbags, the crooks and the low-down dirty bastards. The victims, the hungry, the desperate.
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| Artist's impression. |
Because more often than not, most people who want to pay me off the meter are people who, for whatever reason, feel that society has given them nothing and thus are in no mood to give anything to society. The people who say; why the fuck should I slave away like an asshole for one measly slice? You might remember I've touched on this before.
Every once in a while, I drive honest-to-god outlaws. Sometimes because they need to go somewhere, like anyone. At other times because they're off to do some dirty deed or other. And at times it is because they need someone to pick them up after they've served time in prison. Provided we can establish a rapport, I usually find them fairly sympathetic. and they usually sympathise with me. As in the above quote, most of them get the struggle of low-income work. Some of them think I'm an idiot for paying into a system that, to their mind, doesn't give a fuck about me. Some of them treat it as a personal choice, just as a life of crime is their personal choice. In the cab, I adopt an attitude of to-each-his-own. Outside, I'm pretty horrified.
One more thing before we get to the meat of today's entry. I know, this intro is dragging on. Bear with me.
In my travels (both in the world and on the Internet) I've come across the idea that Sweden (and Scandinavia in general) is soft on crime. After all, if you commit a crime, you damage society. So society should damage you, right? And here's Sweden with its short prison sentences, comfortable cells, and ample opportunity for going on leave - it's a goddamn miracle that we haven't degenerated into a criminal wasteland.
But here's the thing; the philosophy behind the Swedish penal system is the idea that criminals are, by and large, not evil people but people who have for whatever reason chosen to break with society. And if they chose to break with society, they must be given the choice to rejoin it. Not only the choice, but the opportunity. A reason. So there's an idea that the prison system must not only give them the choice, but also the means and motivation to create a good and productive life within the limits and laws of society. Is it perfect? Fuck no. Some people are unrepentant assholes and will abuse the shit out of this leniency. But at the same time, we have fairly low rates of recidivism, internationally speaking.
So the system works sometimes. Here's a story about that.
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Three years well spent
He wore a dirty baseball cap, hadn't shaven for days, and his skin had that weird, sallow doughiness of somebody whose lost a lot of weight in a decidedly unhealthy way. He asked me about fixing the rate and I explained to him why that wasn't an option.
"No problem, I get sticking to the straight and narrow. Better in the end, you know. But tell me if you change your mind."
Sometimes conversations can take very sudden turns. I've had conversations that start with the weather, and end with heavy drug use. You never see those shifts in conversation coming - so here I was, chatting away on a very superficial level with this dude. His tone was curt and to the point, the kind of man that never had had much need for a large vocabulary. I got the sense that he, like many denizens of this city's underbelly, made it his business to talk about himself as little as possible. So we chatted about how hot the weather was, how annoying the massive infrastructure project was to drivers of all stripes, and shame about Sweden losing in the World cup.
I can't remember how it happened, but suddenly he told me that he had recently served three years in prison. So I put on my best 'fuck the system man'- face and listened.
"Me and a buddy ran a junkyard. On the side, we bought copper from junkies. We paid them in cash."
"I think I've run in to a couple of your clients then," I said.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, they wanted to make a deal with me so I could help them smuggle copper they'd stolen to some junkyard in Homeridge."
"Oh they got that back there? Good on you that you didn't set anything up with them. Little bastards never keep their promises. I had one guy bring me in a length of cable, from the train. The bolt cutter had melted from the electric charge. They'll steal anything."
"And you paid them."
"Sure. It was good business. But I made a mistake. See, there are ways to get around that shit. Papers you can push the right way, expenses you can write off... And my partner, he was the smart one. He got out while the going was good. He was married to a Nigerian, and he sold his share of the company for a couple of millions. He went with her to Nigeria and opened a bar. Shortly after he left, the tax-department is knocking on my door. They were going to audit me. And me, I didn't have my shit together, so they got me. Three years in prison, man. Two point nine million in fines."
"Shit," I said, quietly thinking that what goes around comes around.
"Yeah," he said with a rueful grin. "So that was a thing."
"Still, that sounds rough. Three years of your life."
"Actually it wasn't that bad."
"Oh? Comfortable lodgings?"
"Sure, like everyone. No, it wasn't that bad. Because during that time, they got me a psychiatric evaluation. Turns out, I've got ADHD. I've always suspected that something was weird, but I never really thought about looking into it. Never really wanted it. Didn't trust the system, you know?"
"Sure."
"So I got out, and on medication. Got my shit together for real this time. They even wrote off the fines. So life is good. Besides, my partner had it worse."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," he said with ghoulish amusement. "Two weeks after he opened his bar, he died in the Ebola epidemic. So he wasn't as smart as he thought he was."
He laughed, and god help me, I couldn't help but laugh with him. Because there's something wrong with me.
"So the system works, then?"
"Not sure about that," he said. "But it worked fine for me at least."
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