"I don't know what to do or where to turn in this taxation matter. Somewhere there must be a book that tells all about it, where I could go to straighten it out in my mind. But I don't know where the book is, and maybe I couldn't read it if I found it"
About this Quote
Harding’s line lands like an accidental confession: the president of the United States staring down the machinery of taxation and admitting he can’t even find the instruction manual, let alone decode it. It’s disarming in its plainness, but the subtext is darker. Tax policy isn’t just “complicated”; it’s deliberately engineered to be navigable mainly by insiders - lawyers, accountants, lobbyists, the very ecosystem that thrives when ordinary citizens (and apparently presidents) feel illiterate in the face of government.
The “somewhere there must be a book” phrasing does two things at once. It frames taxation as a technical riddle with a single authoritative answer, and it casts Harding as the baffled layman, not the architect. That posture can read as humility, even a populist shrug: I’m with you, this is a mess. But it also signals abdication. If the leader treats one of the state’s core powers - extracting revenue - as an esoteric puzzle beyond him, power doesn’t vanish; it migrates to the experts and the interests that can “read the book.”
Context sharpens the stakes. Harding governed during the early 1920s push for major tax cuts and pro-business “normalcy,” amid a Washington culture increasingly shaped by backroom influence and, soon, scandals that made “who really runs things?” a live question. The line’s almost comic self-deprecation becomes a warning: complexity is political. Confusion isn’t just a feeling; it’s a governing condition.
The “somewhere there must be a book” phrasing does two things at once. It frames taxation as a technical riddle with a single authoritative answer, and it casts Harding as the baffled layman, not the architect. That posture can read as humility, even a populist shrug: I’m with you, this is a mess. But it also signals abdication. If the leader treats one of the state’s core powers - extracting revenue - as an esoteric puzzle beyond him, power doesn’t vanish; it migrates to the experts and the interests that can “read the book.”
Context sharpens the stakes. Harding governed during the early 1920s push for major tax cuts and pro-business “normalcy,” amid a Washington culture increasingly shaped by backroom influence and, soon, scandals that made “who really runs things?” a live question. The line’s almost comic self-deprecation becomes a warning: complexity is political. Confusion isn’t just a feeling; it’s a governing condition.
Quote Details
| Topic | Book |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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