3 min read

In tight financial times, government must see budgets as moral documents

“You can have it all!”

Most 21st-century Americans are bombarded with messages like this every day. Perhaps folks who write these advertisements don’t have lives in which plans to buy a new car are put on hold when a child needs braces, a Disneyland vacation get scrubbed when the roof springs a leak, Dad’s recurring stomach pain requires many expensive tests for diagnosis, or Mom discovers the lump in her breast is malignant.

For most of us, those events are real possibilities in our lives – we can’t have everything. In fact, every time we write a check, we make a choice about what matters most to us. If we make a family budget, we’re planning our financial futures so we can pay for necessities, for the extras we value, and perhaps have some left to put aside.

Someone once commented that your checkbook says more about the state of your soul – and of what you value – than does your prayer book. This is true of the checkbook of our government, as well.

We want first-class roads and schools, well-trained police and fire personnel, a court system that deals with cases in a timely manner, well-maintained parks, and many other services provided by state government. Most of us also want to ensure our elderly, those of us with physical and mental handicaps, the ill, people who have lost their jobs or don’t have the skills necessary to obtain jobs that pay livable wages, are treated humanely.

When times are flush, and there’s enough money to cover both those types of funding, we avoid having to choose; it’s when times are tougher, we have to “put our money where our mouths are,” and show what we really want.

Our state budget spells out the compromises and adjustments to revenue and expenses we propose, so the programs most vital to us are supported to the extent they need to work. The priorities we set – how much of our private worth we’re willing to spend for our common welfare, and how much of that will meet the needs of those most dependent on government support for health and safety – make the budget a moral document.

We will pay for what we believe to be most important, and cut what seems unnecessary.

The Maine Council of Churches, a group comprised of representatives of nine Christian denominations, is aware that tax policy has tremendous potential to divide communities. Our guidelines for judging priorities set by any budget grow out of our faith traditions.

We believe that taxes must be apportioned fairly, and spent responsibly and efficiently, with special care being given to the most vulnerable and powerless among us, those least able to advocate for themselves. “Fair apportionment” of taxes requires all tax increases and reductions in benefits be apportioned fairly between Maine households and Maine businesses.

Tax policies should be progressive, intentionally designed to collect more from those more able to pay.

“Maine: The WayLife Should Be” is used to market many things: Maine vacations, Maine as a place to do business, Maine as a place to avoid living in the fast lane. There are vital components of “the way life should be” we may not think about when we’re younger, possessed of a sound mind in a sound body, getting paid decent wages for a job that feels worthwhile.

Those hidden pieces deal with what happens when we have a catastrophic illness, get older and have a fixed income, lose our job, have a child with a physically or mentally handicapping condition, or experience spousal abuse and flee with our children and the clothes we have on our backs.

What then? Do we find no place to turn? Do we discover Maine’s quality of life is meant exclusively for those not needing help, that life is the way it should be until we need a hand?

Mainers have historically reached out to each other in time of need.

Let’s demand a state budget that spells out that Maine is truly the way life should be – for all of us.

Silver Moore-Leamon of Auburn is vice president of the Maine Council of Churches.

Comments are no longer available on this story