Editor's note: Gary Smith's column will return next week.
Take a moment and step into my time machine, dear reader, and let us travel back to Babylon, 1772 BC. Here on the banks of the Euphrates River, we'll first make a quick stop at the temple of Esagila to tip our caps at the shrine of Nabu. I'm told he's the Assyrian god of writing, and certain columnists could use all the help they can get.
But from there, we'll scoot over the palace of Hammurabi, the chap we're really here to visit. Our mission is sacrosanct, you see, as we've come to stop the Babylonian king from saddling the world with its first set of government building codes.
So sayeth the king: "If a builder builds a house for someone, and does not construct it properly, and the house which he built falls in and kills its owner, then that builder shall be put to death."
And receive the Old World's worst Yelp review, presumably.
Fast-forward a few millennia, and we're a bit more liberal in our attitudes toward murdering general contractors -- unless you've recently had to pay for a kitchen remodel. Nowadays, Hammurabi's Code has been replaced by the International Building Code, which jurisdictions large and small use to provide public control of private property.
Now, I wouldn't suggest that all building codes are a bad idea, or that there isn't a public interest in ensuring, say, commercial establishments have fire exits. But like any area over which bureaucrats have exclusive influence, building codes have been tortured and twisted and transformed into yet another means of government meddling and largess.
Our civic institutions are at their best when they operate with the understanding that free markets maximize efficiency. Governments can skew market efficiency in a certain direction, like granting tax breaks for charitable donations. Or, they can attempt to eliminate efficient yet undesirable outcomes -- like pollution -- by changing the self-interested calculus.
But overreaching occurs when regulation interferes with already self-efficient markets that could function just fine without bureaucratic help. And home improvement hits that proverbial nail straight on the head.
It is in the self-interest of a homeowner to undertake improvement projects around the house that increase the value of his property, and value-maximizing projects are projects done well. By requiring a building permit to erect a fence or replace some flooring, the government disincentivizes those projects by making them more difficult and, oh yeah, more expensive through excessive permit "fees."
But let's call a spade a spade, and a tax a tax. "Fees" are earmarked for a logical, off-setting use, while taxes are not. That's why your water bill pays for corresponding water projects while your property taxes pay for a whole host of other things. Ergo, to call a building fee a "fee" is dishonest. The city doesn't need your building fee to offset a city service, so it's really just grift.
We'd be better off if government got out of the home improvement game altogether. That doesn't mean we'd have to do-away with building codes, necessarily; we could still have best practices for construction. But enforcement of those codes should come into play only after-the-fact.
In other words, if I ignore a building code and someone gets hurt as a result of my negligence, I should be held liable in civil and occasionally criminal court, just like any other tort. But for the government to insert its tax collectors into the home improvement process even before my shovel hits dirt is laughable-level nannyism.
It's hard to believe that leaders knew more about the proper application of building codes 3,700 years ago than they do today, but maybe that's the case. Because if I've got my Phillips-head and my flat-head ready to roll, I don't need the government stopping by with an expectant palm and a loose screw.
NATE STRAUCH IS A REPORTER AND COLUMNIST FOR THE SHERMAN-DENISON HERALD DEMOCRAT. HE WRITES A COLUMN FOR STEPHENS MEDIA.[email protected]
Commentary on 07/24/2014