America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

Chapter 117 The Fight Between the Snipe and the Clam

Applause erupted from the audience again, and this time it was even louder.

Sean looked at Crane, trying to keep his demeanor and expression calm. He couldn't be aggressive; he had to be careful.

His peripheral vision swept across the audience seats, and the numbers above the heads of those in the front row were still dropping, for example, from the thirties to the twenties, or even more.

Three weeks of community forums, three weeks of video editing, three weeks of interviews and live broadcasts—the connections he built over those three weeks are being eroded little by little by Crane's questioning.

So, is he still a social media influencer? Imagine: all your efforts could be dismantled in minutes by a seasoned politician. Wouldn't you feel exhausted?

But Sean just felt incredibly energetic!

And Crane didn't give him a chance to catch his breath.

"Mr. Pan said he wanted to help workers who were rendered obsolete by technology." He continued, "But do you know what truly helps workers isn't training centers, it's job opportunities. Where do job opportunities come from? From businesses! Why do businesses come? Because there's a market, there's infrastructure, and of course, most importantly, there's fair taxation and regulation!"

He stared at Sean.

"Let me just mention one thing, like your small data tax. What is that? It's a tax on tech companies! Why are tech companies in California? Because there's an innovative environment here! If you tax them, they'll go to Texas, to Florida, to places that don't treat them like ATMs! And then what? Then what we lose isn't just tax revenue, it's jobs, innovation, and the future!"

Has a conservative who doesn't even support new energy sources started talking about so-called innovation?

Sean sneered inwardly.

But this doesn't change the fact that the applause from the audience was even more enthusiastic.

Seeing this, Crane's voice grew louder: "Or are you like those stupid leftists who want to give more opportunities to those who never care about the economy and only care about slogans! Does that mean giving those who promise free lunches the chance to turn our country into, into what? Venezuela? Or Cuba?"

He gave a cold laugh.

"Mr. Pan, I don't know who you are, but you sound a lot like a leftist. A leftist dressed in the guise of independence. Do you know what voters hate most? They hate people who don't dare to admit who they are!"

Sean stood there, listening to Crane's voice surge in like a tide.

He looked toward the side platform.

Kelly stood there, one hand on her headphones, staring intently at him.

The veteran campaign manager's eyes seemed to say:

Stop spacing out. Speak.

Political debate is not academic discussion. It's war.

On stage, Sean spoke.

"Senator Crane, you're right. Taxpayers matter. Taxpayers should have the right to know where their money is going and the right to question how the government spends it."

His voice was natural, without any hint of discouragement or resignation.

"But I want to ask you a question."

"Please speak." Crane looked at him, waiting for what he knew wouldn't be a pleasant response.

"You keep talking about taxpayers, taxpayers. Taxpayers pay money, taxpayers have the right to decide. But I want to ask: are only taxpayers entitled to enjoy the benefits of policies?"

Kran paused for a moment.

Then he smiled, a smile full of superiority and confidence.

"Mr. Pan, what are you trying to say? Are you saying that those who don't pay taxes should also enjoy the same benefits? This is a classic left-wing argument: giving other people's money to those who don't pay taxes."

This is destroying the market!

Even a few chuckles of agreement rang out from the audience.

But Sean didn't laugh, because people who want to win don't have smiles on their faces.

"Senator Crane," he said, "you speak fluently. But I'd like you to define: who are the taxpayers?"

The other person frowned slightly: "Anyone who pays taxes to the federal government. Personal income tax, corporate income tax, sales tax."

"Okay," Sean interrupted him. "Then let me ask you: If a foreigner invests in U.S. stocks in California and has to pay capital gains tax on his stock purchases and sales, is he a taxpayer?"

Crane opened his mouth, but did not answer immediately.

Sean continued, "Is an undocumented immigrant who works using a fake Social Security number and has taxes deducted from his paycheck every month a taxpayer?"

The audience fell silent.

"If a homeless person buys a bottle of water and has to pay consumption tax, is he a taxpayer?"

"You just said that taxpayers have the right to decide with their own money. By your definition, these people are all taxpayers. Are they qualified? Can that foreigner who invests in US stocks vote? Can that illegal immigrant vote? Can that homeless person, who doesn't even have a fixed address, vote?"

Aren't they the most opposed to illegal immigrants? But do they allow them to vote? And do they acknowledge that they pay taxes?

Crane's expression changed, and he stopped talking.

But Sean's voice rose: "You keep saying 'taxpayers,' but Senator Crane, what you're really talking about are: taxpayers with the right to vote. Those who appear in every election, those whose votes you need to be re-elected. And what about those taxpayers who don't have the right to vote, or those who pay less tax—where does their tax money go?"

"It's obvious that the money went to Social Security, Medicare, roads, and bridges. They paid the money, but they don't have the right to decide how it's used. You just said that taxpayers should have the right to decide. So, do these people have that right?"

In the audience, some people began to whisper among themselves.

Sean's gaze swept across the front row. Some of the numbers that had just dropped were beginning to rise again.

"You say I'm a leftist, that I want to give other people's money to those who don't pay. But I want to tell you, we all agree on this: there are no people who don't pay. In this country, as long as you're alive, as long as you're breathing, you're paying."

Consumption tax, gasoline tax, telephone tax, water and electricity tax. Those you think don't deserve welfare are actually paying for the running of this country all along.

"Of course, I don't want to directly discuss the so-called illegal immigrants and xenophobic sentiments. Let's take a look at the people here and your supporters!"

"I don't call them taxpayers, I call them—citizens!"

Yes, citizens.

The word echoed in the auditorium.

Crane stood there, his hand on the podium, and remained silent for a moment.

Sean, however, had no intention of letting the old man go.

Looking at the first person he exposed, he thought: I'll use his failure to begin my journey of defeating those political elites.

"Senator Crane, you said you've served this district for twenty-five years. I want to ask: In those twenty-five years, have you ever thought about those people you've never met, those people who didn't appear at your fundraising dinners, those people whose votes weren't counted even though they cast them! They are citizens too, and they deserve to be served."

In the audience, some people began to applaud.

It wasn't the supporters of the Kran, but the people sitting in the middle who looked like local residents.

The applause was faint and sporadic.

But it exists.

And it made Crane's face turn very ugly.

He took a deep breath and was about to speak when he saw a figure stand up in the first row of the audience.

It was Thomas Wilder who raised his hand.

Everyone looked at him blankly.

The host paused for a moment, then said, "Mr. Wilder?"

"Excuse me, Mr. Moderator," Wilder smiled. "I know this isn't part of the proceedings. But—well, I've been listening from down here and I'm finding this debate so interesting. So I was wondering: may I go up and observe?"

He pointed to the side of the stage.

"Just sit there, don't say a word or interrupt, just—watch, is that alright?"

The auditorium was silent for two seconds, then a cacophony of noise erupted.

The host looked at Crane, then at Sean.

Sean looked at Wilder, at that smiling face, and finally said, "I have no objection."

After thinking for a moment, Crane also said, "Neither do I."

Wilder's smile grew even brighter.

He strode onto the stage, dragged a chair over, sat down on the side of the stage, crossed his legs on his knees, like an audience member watching a performance.