There’s an apocryphal story that seems appropriate to this discussion. The story, often told in the old Soviet Union, goes like this:

Fyodor, poor farmer in Russia, scraped and saved until he was able, after many years, to buy a goat. He nurtured the goat and before long, began to get a daily supply of goat’s milk. He quietly sold the goat’s milk and cheese to some neighbors. The money he received allowed him to buy better cloths for his children and more farm tools to grow vegetables. In his own modest way, Fyodor began to prosper.

One neighbor, a rabid communist, watched this transpire and then went to the mayor of the local village.

“Fyodor has a goat,” he proclaimed angrily.

“So what,” said the mayor, a progressive in such things. “He’s hurting no one.”

The neighbor winced. “He has more milk than me and more cheese. By god, he’s selling these things and buying nice cloths for his children while mine dress in rags. He’s buying better equipment than I have. It’s not right.”

The mayor thought for a moment, “Well, maybe we can get you a goat. After all, Fyodor is doing well. There’s milk and cheese not only for him but for many of the townspeople — all because of his goat. You can do the same.”

The neighbor became visibly angry. “That won’t do!”

The mayor sighed. “Then what do you want me to do?”

The neighbor smiled. “Kill the goat.”