Jonathan Swift – The Population Problem – 067

My dear Byron and fellow players of this literary sport,

It seems I have been given a vice most suited to my pen — overpopulation. Having once proposed a dietary use for surplus infants, I am gratified to see my reputation remains intact. Yet I shall resist repeating myself and instead offer a fresh, if equally immoderate, cure.

My proposal: the establishment of the Office of Birth Permits. No child shall be born without its parents first securing a permit, obtained only after proving they have contributed a measurable good to the community — a bridge built, a play written, a cure discovered, or a grievous wrong undone. The number of permits issued each year shall be set by the available resources of the realm, and all permits not claimed shall be raffled off in a national lottery.

For those denied permits but still yearning for parenthood, the Office will issue them a “citizen-in-training” — an orphan or abandoned youth in need of guidance. In this way, no affection is wasted, and no young mind left untutored.

As for those who circumvent the process, their punishment shall be poetic: they will spend their days tending the gardens, kitchens, and laundries of those who did earn their right to procreate, so that they may fully appreciate the weight of what they sought to take without leave.

Drastic? Yes. But perhaps less so than allowing the planet to collapse beneath the weight of our unchecked multiplication.

Yours in calculated constraint,

— Jonathan Swift