Is the State Stupid?

AP Wire | 01/28/2005 | Amish business owners question how they'll file sales taxes electronically

Amish business owners question how they'll file sales taxes electronically

Associated Press


YORK, Pa. - Now that the state Revenue Department will require businesses to file their monthly and quarterly sales tax electronically, some Amish merchants are left wondering how they'll comply with the new rules and stay true to their way of life.

Starting in February, businesses must pay the taxes online, by telephone or by using third-party software. The old-fashioned coupon books are being discontinued.

The state has been sending letters to Amish and non-Amish retailers alike letters informing them that the change is coming.

Anna Fisher, who works at Penn Dutch Furniture & Crafts at The Markets at Shrewsbury, received her notice a few weeks ago about the change. The state says the switch will make it faster, cheaper and easier to file and collect the taxes, but Fisher, who is Amish, is uncertain how her business will comply.

"It's against our church rules to use electricity and computers," Fisher said. "It was so simple doing it by paper.

"We try and keep our (business) as simple as we can."

Revenue Department officials said they will work with Amish merchants on an individual basis but they will not be creating a special paper form for them. The department has been meeting with Amish community leaders to discuss the change and their concerns.

"We understand their circumstances," department spokeswoman Stephanie Weyant said. "Theirs are a little different than anyone else's."

Times Online - Sunday Times

Times Online - Sunday Times


Back to the future
It's an insular, pious community that is at odds with the modern world. So how will the Amish stop its younger generation from walking away? Ariel Leve reports



Just off the county highway in Goshen, Indiana, there is a cluster of modular homes built from a kit. It couldn't be called a neighbourhood; it's just a paved road lined with identical homes set several feet apart. It is early evening in late November and loneliness pervades in spite of Christmas lights that blink in the windows. A mud-splashed Camaro, the emblem of middle-class teenage testosterone, is parked in the drive of one of the homes. The front door is unlocked. Inside, the stench of staleness is overpowering. All the curtains are drawn and the sitting room is completely dark. A giant 52in flat-screen television dominates the room and glows with a muted sitcom that nobody is watching. There are three pieces of leather furniture on which three men have passed out, fully clothed, in a deep sleep. It is 6pm. The kitchen is brand new, shiny, unused. The ashtrays are full of smoked butts and nobody stirs at the appearance of a stranger. There is no sound, no urgency, no sense of time. This is where Gerald Yutzy lives in limbo.



Gerald, 24, was raised as Amish. There is a large Amish community in Goshen and the monochrome religious world he was born into exists in a nonmechanised time warp. They live side by side with the modern (or "English") world, whose citizens greedily embrace material accessories and possessions and see no sin in using a dishwasher or a computer: people like us.

There are stalls for the Amish horses and buggies in the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart. Dressed in plain, home-made clothes, the women in grey dresses and bonnets, the men in black felt hats, braces and beards with no moustache, they can be seen in the aisles. When an Amish man marries he grows a beard — a moustache is too reminiscent of the military — and it remains, increasing in length with each passing year. In America, the Amish are still largely romanticised as gentle and private people who carry the torch of an idealised past. They live a 19th-century existence and adhere to simple, family-oriented values. They keep to themselves, don't proselytise, and don't seek to be a part of a culture where technological progress and prosperity breed pride, power and status and lead to the breakdown of relationships.

The Amish, whose roots lie in the Anabaptist movement, fled Germany for Pennsylvania in the 18th century. They do not own cars, have electricity or telephones in the home. They are polite to the "English" but inaccessible and unapproachable; they don't take photographs and frown on others photographing them.

They believe their children should only go to school until the eighth grade (age 14) to avoid becoming "too proud". Their faith centres on humility and is reinforced by church, family, community and a simple lifestyle based on farming and woodwork. It is from this way of life that Gerald has ostracised himself.

Each church district decides what it will and won't accept; there is no single governing figure. Church is held in the home. The old-order Amish are more orthodox than the new order, where activities such as using a tractor are permitted. But no matter what the district or order of Amish, there is an unwavering principle that parents do not force their faith on their children. Anabaptists believe that baptism should be a voluntary decision made as an adult, and because of this, many Amish communities practise a tradition known as rumspringa (Pennsylvania Dutch for "running around").

When Gerald turned 16 he was, like every other Amish boy or girl, encouraged to explore the "English" world before deciding whether or not to "join church". It is expected that this will help them to make an informed decision. During this time they can experience the freedoms of the modern world — dating, parties, drinking, driving, wearing jeans — and it usually lasts for a few years. Some remain at home but many choose to flee the intense supervision of their parents and rent a place of their own. Parents do not always approve of the decisions their offspring make — especially when it comes to purchasing cars and moving out — but they tolerate them. Gerald's new life is a testament to his independence, but he is able to return home any time he wishes. And when or if he is finally baptised, all sins will be automatically cleansed and forgiven.

Most return after five years, usually when they are ready to start a family. For Gerald it has already been eight years. His reluctance to return is understandable. If he returns, joins church and is baptised, then changes his mind and relinquishes his Amish ways for that of the "English", his actions will be met with a far worse reception. The Amish practice of "shunning" — a harsh expulsion — is the price he would pay. His family's door would be closed for ever.

The rate of return is high. About 90% reject the modern world and all its inducements. But a small number, like Gerald, are unwilling to give up their new-found freedom. So just how well equipped are the young Amish to handle the journey into a world they have neither the knowledge nor social skills to navigate?

They begin this journey solvent, having worked since the age of 14 and built up huge savings, but with a limited education. From a young life consisting almost entirely of chores, early bedtimes and Bible readings, cocooned by rigid family rules, crossing the street into a world of sex, drugs and gangsta rap can induce enormous stress. Is it really surprising that so many flee the scary, empty world of the "English" for the sanctuary of their Amish family?