We are disposed to suffer
Recently, I illustrated the observable fact that the American People are not yet fed up with the deplorable state of their government. In other words, they are still very willing to suffer unspeakable abuse at the hand of an agency that was originally created by them to prevent it.
I defended this analysis with grade school logic: If the People were tired of their tyrants they would have tossed them aside by this time.
But we haven’t because we’re not.
We’ve grown accustomed to the abuse. We’re good and used to it. It certainly hasn’t gotten so bad that we can’t stand a little more. After all, enduring a little inconvenient suffering is much easier than contemplating the very inconvenient struggle it takes to put a stop to it.
Historically, the noxious and soul-rending trend that demands we go along to get along isn’t exactly novel, as the Declaration so pointedly observes:
“Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed” (Emphasis added).
We still have our despots. We’ve done nothing.
It’s simple cause and effect.
It’s like when home invaders breach the front door. Unless the man of the house takes action, his wife will be abused, his children will be maimed and his goods and property will be spoiled.
Yet when the man meets the aggressors with deadly force and merrily offers them a heartfelt one-way trip to Jesus, then word of his peculiar style of evangelism permeates the community. It makes it safer. Prospective criminals who would rather steal than die don’t bother. They give the home a wide berth. And they tell others. Crime abates.
Cause and effect.
In a world of children
When I was a little boy of four or five, I enjoyed playing with the neighbor girl living next door to our duplex. Chronologically, we were a match. Temperamentally, not so much. Warm Summer days in the Miami Valley of Ohio saw us sharing the adjacent driveway, an naïve childish camaraderie and of course, all the toys at our disposal.
One day she began a trend where, waiting to see which of my own toys I was enjoying, she would firmly and quickly yank it out of my grasp.
For effect.
At my tender and callow age, I didn’t discern the cause of her aggression. Having my property returned was not an option. My pleas for redress were met haughty, derisive laughter. And when she saw it on my face, the sadness and tears only served to heighten the malicious grin on hers.
With devilish glee, she responded to my pain.
This went on for days. For me, it was an eternity. It was getting to the point where I became intimidated to go outside and enjoy my own playthings, and that slowly became very unacceptable.
The way children do, I petitioned the assistance of the adults in my sphere. The sad pathetic breeders living next door were too busy swallowing her side of the story to consider the implications of their little angel acting like anything I just described. On the home front, my folks had grown tired of hearing me whine about the injustice of it all. Vague recollections of being told “You’ll have to learn to take care of it yourself” still haunt my memories.
In the moment, I was clueless. How do I make someone stop something they won’t stop?! This was a pressing matter, and though slightly detached and ambivalent, Mom and Dad nevertheless somehow managed to urge me to take matters into my own hands. Their inaction spurred me on.
(Maybe that was their plan. Or maybe they just couldn’t be bothered to confront the neighbors.)
My intolerance grew. After the latest abuse, an indignant fire started to burn within. It screamed, “No more!”
Methodically, with all the calculation of five years’ worth of physics, I took possession of a very big rock. It was the largest my back yard held and the heaviest my little hands could carry. I’m sure it was a boulder. I carefully deadlifted that huge chunk of limestone and hauled it over to where the little tyrant sat.
Unaware, her back toward me, I struck. With malice aforethought I slammed the rock on her head!
As expected, she immediately stopped playing. I watched with endless delight as she ran home crying, leaving me to my toys and some well-earned peace.
With utter satisfaction, I responded to her pain.
I figured out you had to meet a bully with disagreeable force. Talkin’ don’t get it. And pleading evinces complete lack of self-respect.
I don’t recall if I was ever punished for meting out justice in my own little way, but I distinctly remember my own little world was the better for it: She never took my toys again.
Cause and effect.
We both lived through the assaults of those innocent days, but the value of the lesson was mine to cherish—I stood up for myself. Happily, no matter what the consequences might have been, I adjusted the bully’s perspective.
Where are the adults?
Today, many years later, I wish I had more peers who felt the same, who would do the same.
I am far from that driveway and the social constructs children must navigate, but if I’m honest with you… I feel a little alone. Where are the throngs who would gladly stand with me and stand together to stand up for themselves?
I have been pointedly asked, “What is your answer against a corrupt government?” It’s a good question, and I have no doubt the one who asked is looking for a solid answer. Whether they’d be willing to execute is another matter.
As I see it, there are only two ways to create change: persuasion and compulsion. To persuade means to convince a person or group with words. This can be peaceful. To compel means to use force (which can be violent).
Now, once you and I agree that change must take place, we only have these two options, and I see our government as having taken the nice one off the table.
Why? Because the People are not consulted, represented, respected or appreciated. Our value to our oligarchy stems only from how much it can still abuse us of our autonomy, our resources and our future. It has already squandered our heritage.
Peacefully, there was a day when we might seek redress via the ballot, but elections are predetermined. Audits, a joke. Even if our favorite son somehow gains office, all the good he might do will be undone by the next interloper, making the process itself untenable and laughable.
My answer? It’s time first for grassroots solidarity. To have this, we have to agree on a few things. First, we must acknowledge there are people of means in the world who take psychopathic delight in taking advantage of those with lesser means (this is a difficult concept for some to grasp). Next, we have to see our own abuse at their hand. And our suffering must be important; not generally, but personally—it has to matter. Finally, we must conclude it’s time for it to end.
If we cannot agree on the nature of our evils, why bother?
If we will not see there are specific problems to fix, then we can rightly ask, who cares?
If we’re not persuaded that there are those in power who keep getting more power so they can rob us of power, then there’s no point pursuing reality.
And if we’re still disposed to suffer, as the Declaration points out, then forget about it. Our own comfort will get in the way.
Grassroots solidarity. This then, is a herculean task.
So take a moment. If you’re pissed off, that’s good. If you feel helpless and frustrated, it’s not.
It’s time to embrace the reasons why we are angry. We are victimized and disenfranchised by mega corporations, the government and by the media that continually regurgitates and amplifies our pain. Wealthy globalists, who have the potential to right wrongs, continually perpetuate them.
All at our expense.
But the only one responsible for myself is me.
I’ve long opined that we have the government we’ve acquiesced to. It’s not the government we started with, or the one it’s supposed to be, or the one we want, but it is the government we’ve settled for.
In just 247 years, our perverse complacency has given birth to an endless litter of self-serving bastards who will, by all that’s holy, suck the very heart out of our nation.
We still watch. We’ve done nothing.
It’s simple cause and effect.
I see the problem, but I’m not here to fix the blame.
If you can use a rock to break the chains of your slavers, then join me. If you can give a rock to others, then join me. If you see the soul of a corrupt nation that’s still worth saving, THEN. JOIN. ME!