Birds

"Rommel, you magnificent bastard! I read your book!"--George C. Scott in the epic 1970 film Patton.

There's no use avoiding it.  A prefatory admission is necessary.  This post examines an uncouth  subject--politics.  And while not always completely unsullied by an occasional jaded jibe in previous commentaries still, in general, this blog avoids politics altogether.  That boorish subject is akin to a transmittable contagion, where intelligent discussion ends on life support once bitten.  

We prefer more enlightening genres like Scottish sojourns; archeological sites; historical subjects; and folk wisdom when it may be found.  And humor, it is hoped however vainly.

Politics is an uncomfortable subject best avoided around the table.  It is also true that one cannot always avoid it.  Thus, modesty compels me to request a fig-leaf to conceal undue embarrassment for even mentioning politics in polite company.  My fig leaf is requested in the ambition that perhaps something may be learned.  So with forlorn hope, an age-old axiom is sorely needed today--simply:  learn from your foes.

Exactly how long this axiom has counseled human kind is not knowable.  It's been around awhile, Patton notwithstanding.  Book of Proverbs alludes to it.  And its fullest expression is found as early as Aristophanes, the Ancient Greek playwright, in his 414 BC comedy "Birds":

“Men of sense often learn from their enemies. It is from their foes, not their friends, that cities learn the lesson of building high walls and ships of war; and this lesson saves their children, their homes, and their properties.”

Aristophanes' Birds took second place in the 414 BC festival at Dionysia in Athens.  Indeed, Aristophanes often took second place with his theatrical comedies--2nd place in 427 BC with The Banqueters; second place in 421 BC with Peace.  

Yet to paraphrase recently elected Speaker (in name only perhaps) Kevin McCarthy of California, "It's not how you start, but how you finish that counts."  True...if one can assume that it is indeed finished.  From the sounds of partisan factions, particularly those in McCarthy's own party, that forecast might be a tad too sunny.  

As for the perennial runner-up Aristophanes, he is now considered the greatest playwright of ancient Greek old comedy. His works (said to total 40 plays, of which 11 are essentially complete) are preserved in the greatest quantity.  So, the last laugh must belong to Aristophanes, the runner up.  His works testify to freely spoken political criticism, licentious humor, satire and even invective.  In other words, I may have gotten along well with the gentleman. 

Aristophanes' Birds begins with two middle-age Athenian men who are sojourning on a hillside wilderness, one of whom tells the audience that they are fed up with life in Athens where people do nothing other than argue over laws all day long.  The two Athenians, guided by a pet crow and a pet jackdaw, seek a mythical kingdom and a better life.  

The play then descends into burlesque and a fantasy bird kingdom "Cloudcuckooland".  [Irrespective of the recent (2021) novel of the same name by Pulitzer Prize winner Anthony Doerr, it was Aristophanes who coined the term in 414 BC.]

The cleverest of the two Athenians hatches an idea and gives a formal speech to the birds, telling them that birds were the original gods, not the Olympians.  He urges the birds to reclaim their lost powers and privileges.  (Which is to say, the 2020 "Big Lie" ala 414 BC.)  Naturally, the birds were won over.  They urge the two Athenians to lead them in war against the Olympian gods.  After a series of comedic encounters with the Olympians, the smartest Athenian is finally crowned king and presented with the scepter  of Zeus.  (Think:  a flashy Speaker's gavel.)  All's well that ends well, borrowing from another famous playwright, W. Shakespeare.   

Given the expanse of 2400 years, it is remarkable that so much of ancient Greece's literary works were preserved at all.  The inherent wisdom and evident buffoonery of these comedies are open and available to modern times if only contemporary humans would read.  But they won't. 

Similar to the burlesque of Birds, Speaker McCarthy gained the House gavel (or scepter) after an excruciating 15 votes.  The same exercise repeated over and over to the point of disturbing Einstein's spirit itself.  In fairness, a drawn out voting carousel for Speaker has happened in US history a time or two.  In 234 years of our democratic republic, to be exact, 14 such multiple Speaker ballots took place.  The last time being exactly 100 years ago in 1923.

That 1923 ballot took four days and nine ballots to reelect Frederick H. Gillett of Massachusetts as Speaker.  Then, as now, insurgent Republicans within a thin House majority deadlocked the balloting over disputes on rules, procedures and committee chairs.  Then, as now, the ultimate choice for Speaker was a party guy who only nominally lead his caucus, one who was in line for the job having been a dutiful long serving party establishment fellow.  

In the end, Gillett would be a weak figurehead, unable to contain inner-party strife.  Whether that will be Speaker McCarthy's fate too has yet to materialize.  But certainly, strong parallels exist.  As in 1923, today’s rebels want to weaken the speakership (in that they apparently succeeded) as well as weaken the Republican party’s governing structure.  They also seek a transfer of power to individual members, but only to some individuals--meaning themselves.

In the decade before the War Between the States tore this nation apart, three contentious nearly successive Speaker ballots occurred--63 ballots to elect Howell Cobb of Georgia (31st Congress, 1849); 133 ballots to elect Nathaniel Prentice Banks of Massachusetts (34th Congress, 1855); 44 ballots to elect William Pennington of New Jersey (36th Congress, 1859).       

 

The evidence indicates that it is a fool's game to encourage contentious balloting for Speaker.  It leads only to deepening divisions, hardened hatred.  And if experience is a guide, it leads to the dismantling of our nation.  Friends can be made of enemies, thus vanquishing the enemy...if we were men of sense.  Difficult work?  Yes.  But it is also the secret of Christian strength.  If we do not, then we should consider the consequences of further division.  These were eloquently stated by Andrew Oliver during the "Bleeding Kansas" debates in the 34th Congress after over two months of Speaker balloting.     

“The liberties of a nation may be struck down, without the loss of one drop of blood, by a contemptible body of disciplined troops in conjunction with a very inconsiderable body of the citizens, united together for the destruction of public liberty.”—Andrew Oliver of New York, August 30, 1856, in the House of Representatives.

There is a season, a time, and a purpose under Heaven.  We have broken much in the clamor for tearing down.  History as well as future indiscriminately torn asunder.  Yet somethings are load bearing walls that once removed will collapse society.  It is well past time to rebuild, to save, or all we will have left us is the inheritance of a ruin in Cloud Cuckooland.