Wake Of Liberty: 20 – Long Live The King
Smyth and Cooley are facing the scaffold, where the deposed King Louis XVI waits to be decapitated.
I don’t care what you say Cooley, this is not right. This man ought to live, not be guillotined. He is the king, for Christ’s sake!
“So what if he is? Does that make him better than everyone else? What about all the others who were guillotined, why should they die while he is spared?”
No one should die, Cooley. Everyone should be spared. A democracy should not be killing people, neither aristocrat nor commoner. I don’t care what I said before, don’t start quoting me. I see things clearly now that I’m here. Violence is barbarous, self-defeating and no way to forge the future.
Cooley’s eyes flicker bright blue for a moment. I don’t know what this means, but I make a mental note of it. He grabs me by the arm. His touch is friendly.
“My dear Mr. Smyth, you have a good heart. This is why I have faith in you. You seem to understand the error of your ways.”
Cooley looks around, smirking.
“Either that, or you are a very emotional, unstable person, who doesn’t know what he wants and who flinches every time he confronts reality.”
Red mist fills my vision and my blood boils. What is Cooley doing? Is he being serious or is he trying to rile me up again? Whatever it is, I will not fall for it this time. I’m neither stupid nor a brute, nor naturally violent. I’m sure Cooley knows this – why he keeps coming at me, winding me up by ridiculing me. It doesn’t matter though, his tricks are no good anymore. I can see through them now and know how not to get caught up in them.
I look away.
He continues unabated.
“What is the matter, Mr. Smyth? Cat got your tongue? Thinking of how on earth all this change could be effected without spilling blood? Without getting angry and righteous?”
He leans closer to me.
“You are a romantic, a true believer in virtue. I like that. You want to put an end to strife and lead humanity into a new level of existence, where change is achieved without violent confrontation, without death and chaos. You want to do it at all costs, so much in fact that it enrages you when you are forced back into submission. I understand you, believe me, it’s a noble thing to strive for. It’s what I have been giving you a hard time over, all along.”
I nod. Finally he understands my frustration. Even though he is mocking me, it soothes me to hear him spell out the problem.
He steps back, clasping his hands together, extending his two index fingers toward me.
“I feel for you, Mr. Smyth, and understand your good intentions. People deserve a better fate than this.”
During the period of constitutional monarchy (1789-1792), the king's power was limited
He points to the crowd. They are chattering frantically amongst themselves, pointing at the king, at the Louvre, at each other. They are holding pamphlets and papers, reading and scribbling. Some of them are laughing, others are scowling, shaking their heads and flailing their hands. For a moment the scene looks like a bazaar, where people have come to pass the time.
“Makes you think, Mr. Smyth, doesn’t it – how these people have adjusted to the situation already? Look around. It’s a liturgy, a social activity; they don’t seem too rattled or overwhelmed by what is happening. On the contrary, they are going along with it, participating in the process and playing their part, faithful that the new regime will set things straight without getting out of control. Humans are like that, Mr. Smyth, gullible when salvation is promised, trusting that everything will turn out just fine. All they need is a promise that they will be allowed to live in peace. You may be right after all.”
Cooley raises his brow and smacks his lips.
“But you’re not! Life…” He shakes his head and lowers his eyes. “If only life were that simple. Peace and prosperity come at a premium, and you are not yet ready to cover it. You have not done your homework.”
He grabs me by the elbow, dragging me through the crowd.
“Harmony requires total commitment, Mr. Smyth. You cannot simply come to terms with the nasty parts of yourselves and kick back and relax as things stand. You need to do more. You need to change the set and setting – not just the attitude, but the whole scenario.”
I don’t understand.
“Let me put it this way, Mr. Smyth. If you find a way to live in total peace without discovering a way to sustain the environment efficiently, or without colonizing some celestial body out there, you will suffer grave setbacks as a species. I’m thinking overpopulation, mass famine, global fallout, the destruction of nature, you know, little things like that. They come pack and parcel with no one ever dying a violent death, and that is not logical. Death is nothing other than nature’s way to control the growth and development of all its components. Yes, you heard me right, you are under nature’s management, you always have been. What, you thought that earth, mighty organism as it is, doesn’t have an immune system, an antitrust organization, a bureau of sustainable development that monitors growth? You thought it’s just a stupid, free-for-all template that proliferates at will? I beg to differ. There are stops in place, Mr. Smyth, natural checks and balances to prevent any single species from becoming too strong and establishing a natural monopoly. Understand? Neutralizing or circumventing these safety mechanisms without opening up the field, without cleaning up your act, means that little has changed. As a result, other mechanisms of containment will be activated, more drastic and severe. Think super-viruses, for example, or extreme weather. Or great balls of fire descending from the sky.”
This is ridiculous. Fear-mongering will not do it, Cooley. Cut it out.
“Is that what you think this is? Fear-mongering? I guess you have not considered that there are ideal ratios of population, number- and density-wise, through which a virus can spread at maximum capacity? That the climate can only absorb so much carbon dioxide before the temperatures rise and the weather changes, causing storms, floods and hurricanes that will last for centuries? That you can drill only so much oil and minerals out of the earth before affecting the way its tectonic plates shift and quake?”
I don’t want to hear this, Cooley. Enough!
I walk away from him, pushing through the crowd. He runs after me and grabs me by the arm.
“Newsflash, Mr. Smyth: there are ratios built into the dynamic. Cross them and the dynamic shifts, just like it did here, in France. Infringe on the common pool more than you should and the pool turns against you. It does not matter if you are the aristocracy doing it to the people, or the People’s democracy doing it to the people, or the people doing it to the rest of life on earth. It’s the same thing in different clothing, recycling itself at will.”
Following his attempted escape from France and the subsequent formation of the Republic, King Louis was tried for treason by the National Convention
Let go of my arm, Cooley.
I try to break free but he is holding me tight. He smirks, then pushes me so hard I stumble and trip over.
“Cause and effect, Mr. Smyth. I push, gravity pulls. You live, others die. The numbers don’t lie. The creative mind should know that.”
What the hell are you saying, Cooley? That we ought to keep having wars because they help us keep ourselves in check?
“Is that what you think I am saying, Mr. Smyth? You disappoint me.”
He lifts me up and squares up to me. I stare back at him. His nostrils are flaring.
“You are really not getting it, are you? You are being rather thick.”
Then enlighten me, Cooley. Tell me what you mean.
I grab him by the arm and squeeze it tight. I want an answer.
He smiles.
“I am saying that all systems have natural, inbuilt capacities, which, when breached, kick start various effects, some of which are truly unsavory. Dislike it all you want, it’s the way it works. You need to bear it in mind if you are ever to be able to live a responsible and functional life. You have to investigate the numbers and understand how the reality you occupy works before having any chance of breaking out of your violent culture.”
You know what? You’re talking crazy – that’s what you’re doing. I don’t want to hear any more of this.
I push him back. He recoils and springs forward.
“Aw! It’s disturbing when human life is conceived in statistics, isn’t it? Life’s too precious to be handled as a percentage.”
You’re god damn right it is.
“Life is too valuable to be managed through sweeping grand strategies and numbers, isn’t it? It’s too callous and cold-hearted to think and operate in such terms.”
The smirk is back, wider than ever. Eyes glimmering.
“Let me pose a thought experiment to you, Mr. Smyth. Consider for a moment that everyone in Paris right now is dying from a bread shortage. What do you do?”
Cooley is waiting for an answer. I say nothing, so he continues.
On his way to the guillotine, the tragic king conducted himself with striking dignity and calm
“What a decent person would do is bring out the bread reserves, slice them up, and distribute them equally, right? I’m sure that this is what you would do too. But here’s the thing: there is not enough bread to go around.” He pauses. “So what now?” He scans my face, as if extracting an answer. “No problem you say, it doesn’t matter, you’ll just slice the bread reserves even finer, so that everyone gets a piece, no matter how microscopic it may be.” Pause. Stare. “The result, of course,
is that everyone dies from malnourishment.” Pause. “And you,” chuckle, “you are left wondering why you didn’t use some god damn statistics to feed one part of the city substantially so that some people may survive and make it through rather than let the whole lot of them perish altogether.”
I am staring at Cooley, unsure of what to say. Is that a question or a statement?
“It’s a question. I am asking you: what do you do in such a case, if you have the authority? Do you share the bread out or do you allocate it strategically?”
I share the bread out. I don’t know what I do. It’s a hypothetical question.
“Of course it is, of course it is. But statistics make it simpler, don’t they? The situation is easier to deal with when you apply some numbers to it and look at it from different angles, helping you make a sounder choice, whatever it may be. Forget the issue, it doesn’t matter what it is. Numbers apply to everything, from bread shortage and famine, to fund allocation, to health programs, to development projects, to socialist agendas, to free enterprise, to budgets, companies, families, individual choices, you name it, decisions and policies of all kinds are inevitably based on difficult choices that are based on numbers, on hunches that are based on the perceived probability of success. Yes, Mr. Smyth, even gut instinct, that most elusive of human faculties, obeys the laws of statistics.”
OK, fine – fine! Probabilities and statistics are useful in life, with a pinch of salt. So what? There is more to them than that. There is obligation and compassion. There is duty to our fellow men, to all humans.
“Not good enough. Good intentions never are, and neither is obligation. You mean well to everyone but end up helping no one. Is that what you want, empty promises and lies, the kind that have been plaguing your history for millennia? Wouldn’t you rather be marginally realistic? Wouldn’t you prefer to help some people substantially, saving them from starvation altogether, rather than try to save everyone and have all of them die as a result of your inane do-goodness?
I don’t know I said. I would save as many as I could. I would do whatever I had to, with a heavy heart.
“Of course with a heavy heart, Mr. Smyth. When you use inflexible utilitarian principles to safeguard a majority of individuals – or to save whatever precious little is left over in times of catastrophe – or when you plan a strategy to run a company, or craft a policy to run a country, or make any decision that involves life and limited resources, you run the risk of displacing the rights to life or liberty. And when you dispense with the rights to life or liberty and their inalienable nature, and the protection they provide, you cannot trust the world you live in because it is now a cruel and impersonal world.”
He points all around, at the crowded square.
“You need to be mindful of how you exercise change, Mr. Smyth. Too much of it too fast, too strong and sweeping, and you may find yourself in a rut. Where will you take cover, after all, when the gauntlet you have so carefully assembled, the one so necessary in getting things done in a sustainable way, turns around and hones in on you?”
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