c. 2026 Rod Ice
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(10-26)
“If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself. A dependence on the people is, no doubt, the primary control on the government; but experience has taught mankind the necessity of auxiliary precautions. This policy of supplying, by opposite and rival interests, the defect of better motives, might be traced through the whole system of human affairs, private as well as public. We see it particularly displayed in all the subordinate distributions of power, where the constant aim is to divide and arrange the several offices in such a manner as that each may be a check on the other that the private interest of every individual may be a sentinel over the public rights.” – James Madison, Federalist No. 51
I have sometimes written about coming of age in a family split along lines of political preference. My father was a Republican in the Eisenhower tradition, and my mother held fast to Democrat principles as expressed by Franklin Roosevelt. Neither would give ground to the other on an intellectual basis, yet both believed in American exceptionalism and loved our nation, completely. Their tutelage helped me form a consciousness that is sternly independent in nature, and guided by a paradigm one might describe as Libertarian. I became a believer in our shared destiny as citizens in this republic, and not in the power of any partisan group.
As some describe it through visual artistry, being a porcupine, rather than a donkey, or an elephant.
Yet the yield of this non-alignment has often been something other than being universally accepted as a believer in our grand experiment. Instead, it seems that finding myself perpetually labeled as a sort of heretic is the prize won for this above-the-horizon viewpoint.
A friend in New York State once looked at me with exasperation, and posed a query that still resonates with meaning, almost 50 years later.
“What are you, a Mugwump? You know, that is a bird who sits on the fence, with its mug on one side, and its wump on the other!”
His sense of humor was confirmed by this candid remark. But more telling was the inability he had, to see issues without the artificial effect of a party refraction. His lens bent images in one direction only. Thus, every sight perceived by his optic portals was shaped and colored, accordingly.
A recent thread of online banter reminded me of this primal encounter.
I had been relaxing with a brew on my front porch, as the afternoon turned to evening, and held my cellular device in one hand. Perusing posts on social media, I noted that a contact from my days as a retail manager had offered a stinging rebuke to those who did not share her mindset about the upcoming election season. Specifically, about an attack ad that was distasteful and undignified, by a candidate seeking to generate relevance as a potential governor. It landed much like a tossed stone, at first, but then continued to prick my consciousness with its stilted logic. In a better frame of mind, I might have simply allowed it to pass, unchecked. But instead, because I knew the user personally, I responded in kind.
I offered a brief rebuttal that invited this individual to more carefully consider the details and history involved. Something easy to accomplish in an age where facts and figures are accessible in rapid succession, with merely a few taps of the fingertips.
The blowback through my wi-fi link was nearly immediate.
“I didn’t say what you think I said, and didn’t mean what you thought I meant... and what are you anyway? A troll? What is it you really want? You sound like a woke, liberal, open-border, trans-advocate, socialist, defund-the-police crackpot!”
Of course, my goal was very simple, indeed. I wanted to participate in a lively discussion. Except that a back-and-forth exchange had not been intended at the outset, by this familiar female. She only wanted to put opponents on blast, and have her say. A right I could not dispute, or debate, though it was far less satisfying than sharing genuine philosophical discourse in real time.
I attempted to confirm my stance as a patriot in good stead, but that declaration apparently fell flat with this past associate.
Her strong attitude caused me to remember a previous session at my porch venue, which had resulted in an opposite diagnosis of amateur punditry. I noted a meme offered by someone who I knew to be a writer and thinker with progressive habits. When they opined that government corruption was running rampant, and trust in our institutions had lagged, I pointed out a few episodes from 20th Century history to broaden the scope of this complaint. As on so many occasions, I thought innocently that providing a measure of context would be useful and proper. A part of the learning process I had enjoyed, while speaking of such things with my mother and father, as a child.
As in the current situation, what I heard in response was direct and loud.
“Tell me you voted for Trump without telling me you voted for Trump! Your Republican bias doesn’t work with me, sorry sir! No way, no way at all!”
I hadn’t expressed any political loyalty in the comment I offered. Instead, in very basic terms, I retold some instances where leaders from bygone days had sinned and been held accountable in public, while being defended by members of their own respective tribes. A reality of our governance by men who were decidedly not angelic.
These moments of conflict linger now, as I reflect upon my upbringing in a vigorous, two-party environment. To see the nation as a united whole is, I believe, a gift from those who gave me a mortal beginning. But perhaps also, a kind of curse. Because it means that at almost every juncture, I find myself standing alone. Bolstered by a knowledge of history and the courage of our founders, but often sidelined by the critique of their partisan successors.
I have learned to stay quiet when the collected weight of these contests becomes too great for my shoulders to bear. And yet, that strategy is not one I have ever embraced, for long. Because, in my primal brood, there were always opinions to be voiced, counterpoints to be made, and a balance of understanding to distill, in the aftermath.
With that legacy in mind, and the words of James Madison in my pocket, such gentle confrontations seem likely to continue.
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