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How the Bonkers People got into Politics

Imagine that there are people who do not trust their own reason,
who cannot stop thinking, but who do not necessarily believe
what they see, or the conclusions they come to. 
The earth and the universe might, indeed, seem to be very old,
but they stoutly maintain that it is just a few thousand years old,
and not only that, but that it will all soon vanish, anyway.

Imagine that there are people who do not trust their own ability
to figure out what is good, and what is bad, because life is complicated,
and who settle for golden rules handed down by a guru somewhere,
who says those rules are absolutely definitive because he got them
from invisible gods, or from passing angels, or from a mushroom.

Imagine what it is like to live in a world which seems to have evolved
over billions of years, which the smartest people you have ever heard of
say is a time so long it scarcely can be imagined.  Imagine that life
just happened, that all of us are really just one, diverse human species.

Imagine that you could not allow yourself to believe what your head
tells you is true, because your guru is coming back soon, and all of this
is going to poof off into Nowhereland, and you are going to play a harp,
up on a cloud, walking on streets of ethereal gold, forever.

If you imagined that, it would be very hard to take seriously
what scientists say about the dangers of global warming, or the waste
of such resources as we have.   The threat of nuclear waste, or of
carbon doxide buildup is not a problem if the future is going to be short.
It wouldn't matter what your head said was true.  It wouldn't matter!

In any sensible society, people like that--people who scorned
their own intellect, who listened to voices, who rejected common sense,
who got together about once a week and sang songs about
how their own bodies were not real, and how maybe they would
go off on a cloud any day now, would be considered mad;
simply, undeniably, mad!  However nice they might be,
they would simply be called Bonkers!  It would be best to
to warn your kids that even if the Bonkers' sons and daughters
were very attractive, marrying into such a Bonkers group
was certain to cause headaches and mind rot.  Maybe alcoholism.

That is what happens when you refuse to accept even
what your own head tells you must be true!  You drink,
or maybe run off with the Bonkers church organist. 



Imagine that we had a crude political system in which people generally
belonged to one of two political parties:  call them the Inheritors,
and the Renovators.  People sometimes just said they were voting
Red or Blue.  Saying things like "Red State" or "Blue State" was common.

Generally speaking, the Inheritors were satisfied with what they had.
Their party motto was, "I've got mine!  Leave it alone!"
The Renovators seemed always to think they could do better.
Their party motto was, "We think its time for a change!"

Imagine that the Bonkers People had decided, some years ago,
to get involved in politics, and found it easiest to join the Inheritors
because . . . well, maybe because where a lot of the Bonkers people
lived, the Inheritors were pretty strong, and that a lot of the Inheritors,
distrusted change, too.  Most of the Bonkers People were White,
and so were most of the Inheritors, and it just seemed natural
to get engaged, and married, and climb into the same bed
and live happily ever after, celebrating ignorance and laughing
at people in the Blues Party who wanted to change things.

It is really difficult to change when you are already in bed
with someone.  The Inheritors wanted to keep what they had,
and the Bonkers people agreed:  "Change is bad.  That is the truth!"

The problem for the Renovators was that their party attracted
a lot of people who thought about things, and changed their minds.
Well, that was their party motto, wasn't it?  "Time for a change!"

You can imagine what a mess a situation like that would cause.
The Bonkers People didn't trust change, and the Inheritors
didn't want it, anyway.  On the other hand, the Renovators
never seemed to be able to agree on what would be best.
Someone was always suggesting something better.  Always!

They rarely agreed on anything.  Thinking is so disruptive!
All anybody had to do was to say, "I have an idea!"
and the Inheritors knew it would be a bad idea,
and the Renovators squabbled about how to improve it.

Another way of describing what a miserable situation like that
might be like is to imagine what happens when a resistable force
meets a moveable object.  Mostly, nothing important really happens.
Just bruises, and name-calling, and lots of committee reports.
An occasion drive-by shooting.  Just enough change to scare
the Inheritors, and not enough to satisfy the Renovators. 

I would be hell to live in an imaginary place like that, wouldn't it?

Almost enough to drive one Bonkers! 

But being Bonkers is not really a matter of choice.
It seems just to happen; something like . . . No.
It might be best not to ask; not to tell. 

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