The ship of state is a famous and oft-cited metaphor put forth by Plato in book VI of the Republic. It likens the governance of a city-state to the command of a naval vessel - and ultimately argues that the only men fit to be captain of this ship are philosopher kings, benevolent men with absolute power who have access to the Form of the Good. The origins of the metaphor can be traced back to the lyric poet Alcaeus and it is found in Aeschylus' Seven Against Thebes before Plato.
It’s difficult to find fulfillment of this promise in our list of presidential aspirants. Meanwhile, our ship founders while the government fiddles. How did we get here?
At the close of World War II The United States of America was not only the envy, but the pride of the world. Virtually all countries looked here with admiration, and for most, gratitude. In less than four years, for the second time in a generation we had extracted the world from the jaws of horrific war. We were in the course of rebuilding allies and vanquished foes, through The Marshal Plan. We were the economic and manufacturing engine of the world. We were (in the eyes of the world) a beacon of freedom.
The course of history shows that great empires, through corruption and greed, swallow their own hubris and sink into decline and despair.
In the ’60s our ship of state hit hit its first, post-war iceberg. Both our self esteem and international prestige were challenged by the Vietnam fiasco. Sponsored by our own State Department, under the hand of no less august proctor than Dean Acheson, this war was a vestige of antebellum, European colonialism. Vietnam was a “pushover pawn” to fight the supposed threat of communism. A succession of five presidents could not find the courage and wisdom to put an end to the carnage and disgrace.
In the ‘70s Toto pulled the curtain back to expose a vulnerable giant. Our own president announced to the world that we could not satisfy our thirst for energy. We discarded him in order to maintain course. Middle East oil was inexpensive, and kept so by our bristling military might, and we wallowed in the politics and drama of that dysfunctional region. Our balance of payments dropped below the red line. The world watched as we were again humiliated by foes and friends alike (Iran, Hussein in Iraq, Israel).
The ‘80s, “Morning in America,” saw our government lead the charge on our own economic health as “Reaganomics” led to a spiral of debt. In the international sphere we sponsored another major proxy war; this time Afghanistan stood in (for us) against the Soviet Union, instead of Vietnam standing in for the Soviet Union against us. Meanwhile, we promoted and supplied both sides of a terrible war between Iran and Iraq in a misbegotten effort to control that region and keep the oil flowing. We provided chemical weapons to our friend, Saddam Hussein, who later used them against his own people to retain power. International disgrace was intensified by illegal arms deals and meddling in Latin America. For the first time, the United States of America became a debtor nation, beholden to the world not only for energy, but for our economic stability.
The ‘90s brought a brief plateau in our decline. Military expenditures were cut back and our economy prospered. But on the political front, chaos struck as an ambitious congressman (Newt Gingrich) saw an opening for power from below. Taking a page from the playbook of “Tailgunner Joe” (McCarthy) he trumpeted his “Contract with America” as a cure for evils he invented. Our political climate turned from backroom cooperation to personal attack and intransigence. This kind of impasse had not been seen since the nineteenth century. The “contract” was really a manifesto of political war, leading one of our major parties, believing its own rhetoric, to no longer tolerate being out of power.
At the dawn of the new century we hit two more icebergs. Re-implementation of “Reaganomics,” brought exploding deficits. This coupled with financial deregulation led to an economic disaster which has spread over the world. Meanwhile, our jobs have been shipped overseas and our manufacturing base has disappeared. International meddling, which finally resulted in an attack on our shores, led a reckless president to seek his personal legacy by unleashing our military colossus against any country he didn’t like. In the face of government lies that we didn’t want to see through, we stood back and allowed him to do it. We prefer war to truth, so long as we (think we) don’t have to pay for it, and my kid doesn’t have to fight.
In 2012 we find our ship of state taking on water as we navigate the next century. Almost everyone believes that we have the resources to repair the ship and sail on to prosperity. Our crew has the equipment and experience to repair the hull. Our captain is a capable and honest leader.
But the first officer, with a sizable faction behind him, wants to take over the ship and the drums of mutiny ring out. The problem is that the ship can probably reach the next port, and most of us will be getting off there…we don’t care enough about the ship or our descendants, who will be sailing on, to take action. The first officer, rather than showing us how capable his faction is at repairing the ship, has adopted the strategy of blocking all efforts to plug the holes. (While the lower decks are awash, the mutinous faction has quarters on the upper decks!) He hopes the passengers will blame the captain. But while recent history clearly shows that when in command, the first officer will continue on through ice-infested waters, it's clear to most that he is brazenly threatening to allow the ship to sink if not promoted to captain.
The question remains: “How high does the water have to get before we passengers remove the first officer from the chain of command and take charge, as we did on United flight 93, bound for the capital?” It’s no mere co-incidence that the same party that supports the mutinous first officer seems to do all it can to sabotage an educational system that might teach our children what’s been happening to them.
Jackson Dave in a Robbinsense staff writer
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