Compromise
copyright © 2008 by Robert L. Blau
Never have I seen the country so polarized. No one seems to appreciate the old and honorable art of compromise anymore. The nation is in desperate need of the steadying hand of moderates like me, but no one will listen. Just take my current argument with my friend Carl.
"Look at the way he came to power," Carl fumes. "Do you call that legitimate?"
"Whether it was legitimate or not," I say diplomatically, although I see nothing illegitimate about that election, "it's old news. A done deal. There's no point in fretting about it now. You have to let it go."
"So, if I seized your house and threw you out in the street, that would be fine, as long as I did it a few years ago," he quibbles. "Is that right?"
The anger of the Left. "You know that's a false analogy," I reply patiently.
"Well, what do you think about pre-emptive war?" Carl continues. "Whoever heard of such a thing from a civilized country?"
"We have enemies," I remind him. "Violent people who desire our destruction. You may not agree with our government's response, but it is reasoned. We elect them to represent us, and they know more than we do about our enemies' designs."
"The war is a disaster," says Carl. "If you think the last war was humiliating, you ain't seen nothing yet, believe me!"
"I don't like the war, either," I assure him, "but we must calm our passions and engage our leaders in reasonable discourse. The war may have been ill-advised, but we can't just pull out now. We have a responsibility. We must have a meeting of the minds. We must compromise."
"What you propose is compromise with the devil," retorts Carl. "The devil does not compromise."
"Demonizing the opposition gets us nowhere," I reply.
"Really?" he snorts. "Well, how do you feel about your government spying on you?"
"We have enemies," I repeat. "It's just temporary. I have nothing to hide, so I have nothing to worry about. We have to make compromises in times of war."
"Seems like we have to make all the 'compromises,' while the fascists make none." I am dismayed at his anger.
"Carl," I say, "you must ratchet down the rhetoric a bit. You can't just call everyone who is politically to your right a 'fascist.' That's an Italian thing. Mussolini, you know."
"We must throw those bastards out," Carl insists. "If we don't, you, I, the nation, the whole world will pay the price in blood and tears."
"Tut, tut," I sigh, as patiently as I can. "You know we don't have the votes, even if we wanted to. Compromise is the only reasonable way."
"You cannot compromise with fascists," he insists stubbornly.
"Carl," I admonish him, my voice perhaps rising a bit, "you have got to stop calling Hitler a fascist! He's a National Socialist. It's entirely different. Anyway, we will have to resume this discussion another time. It's almost midnight, and there's someone at the door."