It was a favorite poster of my
childhood, the hopelessly overmatched little mouse flipping off the bird of
prey about to make a meal of him. And
the title was, of course, defiance.
A few years later came a second
edition, also dear to my heart. Again the
bird of prey with talons outstretched, and again the little mouse with his
middle finger extended. But this time
the mouse's other hand is concealed behind his back holding a chrome automag,
the pistol of all pistols. Never mind
such a weapon would outweigh the little mouse a hundred to one, or that the
recoil would convert the tiny hero to strawberry jam… setting all this aside
our mouse among mice has determined to stand his ground and with his final act
make sure that damnable bird doesn't make it home either. Defiance
It has been many years since I have
seen my mousy heroes. But I see their
philosophical offspring every day in the news, and I wonder what manner of
mouse is preparing to take the field next in defense of a few crumbs and seeds
for his offspring. It is a pressing
subject as I watch fate thrust so many back into the role of struggling for
simple survival in a world dominated by the eagle's arrogant mass consumption.
Mice do not eat meat, but they become
meat to those who do. What hope has the mouse, forever certain of his place in
a food chain where he is always the provider?
And those who eat meat consider this proper, and why should they not? They were raised from hatchlings to know they
are the elite, predators, the highest order of existence. Just ask them. The eagle knows no fear, no want. There has never been a shortage of mice and
rabbits and doves for it to eat. But for
the mouse there is never a shortage of threats:
the cat, the eagle, the snake, they are all about, silent, deadly,
harboring an implacable and unexplained hatred for all creatures who do no
belong to their kind. The mouse suffers
and survives only by stealth and procreation, litter after litter enduring
poverty and fear hoping two from every litter of ten will live long enough to
breed and continue the species. It is a rough world for the mouse.
The callous dismiss this as the
balance of nature, and turn away. They
do not, they dare not, they cannot tolerate what emerges when these symbols are
applied to the societies of the world… the results are terrifying beyond their
courage to face.
It is, of course, the mouse with the
pistol of whom I speak. He was
institution raised on dreams of dignity, he has struggled all his life to become
smarter and stronger (for a mouse) in the hope of winning that prize of
prizes. For him it is such a shattering
revelation to realize what he dreamed served no purpose beyond inducing him to
become a tastier meal for the eagles of his world. It is his despair that has driven the mouse
to take arms, causes him to ignore the fact his weapon will be just as lethal
to he himself. C'mon, who ever heard of
a mouse who could defend himself, wield any pistol, much less a magnum? Ridiculous.
But like all stories there is another
side. With the mouse's first and last
shot for the first time death invaded the eagles world as it has always been
known to the mouse. He was just picking
up a mouse to feed to the chicks, and bang,
he was killed. Unforgivable. No eagle should know fear, give second
thought to his own safety when he hunts… it is his birthright to harvest
without concern. The eagles numbers are
diminished by one, but far worse the innocence of the eagles consummate
arrogance has been destroyed.
Does this little parable sound
familiar? It should. It is how the United States
I must challenge you now: look at the
news for a week or two and count how many mice are mentioned. Some are groups, others individuals, some are
nations, but all share in the mouse's world.
They all live in fear, and they all feel preyed on by creatures whose
very existence is predicated on inflicting the suffering the mouse and his kindred
have endured for time beyond memory.
Events say far to many feel a dignified death in battle a better choice
than a life without even the hope of dignity in the eyes of the world.
Our world is full of eagles and mice,
divided out not by religion or race or gender, no, the dividing line is the
self righteous attitude all things are allowed the predator, the bloody
heritage of one of histories great lies, the lie that might makes right, that
war can make peace… a lie newly found by the mice.
Ours is a much smaller world than it
was, and the very things that caused it to shrink have brought weapons capable
of terrible destruction within the reach of even the smallest. The forces of
science and technology have shifted the balances. The eagle would do well to learn respect for
this fact, for victory on the field of
battle can only assure him famine, the mouse has no such constraint. The eagle
would do well to learn compassion as well, for when the competition is in
endurance the mouse has the advantage, his culture has been honed by millennium of evolution to the task of surviving massive loss of life and continuing on.
Eagles, beware, for if you do not heed this lesson it will be the vultures who take your place.
