Exhilaration. That’s what it was. Pure exhilaration. The sound of breaking glass, the chaos in the streets, the fighting, feeling a man’s bones break under your hand, and the law a mere suggestion. Groups of men and women, large groups, were scattered throughout the state and pillaging as though some remnant remained in their souls of the barbarian hordes that overran the Empire centuries earlier. There were trancelike chants, almost musical, the cement that held the crowds together, keeping them focused. Daily speeches were given that pointed out the enemy. They wore symbols. People, the most radical among them, standing on street corners, on park benches, on the steps of the capital, preached their message to the thirsty crowds who lapped it up without thinking. The words were logical, chosen to appeal to their sense of morality, to their emotions. And the crowds? It became their duty to engage in whatever these self-proclaimed saviors insisted was the way because, they were told, it was the only way. And the crowds listened, as all crowds do, the combination of fiery words, musical chants, and the thrill of being among like-minded destroyers too much for their reason to beat back. So, they gave in, convinced of their superiority of purpose, of the righteousness of their cause. The fires were lit and soon, the flames burned hot.
For those self-proclaimed saviors, they knew the real truth—that if those fires were to remain stoked, they needed to add fuel to the already smoldering embers for the passions of the crowd burn hot and fast, their fuel exhausted almost as soon as it is lit. Those leaders knew they needed something else, more kindling, and so, they decided the most lasting kindling of all is blame and innuendo. The one source of fuel they could return to again and again to ensure the crowds, especially those most easily enflamed, the youth, would remain on fire. So, they blamed their enemies, blamed them for everything. They told the now rabid mob it was not their fault for the conditions they were living under, not their fault for the recent past, it was the fault of the others, those others who were always to blame. The others were the easy kindling, the dry sticks that lay on the forest floor easily accessible on any walk. Pick up the easy first, toss them onto the already burning but dimming flames and the fire starts again, if only for a short time, enough time to find the larger logs with which to keep the fires hot.
The self-proclaimed leaders laughed as they watched the crowds burn hotter and brighter, knowing it was only a matter of time before they were able to burn it all down and wallow among the ashes to build what they wanted for it is better to rule in hell than serve in heaven as Milton once said. They made mockery of the past, even having the hated symbols of an earlier time made permanent on their bodies, laughing as they knew the crowd wouldn’t care. They found more scapegoats, and they told more half-truths, not lies. Telling lies works for a time, but the secret, the self-proclaimed knew, was the half-truth for they also knew that the average person, especially one filled with the fire they provided, would only search for the truth on its face, the kernel of truth enough to hold on to so their fire would not extinguish and doubt would not rear its head to undermine the message. Then, they used science to bolster their arguments. To question science, they said, is to question reality, and reality cannot be questioned at all for then it becomes fantasy, and “we do not live in fantasy as the others.” The crowd believed again. They pushed their own twisted logic the crowds were already conditioned to believe so intense was their flame, telling them all manner of half-truths, but soon, those half-truths morphed into outright lies. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore other than the message so submerged the crowd became in their deceit.
Then, once the foothold was gained, they took over the schools, indoctrinating the naïve but motivated young. It was almost too easy to convince the young, so filled with passion and so eager to please, to cede their authority of independence of mind to the so-called superior one that soon they became the most willing, the most engaged, and the most dangerous among them. The self-proclaimed saviors need do very little to keep their flames burning—their internal fuel, once sparked, lasting for years. In some cases, a lifetime.
“Sever your relationships with anyone who doesn’t believe, for only true believers can be part of our movement.”
“We are the righteous, let nothing stand between us and the destruction of the state.”
“The revolution we have made is not a triumph of the sword, but a triumph of the spirit.”
And they believed. They believed with a spirit unbroken. They ate the message as a starving man eats to live. Nothing that was said in opposition was believed, for they were told anything that questioned the message was a lie. So, they protested, they fought on the streets, they believed murder was good, and they threatened those in power. They wished for the state to fall, but maybe worst of all, they were convinced to hate themselves and what they’d become. They were taught to hate their very being for they were told that, too, was all a lie, and the only way to save themselves was to give themselves up—to those who would be their saviors. That was the only way to purge the bile from their spirit, the only way to cleanse themselves from the sins they inherited from their ancestors.
And they did.
There were those among them who protested the extreme positions, but they were quickly purged, the body cannot have an infection. They were purged ruthlessly. The self-proclaimed leaders saw to that as they proclaimed their solidarity with the masses behind well-crafted words designed to soothe the savage beasts, to tamp down the fire just a bit so that it wouldn’t turn and burn them. It was the words that filled the masses, the constant barrage of images sympathetic to the cause. Flood their minds, never let them rest for if they should find space to think their flame might dim.
And the self-proclaimed mocked, as the self-proclaimed always do, and have always done, the crowd unaware of how they’ve been manipulated.
Until it all burns down, as it eventually did, engulfing them all, including the self-proclaimed, for fire knows no bounds. And there was chaos amongst the crowds, once again, and once again, order was restored. Life came back. And everything made sense again.
Until…
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