It’s not as if you hesitate to turn your back on them. You see them
as domesticated, congenial, even. They’ll cheerfully watch your money on the bar for you
or hold your place in line if you need to make a quick trip to the rest room or to the
phone. You may have had them in your home as guests. Certainly, in spite of leftist
mischaracterization of them, anarcho-capitalists are often generous and on top of
everything else, they make the perfect designated drivers due to their rational natures.
So why fear them?
Why, indeed. Only because they can be provoked at any given
moment for the most subtle of reasons and because of the sheer deadliness of their
arguments. Granted, the incidence of lethal anarchist attacks is relatively low, but the
consequences can be severe, especially to the comfortable paradigms of conservatives and
Anarchists have been known to walk the assorted,
unsuspecting conservative or Libertarian safely across the street only to gut him right on the sidewalk. It’s not a
pretty prospect. When it happens to you, you’ll likely be reminded, as you lay bleeding,
that your designated driver contract only bound them to drive you home safely and that
there was no agreement on their part to actually not kill you on your doorstep. Good
point, you think, as you lose consciousness and the world, as you knew it, draws in and
Be ready for it. It’s bound to happen and when it does,
applying just a little common sense and drawing on the experiences of others can make all
the difference in your chances of surviving when anarchists attack.
All will seem well. You’ll be having a hell of a good time
swatting statists with your rolled-up, large print copy of the Constitution. There you’ll
be, just wailing on some contemptible, socialist rodent that you’ve got solidly cornered
when, out of the blue, you hear a voice from behind your own lines quietly say, "What
gives you the right to rule me?"
You turn to get a lock on the voice. The cornered rodent
scurries away. So begins the real conflict.
"Why don’t you just unroll that piece of pulp you’re
holding there and tell me if you see my signature on it?" suggests the voice, which
you now recognize as a stringent former ally in the battle against the political evils of
the previous administration.
You respond that, of course, there are no signatures there,
but the consent is implied. "It’s a social contract. You choose to live here so you
choose to live by the laws. If you don’t like them, it’s all the more reason you need to
work to change the laws and your elected representatives. No excuses for not acting. No
mercy for whiners. Didn’t vote, don’t bitch. Anyway, even though I don’t agree with most
of the laws, we need laws. We just do."
I warned you it wasn’t a pretty prospect.
You continue. Your field of vision narrows and you grasp at
anything that flies past your stream of consciousness in your mounting desperation to
silence the voice that keeps insisting it has given no consent, implied or otherwise, to
bestow authority on a document drawn by the scantiest representation, even among the
populace of its own originating era.
You do a bit more thrashing and then you start arguing
necessity. Inevitably W.W.II is invoked along with the virtues of conscription in fighting
the good war. You get shot down. You begin to hallucinate, as evidenced by weird
illuminations whimsically embroidered in the margins of your argument, i.e., "lichen
is a social contract between a fungus and an alga."
If fate is merciful, you’ll be called away from whatever
forum or venue you’re in by some external force for a finite cool down period. It can be
overnight or a matter of days, but it is the crucial return to the discussion afterwards
which will determine your survivability.
It is at this point that you’ll do one of two basic
categories of things.
One, you’ll decide that the ideas being put to you are
unthinkable. You’ll, consequently avoid all thought on the issue itself by concentrating
considerable mental capacity on winning the argument. You may embark on a calculated
defensive or you may choose to launch an offensive, which will be fierce, but irrational.
(You won’t win, but if you’re the sporting type, you’ll derive some satisfaction from the
Whether choosing to hold a defense or going on the
offensive, it will require you to turn away from the logic of the argument and draw deep
from the primordial recesses of rote thought and indoctrination. It’s not that you can’t
think, it’s more that you must keep returning to low points in your intellect where
habitual and even infantile thinking tends to pool up.
If you persist, you’ll draw abundantly from the brackish
wells of un-replenished reflexive response and, with any luck, you’ll deplete them. It’s
not much of an alternative for thought, but it’s not altogether unproductive discussion,
either. On the up side, even your worst argument can reveal something useful, if only at a
second glance later on down the road.
Or two, you might consider folding a losing hand.