So let's say Barry and Johnny have a disagreement. Barry hates Johnny, and Johnny hates Barry, but they cooperatively run an orphanage and are trying to decide who's most important.
Now, Barry and Johnny will take nothing less than a total admission of inferiority from the other. Well, OK, Barry will accept any admission, really, any kind of admission at all- but Johnny demands total superiority in all things.
They've spent years fighting over this, and it's started to wear on the quality of the orphanage they run. They both know this, and finally, in a rare moment of cooperation, Johnny proposes a solution, and Barry agrees.
Two days later, Barry and Johnny are standing in a small control room above a huge car-crushing machine. The orphans are in the jaws of the active and slowly advancing machine. Johnny says, "Alright, now, unless we agree on who's best, the urchins will be crushed. Of course, that's not likely to happen, since neither of us want that result very much at all." Both men have, in front of them, a button which will stop the machine and release the orphans, but each man's button is different; Barry's automatically deploys a crimson banner exclaiming that Johnny is superior, while Johnny's button deploys an aquamarine banner hailing Barry.
Needless to say, the orphans are squished like so many invading goblins under dwarven drawbridges.
The important question, besides who has to clean up the crusher before the feds show up, is, who's fault is it?
Of course, Johnny suggested it, but both men had the option to step back at any time. Now, it might be more fair to the reality of the situation if our parable included such details as Johnny's intention, once he had been recognized as infinitely glorious leader of the orphanage, to eat the urchins one at a time. Then Barry's reluctance might be more excusable... nonetheless, taking the less-evil course of action would still allow more action later.
Frankly, I don't think many people would feel that this story reflects well on either men, nor does it suggest that they should be in charge of running an orphanage, a business, a dog pound, or even a cactus nursery, which would survive even otherwise extraordinary negligence.
But the real story I'm telling here, the thing this story is based on, is still at the tense moment when the jaws juuuust start to squeeze the collected urchins, as Johnny and Barry look tensely at the buttons. There's still just a little bit of time. Maybe a few hours. Maybe just enough for Johnny to come to his senses and realize that he doesn't actually want to spend the next six hours hosing down a piece of greasy industrial equipment. Maybe Barry will decide that there might be a better way to deal with a madman than giving him exactly what he wants.
But probably not.
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Topic: A Parable (Read 3369 times)