A while ago a small boat left New Orleans with a few folks on board - disaffected folks who cared only for themselves. As they headed north up the Mississippi, they paddled hard and made some headway up the river. Going was slow, but there was plenty of fish in the river and they could use the strong cypress along the banks to build better paddles and creature comforts on the boat.
After a few years and some tragic setbacks, people began to notice the distance this vessel had traveled and the wealth of the river she plied. Unhappy in their own lives, some of these people took a chance and joined her crew in search of wealth for themselves. All enterprising, some brought their families and some brought other people against their will. There was a lot of disagreement about the morality of using slaves to propel the boat, but the pressing needs of fighting the river's current and expanding the size of the boat to accommodate the accessions to the crew took priority.
Not only were the crew of the boat enterprising, but they also contained some brilliant engineers in their midst. The forged the resources of the river into machines. These machines multiplied the crew's ability to use the resources along the river and eased the burdens of every man, woman, and child on the boat. The machines propelled the boat, made clothes for the crew and their families, and began to harvest the resources along the banks of the river. Now a full-blown riverboat, the ship accelerated under the power of the steam engine in her bowels.
With less time working on the boat and more time relaxing on the deck chairs, the crew had ample opportunity to discuss the different roles they played. With the machines performing the real back-breaking labor, the machinists decried the continued use of slave labor. The stewards, on the other hand, opined that they were the only ones on board who still performed manual labor, and thought it a fine thing that the machinists, who did no labor, would complain about their use of slaves.
At once, the stewards proposed to remove the lashings, split the boat, and go their way alone. The machinists, fearing starvation and secretly knowing their survival depended on the cooperation of the stewards protested. They decried the stewards as mutineers and, after a bloody struggle, quelled the rebellion. As an afterthought, the machinists freed the slaves from bondage to the stewards.
The lives and property destroyed in quashing the rebellion was justified by releasing the slaves. This was more palatable than admitting that, by doing so, the machinists had cemented the idea that there were no passengers on this ship, only crew.
Following the rebellion, the river boat made more headway in terms of distance and opulence than any boat had ever seen. Everyone aboard, from the Captain to the youngest cabin boy, had his own head and a chair on the deck. Yet, as the luxury grew, the differences in grades of luxury became apparent. The most industrious crew members enjoyed the largest staterooms and gilded deck chairs; younger and less industrious crew could only afford modest staterooms and austere deck chairs.
Then, disaster struck. Two of the wealthier machinists had convinced the Captain to give them unfettered access to the ship's stores, doling them out to favored crew members on lucrative contracts. These men convinced the crew that they could borrow against the future of the ship on easy credit. They were so successful, that the crew had borrowed 25 times more stores than the ship could hold. The scheme unraveled when a few crew members became suspicious and demanded their "paper profits".
For the first time since it embarked, the ship moved backwards. It began to drift with the current to the last place the crew had found timber to stoke its fires. Unable to bear the thought of losing steam, however, the Captain ordered the furnishings broken up and tossed into the furnace to stoke the boiler. It was not enough.
Then, word came from friendly vessels that unfriendly vessels were on the attack. Listing along as it was, the river boat did not wish to intercede, but resigned itself to helping its allies as it could. When, despite their help, the allied vessels became decimated, the riverboat committed its remaining resources to destroying the enemy ships. It succeeded and, as the last ship left afloat, reaped the rewards of providing the necessary materials to rebuild the other ships.
The flood of wealth on the books of the river boat was astounding. The crew resolved to divide the wealth equally. Yet, each time a survey was taken, the industrious and the previously wealthy became more wealthy while the poorest members barely held to the status quo. A boat-wide debate roiled; how could all crew members increase their wealth simultaneously?
Before long, the officers were convinced that forward progress of the boat was not as important as equality of luxury aboard. The steam engines produced power for the boat with no seeming effort, so why not remove a few of the paddles and gift them to the least industrious on board. In this manner, it was reasoned, the forward progress of the boat would continue and a few of the more rickety deck chairs could be replaced.
The boat slowed, and tens of deck chairs that were slated for the burn bin were replaced with a few sturdy, utility chairs. Still, the disparity between the wealthy and the poorest crew continued apace. All was not lost, however, for the officers discovered that they could win the favor of the people, divert the structure of the boat to their own means, point the few deck chairs that had been built, and call for further dismantling of the boat.
And, so it continued. The crew turned its attention to building chairs for the deck using the paddles of the boat. When they ran out of paddles, they borrowed the paddles of other boats reasoning that the debt would be repaid once everyone had a deck chair to sit on. The officers, secure in the moral high ground of providing deck chairs for everyone, rationalized more and more abuses of office in the name of providing deck chairs; after all, if that wasn't the purpose of office, why did the crew members keep electing them?
The navigator, a diligent man, noted that the river boat had crawled to a stop. The ship, he warned, would begin its second slide down the river in 200 years. A few petty officers agreed with his assessment and were quickly drummed out of the corps. The mission had changed (for the officers, at least) from moving up the river to providing deck chairs for all who wanted.
As warned, the boat churned the water yet began a slide to the south. As the boat picked up speed with the river, the officers pooled their intellectual resources and made the hard decisions that countless leaders had made before. To truly measure the progress of the boat, they would need to change the measurements until they showed progress. After all, the boat's only heading south a little slower than the current.
Which brings us to today. The deck chairs are falling apart, the boat's headed south, the railings have long since fallen into the muddy Mississip. There are no more paddles to put on the wheels and the wood, coal, and oil is flowing towards other boats. The southern slide is apparent at every gas station and grocery store. The curbs are being thrown in all around us. But, it's too late. Without the providence of WWIII, there is nothing to stop her from grounding.
The question I have is, who do you want at the wheel when it happens? Whoever it is will be blamed for the entire debacle.
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