Plutarch’s ancient riddle — a staple of Philosophy 101 — concerns the mythic ship of Theseus. The story goes: Brave Theseus crosses the treacherous Aegean from Athens to Crete, where he plunges into King Minos’s deadly Labyrinth and slaughters the vicious Minotaur that had been terrorizing the land. The conquering hero then boarded his galley, hitched a fair wind home, and ascended the Athenian throne.
As the centuries rolled on, the grateful citizens of Athens revered Theseus so much they scrupulously ripped out every rotting hull timber of his vessel, replacing each with a perfect replica in fresh hardwood. Eventually, not a single sliver of the original ship remained.
So, the paradoxical question that’s plagued undergrads ever since: Is the refurbished ship the same one that carried Theseus home from Crete? Or was it a different ship altogether?
Voyage of Verisimilitude, or fake cruise?
A stroll into today’s beltway labyrinth reveals a chilling parallel to this ancient mariner’s quandary. The American Ship of State has been undergoing a similar plank-by-plank refurbishment ever since her launch, of course — our brilliant Constitution was designed precisely for that adaptability hack. The founders knew the vessel would need to weather all kinds of as-yet-unexplored seas and maelstroms. But all changes were supposed to be deliberate, measured, and resolute. Any structural modifications to the ship were to be grounded in common sense, shared vision, and a dedication to maintaining the state’s foundational timbers of liberty and justice.
The country is not supposed to change fundamentally overnight, and definitely not behind the closed doors of a congressional office or a university seminar room. Yet today, under the guise of radical progressivism and “social justice,” the original constitutional timbers of limited government, individual freedom, and local sovereignty are in danger of being unbolted. From a conservative’s viewpoint, flimsy balsa notions now threaten to replace the hardwood principles that have guided our Republic through her many trials, wars, and internecine travails.
The new Left wants to fundamentally redesign our ship of state
The Democratic majority that now lords over the House and Senate doesn’t aim to tweak just a few deck boards; they want a total structural redesign. Terrifyingly, in their childish hubris, they’re engineering a virtual Titanic. By targeting institutions like the Electoral College, ICE, the prison system, even the Senate and capitalism itself, the new progressive DSA “bloc-heads” hope to systematically eliminate the watertight bulkheads created by our founders to isolate and contain the inevitable crises and deluges. Instead, they seem intent on a centralized, single-chamber hull, where a single breach is likely to plunge the whole enterprise into the abyss.
It’s not a stretch to imagine that were the fever dreams of our most radical new leaders to come true, we’d find ourselves living in a “utopian” nation with no borders, no prisons, no police, no guns, no army, no president, no religion, no nuclear family, and a Supreme Court packed with jesters — literally a Marxist sinkhole.
We don’t have to guess at the blueprint; the standard-bearers are proudly broadcasting it. In Michigan, Abdul el Sayed has actively targeted federal infrastructure by calling to abolish ICE and shift resources away from prisons. In Texas, new Sen.-elect James Talarico promises to moralize massive federal interventions — including a dream he shares with his fellow democrats about overhauling the Supreme Court — all under the guise of institutional righteousness and some notion of new age Christianity.
Trump as the ancient shipwright with adze and veto
DEMOCRATS RAN RADICALS AND STILL WON. DON’T BLAME THE CANDIDATES — TRUMP OWNS THIS BLOODBATH
In the upside-down world of the post-midterm Blue tsunami, the only obstacle to the Left’s radical agenda is, of course, President Donald Trump. He’s the tireless shipwright who refuses to take a day off, standing on the dock with an adze in one hand and a veto pen in the other. With half the yard demanding a balsa-wood redesign and the other half clinging to the original oak, his resolute presence is the only hope left for keeping the enterprise of the Republic afloat.
But should Trump’s vetoes eventually run out, or worse, if he’s forced to walk the impeachment plank, the foaming-at-the-mouth DSA/Democrats may successfully parlay their midterm gains into real legislation. Then the Theseus ship hypothetical will no longer be a debate in an academic shipyard. She’ll have slipped out of dry dock and set sail on a course for inevitable sinking. If that day ever comes, our 250-year-old Philadelphia Experiment will be over — we might as well drag Old Ironsides out of Boston Harbor and sell her for scrap.
Lou Mulkern is a former NYC journalist and public relations editorial director. He currently resides in Bangkok, Thailand, where he teaches English part-time.
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[ H/T Washington Examiner ]
