At the height of the exchange, the subject came up. After we had addressed the economy, following our discussion on the environment and the state of farming, and even in the wake of a discussion of veterans’ compensation, a member of the audience rose to address what was at the heart of the evening’s discussion.
“What’s the cost of politics?” he asked. (more…)
They’ve been polar opposites in front of the public for at least four years, through at least two campaigns. They’ve been bitter ideological enemies. Neither, it would seem, could have anything in common with the other. Neither could ever imagine sending the other a Christmas card. And yet, at the height of a heated political discussion, the other night, there was a pause.
“My opponent makes a good point,” he said. “I can agree with that.”
There’s a story I learned back at school. It tells the tale of an extraordinary deception. Two civilizations, the story goes, were at war – one inside a fortified area, the other outside it. The siege between the two had gone for years, without a victor. Then, those outside the walls withdrew, leaving behind a relic of war – a wooden horse. Rejoicing at their apparent victory, the people inside the walls, pulled the relic into their midst. That night, spies hidden inside the wooden horse crept out, opened the gates and allowed the outside army inside the walls.
“Trust not their presents,” the Trojan priest Laocoon had cried. “Is surely designed by fraud.” But his countrymen had ignored him. And victory belonged to the Greek outsiders.