JULY 7, 2022 – (Cont.) “You earthlings seem to have a lot of issues to be worked out,” said the alien.
“It gets back to the nature of our species as homo paradoxicus, I said, referring back to an observation I’d shared with the alien near the outset of our conversation.
“You mean the nature of your evolution?”
“Exactly. We’ve evolved far ahead of all other life forms—well, as measured against the gauge of acquired knowledge, creation of elaborate stuff, and production of complex art, music, literature, and technology. Yet paradoxically, despite our skills and prowess we haven’t evolved far enough to avoid our own misery or even self-extinction.”
The alien’s filaments suddenly lit up—bright red—and flashed just as I was staring directly at them. I blinked repeatedly until I regained my sight, though dominated by a large spot, which took several seconds to dissipate.
“How did democracy weather the conflagration you described?”
“The Civil War?”
“The what?”
“The Civil War. That’s what we call it.”
“Yeah, that one—though it seems it was anything but civil.”
“It was also called the War Between the States; the Second American Revolution; the War to End Slavery; the War to Save the Union.”
“How did your democracy do after these wars?” asked the alien.
“It was one big war,” I said. “Afterward, the democracy continued, however unevenly and inconsistently. The nation as a sovereign entity survived and continues to this day, though many wonder how much longer it can be sustained, given the current intensity of our internal rifts and fissures.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to co-exist among yourselves? Don’t you realize that within millions of light years from here, you’re the only form of intelligent life?”
I wondered what dolphins or our simian cousins would think of humans being identified as the only form of intelligent life . . . on earth.
“Yes, good point—co-existence. We have a saying about ourselves that familiarity breeds contempt. It’s a flaw in our makeup, a trait that hasn’t yet been eradicated.”
“Contempt for one’s kind—that simply doesn’t compute,” said the alien. “Why would you feel enmity toward your own species?”
“That’s for your next visit to planet earth,” I said, taking a sip of lemonade. As I tilted the tumbler, I realized all the ice cubes had melted.
“Meanwhile,” I continued, “it’s politics and democracy in America.”
“Yes, so what transpired after your Civil War?”
“Let me take a step back and to the side,” I said. “What’s useful to know is who’s journeyed to our shores and why—before and after the Civil War. Except for the indigenous populations that were ultimately decimated by war and disease, everyone who’s ever been a citizen of this democracy came from somewhere else. If you met human beings in other parts of our planet and engaged them in substantive discussions about America, you’d likely hear disapproval, even condemnation of many of our current characteristics—things like our gun fetish, the extremism that’s taken over the Republican Party, and a host of other embarrassments . . . at least to me they’re embarrassments. When I hear or read such scorn, however, I want to say, ‘Easy, now, because no matter what passport you hold, you can be assured that your country sent people to America.’ Thus, we’re completely representative of the rest of the world.” (Cont.)
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
