Awakenings

     Yes, I’ve used that title before. Twice, in fact. But third time’s the charm, I hope.

     A word of warning, Gentle Reader. This one will get rough. Moreover, you may not sense it coming. But when it does, you’ll be in no doubt of it.

     If you can stand to have every cell in your body aflame with rage, read on.

To sate the lust of power; more horrid still,
The foulest stain and scandal of our nature
Became its boast — One Murder made a Villain,
Millions a Hero. — Princes were privileg’d
To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime.
Ah! why will Kings forget that they are Men?

[“Death: A Poetical Essay” by Beilby Porteus, 1759]

     Every event of consequence points back at seemingly abstract and bloodless propositions: more abstract and bloodless, at least, than the participants in the event itself. Thus it may be – I hope so, at any rate – for the seizure and death of Peanut the squirrel.

     You already know the particulars. I shan’t waste time or keystrokes repeating them here. Besides, some very able commentators have already laid the whole thing out in unsparing detail.

     My hope is that this seemingly trivial event will prove to be the falling stone that unleashes an avalanche. An avalanche – a conscience-powered uprising against that foulest of all Man’s creations, the Omnipotent State – is what we need. At what better moment could it come? From what more worthy cause could it arise?

     Of course, such an uprising would have a few prerequisites:

• That the seizure and execution of Peanut becomes a nationwide cause celebre;
• That there arises a general comprehension of the premises under which it was effected;
• That we have consciences capable of awakening to the horror of those premises;
• That we are still men with some capacity for defiance and courage, not beasts conditioned to unthinking obedience to the State.

     Why did those arrogant bastards of the New York Department of Environmental Conservation seize and execute Peanut and his confrere, Fred the Raccoon? The rationalizations are plain: Mark Longo didn’t have a permit for them; there were allegations that Peanut and Fred were “unsafe;” there were anonymous complaints about “wildlife gone wild;” the state is responsible for “rabies control.” None of them hold water for five seconds. Here is the real reason:

     They could do so without fear for their lives, their fortunes, their careers, or their ability to sleep at night. Doing anything justifiable — e.g., tracking down some actual abusers of animals and hauling them before a court – would have involved a lot more work, and possibly some personal danger. Hey, officer safety! That’s the mantra, don’t y’know. It’s not just cops who chant it to themselves and one another.

     Mark Longo and Peanut were safe and easy targets. For one thing, Peanut had a social media presence. They knew where he lived. For another, Longo, a well-known animal-rescue activist, was highly unlikely to resist them with force. So they chose to go after the felonious squirrel rather than some more problematic target. Got to do something to justify their salaries and benefits, right?

     They could. So they did.

     Some things demand more of a justification than “because we could.” Sir Edmund Hillary could get away with that one, or an approximate equivalent, because he was risking only his own life and spending only his own money. But when inflicting death is the subject, more will be required.

     In On Broken Wings, I wrote:

     “[L]ook me in the eye, kid: is this the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
     As frightened as he was, it didn’t occur to Jimmy to lie. “I killed a squirrel once.”
     “To eat? Or for its fur?”
     “No.”
     The man’s face hardened still further. “That’s bad. Sometimes we have to kill. But you don’t kill for pleasure. Not ever again.”

     A man with a conscience – a functioning, awakened conscience – who kills even once will immediately grasp the seriousness of the act. He may sincerely believe it’s justifiable as he does it. Our bodies do need meat, and coverings that will ward off the cold. Even so, he’ll know that it was an act of such gravity that nothing could be said in defense of killing for pleasure. Is “I’m just doing my job” a better exculpation?

     Now that we’re there, if there’s a reader in favor of the execution of Peanut and Fred, give me your rationalization. From a good distance, and with your hands where I can see them.

     I’ll wait.

     I could go on, but such is the readership of Liberty’s Torch that I don’t see a need. Peanut and Fred were ripped from their homes and executed because the State decreed that it be done. It was an arbitrary exertion of an arbitrarily seized power that cannot be justified in any other way than “Because we could.” (Codicil: “And what are you going to do about it, punk?”)

     God is not mocked. He loves all His creatures. And while He will perform the final reckoning, you and I have a hand to play in the maintenance of justice here on Earth. Indeed, ours are the only hands in play, for God has surrendered all police power over temporal reality to us who live under the veil of Time. To men.

     That’s all, Gentle Reader. It’s time for Mass. Pray and reflect.