Why is it a cycle?" asked Yax. "What motivates some of your people to seek to disenfranchise others?"
I threw my hands up in the air. "Y'all really need to start listenin', ya know? It's always the same thing. The rallying cry might be different, but it's always the same thing. The people in power, those who have a lot of money, find ways to divide everyone else so we won't unite and force them to share their power and their money. It always boils down to that. Whether the powerful are yelling 'States' Rights!' or 'Anti-American!' or 'National Security!', it's always the same thing¾money and power and how to get away with hoarding them both."
"I understand that. What I find hard to believe is that so many of your people keep falling for it."
I shrugged. "Why? What could be easier? All they have to do is create privation and then tell those who are suffering that some other group of people who are suffering just as much, or more, is the cause of the suffering. Nothing could be simpler. People who are struggling are always going to be looking for someone to blame for their troubles. All those in power have to do is pick a convenient scapegoat and let nature take its course."
"It's that easy?" asked Squid-boy.
"Pretty much. Like I said, they've already got centuries' worth of resentments that have been simmering just under the surface to work with. All they have to do is stir the pot a bit, maybe turn up the heat, and bingo! Instant division."
"And it just keeps working? No one ever catches on?"
I glared at him. "You're repeating yourself, Squid-boy. Like I said, some people catch on. But they're usually not the ones who are shouting the loudest." I pointed at the exhibit of people marching. "This, here? This is where those in power start losing control of the fire they started."
"What do you mean?" asked Yax.
"Like I said, those in power want to keep the majority of the populace divided. They want us to not trust each other so that we won't work together against them. But they don't want civil unrest. Instability isn't good for business. If the people in power had their way, people would stay angry, resentful, and distrustful of others, but they would stay quiet about it. The people in power want the problems to stay in the shadows where no one talks about them. Because if everyone pretends they don't exist, then no one tries to solve them. And people just keep not trusting each other and the rich and powerful get to stay rich and powerful."
Squid-boy gestured at the display. "And this brings the problems into the open."
I nodded. "Exactly. This gets people talking about why folks are so upset they're marching in the street. It forces those in power to acknowledge there is a problem, though they generally try to pretend that what's wrong is something other than what's actually wrong, and at least pretend to try to fix it. If people keep marching and enough people start talking to each other and realizing we're all fighting the same fight, that's how alliances are made and coalitions are formed. And that's how real, meaningful change happens. But not without a lot of blood, sweat, and tears from the people who are marching."
"So, when it gets to this point, the powerful among your people try to change the narrative, pretend that what's wrong is actually something else?" asked Yax.
"Yeah, that's one way they try to silence people. Another is that." I pointed at the robots dressed as police. "Those in power will try to threaten people who advocate for change into silence, if they can."
"How do they do that? Aren't your law enforcement officials supposed to protect and serve the communities they police?"
I laughed. "You'd think so, right? I mean, that's what they have written on the sides of their cars, 'To Protect and Serve'." I rolled my eyes and patted the big alien on his shoulder. "And if you believe that, sugar, I've got a bridge to sell you, too."
Yax narrowed his eyes at me. "Bridge sales seem like a non sequitur to me, unless there's a connection I'm missing."
I shook my head. "No, darlin', I'm sorry. It's just an expression that means that someone is naïve if they believe something."
He crossed his massive arms over his chest. "I neither believe nor disbelieve. I'm simply collating information."
"I'd be interested in hearing about the provenance of an expression that equates bridges with naïveté," interjected Squid-boy.
Grinning, I shook my head. "'Always Curious', that should be your motto, sugar."
He executed a surprisingly graceful bow. "A sentiment I will be happy to be associated with, young human."
I curtsied in response and he clicked his beak at me. Turning back to Yax, I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you were naïve; I'm just getting frustrated because it seems like y'all keep asking me the same questions over and over."
He nodded and uncrossed his arms. "Apologies, as well. It's just a little hard to believe that so many of your people keep falling for the same tricks over and over again. It seems like, perhaps, they should be buying bridges."
I hee-hawed, slapping my thighs. Tears streaming from my eyes, I gasped, "Whoo, boy! Now ain't that the God's honest truth?"
"You still haven't explained the origin of that expression," reminded Squid-boy.
Wiping my face, I rolled my eyes. "You're not gonna let it go, are ya?"
He blinked at me. "Why would I when I wish to know the answer? Is it a secret?"
I sighed. "No. It's not a secret. It's just another little piece of American history that illustrates how terrible we can be to each other sometimes." Taking a deep breath, I gathered my thoughts. "After the Civil War, the war that made it so that people with darker skin couldn't be kept as slaves anymore, there was a period of expansion and development. A lot of really terrible things happened during this time, but a lot of amazing things happened, too.
"The people who had lived on the land before people from Europe came were pushed back to small, restricted areas and many of them were murdered if they didn't want to leave their homes. Their land was stolen from them and given to people with lighter skin to live on or build on. Railroads were built that spanned the continent, but they were built by people who were treated little better than slaves; poor people who worked in terrible conditions doing back-breaking work with no care or consideration for their well-being.
"And there were other large, important construction projects, too. One of them was the Brooklyn Bridge, which was completed in the late 1800s. It was one of the first things that people immigrating to the US saw when they got off the boat from Ellis Island. And there were a lot of immigrants because the companies that were building so many things needed people to do the labor.
"At the time, many people from other parts of the world were convinced to go to the United States because it was advertised as 'The land of opportunity with streets that were paved with gold'. People came to America expecting a country of excess where everyone was rich and making money was easy, which resulted in a lot of disappointment."
"Why would anyone use gold to construct roads?" asked Squid-boy.
"What?"
He waved his arms around his head. "It's a very poor material for the purpose, gold. Soft and easily malformed by the weight of any conveyances that use the road, but still heavy and bulky to transport. So why use gold?"
I snorted. "They didn't. There were no roads paved with gold."
"But you said…"
I waved his words away. "I said that the US was advertised that way; I didn't say there was any truth in the advertising." Sighing, I rubbed my temples. "It was a metaphor meant to indicate that wealth was everywhere and easily attained but, of course, that wasn't the case. Still, plenty of people were fooled. A lot of immigrants came to the US expecting money and opportunities to just appear before them. There's still a perception around the world that the US is 'the land of opportunity', though not nearly as much as there used to be. And, at this point, the reality is that the 'American Dream' is more likely to be achieved by people living in Canada or Scandinavia than by anyone living in the US, so much of an oligarchy have we become.
"At the time the Brooklyn Bridge was built, things were different, but it still took a lot of hard work and good luck for someone coming to the US to make their fortune. And that was only true for people with lighter skin; people with darker skin hardly had any chance at all. But many of the people who had just arrived hadn't learned that yet. So, con artists would wait around the docks for the people who had just arrived. They'd pretend to be their friend and offer to show them around. And they'd point out the Brooklyn Bridge, which was large and impressive, and tell them it was for sale.
"You have to understand that many of these people didn't speak English very well and probably felt a bit lost and alone, in a new country with no friends or family or anything familiar. So, any friendly face, even if they were just pretending to be friendly, was welcome. Add to that, they were already predisposed to believe that it was easy to become rich in America, and it wasn't uncommon for them to fall for the scam. The con artist would take their money and tell them they had just bought the Brooklyn Bridge but, of course, they hadn't, and now they had no money either.
"It was something that happened often enough that it became a saying, 'If you believe something that's clearly untrue, then I'd like to sell you the Brooklyn Bridge, too'." I shrugged. "Like I said, not a nice story; preying on the vulnerable."
"That makes sense, though as you say, it's a sad story," said Squid-boy.
Yax grunted. "It's an interesting bit of your history, but we've gotten rather off topic. Can we get back to the exhibit?"
"Sure. As I was saying, the cops are supposed to protect and serve the community, but they're often a lever used by the powerful to control the rest of us so that we don't cause them too much trouble."
"Can you expand on that?"
Swallowing against a dry throat, I rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah, sure. Any chance I could get some water, or something, though?"
Squid-boy blinked at me. "Of course."
He waddled over to a wall that looked the same as all the other walls to me and tapped on it. An opening appeared, and inside was a large cup. Squid-boy picked it up and started back towards me. I stepped forward to take it from him, when he swung the cup back and then forward, dumping the contents over my face and the front of my body.
"Hey!" I sputtered. "What was that for?"
"Didn't you wish to moisten your skin? The air on the station can be very drying."
Wiping the water out of my eyes, I glared at him. "I wanted some water to drink. I'm thirsty. Why in the pink and purple heck would I want to take a bath here?"
Squid-boy just stood there blinking at me.
"Well?"
"Apologies. Customs vary among species. I misunderstood your request."
Yax stepped forward, handing me a towel and a cup of water he must have gotten from the same opening in the wall.
Nodding to him, I said, "Thanks."
After I dried myself off the best that I could with the towel, I slung it over my shoulder and sipped the water. It was a bit warm and flat tasting, but it would do. Nodding again to Yax, I cocked an eyebrow at Squid-boy. "'Customs vary', huh? And y'all think my people are strange."
Squid-boy made a shrill squealing sound, but he was cut off by Yax's loud guffaws. The tall alien patted his colleague on the back of his large head. "She has us there, my friend. A good reminder; this whole project is just a matter of perspective."
The smaller alien snapped his beak at his taller companion. "The exhibits in this museum must meet a certain standard of irrationality and logical disconnect even when viewed from the standpoint of someone from their cultures of origin. That's the purpose of these interviews, after all."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "So, I'm here to justify my people to you? Who are you to judge us?"
He waved his arms at me. "We judge nothing and no one. We simply seek to accurately represent some of the cultural oddities that exist in the galaxy for the education and entertainment of our patrons. And you are not here to justify anything; there's no need for that. Your role is just to explain what is represented so that we can ascertain if we have correctly recreated it and if it does, in fact, fit our criteria or if there are variables we failed to consider that disqualify the events in question for our purposes."
I waved his explanation away. "Whatever. I'm not sure I believe you, but I'm not sure it matters, either. You're gonna think what you wanna think, just like everyone else. Let's just get this done."
"If it's any consolation, anyone who expressed any lack of respect for any of the cultures represented in this museum was terminated from the project. Our goal isn't to mock; it's to understand," said Yax.
I smiled at him. "Well, sugar, a little more understanding in the universe can't be a bad thing."
He smiled back. "Exactly. And towards that end…"
Sighing, I grimaced. "Right, you wanted to know how the police are used to control people. Well…"
"It's a long story," the two of them chorused.
Laughing, I nodded. "It is, indeed, a long story."
"Please tell us this story."
"As I said, the people who are powerful fear that the rest of us will one day wake up to the fact that we can force them to share if we just work together. So, they use a lot of different strategies, some of which we've discussed, to keep us divided. But when people get too angry and start to take action, they'll try to use the police to disrupt any protests and bully the protesters into backing down."
"Are the police part of the ruling elite in your society?" asked Squid-boy.
I shook my head. "No. That's part of the genius of their strategy. Cops are just working stiffs, like the rest of us. Most of them are good people and they become police officers because they actually do want to help others and keep them safe. But the way the powerful have structured the legal system makes it almost inevitable that the police will end up at odds with the communities they're supposed to serve. And that means that regular people end up viewing cops as 'the enemy', and so cops end up returning the favor and viewing regular people as 'the enemy', too."
"When, in reality, it's the people who are pulling the strings who are the enemies of both groups," murmured Yax.I pointed at him. "Bingo. That's it, exactly."
No comments:
Post a Comment