The Shadow On The Dial, and Other Essays: 1909Bierce, Ambrose
Philosophy
The Shadow On The Dial, and Other Essays: 1909
Bierce, Ambrose
Essays
For nearly all that is good in our American civilization we are indebted
to England; the errors and mischiefs are of our own creation. We have
originated little, because there is little to originate, but we have
unconsciously reproduced many of the discredited and abandoned systems
of former ages and other countries--receiving them at second hand, but
making them ours by the sheer strength and immobility of the national
belief in their newness. Newness! Why, it is not possible to make an
experiment in government, in art, in literature, in sociology, or in
morals, that has not been made over, and over, and over again. Fools
talk of clear and simple remedies for this and that evil afflicting the
commonwealth. If a proposed remedy is obvious and easily intelligible,
it is condemned in the naming, for it is morally certain to have been
tried a thousand times in the history of the world, and had it been
effective men ere now would have forgotten, from mere disuse, how to
produce the evil it cured.
There are clear and simple remedies for nothing. In medicine there
has been discovered but a single specific; in politics not one.
The interests, moral and natural, of a community in our highly
differentiated civilization are so complex, intricate, delicate and
interdependent, that you can not touch one without affecting all. It
is a familiar truth that no law was ever passed that did not have
unforeseen results; but of these results, by far the greater number are
never recognized as of its creation. The best that can be said of any
"measure" is, that the sum of its perceptible benefits seems so to
exceed the sum of its perceptible evils as to constitute a balance of
advantage. Yet the magnificent innocence of the statesman or philosopher
to whose understanding "the whole matter lies in a nutshell"--who thinks
he can formulate a practical political or social policy within the four
corners of an epigram--who fears nothing because he knows nothing--is
constantly to the fore with a simple specific for ills whose causes are
complex, constant and inscrutable. To the understanding of this creature
a difficulty well ignored is half overcome; so he buttons up his eyes
and assails the problems of life with the divine confidence of a blind
pig traversing a labyrinth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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