This article was originally posted here at badquaker.com and an audio article is available here.
Waffle People, or Why Everything You Know About Anarchism May Be Wrong
Once upon a time in a land not so very far away, there was a very happy kingdom called Waviles.
Waviles had a wise, kind old king who was beloved by his people. The kingdom was located among steep mountains and was naturally guarded on every approach by towering cliffs. The people always felt safe since there was but one heavily guarded pass leading into Waviles and it had never been conquered. Because of its remoteness, very few people ever visited or even knew about Waviles.
One day a traveler was wandering in the mountains and came upon the pass leading to Waviles. He saw that the road was seldom used and decided it would be a good path to take to learn of new places. This traveler was a happy, healthy man, not known for his intelligence, but loved by his friends for his good cheer and his simple honesty. He made his way past the checkpoints unaccosted since he presented no danger in the eyes of the guards and once through the pass a wide valley stretched out before him with a village in the distance. When the traveler reached the village he spotted the town cobbler who was in front of his shop showing off a new pair of tall black boots he had just finished. The cobbler happened to be eating a thin rolled waffle filled with fruit and cream, and had just taken a huge bite.
“What land is this and by what name is this village known, friend?” said the traveler to the cobbler.
The cobbler, his mouth still occupied with his lunch said, “Is Waviles.”
The traveler misunderstood the man to say, “waffles” and assumed he had not been clear with his question.
“No, no, not the treat. The land, my friend, what is the name of this land? This kingdom?”
Again the cobbler tried to speak with food in his mouth, “Waviles! Kingdom of Waviles and land of Waviles.”
Unfortunately having never heard the word Waviles, the traveler assumed the man was saying “Waffles”.
“Funny name for a village or a land.” the traveler mumbled.
Again with a stuffed mouth the cobbler said, “Is our dear king’s name as well, Good King Wavile, rest his soul.” but at this point the traveler was only half listening. He had spotted an old lady drawing water from a well and decided to try to engage a conversation with someone who didn’t have a mouth full of food.
Now it so happened that just the day before the good king had died. As was the custom, the new king wouldn’t be crowned until after the old king was cremated.
The traveler walked up to the old woman at the well and asked, “Dear woman, can you help me? I’m confused about this king of yours and your land.”
The old lady shook her head and said, “Bless him, the kings not living. Don’t you know?”
The traveler was more confused than ever. “Here now, I’m confused. Am I to understand your king is a waffle?”
She almost laughed at his foreign pronunciation. “Our king’s a Wavile. He was the son of a Wavile and the next king will be a Wavile as well.”
So having completely misunderstood every bit of information that had been passed to him, the traveler filled his water jug, bought some provisions and began to leave the land of Waviles, or “Waffles” as he understood it to be. As he left town he noticed strands of black cloth hanging from windows and from eaves. Odd he hadn’t noticed before. Looking up the hill he spotted the castle with black flags waving from every parapet. Just down the hill a bit, people were stacking wood in a great mound. The traveler stood gawking for a moment trying to take in what he saw when another villager said to him, “Makes a fellow want to cry, it does.”
“What’s that?” said the traveler.
“Well, it’s just that I loved the Old Man. I hate to see them burn him like that. I know it’s the way, but it doesn’t seem proper to me, is all. I just hate to see him burn.”
‘They burn their elderly!’ thought the traveler, ‘I must leave this land with all haste!’
After some time, the traveler made it back to his own land and to his own village.
Day after day he would go to the local pub and tell the stories of his travels. Exotic far away lands with strange animals. People of different skin tones and various cultures. Strange foods and odd spices and interesting buildings were described in great detail by the traveler, but the one story that always finished the night, the one everyone waited for after long hours of talk and drink, was the story of the Waffle People. Everyone loved the story of the Waffle People. Those odd folk that waved black flags, wore big black boots, euthanized the old, and not only ate waffles but sat a waffle on a throne and bowed to it as their king! Talk of these strange people would continue even after the traveler gave up for the night and went home. Late at night with more and more drinks flowing, the story of the Waffle People would grow and take on new oddities and the story would twist in every direction as others would say they too had heard of Waffle Land and of this waffle on a throne.
As the traveler aged, his memory slipped and more and more he relied on the folks at the pub to help him with his stories. Eventually the old gent passed on, but the story of the Waffle People continued to grow. Yes, it was known that in Waffle Land everyone wore big black boots. Man and woman alike wore the boots. Actually men and women dressed exactly alike in all black from their heads to their toes! In the midst of these wild speculations, someone pointed out that pirates on the high seas often use the black flag! Others said the black flag was a sign of plague! Could it be that pirates infected with some mind altering plague had taken refuge in those mountains?
Eventually specific “facts” about Waffle Land and its evil Waffle People became common knowledge.
Namely:
- Waffle People were a race descended from pirates, infected by an illness that twists the mind.
- They live in a village where every house is made of waffles.
- They kill off their old as soon as they reach the age of 30 years!
- The only food they eat is waffles and they drink a strange brew made of waffles and the ashes of their dead elders.
- They worship an idol of their God-King, The Great Waffle, set in a huge black hall covered in black tapestries.
- Only one man has ever set foot in Waffle Land and come out alive. He was driven to madness and drank himself to death over what he saw there.
As new generations heard and passed on the lore of the Waffle People different people reacted to it in different ways. An odd little traveling “holy man” ranted about the evils of waffles in general. Teenagers took to wearing black garb. Black boots were all the rage among the young. Mothers worried about their children and old men talked about how the Waffles were corrupting society. Watchmen at night would occasionally sound the alarm thinking they had seen a Waffle lurking in the darkness.
Now to be honest, some people knew that this whole “Waffle Land” was a huge misunderstanding. The local magistrate often laughed at the silly uneducated hordes with their foolish superstitions. He and the High Priest discussed how handy it was to have these “Waffles” around. For example, when it was found that the coinage had been debased and worth only a third of its perceived value, it wasn’t hard for the village to believe the Waffles were working among them to rob them of their wealth with counterfeit coins! Of course the magistrate solved that problem by confiscating all the coinage and replacing it with official scrip. Then there was the time the cathedral was robbed of the relief fund that had been gathered for the poor. Anyone could see the hand of the Waffles in such a deed. It’s a good thing the magistrate stepped up with the emergency relief tax, otherwise the poor would have starved that winter.
For the protection of the village, some new laws were enacted. First and foremost, no wearing of boots or any black cloth. No making, buying, selling, or possessing waffles or waffle making devices. And lastly, worship of The Great Waffle was strictly forbidden under penalty of death.
Even with these carefully crafted laws, things seem to be getting worse and worse. Young people began openly defying authority, wearing their black boots and even waving black flags! Sometimes groups of young “Wafflers” would knock over waste bins or set haystacks on fire.
It was about this time another of the villagers decided he wished to travel and see strange places. Traveling from place to place he was careful to avoid the “Black Pass” that was the legendary entry to Waffle. After a while he decided to return home so, taking the most direct route, he came almost too near the entrance of the pass. There he saw an old man pushing a wagon in the direction of the evil pass, so he shouted to him, “Hey there, stop! Are you a stranger to these lands? Worse than death awaits you on that road.”
The man stopped and asked, “Here now, of what do you speak?”
The traveler told the tale to the old fellow, faithful to all the details that he was so sure of.
“That’s silly nonsense young man! How did you come to have such notions?”
The traveler explained again, the evils of the Waffle People.
“I’m telling you that’s nonsense! First off its not Waffles, its Waviles. I happen to be a Wavile on my mother’s side and lived there near half my life.”
But the traveler would hear none of it. In his mind, he knew what he believed was right and no matter what the old man said it wouldn’t change what the traveler believed.
Well, this has been a long story and you’re likely asking yourself why you’ve read this far. If you’re a libertarian or consider yourself an anarcho-capitalist, you’ve likely already seen the comparison. Then again, maybe its not completely obvious. When a liberty loving anarchist or libertarian talks to pretty much anyone outside of our movement we can almost be certain they have a preconceived notion of who we are and what we stand for that is every bit as wrong and twisted as the picture painted of the Waviles by the fools in the story above. Terminology has systematically been twisted by a combination of ignorance, happenchance, and the concentrated efforts of evil people so that we are virtually guaranteed to be misunderstood by the hordes. Lies abound and accusations of assassinations, wars, bombings, and mayhem have all been falsely attributed to us and these lies have been told so often and with such conviction that some of us have even believed them at times. Sadly, the vast majority of Americans today have no interest in learning the truth about us or about liberty, and many who say they’re with us are only in it for the cool boots. After all, at the moment, we’re a bit of a fashion craze. But that will pass with time and we’ll simply be misunderstood again soon.
This is the ethical foundation that all of Liberty is based upon:
The Philosophy Of Non-aggression ~ The initiation of physical force against persons or property, the threat of such, or fraud upon persons or their property is unethical when done by a single person or a group.
Right of Property ~ Each person is the exclusive owner of his or her body, life, and actions and is exclusively responsible for their body, life, and actions. Each person owns the product of their own labor, and any previously unowned resource that they acquire or improve (homestead). A person may use, improve, destroy, sell, trade, or give as a gift any item they rightfully own. A person owns what they have homesteaded, purchased, traded for, or were rightfully given as a gift. When a person violates the non-aggression principal they forfeit their right of property pursuant to their act of aggression.
Law ~ The Non-aggression Principle coupled with The Right of Property are the only true Law.
It seems odd that people with such a simple philosophy would endure so much ignorant abuse by those who believe what they were told rather than seek truth.
Ben Stone
2011
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