David McElroy

The rioting at the U.S. Capitol a year ago is an ink blot. Most people look at it and see what they expect to see — and what they see seems to line up with their political views. Shocking, huh?

The mainstream progressive left seems to think there was a serious attempt at a coup launched by conservatives. Many of them seem to believe that we came just a whisker from having the federal government overthrown by this motley collection of misfits.

Those in the populist Trump camp believe the rioters were simply “patriots” who were protesting against what they were told was a stolen election. Many of them might agree today that the protest got a little out of control, but they’re convinced it was nothing. (And some genuine conservatives take this view, too, not because they love Trump, but simply because they hate the left.)

The truth is simpler but less dramatic. A pathetic bunch of misguided losers believed a pack of political lies from a narcissist who lost an election. They went to a protest that was a bit like a Trumpified version of Woodstock without the music. A mob of about 10,000 then entered the Capitol grounds and around 2,000 of them broke into the building.

The rioters apparently saw themselves as Mel Gibson in “Braveheart,” but they were really more like the losers from “Revenge of the Nerds” — but without the fantasy Hollywood ending.

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I’ve always wanted to be the hero. Even more than that, though, I wanted to be her hero.

It’s the oldest fantasy in my childhood memory. I have no idea how it started. I don’t remember what could have put the idea into my thoughts, but I was still a very small child when it became an obsession for me.

The girl was always in trouble of some kind. I made up all sorts of stories each night as I went to sleep. The specific dangers changed, but the pattern was always the same. The girl I loved was in trouble. She needed to be rescued. I came to her rescue in her moment of need — and she adored me as her hero and rescuer.

As an adult, this sort of story comes with all sorts of baggage, of course. Mature adults aren’t supposed to take such stories seriously. Some even claim that this historical and mythological imagery is sexist — that a woman shouldn’t need to be rescued and that a man shouldn’t want to be her hero.

But I don’t care. At my core, I still want to be her hero. When my princess is deepest in distress, she calls out for help and I rescue her. It’s a need that’s deeply embedded in culture and possibly genetics. And even though it’s ridiculous imagery from a child’s fairy tales, I still want to rescue my princess.

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All of your life, you have been brainwashed to obey whichever mob holds power where you live.

The brainwashing uses different language in different places. You’re taught to respect authority. You are taught to believe there is something holy about “our democratic system.” In some countries, you are taught to respect and obey the will of a party or of one particular leader. But in all systems, the result is the same.

You must obey the people who give you orders. You must give them your money and other property when they demand it. You must live by the rules they dictate. And you must be willing to kill outsiders if you’re told to do so.

Political groups violently argue about all sorts of things, but they all agree that if they are able to seize power, you and I must obey them. In this way, they are all alike. They are unwilling to let us live as free individuals — making voluntary arrangements among ourselves — because they don’t believe you and I would make the decisions they want us to make.

The real political and social question we face is whether we want to live as free individuals or as obedient slaves to whoever holds power. You are either on the side of the individual or you are part of a mob which wants to enforce its will on everybody.

I stand against the mob. I stand for the individual, even when I disagree with your choices.

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