I have this thing about authority, especially authority that abuses its power, and in my experience all authority eventually abuses its power.
With governments this abuse often comes in the form of the big lie. As I get older, the big lies told by authorities get bigger and bigger. There is only one thing that has kept up with the exponential growth of the big lie and that is the capacity Americans have to swallow it whole and take it as fact.
When I was 19 I went to Vietnam. And in my first few days there I encountered a classic example of the big lie and the desire, perhaps even the need, some people have to believe the big lie.
I arrived in Vietnam in November 1968. It took a few days to get assigned to a unit, and in those few days you are issued a weapon and you attend orientation and training sessions. It was at one of the training sessions that I saw first hand the eagerness of my fellow soldiers to accept the big lie.
About a hundred tired, sweaty, dusty, newly arrived initiates were marched into this large tent. The tent sides were rolled up, there were folding chairs in the tent, and at the front there was a small elevated stage.
On the stage stood a colonel with a German shepherd trail dog.
The colonel was our instructor and he began by telling us we were luckier than the trail dog because we would get to go home in 12 months, but the dog would not. Because of exposure to various diseases and parasites in Vietnam the dog would never be allowed back in the U.S.
I didn't envy the dog to begin with, so that argument did not move me. But others in the tent seemed receptive to the idea that they were better off than a dog.
Then came the big lie. The colonel told us we need not worry about dying in Vietnam because Vietnam was a safe place to be. It was safer than being in the U.S., he said, because it was more dangerous to drive on America's highways than it was to be in a combat unit in Vietnam. After all, he argued, there were 50,000 highway deaths in the U.S. each year, but combat deaths in Vietnam were only about 5,000 per year.
I couldn't help myself and immediately raised my hand and questioned his conclusions. "Sir," I said, "there are some 225 million Americans and probably 50 million or more of them drive. There are 500,000 U.S. forces in Vietnam; the ratios are so different that the comparison is not valid."
"Ratio, shmay-shee-o," said the colonel. "When you're dead, you're dead."
I could not argue with this point, but I was not done. "I'll tell you what, Sir," I said. "I'm no coward, so I hereby volunteer for hazardous duty on the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut. I'm ready to go immediately." The Merritt Parkway was just a few miles from my home town, so the request was somewhat self serving.
My request was ignored and the colonel was pissed. I expected my offer to irritate the colonel, but I was surprised by how angry my fellow GIs were, and believe me, they were angry. Most of them came to the defense of the poor colonel, cursed at me, and told me to shut up.
Today I realize that they desperately wanted to believe they were in a safe place, safer than they were at home and I was challenging that attractive and comfortable, but false, belief.
That's how beguiling the Big Lie can be; you can tell people in a war zone that they are safer there than they would be at home and they will believe you, because the lie is more comforting, and altogether preferable to the always messy, sometimes dangerous, and seldom satisfactory reality.
There are people out there who want to believe, need to beleive our President knows what he is doing. Finding ways to effectively break through that wall of self-inflicted delusion is the key to fighting Republican campaign lies, wedge issues, and Swift Boat attacks.
In addition, we must beware the beguiling Big Lie; we are all susceptible to its charms and can be taken in.