Maple: We — the people 

Since beginningless time, humans have survived chaotic eras: apocalyptic events, civil unrest, and war. And we have foreseen future catastrophes: Fires, floods, and wars that destroy our social contracts and civilizations.

Many assume in such instances we inherently revert to a base nature filled with a type of anarchy, of merciless self-preservation — callously killing to maintain ourselves. From Mad Max to “Fallout,” we predict a dystopian anarchy in the face of devastation, in which only the brutally ruthless survive.

Hobbes argues that a type of monstrous social contract called “The Leviathan” is necessary to save us from ourselves: The state of nature before civilization, where he assumes we were consumed by our most basic instincts, which led to endless war, all against all, in an endless downfall. But the more we record stories from fallout and chaos, of war and destruction, the more we find that in the face of devastation, we revert to kindness — our most basic instinct. In the face of death, we reach out a hand to shield another from the darkness.

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Throughout the bombing of London during the Second World War, government officials feared the worst. That, under the strain of annihilation, fear would consume the populous leading to chaos, murder, theft, mental illness, and anarchy.

However, the adverse was true: People came together in the face of difficulty. As hell reigned down upon them, they came together to create a heaven amongst the rubble: Sharing food, shelter, and supplies; caring for each other in ways no one would have thought possible; and sacrificing themselves to help strangers in need. The hierarchy was abolished and leadership was pushed into the hands of the competent before they relinquished power to once again join the tide. When government and social institutions failed to impose order, we ordered ourselves. Rather than falling into despair, meaning was found, and new kings were crowned. 

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The same stories abound from other war zones and natural catastrophes. When we are brought low, we come together to row against the relentless undertow. We often find meaning in the lowest of places, reaching out to lift another and creates a bond between our fellow sisters and brothers. In the face of adversity, we come together rather than lock others out of the shelter.

 In 2017, I made my yearly spring fling to the college classroom, attempting to chip away at the “all-important” degree. And, as with every year, it was a bumpy re-entry into the education system, shifting from a world traveler/professional skier to just another lowly, old ass sophomore. My college career spanned over a decade, as such I bore witness to many a change and trend. Politics washed through campus, falling in and out of popularity; students whom I was a freshman with were now leaving me behind as graduating seniors. Even teachers who were staples of the Philosophy and Art department came and went …

With only a couple days to sign up for classes, I glanced at the options and was captured by the title of a philosophy class: “Gender, Traitors, and Pirates.” I glided into the class, excited to learn about the philosophies, ideas, and social structures that fueled old pirates and legendary traitors.

By chance, I sat furthest to the right in a semicircle lecture hall. The teacher started the introductions with the usual: calling on me, furthest to their left, and asking: What’s your name? What’s your major? What do you like to do outside of class? And finally, a twist that I hadn’t heard before, what’s your favorite pronoun?

Favorite pronoun? Who the f@$# cares about pronouns? Still, I paused.

“My favorite pronoun, I guess, is ‘We’ because life is better together.”

A snicker before the girl to my left launched into her introduction, but with a twist, she said, “I identify as she/them.” As this strange new routine continued, it dawned on me that I had made a grave mistake — my fellow classmates cared deeply about pronouns and the identities bred there within. Looking around at the class, I realized I was the only stereotypical: straight-white-male in the classroom. And that I had neglected to weigh the first word in the title of the course: Gender.  

For the next week and a half, I attempted to stay the course even though it certainly wasn’t about pirates or traitors in the usual sense — and all the while I was treated like the enemy. A lone figure in a class of “exiles” who saw me as a classical symbol of the patriarchy. Rare did they listen to the words coming out of my mouth, about democracy and leniency, to freely be anything and anyone with agency. I’m not your enemy! Couldn’t they see I wasn’t in the us-versus-them category? 

“We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other, but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.” — Charles Bukowski

Perhaps, in a class full of repressed hate, what was needed was a catastrophe, for then they’d see that they and I were really “We” as we attempted to navigate a calamity. Or maybe we just needed to perceive that entity that surprisingly washes away inconsistency. For it is the gaping jaws of death that truly put a pep in our step. Against such an “enemy,” the nothings that separate us fall as trivialities, and we realize that we are all just one thing — an ally.

For in the end, that’s what we really want to be. Fused together into some kind of heinous, beautiful entity — a leviathan mused together by love. Just as in love relationships, we all wish to transition into something more and not be such a bore. For a him to find a her (and all the other combinations in between). To create a new trend. For what we wish is to bend in order to mend. We want to turn a me and a her into a “We” — and flower like a great tree. Like water, flung from the storm. Or dropped on the mountain. We wish to follow waters’ trend down every bend, to find our way back and dance in the sea. In such a state, we can move mountains, even today.

Another Independence Day and another election around the corner: The fate of the world and democracy seem to hang in the balance. Or perhaps, that’s just what they want us to see. But what changed is perhaps a controversy, maybe even a calamity — both parties have fronted an old, deranged monarchy.

In times like these, we need to understand it’s not us against them. But a resounding “We” — can you not see? Let’s hope it doesn’t take a war to realize that We are all worth fighting for.

“The price good men pay for indifference to public affairs, is to be ruled by evil men.” — Plato

World Cup and Olympic skier Wiley Maple was raised in Aspen.