The Fatal Flaw of Tyrants

Gandhi once said "When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fail. Think of it—always."

When situations in our country look bleak, I try to remember Gandhi's words and practice daily acts of defiance and small instances of courage because I believe that if we all add a little to the good side, it adds up. I was reminded of this as I finished reading the extraordinary Watership Down by Richard Adams last night. Really, if you've never read this book, drop whatever you are doing, find a copy and plunge in.

Adams captures the best and worst of human life through the prism of a band of rabbits who want nothing more than a good home, good grass to eat, and a future for their children, just like most of us. He follows the classic mythological plot with a lead character who, by all measures, should fail but through a combination of courage, kindness, and loyalty, wins the day for himself and his followers. In Watership Down, that character is named Hazel.

So what does this book about rabbits have to do with Gandhi? Like all good novels, Watership Down contains more truth than the best history because it reveals the innermost thoughts of its characters, thoughts that can only be assumed by a historian.

Gandhi's insight is played out in a character called General Woundwort. (Isn't that a great name? Really, English authors can't be beat when it comes to naming characters.)

Here's an excerpt from the end of the book that illustrates Gandhi's point. The lame rabbit referred to is Hazel who has come to talk with General Woundwort in hopes of saving his warren and the General's followers from destruction.

** from Watership Down **

"We are going to destroy you," said Woundwort.

"You won't find it easy," replied Hazel. "You'll take fewer rabbits home than you brought. We should both do better to come to terms."

"Very well," said Woundwort. "These are the terms. You will give back all the does who ran from Efrafa [Woundwort's warren] and you will hand over the deserters Thlayli and Blackavar to my Owsla [military police]."

"No, we can't agree to that. I've come to suggest something altogether different and better for us both. A rabbit has two ears; a rabbit has two eyes, two nostrils. Our two warrens ought to be like that. They ought to be together—not fighting. We ought to make other warrens between us—start one between here and Efrafa, with rabbits from both sides. You wouldn't lose by that, you'd gain. We both would. A lot of your rabbits are unhappy now and it's all you can do to control them, but with this plan you'd soon see a difference. Rabbits have enough enemies as it is. They ought not to make more among themselves. A mating between free, independent warrens—what do you say?"

At that moment, in the sunset on Watership Down, there was offered to General Woundwort the opportunity to show whether he was really the leader of vision and genius which he believed himself to be, or whether he was no more than a tyrant with the courage and cunning of a pirate. For one beat of his pulse the lame rabbit's idea shone clearly before him. He grasped it and realized what it meant. The next, he had pushed it away from him. The sun dipped into the cloud bank and now he could see clearly the track along the ridge, leading to the beech hanger and the bloodshed for which he had prepared with so much energy and care.

** Think about General Woundwort—who loses, by the way—as you read this morning's news. Then go out and commit a small act of courage.**