I would be called a Republican anywhere but in America, where it is disgustingly respectable.

G. K. Chesterton, The Resurrection of Rome (maybe)

As much as I ever did, more than I ever did, I believe in Liberalism. But there was a rosy time of innocence when I believed in Liberals.

G. K. Chesterton, The Ethics of Elfland, Orthodoxy

It came time for the creatures of the Forest to choose their ruler, and their choices were two. There was the Bush, which stood strong in the heart of the Forest and had already ruled for years, and there was the Kenerry, a small bird rather like a canary except that its feathers were gray and it didn’t sing, it gave speeches.

The rule of the Bush had been marked by violence. Soon after his rise to power, Bears from a distant land had trapped hundreds of the creatures and burned them alive. All the Forest had grieved. No one knew where the Bears had fled, or from whence they had come, but that had not deterred the Bush.

He had declared war on the Swamp, home of many vicious monsters who had strange ways and hated the Forest. It was the perfect place for Bears to hide, and most of the Forest, including the Kenerry and his friends, had eagerly sent off the youngest fighting creatures to conquer the Swamp.

But the war was not quick, and the Forest grew tired. And while yet the war raged, it came time again to choose the ruler.

“Choose me,” said the Bush. “I am strong and roots are deep, and only I can save you from the Bears. I will protect you. Though Foxes seek to destroy our Bird Eggs before their young see the sun, in my branches the Eggs are safe. Though the troubled among us make the biologically dubious attempt to mate with their own gender, I shall not grant them marital tax breaks. Only I can protect the Forest. Choose me.”

But the Kenerry said, “The Bush is friend only to the Trees, who are tall and steal all the sunlight for themselves. Have the Trees gone to war? No. But they have greedily accepted the stolen wealth of the Swamp at the price of the blood of our young. Choose me. I am no tree, but a bird, and, largely thanks to the fortune of my wife (one of the taller oaks), I have Leisure to Soar above the constrictions of the Forest and see The Big Picture. I have a Plan. I have Vision.

“Let any animal make any attempt it likes with its hardware, and I shall call it good. Let Eggs be protected, but let first place go to the Right of Foxes to Eat Eggs, for we know Foxes are hungry and Science has not yet proven that Bird Eggs contain Baby Birds. As for this war, I will do Something About It. Choose the Bush, and you will fight until we all die, but choose me, and I will do the Right Thing, whatever that is. I’m not sure yet. I expect that Getting Elected will Clear My Head.”

Thus were the options of the creatures of the Forest.

Now it happened that a Club within the Forest had the quaint belief that every so often God spoke to them and let them know what was on His mind. Every kind of creature was in the Club. Even the Kenerry claimed to be in the Club, but for various reasons he seemed to have forfeited his membership. Anyone could join the Club, but the bylaws were strict, which most creatures in the Club didn’t mind. God either talked to them or He didn’t. If you disagreed with the Club’s bylaws, then you thought it was all a farce. Why waste your life at the boring meetings?

The Club believed the Forest was a gift, and that Eggs and Mating were beautiful. Sacred. Not to be violated. But the Club also thought that none should lift a claw against another except in the last dire hour of self-defense. In these, the Club was of one mind.

Yet the Club was divided on the question of the ruler. Some said God obviously wanted the Bush; others the Kenerry. They gathered and argued the point for many suns.

At last, a Rabbit, the smallest and stupidest of them all, rose and asked for a quick review of the salient points.

“Choose the Kenerry!” shouted some. “He is of our number! He is no Tree!”

“Oh, yes, he’s a pauper,” the Rabbit said. “Isn’t the Kenerry a bit vague, except where he disagrees with us? I mean, it’s hard to see where he’s such a great choice.”

“Choice?” said the Bird-lovers. “We don’t want Kenerry. It’s that he’s not the Bush. If a pile of Deer Droppings ran for office, we’d elect them!”

“Really?” asked an attentive pile of Deer Droppings.

But the Bird-Lovers continued, “Look, the Bush has given so many tax breaks to his friends that we’re floundering for lack of Government Cash. Choose Kenerry, and grants will flow like milk and honey!”

“From where?” asked the Rabbit. “His wife? Will she and their kind pass some of her profits to the crowds of our poor who labor far from the sun to build the wealth of the Trees?”

“Ah, not exactly,” answered the Bird-lovers. “Actually, we think we’ll all have our taxes raised. A lot. But the math works out for us in the end. Promise.”

Meanwhile, the Bush-lovers, who had uncharacteristically permitted the airing of an opposing view, broke in angrily. “And you say you’re in the Club!” they shouted. “Doesn’t the Bush defend Eggs and Mating and Freedom?”

The Rabbit frowned. “Well, I don’t know. He has ruled for years, and yet only a fraction of the most openly hideous Egg Thefts have been outlawed. Every day, a third of our Birds are still eaten. Perhaps he will keep his promises regarding Mating, and perhaps not.

“And yet none of us in the Club mention that those who speak for God have said this War is wrong. None of us mention that, thanks to the Bush, innocent creatures in our Forest are treated as criminals—Bears whose only crime is their race—even creatures that are mistaken for Bears, down to Squirrels and Groundhogs! None of us mention that the Bush has led both his friends and the Bird-lovers in stripping us Patriots of liberty after liberty, all in the name of Safety!”

That was as far as the Rabbit got before the Bush-lovers shouted him down. “You want the Kenerry? You want that on your soul? These are the days of the lesser of two evils. A responsible citizen has the duty to use his vote well. Whom will you choose, the Bush or the Kenerry?”

“I wonder,” said the Rabbit. “There must be someone else in this Forest.”

At this, the whole crowd gasped. “A third party? You’ll split the vote!”

“The Bush will win!” cried some.

“You’ll just be voting for the Kenerry!” cried others.

Then an old Owl said sadly, “Ah, Rabbit, I was young once and thought as you do. A two-party system is no way to run a country, and that’s why so many other Forests don’t. But this is a crisis, son. We can’t let the Kenerry win. There’ll come a time for a protest vote, but it’s not now. Wait. Wait until there isn’t so much at stake.”

“When?” asked the Rabbit. “When can that ever be? What election can ever be unimportant? And which of these two parties can ever serve the Forest? Know you no history? Have you not read of the Civil War, when brother killed brother, one shouting freedom for states and slavery for blacks, the other freedom for blacks and federal slavery for all? Must we ever choose only between the unholy marriages offered us?

“Have you never wondered why Government and Big Business, sworn enemies at the booths, skip hand in hand to the table of the Law to feast on the People? Decade after decade, it is the same tale. Has it never crossed your mind that a vote under these conditions is worse than worthless? That unless we are willing to sacrifice our votes to a protest that could grow and break them, we are partners in our own decay?”

Then the Club became a riot. With cries of “The Vote is Sacred!” they cast the Rabbit out into the darkness.

When the election came, the creatures of the Forest excercised their Sacred Right in record numbers. Too much was at stake to stand by idle.

Alas, the numbers were too close! First the Bush demanded a recount. Then the Kenerry. The war slunk on, the Eggs were eaten, and still everyone demanded recounts. And they are counting to this day.

The Rabbit got married, started a farm, and bred like a Rabbit. Though he could not save the world with his vote, in his corner of the Forest, creatures ate food who had long known only factory mash. They sang who had forgotten music. And the children he was given grew to know there is laughter in the stars.