Spreading democracy: a parable

The other night I had the following dream.

On my street there was a family who was really troublesome.  The father couldn’t hold down a job. The mother did a bad job of raising the children.  The children misbehaved.  They couldn’t budget.  They couldn’t maintain their property.  They couldn’t get along with each other or with neighbors. In short, the family was completely dysfunctional.

I decided it was my duty to help them get on the right path.  I knocked on the door, they wouldn’t answer, so I broke into the house at gunpoint.  The family resisted, and unfortunately a lot of furniture got broken in the process. I regret this, but obviously it wasn’t my fault.

I kicked the family out of the main bedroom, and moved all my stuff in. The next day I started telling them how to live, but for some reason they wouldn’t listen.  Instead they acted as if I was the problem.  I told them they couldn’t have access to the refrigerator or the pantry without my permission, and that got their attention.  Unfortunately by this time the refrigerator was broken.  I tried to fix it, but, perversely, they kept interfering with me.  Finally I had no choice but to shoot the oldest son.

I have been in the house a good many days now.  It is a great sacrifice on my part, but I believe in doing good to others.  As I tell the family, “Don’t blame me for your problems.  Your problem isn’t me. You problem is that you are dysfunctional. You don’t know how to live.  It is my duty to stay until you learn.”

Then I woke up.

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