Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones:
The Adoration of the Magi
(1904)

"That age-old truth never once stops stalking."

Despotisms utterly depend on fictions. No reality can properly sustain them. They begin with a lie, then inevitably end with some age-old truth piercing whatever’s left of their heart. In between a despotism’s birth and its inevitable death lies a world at least circumscribed by lies, fervently held. Its tenure becomes an extended game of MakingBelieve, with peek-a-boo pieces to retain the true believers’ beliefs, which, in one of the cruelest twists of fate ever to befall them, base their existence on lies. If this seems like a tenuous basis upon which to root any existence, political or otherwise, you probably haven’t yet succumbed to the continually reinforcing messaging intended to reassure and secure your unquestioning support. Those who are not constantly MakingBelieve cannot comprehend what believers gain from engaging in such fictions.

It might be that everybody eventually becomes practiced at MakingBelieve, for accepting reality seems to require plenty of accepting a fair number of unresolvable mysteries. So goes all existence. We weren’t born enlightened. We grow knowledgeable and experienced, in part, through the clever, intermittent use of fiction. We must be able to hold some concepts as if they were seemingly necessary preconditions to ultimately figure out some stuff. Still, we don’t insist, by nature, on ignoring reality as a necessary condition for living. Partly truth and partly fiction adequately describes any healthy outlook, though which truth and what fiction make a significant difference. Believing Joe Biden stole the 2020 election turns out to be a fiction, utterly unsupported by any physical, admissible in court, evidence. Believing Joe Biden stole the 2020 election serves as table stakes for inclusion in the inner circle of what still passes for the Repuglican Party. See the difference?

Some MakingBelieve seems absolutely indistinguishable from willful ignorance. Willful ignorance serves as the currency of every despotic realm. One demonstrates fealty by showing off the surreality they willingly subscribe to. Belonging involves both learning the complex catechism and frequently demonstrating unquestioning mastery. Should the wrong reality slip into an unguarded casual comment, this could spell catastrophe, for that underlying, unquestioning, uncritical countenance remains primary. Any even inadvertent step over that unmentionable boundary can mean expulsion. The greatest sin in any despotism comes with demonstrating disbelief. The despot must, then, expel the unbeliever from their Garden of Eden, for they will have betrayed their faith.

Despotisms thrive as faith-based initiatives. They hold little of substance. They levitate in the thinnest of atmospheres. They exaggerate exclusively the weakest positions. They extrapolate far beyond whatever data might support. They work hardest at spinning, for that dizzying momentum serves as their gravity. Critical scrutiny easily identifies the insecurities embedded in their underlying beliefs, with special emphasis on the ‘under’ and ‘lying’ pieces. Their faith couldn’t qualify as believable fiction; therefore, it relies on belief, which need not obsess over underlying fact or fiction. Faith requires no proof. It does not depend upon truth. It fully justifies itself without external reinforcement. Whatever doesn’t require proof can serve as the basis for faith. If it must be proven, it cannot be held as faith. The Despot exhorts their followers to hold belief as if their life depended on it, because it often does.

Those of us who cannot quite bring ourselves to believe the lies live complicated lives under any despotic administration. We root for our country’s opponents. We pray our leaders will achieve their comeuppance. We cheer when ‘our dear leader’ embarrasses himself again, which he does with greater regularity than he ever epitomizes himself as a leader. We marvel at just how compromised his administration becomes, even as it descends ever deeper into depravity’s darker depths. We’re not looking to party. Most of us have never once been inside an actual ballroom, and we cannot imagine why anybody might require one. We live without the magic only MakingBelieve can reliably deliver, but then we are no longer children. We might not prefer playing more adult games together, but we understand the cost of extending adolescence into extreme old age. Every despot in the history of the world so far nurtured a little Peter Pan inside, a part that insisted upon never growing up and living their life as an extended fiction until an age-old truth pierces whatever’s left of their heart. That age-old truth never once stops stalking.

©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #EndDays, #PureSchmaltz