Unknown: Clown riding donkey backwards (1820 - 1835)

"Yadda yadda, spink, spank, spink!"

Forward progress induces much Backpedaling for the experienced self-saboteur, who tends to make a hash of most things. They cannot seem to stop themselves from going overboard with every initiative. He includes a full cup or more if the recipe calls for a tablespoonful. Consequently, his cakes tend to crumble. He unwittingly encourages his opposition and chases away his partisans with each pompous proclamation. Part of the problem seems to be his penchant for proclaiming, a pastime most Presidents use sparingly, if at all. They were apparently more aware that most changes, indeed, most expressions of a President's power, have to pass through those contentious halls of Congress before they have lasting effect. Proclamations tip off the opposition and so render whatever's proclaimed much less likely to happen. Proclaiming remains an integral part of every self-saboteur's portfolio, though. This inclusion results in much pomp but very little circumstance, some smoke blown over what might have been much more loyal partisans. This even offends those who might have otherwise been a more loyal opposition.

At some level, attempts at Backpedaling rarely succeed. They often seem like naive attempts to unflush some toilet. In the unlikely event of success, what does one do with the result? Backpedaling usually occurs when everyone involved understands there's no way to undo whatever happened. The most canny might plead ignorance before praying that something in the news cycle will quickly render the questionable event moot. Repuglicans have become nearly masterful at feigning ignorance to the point that it's become the central tenet of their party, revealing the inspiring skills of the old and much-maligned pre-Civil War Know Nothing Party. The party leaders have courageously gone on the record, claiming to know nothing on virtually any subject. The most skilled can simultaneously sneer at those elites in the opposition party who deign to publicly suggest that they actually possess knowledge and, sometimes, even applicable experience. Once one enters the Backpedalling Paradox, most reasonable limits disappear. And, given a sufficiently bumbling Chief Executive, the noise in the channel tends to cancel out much rational discussion. A dedicated self-saboteur might thereby get away with virtually anything for a while, regardless of the success of their Backpedalling masses.

Perhaps the finest Backpedaling occurs following a betrayal. The concerted self-saboteur seems to eventually betray everybody who was fool enough to rely upon being in his orbit. His gravity cannot hold any opposing body, and everybody eventually opposes him on something, if only in his hyperactive age-addled imagination. Some of his fiercest defenders have been downed by what had recently been friendly fire when The Self-Saboteur-In-Chief gets a notion. Few assaults seem so vicious, for they threaten the self-saboteur's most precious possession, their self-proclaimed reputation for infallibility. The self-saboteur repeats this fable above all others, that he represents the most brilliant and least error-prone of the whole species. He thinks of himself as infallible, so it sparks a crisis whenever evidence appears that he might have committed an error, especially in his ever-reliable judgment. He judges himself harshest who has the most unerring judgment. Then, the incumbent commences Backpedalling. If his minions seem absurd when trying to reverse the inexorable march of history, the incumbent looks much worse. He's the last to notice.

Fortunately for his tender, well-cultured self-esteem, he seems incapable of admitting he ever makes an error. Sure, he chose only the best and brightest. Still, it's uncanny, some say, how many of those presumed perfect persons are ultimately discovered to have deceived our innocent and well-meaning Chief Executive. They were slobs dressed in clever camouflage and not uncovered until well after their appointment. That the guilty party reportedly mentioned something untoward at a dinner party might even be forgotten among the smoke display and the glittering mirror accompanying the Chief's Backpedalling, which almost qualifies as genuinely inspiring. Such Chutzpah! Such Skill! Such an absolute lack of anything anyone could ever mistake for credibility! He thrives, though, on just this sort of display, for he believes his shady story even when, even if, nobody else in this universe ever did.

The successful Backpedaller ultimately displays their ability to deny, even when—especially when—nobody else in this universe or any other ever believes a word of the story. They still declaim their story and even seem to find it inspiring. Their self-esteem, which might have otherwise taken a hit, emerges deepened and broadened from the experience. An almost beatific aura encircles our protagonist's head, and all's more than merely right with this world again. The world seems better for having misplaced truth and candid honesty for a few soul-satisfying seconds. If this world is a stage and we're all actors, the production we perform in must be a farce worthy of a better playwright than even Candide. Our play's cast seems filled with actors who firmly believe they are not acting, with a few even convinced that they are the playwrights of the lines they're reciting. But peering beside and perhaps even behind Backpedaling, we might glimpse some Divine Comedy unfolding there, where ignorance and self-deception inform those actors much better than even intelligence might. They exclusively hide behind only the lamest excuses. They insist that they had completed their homework before the dog ate it. They had cleaned the house just before a rogue localized dust storm undid all their effort. Most convincing to themselves if to nobody else, they truly never knew nothing, and certainly nothing for certain. Seriously, this is the first I've heard about this. If I had known in advance, I would never have allowed it to happen. Yadda yadda, spink, spank, spink!

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #NextWorld