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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Suppose the Enemy invades your town. No cellphones, then: no Instagram, no Rachel Maddow, there to break it down. The only thing to do, if in a jam, if lacking WhatsApp or Securicam, is send a runner out, to warn your friends. They’ll thank you warmly, when the danger ends. The menace of the moment? Marathon was under siege by eastern hordes (that’s Persian). Victorious here, they’d soon descend upon immortal Athens. Such a vile incursion could not be countenanced. The better version was beating the invader where he stood. “Our name would live for ever, if we could!” In one respect, the West outstrips the East. (You think me xenophobic? Hear me out!) To us, a king, a noble or a priest is merely one of us: though he may shout, he’s nothing special, has no inbuilt clout. We don’t like tyrants. If we make a plan, we all invest in it, as best we can. The eastern mind, you’ll find, incurs more losses because the mass of people, uncommitted, does what it’s told by oligarchs and bosses. The social ranks, compliant but not knitted, will not withstand the enemy. They’re pitted against free men. The Persians, soon depleted, threw down their spears, were easily defeated. But Athens needs to know what happened here. The mother-culture needs our expertise: no hoarding, boarding, fractiousness or fear. We need a man to put our friends at ease: who should we send? Of course! Pheidippides! Amigo, you’re our runner: it’s you who’s entrusted with the bearing of the news. How many miles to Athens? Twenty-six! Pheidippides would do it at a run. This wasn’t boring, petty politics: the threat is dead – democracy has won! He disappeared into the setting sun. The allies were apprised of Marathon’s pride: Pheidippides, job done, exhausted, … died!
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