So uttered John Adams, pressed by the gathered, curious citizens (namely socialite and friend of George Washington, Elizabeth Willing Powel) as he and his colleagues existed the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia, having drafted the seminal founding document of our nation. Adams knew that freedom and democracy, always, exist on a razor’s edge.
At different times in the history of this American experiment, the fleeting and insecure nature of republican government has been more readily apparent. There have been periods of extraordinary progress and periods of profound national failure. The constitutional order has endured civil war, assassinations, economic collapse, bitter struggles over civil rights, and repeated tests of the public’s willingness to accept the legitimacy of its own institutions.
That endurance is extraordinary. It is not inevitable.
And while we’d dearly love to Make Politics Boring Again, it seems the current era is destined to be one of continuing surprise, political tumult, and a remarkable willingness on the part of public figures to say and do things that would once have seemed beyond the reach of even the most fevered satirist.
Which raises a practical question.
What is one supposed to do when the daily news begins to resemble the work of an increasingly desperate comedy writer?
Certainly, one can read, organize, protest, volunteer, vote, and otherwise participate in the serious business of maintaining a functioning republic. We enthusiastically recommend all of these activities.
But one might also occasionally wish to sit down with friends, pour a drink, and acknowledge the sheer magnificent absurdity of the historical moment.
And hey, why fight the tide? Who needs consistency and stable governance anyway? If we’re going to keep remarking upon the increasingly improbable developments in our political, cultural, and media ecosystems, we ought at the very least to be able to laugh at them.
Perhaps even make a game of them.
Hence our newest diversionary art piece, and an exercise in collective fate and folly: America: The Finale bingo cards.
Inspired by the feverish political cartoons, printed ephemera, and grand republican imagery of America’s earlier centuries, America: The Finale invites its participants to consider the increasingly blurry boundary between the politically plausible and the completely ridiculous.
The premise is simple: when history seems determined to outdo satire, why not give satire a fighting chance?
It’s part game, part printed curiosity, part speculative exercise, and perhaps, eventually, a peculiar historical artifact. A little piece of the present that might someday help explain to future generations what on earth we thought was happening.
And although the title is admittedly apocalyptic, the intention isn’t quite so grim. We’re not especially interested in seeing the American experiment fail. On the contrary, the whole exercise depends upon our having a future in which to look back and laugh.
The republic, after all, has survived a remarkable number of improbable chapters already.
We hope it survives a great many more.
But should the next chapter bring an especially extraordinary plot twist, at least we’ll have something with which to mark the occasion.
Benjamin Franklin challenged us to keep the republic.
We’re doing our best.
In the meantime, we’ve made bingo cards.