True anarchy contains more than a little utopianism. It is a systematically imposed, unsystematic system of non-governmental anti-civilization in which we, as a deliriously free people, all dance around fires and howl at the moonlight and grow our own arugula and delight ourselves hourly at having heaved the chains that bound us: a regulated food supply, trained air traffic controllers, licensed medical professionals -- those sorts of burdens.
The paradox of embryonic anarchy, though, is that it requires a lot of collective organization and keen planning and systematic execution to hatch it. Dismantling centuries of advancing civilization is no easy task or one-man job; reversing the materialized labors of the Greek demos and the Roman republics and the intellectual refinements of Locke, Montesquieu and Madison doesn't come from just passing out leaflets on streetcorners or holding a tea party. No, the dubious ingenuity of true anarchy first demands acute leadership and swarms of impeccably disciplined followers.
And that's why we're safe from Republican anarchists.
Now seven complete months into their rolling revolution, we get this from sidekick but wannabe Skipper Cantor: Yeah, "the debt limit vote sucks" but come on, guys, "stop grumbling and whining and ... come together as conservatives and rally behind the Speaker and call the president’s bluff."
Oh dear. Sounds like anarchy in the House. But it isn't, really. It's just chaos.
One would think our Hay Market rioting friends could at least count to 1.2 trillion, or simply 217. At a barer minimum, inspirational eloquence -- "Damn the torpedoes," "Remember the Maine," "Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?" -- generally surpasses the pubescent observation that the challenge ahead "sucks." Alas, such are the limits of a premature putsch.
Don't mistake: We may yet descend into the oxymoronic nightmare of conservative chaos, but true anarchy is beyond them.