Conversation On the Subway

Special to the Mirror

Steven Hill

I was catching the 6:27 to work for the 183rd time this year. As usual, bleary-eyed and half asleep, I stumbled to my favorite seat, which is most always vacant at that hour. I tried to sneak a snooze before the doors snapped open and the daily rat race began, but I was annoyed by the chatter of a couple of loud mouths. They rattled on and on about some silly notion, couldn't help but overhear them, whether I wanted to or not.
   "Listen here, Madison," says one. "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal..." "Nonsense, Jefferson," bawls the other. "Each individual is blessed or cursed, depending on their unequal abilities of acquiring property." "See here Madison, it says right here," cavils the one called Jefferson. He's madly waving aloft some treatise the thickness of the Manhattan telephone directory—at 6:31 in the morning, mind you—about locks or by Locke or something like that. I can't quite make out what. "Men being by nature all free, equal, and independent..." Jefferson points to the sacred passage with his finger, like it's Scripture. "You see? It says right here—free and equal!"
   "Not!" cries Madison.
   Hoo boy, I think to myself. Here we go. They won't settle this one, not for centuries. Madison shakes his head. He's a short fellow, with ruddy cheeks. You know the type—a first class know-it-all. He probably bets on goldfish races and Soapbox Derbies, and debates endlessly whether the '54 Giants were better than the '27 Yanks or the '73 Knicks. Whatever. "There, there, Jefferson, it's as plain as the powder on the King's wig, isn't it? As a result of our unequal abilities of acquiring property, some people end up with more and some end up with less. Inequality is the natural order of things, that's how the Creator made us, isn't it perfectly obvious?" So…is that it, I thought? Madison had said it with such lofty conviction, like this was some sort of major revelation or something. Heaven spare us, it's 6:35 in the morning!
   Jefferson was similarly unimpressed, and scoffed at the notion; he was quite a bit taller than Madison, with red hair all aflame. He puffed up his chest, as if stature alone might win the argument. "Equal!" he barked. "Not!" countered Madison. Back and forth, back and forth, awright awready! Which is it, boys, which of you are we to believe? Either we are created equal or we're not, you can't have it both ways! I covered my face with my hat and tried to ignore them, praying they would settle the question later. Instead, they growled louder, rising above the grind and scrape of the train wheels.
   About 112th Street, Madison decides to up the ante. He shouts out to anyone within earshot: "How many here think that all men are created equal?" 
   It's 6:39 in the morning, mind you! Glazed eyes snap awake long enough to glare menacingly at this Lilliputian madman. "What about women?" yawns a woman near the back of the car. Madison ignores her. "You see there?" he taunts Jefferson. "No one agrees with you! Unequalin abilities, and unequal in acquiring property—forming an ,insurmountable obstacle to a uniformity of interests. And the protection of property is the first object of government."
   Ah hah, I think to myself. I get it now. This Madison's one of those anti-tax, anti-big government, property rights fanatics. Perhaps a Libertarian, maybe even a Branch Davidian. Now that he's got his, he wants to protect it. Hold the world at bay with a semi-automatic arsenal. Probably a card-carrying member of the NRA besides. Oh, the nerve of some people. And at 6:42 in the morning!
   Jefferson just stands there, kind of hanging his head. Come on man, defend yourself, thinks the idealist in me. But Jefferson sees that his 'All men are created equal' line isn't going to sell, at least not at this hour, not with this crowd. If his maxim were true, how come we're all stuck here bouncing in this subway together at this ungodly hour, like sardines in a can, while our bosses are chauffeured to work late, Or worse yet, call the shots from their posh homes in Greenwich or Mt.Kisco? All men are created equal—yeah right. If only these two would shut up equally, like the rest of us!
   Jefferson scratched his head, trying to think of a good comeback. Mercifully for the rest of us, he couldn't. But did that satisfy Madison? Not a whit.
   "The causes of faction are thus sown in the nature of man," smirked Madison. "The unequal nature of man." His pompous air made my teeth grind. I felt like shouting at him, 'Not very distant, are we Mr. Madison, from the Law of the Jungle? Not as removed or evolved as we like to think about ourselves? Welcome to Western Civilization, and its over-rated democracy and free markets. Welcome to Life in the Food chain!'
   6:50, it was almost my stop, and that Madison had really got me worked up. "Welcome to the god darn red-eye express, delivering me to another day in the rat race," I muttered, loud enough to get a double-take from my seat mate. I gestured over my shoulder toward Madison and Jefferson.
   She nodded and smiled back politely. It was a strategic response. Most people today know better than to disagree with a perfect stranger, especially one that is mumbling to himself. No telling who's packing what these days. Darting off the subway, cross and cursing, I promised myself that from now on I would bring ear plugs. Unfortunately, a question was now nagging in my brain that was to disturb me the rest of the day. "Are we equals or not?" The question begged an answer. You can't have it both ways.
   One other disembarking passenger, noticing my extreme consternation, whispered consolingly in my ear. "It's true," he said, "we are all equal-but some are more equal than others." And then he vanished with a grin into the rush hour crush of bodies. I found out later his name was Orwell.

Steven Hill is the west coast director of The Center for Voting and Democracy. He is co-author of "Reflecting All of Us" (Beacon Press1999).