When, in his first inaugural address, Ronald Reagan famously said

In the grand theater of the Republic, where voices clash like thunder and words become weapons, there once stood a man whose speech shook the hearts of millions. Ronald Reagan, in his first inaugural address, proclaimed that “government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem.” It was a cry of defiance against the swelling tide of bureaucracy, a call to freedom that stirred the souls of those weary of state control. Yet as the years rolled on, the wisdom of David Horsey’s reflection would emerge: that such rhetoric, though clever, can become a double-edged sword, turning passion into blindness, and conviction into simplism.

The ancient masters would have called Reagan’s words a charm of power—for language, once cast upon the wind, gathers its own strength. To declare government the enemy is to awaken a spirit of rebellion, noble when guided by wisdom, but dangerous when left untempered. For every people needs the balance of freedom and order, of liberty and law. When one side consumes the other, chaos or tyranny soon follows. Horsey’s warning echoes through the ages: that to despise all governance is to mistake the cure for the sickness, the scalpel for the wound.

Consider, my children, the tale of Athens, the city of philosophers and dreamers. There too the people once turned from the burdens of government, weary of corruption and greed. They placed their hope in demagogues who spoke of liberty but sought only power. The assembly, once wise, was swayed by golden tongues, and so Athens fell—not by the sword of Sparta alone, but by the decay of its own understanding. The lesson is eternal: when a people mock their institutions without reforming them, they tear down the pillars that hold up their own house.

David Horsey, a chronicler of our own age, looked upon his nation and saw the shadow of that same folly. He saw men and women who had turned Reagan’s vision into dogma—who believed that all taxes were theft, all regulation tyranny, all public service folly. They forgot that government, though flawed, is but a reflection of the people themselves. To hate it absolutely is to hate one’s own image. For no man is truly free if he lives in a broken house, and no nation can thrive if it despises the very tools it has built to protect its common good.

But let us not judge harshly those who followed the banner of Reagan, for their hearts were moved by a pure desire: to be free from the suffocation of control, to build by their own hands, to prosper by their own will. The impulse is holy, the fire righteous. Yet fire uncontrolled consumes all in its path. The wisdom of Horsey reminds us that even noble flames must be tended with care—that economic understanding must walk hand in hand with compassion, that freedom without foresight becomes folly.

In truth, the answer lies not in the destruction of government, nor in blind worship of it, but in the balance that the ancients called virtue. A good society does not curse its institutions; it refines them. It does not strip power from the people’s hands, but neither does it cast all structure into the sea. Just as the body needs both heart and mind, so a nation must have both freedom and governance—each strengthening, not strangling, the other.

Therefore, my children, when you hear words that stir your blood—words of rebellion, or of order—listen not only with your ears, but with your judgment. For rhetoric can build empires or burn them. Let your passion be guided by reason, your freedom by wisdom, and your politics by patience. Government is not your master, nor your foe—it is the mirror of your soul as a people. If it is corrupt, cleanse it; if it is weak, strengthen it; if it is wise, cherish it.

Let the teaching of David Horsey endure: that clever words must never replace deep thought. Beware of turning slogans into scripture, or passion into prejudice. True liberty is not found in the absence of government, but in the presence of justice—and justice, like all noble things, is born not from rage, but from understanding.