by Matias Travieso-Diaz.
Deeming this king unworthy of them, [the frogs] sent messengers to Zeus, asking him to change their king, because the first one was too lazy. Zeus was irritated by this, so he sent them a snake as king, by whom they were all snatched up and eaten.
Aesop, Fable 44
Once upon a time there was a vast warm pond in whose waters dwelt many species of animals, all of different talents and dispositions. The western edge of the pond was largely occupied by a colony of frogs, which were beasts of limited intelligence but commendable appetite for order and discipline. Over the years, these frogs had built log barriers and other impediments that kept unwelcome neighbors at bay.
While other species had more or less sanguinary methods for handling leadership issues, the frogs had solved the problem by kicking it upstairs: when it was time to appoint a new leader, they would implore the gods to designate the next chief frog to command them.
Zeus, the head divinity, would always react kindly to the low creatures’ prayers and, when the appointed time came, would make his choice known; whereupon, the frogs would acquiesce in the divinity’s command. This was a bloodless method whose only flaw was that it depended on the suitability of the choices Zeus made. Alas, unbeknown to all, Zeus had parted with most of his intelligence by begetting a daughter, Athena, who was the repository of all his wisdom. From that point forward, the choices that the god imparted on the poor frogs were of variable quality and not necessarily better than other species made by more violent means.
The last ruler Zeus had imposed on the frog community had been a large log. When Hera, Zeus’ wife, had questioned her consort’s choice, he had blithely explained that the less a ruler does, the less damage he can inflict on his subjects. “He who governs least governs best” he declared.
After the fact, the frogs had not been entirely satisfied with the divine decision. While some appreciated the peaceful time they had enjoyed under the log, others suggested they could have done better with somebody that took a more active role in the affairs of their community. At the end, when the time came to choose a new ruler, they incorporated a new plea into their prayer: “Please send someone more dynamic, who will make us prosperous, proud and great again.”
Zeus was not about to get involved in the affairs of such lowly creatures so he glanced down into the pond and, after a brief survey, focused his attention on a large, ugly, old male that kept croaking loudly, ranting and gesticulating about something or another. “That one should be energetic enough” thought Zeus, and directed a golden ray of light down to the pond in the old one’s direction, anointing him. “That should give me peace for a while” he mused.
***
The old frog wasted no time before demonstrating he was no sleeping log. He suffered from a badly impaired ego that required repeated reassurance through acts of domination. He constantly berated those among his subjects who failed to acknowledge his greatness and sought to silence his critics, but these were perhaps minor irritants compared to his moves against other denizens of the pond. His first major target was a colony of hermit crabs that dwelt peacefully north of the frog’s domain. He assembled an army of frogs that threatened to occupy and forcibly take over the crabs’ breeding grounds, causing them to retaliate by going on sporadic hit and run attacks that killed a few frogs and disturbed the daily routines of the rest. The dispute remained unresolved for many moons.
The old frog’s forays, however, did not end there. Next, he riled up his subjects on the perils posed by a nest of black, olive, and gray garter snakes that had found a niche in a semi-submerged tree branch. “They are monsters, intent on eating our young and even the rest of us if we let them. We must attack and destroy them before they get us!” The only weapons available to the frogs were their long tongues, which they normally used to grip and bring food to their mouths. It was not clear that frog tongues would be able to apprehend the relatively large snakes or that, if captured, the snakes would allow themselves to be devoured, but the old frog dismissed those concerns as minor details and ordered the incursion to proceed.
The battle between frogs and garter snakes became an epic worthy of being remembered by all that watched or took part in it. The frogs were able to capture and slay some of the smaller snakes; the rest fought back and bit viciously any frog that came within reach. At the end, the old frog had to order the surviving frogs to withdraw, asserting that the war had been a success that defused the threat that the insidious snakes had posed.
After these incidents and other ill-advised changes to the colony he had ordained, the old frog became increasingly disfavored by its subjects, who had grown tired of all the “winning” that had been promised to them. A large mass of frogs gathered at sunset one autumn evening and voiced an unbearably loud plea of help from the heavens, hoping that Zeus would take pity on their predicament and appoint a better king to succeed their current leader.
Zeus received the frogs’ message with irritation. In a booming voice, he sent down an unmistakable rebuke: “You will not get any further help from me in selecting your rulers. From now on, you are solely responsible for addressing and resolving whatever messes you create or encounter. Heaven has better things to do than granting the prayers of insignificant creatures such as you. Now be quiet, or I will dispatch a flock of herons to put an end to your prattle!”
The frogs were terrified by the threat of divine retribution and promptly retired their old leader. After a thorough discussion, they replaced him with someone they deemed more capable of advancing their interests. They had learned the hard way that choosing a king was a delicate matter that required their best independent judgment and serious consideration.