A wide river ran through the village.
A wooden bridge connected the banks.
The villagers depended on the bridge. They crossed it to go to work, to the market, to visit with family and friends.
Some villagers discovered the bridge was failing. A loose plank here. A railing that leaned there. Everyone agreed there were problems. No one agreed on how serious they were.
Some said small repairs were all that was needed.
Some favored a complete overhaul.
Some wanted limits on how many could cross at once.
But no one could agree on a plan acceptable to everyone. The arguments got heated.
So the villagers asked the elders to intervene.
The elders lived far upstream, where the river narrowed and could be crossed on foot. They rarely used the wooden bridge themselves. None of the elders wanted to be blamed for favoring one side or for making the wrong call.
Still, they convened a council.
One elder suggested asking the regular crossers where the bridge felt weakest.
He also proposed watching how and when the villagers actually moved across the bridge.
He suggested inquiring with the villagers for their observations and ideas.
These suggestions were set aside.
“The villagers are too close to the problem,” the elders said. “They lack the detachment required for objectivity.”
“They are not equipped to assess risk at their stage.”
“Their accounts would be unreliable.”
“They may contradict one another.”
“They may exaggerate—or say what they think we want to hear. Some may lie for self-serving purposes.”
“Involving the villagers would increase conflict.”
“In any event, their voices would complicate and compromise the record.”
Outside experts were hired. At the table sat engineers, inspectors, insurers, and record-keepers.
Reports were commissioned.
Protocols were followed.
Findings were issued.
A ferryman arrived. He charged steep fees and ran infrequently, but he operated independently.
The elders approved him unanimously.
The record was extensive.
And the elders closed the bridge.
“This is for your safety,” the elders said.
Across the river, friends and families gazed at one another. They missed their familiar haunts on the other side. “We belonged on both banks,” they said. “That was normal, once.”
Some tried swimming across the river at night. A few drowned.
Others moved away.
With business having dried up, the ferryman eventually quit.
The elders issued their updated findings.
As to the unauthorized swimming: “Reckless,” they wrote.
As to the sudden departures: “Unstable,” they wrote.
The villagers “lack judgment and foresight.”
The bridge, they concluded, would never have been safe in such hands.
Guards were posted at both ends of a bridge no one used anymore.
The record was now even more extensive.
Word of the solution spread.
Elders in other towns took note.
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