It's the Freedom
Michael J. Totten's Lebanon blog recounts this exchange between a U.S. visitor and the Lebanese democracy protesters:
Some people just never understand that. They keep digging, like there's got to be more to it than that. They can't believe it's that simple, that one-plus-one-is-two.
The opening of David Hackett Fischer's "Liberty and Freedom" is an anecdote of an 1843 interview between a bright young scholar and a crusty old soldier. The young man was collecting information on the American Revolution from the generation that had fought it, men then in their twilight of years. He had found Capt. Levi Preston, a 91-year-old veteran of Lexington and Concord. The scholar asked him why he had gone to war.
"What did I go for?" the old man answered, astonished.
The scholar thought he had misunderstood the question. "Were you oppressed by the Stamp Act?"
But the captain had not misunderstood: "I never saw any stamps, and I always understood that none were ever sold."
"Well, what about the tea tax?"
"Tea tax? I never drank a drop of the stuff. The boys threw it all overboard."
"But I suppose you had been reading Harrington, Sidney, and Locke about the eternal principle of liberty?"
"I never heard of these men," Preston replied. "The only books we had were the Bible, the Catechism, Watts' Psalms, and hymns and the almanacs."
"Well, then, what was the matter?"
Fischer then goes on for another 735 pages, showing and describing what "freedom" means to everyone from Captain Preston to Gabriel Prosser to Ernie Pyle. It's a different answer each time, but the light that illuminates each of them never wavers.
Fischer's book mostly is about America. But the better world has come now to Lebanon. It's just a crack of light on the horizon, but American folks like Michael are there to help insure that it's not a false dawn. Hofstadter once wrote something to the effect that other nations could have ideologies, but it was the fate of America to become one. Michael's post continues, with this:
I wanted to make sure these guys knew a huge cross-section of the American people support what they are doing.
"It feels kinda weird, man," Hisham said.
"Why?" I said.
"Because we don't know what you want from us. What's in it for you?"
"Look," I said. "We live in a free country."
"Oh yes, I know," Hashim's friend said. "We really envy you for what you have."
"So we want you to be free, too," I said. "Americans hate dictatorship and oppression. No one should have to live like that. You're fighting for what we believe in, so of course we support you."
They seemed slightly wary, like I was blowing smoke.
"Okay," Hashim said. "Who decides what kind of freedom we have in Lebanon?"
"You," I said and pointed at him personally.
"Yes!" he said. "Who decides what kind of freedom people will have in Iraq?"
"Iraqis," I said.
"Yes!" he said. He then took out a card and wrote his name, phone number, and email address on the back of it. He handed it to me, shook my hand, and said "You have a friend in Lebanon now. You will always be welcome here."
Some people just never understand that. They keep digging, like there's got to be more to it than that. They can't believe it's that simple, that one-plus-one-is-two.
The opening of David Hackett Fischer's "Liberty and Freedom" is an anecdote of an 1843 interview between a bright young scholar and a crusty old soldier. The young man was collecting information on the American Revolution from the generation that had fought it, men then in their twilight of years. He had found Capt. Levi Preston, a 91-year-old veteran of Lexington and Concord. The scholar asked him why he had gone to war.
"What did I go for?" the old man answered, astonished.
The scholar thought he had misunderstood the question. "Were you oppressed by the Stamp Act?"
But the captain had not misunderstood: "I never saw any stamps, and I always understood that none were ever sold."
"Well, what about the tea tax?"
"Tea tax? I never drank a drop of the stuff. The boys threw it all overboard."
"But I suppose you had been reading Harrington, Sidney, and Locke about the eternal principle of liberty?"
"I never heard of these men," Preston replied. "The only books we had were the Bible, the Catechism, Watts' Psalms, and hymns and the almanacs."
"Well, then, what was the matter?"
"Young man," Captain Preston replied, "what we meant in going for those Redcoats was this: we always had been free, and we meant to be free always. They didn't mean we should."
Fischer then goes on for another 735 pages, showing and describing what "freedom" means to everyone from Captain Preston to Gabriel Prosser to Ernie Pyle. It's a different answer each time, but the light that illuminates each of them never wavers.
All of them drew on ancient beliefs in liberty and freedom that rose three millenia ago. Each creates new versions of these principles, in ways that nobody could have predicted or even imagined. That is the very nature of freedom and liberty. Their history is as open as the ideas themselves. This free and open process is the source of their strength in the world today, and it is bright with the promise of a better world to come.
Fischer's book mostly is about America. But the better world has come now to Lebanon. It's just a crack of light on the horizon, but American folks like Michael are there to help insure that it's not a false dawn. Hofstadter once wrote something to the effect that other nations could have ideologies, but it was the fate of America to become one. Michael's post continues, with this:
Later, inside a different tent, a young woman took me aside. And she said: "I must tell you something. If we didn't think we had American support we would never have done this. They would kill us. We need you. It is just a fact."
