The Greatest Sedition is Silence

Four Years in America

Pluto Press

Contents

The Dream That Was America

There once was a dream called America.

In the beginning, it did not reside on a particular patch of earth. It had no borders, no mountains, no rivers, no forests. It had no seas, crops, roads, or cities. It claimed no army, navy, or air force. No nuclear weapons were coiled in the soil, waiting for the order to spring.

The dream that was America was born in turbulent days surrounding the final collapse of the Stuart monarchy in England. King James II believed it within his purview to dismiss, ignore, and override Parliament, who were the representatives of the people. He held citizens in prison without charging them or bringing them before a magistrate. He deigned to have them tried before secret courts. Troops loyal to him entered private homes as they pleased. Citizens who did not practice the religion of the king knew fear.

When William of Orange marched on London in 1688, trailed by an army once loyal to James and backed by the will of Parliament, the last Stuart monarch was sent across the English Channel to live in exile in France. It is believed that he threw the Great Seal of the Stuarts into the frigid waters, a final symbolic drowning for a disgraceful era.

From that day, Britain was to be ruled by the people, through their representatives in Parliament. Parliament was to rule the king, and not the reverse. A Bill of Rights was drafted, in which was enshrined the first true habeas corpus laws protecting the basic rights of citizens against the infringements of government. Troops could no longer enter private homes, citizens could not be held without charge or trial, and qualified religious freedom, with some exceptions, was at long last established.

This was the first germination of the dream that was America. The idea, realized in the wake of a tyrant, demanded that the citizens of a nation have the right to self-determination and self-rule. They were tasked to decide for themselves who would represent them in government and had the power to rescind the invitation if a particular representative did not perform as required. The days of an absolute monarchy, a single ruler whose word was law, were at an end.

There was a responsibility inherent in this: if government spun out of control, it was the people who had to set it right. In payment for this responsibility, the people knew security in home and church, in person and belief.

Over the next 300 years, the idea that was America carved out a space on the planet that became a powerful nation. It found borders and mountains, seas and rivers, crops and sky. It created an army, a navy, and an air force. It buried nuclear dragons in the soil, and rolled out great roads across it. Magnificent cities rose into the clouds, housing people rich and poor.

Underneath it all lay two sheets of paper, upon which were scrawled words straight from the heart of John Locke, who was there when the Stuarts were sent on their way. The Constitution and the Bill of Rights defined the dream that was America and codified the rights that each citizen could expect. Amendments were attached over time, a remarkable thing, that extended these rights and freedoms to places never before known in the history of humanity.

This was the dream: Americans had the right – the right! – to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. They had the right to be secure from governmental searches of their homes. They were free to practice whatever religion they chose, or to practice no religion at all. They could say or write anything they wished, so long as those words did not overtly threaten or unduly frighten any other citizen.

They could not be imprisoned without charge or trial, could not be punished cruelly, and had the right to zealous representation by a lawyer in whom could be placed absolute trust, thanks to the protection endowed by privilege. With elastic restrictions, Americans even had the right to arm themselves with incredibly powerful and deadly weapons.

To be sure, the dream had never been truly realized. The birth of the dream came only after the death of another, when the people who occupied the land first were driven out and butchered. Citizens were denied many of the basic rights outlined in those tattered documents due to foul souls and wretched bigotry. Other barbarous crimes were committed within and without the borders of the nation that housed the idea. Chattel slavery was one. There were failures, and failures again.

This was the magic of the dream, the poetry and beauty of the idea: that such wrongs could and would be righted, that the idea would march ever onward to a greater perfection, that those illegitimately excluded would be brought inside the fold, because, according to the idea, that was the only right thing to do. For 300 years it was happening, and would continue to happen, unto the end of the world.

On September 11, 2001, the dream that was America died in a ball of fire, flesh, and dust.

It was not murdered by the killers who brought such hideous carnage to the land. A dream so powerful, an idea so pure and good, was too strong to be shattered by outsiders. No, such a thing can be destroyed only by those who live within it, by those who had for so long pulled the warm blanket of liberty to their chins that they came to take it for granted. The dream that was America died at the hand of those who were most warmed by it.

The dream began to die long before September 11, 2001. Cracks began to appear every election day, as more and more Americans decided they wanted no part of the responsibility that guaranteed the safety of the rights and privileges. On the night of the 2000 election, 100 million citizens – fully one half of the voting populace – did not participate in that most fundamental of obligations. The result, after a contested election and the intervention of a politically biased court, was a government that represented only the narrowest slice of the nation.

This court had been installed years before by representatives who won office through elections in which great swaths of the populace did not participate. By abdicating responsibility, the citizens guaranteed this outcome.

It is all finished now. Today, in America, it is dangerous to speak feely. Officers of the government may enter private homes without notice and perform invasive searches of personal property. Officers of the government may listen to private conversations between client and attorney, thus tearing away the veil of privilege and the guarantee of zealous representation. Individuals are being held without charge or trial, their fates to be determined by secret courts.

It was said once that the Constitution is not a suicide pact, and there is wisdom in this. The physical nation that is America endured a catastrophic attack, and there must be a response. Today in America, that response has been to murder the idea that is America. The idea is more important, far more important, than the land or the borders or the treasure, or even the people. Without the idea, the nation is worthless. In the death of the idea lies complete and total victory for those who attacked the country. They need never come here again, for their job is well and truly done.

The war to combat the evils of September 11 is not a suicide pact, either. The only hope, the last hope, for a nation based upon an idea is the simple truth that no good thing ever truly dies. Like the phoenix, it can rise in glory from the ashes of its own conflagration. Today, the dream that was America has ceased to exist. Tomorrow, it may come again. If it does, it will happen only because the citizens of the country who are the keepers of the flame decide once more to place upon their shoulders the yoke of responsibility that was for so long scorned and ignored.

The citizens of that idea must take back the government that has robbed them of their freedoms. They must snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. They must send these newly incarnated Stuarts into disgrace. They must cast the Great Seal of a corrupted, failed ruler into frigid waters, drowning it once and for all.

In the paralyzing aftermath of September 11, it stands to reason that good people stand unsure of what to do and how to act. The idea that dissent equals treason has been well promulgated. The sense that any criticism may be construed as an insult to those who died and those who grieve is ever present. The time has come, however, to shoulder these burdens and cast aside fear. So much damage has already been done. If we do not act, and soon, there will be nothing of this country worth fighting for, beyond worthless stock options and tattered flags strapped to car antennae.

If you need guidance, cast your eyes around this country. There are bright examples everywhere of what to do, and also what not to do. Too often, those who should be guiding us to righteousness and freedom instead point the way towards hate and fear. This adds to the confusion.

The Reverend Jerry Vines, senior pastor of the Jacksonville, FL, First Baptist Church, spoke to the faithful at the 2002 Southern Baptist pastors conference in St Louis. In his remarks, Vines stated that, 'Islam is not just as good as Christianity.' Vines went on to decry Mohammed, the founder of Islam, as 'a demon-possessed pedophile.'

The Reverend Jack Graham, newly elected president of the Southern Baptist Convention, seemed to speak for the congregation as a whole when questioned about Vines' remarks: 'His statement is actually a statement that can be confirmed,' said Graham. 'I believe the statement is an accurate statement.'

Vines was by no means the main event of this conference. Two days later, George W. Bush graced the pastors with his presence via satellite link. His image smiled down upon them from a huge screen. 'I want to thank all of you for your good works,' Bush told them. 'You're believers, and you're patriots, faithful followers of God and good citizens of America. And one day, I believe that it will be said of you, "Well done, good and faithful servants."'

The pastors, to make a bad pun, went into raptures as Bush spoke. The message was clear: The president stands with them. Vines' patriotic work spreading xenophobia and religious intolerance across the nation earned him the title of patriot. The Southern Baptists are already politically powerful – House Majority Leader Tom DeLay is a member of the Texas congregation – and Bush's words only reinforced the belief they hold in their own rectitude.

The simple bigotry within Vines' statements would be laughable if it were not so appalling. Imagine the outrage that would pour forth if someone were to claim that all Christians on earth are on the same moral level of belief as Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, who blamed the September 11 attacks on gays, feminists, and the American Civil Liberties Union. Imagine if someone called Jesus Christ a 'demon-possessed' individual who consorted with known whores.

Bush's appearance in a place where intolerance and hatred are preached by spiritual leaders of this comparatively extreme sect of Christianity underscores the central crisis facing America today. America is a great nation. The attacks of September 11 did not only take life and destroy property, however. The attacks have brought us to a place where we are unsure of the validity and sustainability of our most basic freedoms.

Due to a catastrophic failure of leadership at the highest levels, Americans are no longer sure which way is up. We have lost our sense of moral clarity. Our freedom to ask questions without fear of reprisal has been cast into a well of doubt that is made all the darker by homespun threats and intimidation.

John Ashcroft's announcement that an American named Jose Padilla had been arrested for plotting to explode a low-yield 'dirty' radioactive device in a major American city set the nation on tense edge. The White House reprimanded Ashcroft, stating that the threat was minimal and that his predictions of 'mass death and injury' were off the mark. Padilla had been arrested a month earlier. It quickly became clear that he was little more than a petty criminal who talked a good game, but lacked the resources to blow up much of anything. He is currently imprisoned without having been charged, and there are no plans to bring him before a court, as is his right as an American citizen. No dirty nuke could do the damage to the country that the precedent set by this action has done.

Bush, Rumsfeld, and Cheney were telling everyone who would listen of impending doom, inevitable biological attacks, suicide bombers on American streets, and the looming destruction of the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge. This spate of warnings came hot on the heels of revelations about security breakdowns before September 11, FBI agents who were starting to talk, and a Congressional inquiry into it all. Even within a badly compromised media, a sense that the administration was purposefully jarring Americans with these warnings to deflect heat and to cow the Democratic opposition began to fester openly. Ashcroft's gaffe only exacerbated this.

Americans are now subject to a government that will terrorize them in order to further whatever agenda happens to present itself at the moment. More often than not, that agenda is about protecting the Bush administration from criticism about the catastrophe that was their preparedness for September 11. The administration and its security apparatus was warned, repeatedly and in detail, by foreign intelligence services about an impending stateside attack. They failed to act, and now scare Americans into forgetting to ask the hard questions about this. There is no moral clarity here, but only a base instinct for political self-preservation.

The loss of our moral clarity has left us in such dire straits that we do not even need a fearmongering government to slap us into line. On far too many occasions of late, we do this to ourselves in the name of 'patriotism.'

When Ohio State University held its graduation ceremony for the class of 2002, George W. Bush was the commencement speaker. Students there had organized a Turn Your Back On Bush protest to signal their disregard for his war and the shredding of civil liberties at home, and had marked their mortarboards with taped-on peace symbols so each could know the other. At the moment Bush was to appear on the podium, these protesters would, simply and eloquently, turn their backs to him. Eyewitnesses at the scene state that they were unable to number the peace symbols, because there were too many to be counted.

Before the students were led into Ohio Stadium for the ceremony, however, an announcement from the school administration was made. Students who turned their backs on Bush faced expulsion from the ceremony, denial of diploma, and arrest. They were informed that school staff members, police officers, and Secret Service agents would be watching. As they entered the stadium, the students were told to 'cheer loudly for President Bush.' Despite all this, the protesters planned to go ahead with their action.

One protester whom I know personally never got the opportunity to see how it came off. When the moment arrived, he stood and turned his back on Bush. Before he could assess how many others around him were doing the same, he was hustled out of the stadium by a Columbus police officer and a Secret Service agent. He was told that if he left peacefully, he would not be arrested for 'disturbing the peace.' Because he had his daughter with him, he wisely avoided detainment.

And so it goes. Who needs a PATRIOT Act when ordinary Americans – educators, no less – will happily suppress, with threats of arrest and the denial of a hard-earned diploma, any views contrary to those espoused by the government? The Bush administration was likely more than pleased with OSU's actions on that Friday, for they govern by the same principles. This government does not lead with hope and promise, but with fear. They are the purveyors of night sweats and bad dreams. They are profiteers in the boneyard.

The boneyard they use for their gain, however, is haunted. It is haunted by Katy Soulas, who lost her husband in the World Trade Center. It is haunted by Kristen Breitweiser, who also lost her husband. It is haunted by Mary Fetchet, who lost her son. It is haunted by nearly 100 parents, brothers, sisters, and children of the September 11 victims who rallied outside Congress in June 2002 to urge an independent investigation into the attacks. They came as the congressional inquiries, which Bush believes 'understand the obligation of upholding our secrets,' met behind closed doors.

For these families, the secretive nature of the hearings was insufficient. A picture appearing alongside the Washington Post's report of the rally showed one family member holding aloft a sign which read, 'Bush & Cheney Left D.C. For Over A Month, Bush in Florida 9/11, Ashcroft Stops Flying Commercial Airplanes.' Only an independent investigation, free of political influence, will suit them. They know too much.