On the day of the dead, when the day itself seems to die, we are told to think of death. We are told to think of the deaths of our countrymen. We are told to think of the deaths of the innocent, massacred and martyred. We are told to think of the deaths brought about in revenge. We are told to think of the deaths of more of our countrymen in this moronic quest for revenge.
We are told to think of the death that could be visited upon us. We are told to think of the death that could be visited on others. We are told to think of the death that will be visited upon our countrymen. We are told to think of the death of our men and women in uniform.
Fuck.
That.
Shit.
Yes, death is frightening. It's the great unknown. Death is the final answer to all the questions of life. Death is the point of no return, the terra incognita we all must one day face. Death is the ultimate darkness with which to frighten.
You know what, though? I will not be controlled by fear of the dark.
Yes, death is a constant presence, even more so when we are reminded constantly that our countrymen are dying. It's always near. Death is the constant companion of life, the dark lady to whom we must all pay her due. Of course she is frightening, but we need not be controlled by this.
I will not curse the darkness. There is an adage. “Better to light a candle that curse the darkness.” Thus is my course set.
Bring your darkest nightmares. The only power that fear of the dark holds over me is that which I grant it, and with this flame I deny it. Even if I'm one man walking this dark road alone, it is better to light one candle and face it bravely than to huddle in the dark and hope the shade of black-upon-black passes quietly in the night. So, light a candle.
And let it burn, for the world to see.
That little flame, that flickering pool of light? That is something worth looking that dark maiden in the eyes for.
Showing posts with label dissent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dissent. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
The Revealing Flame - in praise of satire
Satire is a fine art, and yet a violent practice. When done correctly, it strips back the protective shadows cloaking an absurd idea or absurd actions. Then, stripped of their shield, they are made to parade to the world in the brightest light the satirist can bring to bear.
With writers such as Voltaire being satirists, the brightest light that can be brought is best described as blinding in its intensity. In his classic piece “Plato's Dream”, he quite clearly lampoons the idea of a perfect creator God. Voltaire used little more than logic and a touch imagination to achieve this literary feat in less than two pages.
Go on. Read it. I'll be here when you get back, I promise.
Now, there are several important lessons in there regarding satire. The first is that satire is at its most powerful when serving as a tool against those in power. It is far less effective when utilized by the powerful to mock the powerless. It comes across as crass, tasteless, and arrogant. When used by the weak, satire is generally viewed as clever and witty. Obviously, this only applies when satire is utilized politically, and make no mistake about it, Voltaire was a political satirist.
The second is that satire is often unpopular with those in power. Here, Voltaire's goals required his writing be rather plain about making its point. A subtly written work would not do, as that carried the risk of many missing the point. While written in the form of a dream of a man long dead, his attack on the Church was obvious. As Voltaire was a prominent writer in his time, he doubtless drew fire from the Church for this quite clear and compelling attack. Unfortunately, I don't know any details how the Church might have responded, but I trust that there was at least one smear campaign aimed at out dear historical friend.
There are other, more sublte, kinds of satire. Again, I look to European history for an example.
In 1702, there was a bit of a question of religion in England. On the one hand was the official Church of England, headed by the newly crowned Queen Anne. On the other hand was the Presbyterian Dissenters, who did not agree with the Church of England. The details of the doctrinal disputes are both arcane to be as well as irrelevant. Anyway, one of the effects of the CoE being the state religion was that one had to be a member to hold public office. There were a number of other side effects to subscribing to a different religion, such as having somewhat limited civil liberties when compared to an Anglican.
When Queen Anne took the throne, it came as encouraging news to the High Flyers, who wished for the Anglican church to be the only church in England. The coronation was also followed by a number of very physical attacks on Dissenters and their properties and holdings. For obvious reasons, the Protestant and Presbyterian Dissenters didn't like this much. Daniel Defoe, later to write Robinson Crusoe, was one of them. He turned his sharp wit and mind to making a satirical point.
So, he authored a pamphlet entitled The Shortest Way with the Dissenters. Written in the form of a sermon, it advocated a rather unpleasant method of dealing with the titular subject. After thoroughly vilifying the Dissenters, it went on to propose and attempt to moralize the wholesale slaughter of the Dissenters. I mean that quite literally.
It caused quite a stir, as one might imagine. Some took the position that the actions advocated simply went too far, were immoral, or were otherwise unacceptable. More disturbingly, others agreed with the propositions put forth in Defoe's work. When it was revealed that the author was himself an Dissenter, this latter group was not pleased. They had been suckered in by a position with which they agreed, but had been unwilling to voice. Moreover, it was not one publicly acceptable. They'd been had, dragged out into the merciless light of the public eye, and held up for the world to mock.
This is an excellent illustration of a different sort of satire from Voltaire's. Voltaire's work is fairly self-contained, in that it both constructs and ridicules the concept at hand. This has the benefit of making it quite straightforward in its way, as well as not tying it to a particular historical reference frame. However, this can also weaken the overall impact by obscuring the purpose.
Defoe's work, on the other hand, only constructs the idea. Satirists like Defoe work by setting traps, into which their unwitting rhetorical opponents obligingly fall. Here, those so entrapped were those who agreed with The Shortest Way on how to deal with Dissenters. While only effective as satire within its proper historical context, Defoe's work was quite potent. If memory serves, it embarrassed no few High Flyers, and made Defoe's point quite well. It may even have swayed public opinion some, I do not know. Regardless, his point was made, and would not soon be forgotten.
So, what is satire? Satire is the the blaze brought to bear in the battle that is public opinion. It can be subtle and powerful, at the cost of greatly angering those made to dance naked before the jeering world. It can be blunt, at the cost of readership and influence, but have more lasting impact.
The two types are often commingled, creating a work that strongly resembles the views of the group being satirized, but being ever-so-slightly over the top. This allows both for those whom mostly agree to be fooled (maybe) and for those opposed to recognize and chuckle at the satirical wit therein.
Want a good example? Go look up blogs4brownback. I refuse to link to it, but that place is nuts. It's one of those things that I very much wish was satire, because it is very much over the top of what one might think.
Unfortunately, certain schools of thought have proven themselves almost impossible to satirize effectively. See, being over the top requires that there be a known top to be over. With the more radical arm of the modern Republican party, a would-be satirist has to keep readjusting to a new, higher, and just weirder top.
With writers such as Voltaire being satirists, the brightest light that can be brought is best described as blinding in its intensity. In his classic piece “Plato's Dream”, he quite clearly lampoons the idea of a perfect creator God. Voltaire used little more than logic and a touch imagination to achieve this literary feat in less than two pages.
Go on. Read it. I'll be here when you get back, I promise.
Now, there are several important lessons in there regarding satire. The first is that satire is at its most powerful when serving as a tool against those in power. It is far less effective when utilized by the powerful to mock the powerless. It comes across as crass, tasteless, and arrogant. When used by the weak, satire is generally viewed as clever and witty. Obviously, this only applies when satire is utilized politically, and make no mistake about it, Voltaire was a political satirist.
The second is that satire is often unpopular with those in power. Here, Voltaire's goals required his writing be rather plain about making its point. A subtly written work would not do, as that carried the risk of many missing the point. While written in the form of a dream of a man long dead, his attack on the Church was obvious. As Voltaire was a prominent writer in his time, he doubtless drew fire from the Church for this quite clear and compelling attack. Unfortunately, I don't know any details how the Church might have responded, but I trust that there was at least one smear campaign aimed at out dear historical friend.
There are other, more sublte, kinds of satire. Again, I look to European history for an example.
In 1702, there was a bit of a question of religion in England. On the one hand was the official Church of England, headed by the newly crowned Queen Anne. On the other hand was the Presbyterian Dissenters, who did not agree with the Church of England. The details of the doctrinal disputes are both arcane to be as well as irrelevant. Anyway, one of the effects of the CoE being the state religion was that one had to be a member to hold public office. There were a number of other side effects to subscribing to a different religion, such as having somewhat limited civil liberties when compared to an Anglican.
When Queen Anne took the throne, it came as encouraging news to the High Flyers, who wished for the Anglican church to be the only church in England. The coronation was also followed by a number of very physical attacks on Dissenters and their properties and holdings. For obvious reasons, the Protestant and Presbyterian Dissenters didn't like this much. Daniel Defoe, later to write Robinson Crusoe, was one of them. He turned his sharp wit and mind to making a satirical point.
So, he authored a pamphlet entitled The Shortest Way with the Dissenters. Written in the form of a sermon, it advocated a rather unpleasant method of dealing with the titular subject. After thoroughly vilifying the Dissenters, it went on to propose and attempt to moralize the wholesale slaughter of the Dissenters. I mean that quite literally.
It caused quite a stir, as one might imagine. Some took the position that the actions advocated simply went too far, were immoral, or were otherwise unacceptable. More disturbingly, others agreed with the propositions put forth in Defoe's work. When it was revealed that the author was himself an Dissenter, this latter group was not pleased. They had been suckered in by a position with which they agreed, but had been unwilling to voice. Moreover, it was not one publicly acceptable. They'd been had, dragged out into the merciless light of the public eye, and held up for the world to mock.
This is an excellent illustration of a different sort of satire from Voltaire's. Voltaire's work is fairly self-contained, in that it both constructs and ridicules the concept at hand. This has the benefit of making it quite straightforward in its way, as well as not tying it to a particular historical reference frame. However, this can also weaken the overall impact by obscuring the purpose.
Defoe's work, on the other hand, only constructs the idea. Satirists like Defoe work by setting traps, into which their unwitting rhetorical opponents obligingly fall. Here, those so entrapped were those who agreed with The Shortest Way on how to deal with Dissenters. While only effective as satire within its proper historical context, Defoe's work was quite potent. If memory serves, it embarrassed no few High Flyers, and made Defoe's point quite well. It may even have swayed public opinion some, I do not know. Regardless, his point was made, and would not soon be forgotten.
So, what is satire? Satire is the the blaze brought to bear in the battle that is public opinion. It can be subtle and powerful, at the cost of greatly angering those made to dance naked before the jeering world. It can be blunt, at the cost of readership and influence, but have more lasting impact.
The two types are often commingled, creating a work that strongly resembles the views of the group being satirized, but being ever-so-slightly over the top. This allows both for those whom mostly agree to be fooled (maybe) and for those opposed to recognize and chuckle at the satirical wit therein.
Want a good example? Go look up blogs4brownback. I refuse to link to it, but that place is nuts. It's one of those things that I very much wish was satire, because it is very much over the top of what one might think.
Unfortunately, certain schools of thought have proven themselves almost impossible to satirize effectively. See, being over the top requires that there be a known top to be over. With the more radical arm of the modern Republican party, a would-be satirist has to keep readjusting to a new, higher, and just weirder top.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
The Ember and the Inferno
There is a bumper-sticker that read as follows:
It's not just political and feminist. It's also right. It's right in both the intended specific sense and in a more general one. The latter, I find, is far more significant. To wit:
To beat my own drum a bit, the Sons of Liberty didn't have the impact they did by being nice and politely asking the crown to fuck off. No, they did it by being utter bastards about what they wanted and how they meant to get it. The same goes for the whole of the American Revolution – the Declaration of Independence was hardly nice. Patrick Henry didn't move the Virginia House of Burgesses to war by being nice, polite, or courteous. He did it with passion, with rhetoric, and with a raging inferno in his belly when he spoke:
There are three slightly more modern movements deserving of examination here. Specifically, the abolition movement, the suffragettes, and the civil rights movement. All of them have engraved deeply their respective marks into the bedrock of American history. Moreover, none of them did it by being polite and well-behaved. To quote the legendary Mr. Henry once more, “I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past.“. To those ends, we look to our own past for guidance.
First, the abolitionists. The most obvious and one of the best known acts engaged in was the Underground Railroad. While not violent, the Underground Railroad was an act of active dissent against slavery. It got stuff done. It pissed people off. It certainly polarized opinions, and the knowledge that their neighbors were taking such risks in order to combat slavery likely had some impact on the general opinion towards the subject.
More to the point, abolitionists can and did take quite overt action against slavery. In the wake of the fugitive slave laws, some states passed legislation designed to actively hinder those very laws. Among them was Michigan, which did so by guaranteeing anyone claimed as a fugitive slave rights to a jury trial, writ of habeas corpus, appeal, and bail. Additionally, there were stiff penalties for falsely claiming a someone to be a slave, and purported fugitives could not be held in public jails or other public buildings. (source)
Abolitionists and their opponents were usually in geographically distinct areas, so more direct conflict was usually limited.
Except for Bleeding Kansas and John Brown at Harper's Ferry. I don't care to go into those, but they were far from polite.
Then there was Uncle Tom's Cabin, which had two principle effects. First and foremost, it converted people to the abolitionist cause in the North. It was an immensely popular work, and its core message of the immorality of slavery resonated strongly in a culture that already disapproved of the practice.
Second, it greatly incensed the South. For obvious reasons, the South didn't like Stowe's book. It was generally viewed and propaganda and simply wrong in its portrayal of slavery, nevermind the moral message. To be fair, Stowe was an abolitionist, and certainly had an agenda. This reaction would only lend its message weight in the North. After all, they wouldn't be so angry if it wasn't accurate, right?
Stowe wasn't nice, and she didn't pull her punches. She wasn't out to take a moderate position, and most certainly did not adopt one. Her position was plain: slavery was immoral. The implication was that it should be stopped immediately, and that was quite the extreme position.
Enough about the abolitionists. There's enough history there for me to go on for a very long time, but it isn't wise the keep the suffragettes waiting. They often did not take kindly to such.
In the colonial and immediately post-colonial periods of American history, the women's suffrage movement was a fairly small and insignificant thing. It wasn't until the Reconstruction period that the movement began to intensify, particularly in clashes over the Fifteenth Amendment. The suffragists wanted the amendment to protect the rights of women as well, and as originally written would have done so. It was subsequently changed to remove such provisions, becoming the abolitionist work we now know.
It is notable that several states granted women suffrage well before it was done nationally. Specifically, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Jersey. In Illinois, in 1913, the suffragists secured for women of that state the right to vote in Presidential election. They did so by directly pressuring the legislature, along with other fairly extreme acts such as fetching House members from their homes when their bill came up for voting.
The suffragists also staged a public protest on March 3, 1913. In Washinton D.C., several thousand suffragists lined up and marched down Pennsylvania Avenue, where a far greater number had lined up to watch. Predictably, the crowd reacted badly, eventually becoming violent. When the local police failed to control the crowd, the cavalry was called in. A number of women were hospitalized.
In the wake of such an event, some might conclude that the women's suffrage movement lacked the support it required to succeed. The suffragists appear to have concluded the opposite: the strong reaction meant that they did indeed have wide support.
Alice Paul lead the formation of the National Women's Party in 1916. They adopted strong and disruptive tactics, such as parades, pickets, demonstrations, and hunger strikes. In January of 1917, they did what no one before had dared: they picketed the White House itself. In July, many picketers were arrested on charges of obstructing traffic and incarcerated at a workhouse.
The promptly went on a hunger strike. They were force-fed with tubes. This news made its way to the media, where public sympathies shifted somewhat in favor of the women. This, combined with continuing demonstrations and the resulting press coverage, led President Wilson to announce support for women's suffrage in January of 1918.
After several failed attempts, Congress passed the Nineteenth Amendment on June 4, 1919. Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin all ratified it in six days, on the 10th, while Georgia and Alabama rushed to reject it. It would ratified by thirty-two more states between then and March 22, 1920, when Washington became the 35th state to ratify. It would take until August for Tennessee to follow suit, making the Nineteenth Amendment law.
A bit of an interesting story there, actually. Predictably, with the amendment one state away from ratification, forces for and against ratification rallied to Nashville. After all, it was either the final hurdle or a last stand, depending on ones position.
The first roll call on the subject came up as a 48-48 deadlock, with chaos breaking loose upon the floor when this was announced. Order was eventually restored, and the vote taken again. Once more, a deadlock of 48-48 was the result. Thus, a third vote was in order.
Somewhere along the line, the mother of Harry T. Burn, a young Representative who had been in the anti-suffragist camp, saw fit to send her son a letter. In short, she told him to vote for ratification. His mothers pleas won out over his constituency, and he voted for ratification. Shortly afterwards, two other Representative, one of them the Speaker, also changed their votes to 'aye', yielding ratification.
The women of America had gained the right to vote, even in the Southern states that had rejected the idea. They didn't gain it by being nice, quiet, or polite. They gained the right to vote via demonstration, protest, and eventually, by leveraging personal relationships. To be sure, they were not well-behaved women, and they did indeed make history.
For the sake of brevity (ha!), I'm going to skip the civil rights movement. This post is long enough as is. Before I close, however, some concluding remarks.
As romantic as it is to think that silent desire for some will sway a nation and its laws, both history and reality expose this as a sham. Neither the abolitionists nor the suffragists gained their eventual goals by sitting on their hands and wishing. They worked for what they wanted, knowing that change is only ever effected by those willing to work long, hard, and loudly for it. They knew that a smoldering ember gives little heat, little light, little smoke, and will escape the notice of most.
So they became the raging inferno, and illumined their world.
well-behaved women rarely make history
It's not just political and feminist. It's also right. It's right in both the intended specific sense and in a more general one. The latter, I find, is far more significant. To wit:
well-behaved people rarely change anything
To beat my own drum a bit, the Sons of Liberty didn't have the impact they did by being nice and politely asking the crown to fuck off. No, they did it by being utter bastards about what they wanted and how they meant to get it. The same goes for the whole of the American Revolution – the Declaration of Independence was hardly nice. Patrick Henry didn't move the Virginia House of Burgesses to war by being nice, polite, or courteous. He did it with passion, with rhetoric, and with a raging inferno in his belly when he spoke:
It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!(source)
There are three slightly more modern movements deserving of examination here. Specifically, the abolition movement, the suffragettes, and the civil rights movement. All of them have engraved deeply their respective marks into the bedrock of American history. Moreover, none of them did it by being polite and well-behaved. To quote the legendary Mr. Henry once more, “I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past.“. To those ends, we look to our own past for guidance.
First, the abolitionists. The most obvious and one of the best known acts engaged in was the Underground Railroad. While not violent, the Underground Railroad was an act of active dissent against slavery. It got stuff done. It pissed people off. It certainly polarized opinions, and the knowledge that their neighbors were taking such risks in order to combat slavery likely had some impact on the general opinion towards the subject.
More to the point, abolitionists can and did take quite overt action against slavery. In the wake of the fugitive slave laws, some states passed legislation designed to actively hinder those very laws. Among them was Michigan, which did so by guaranteeing anyone claimed as a fugitive slave rights to a jury trial, writ of habeas corpus, appeal, and bail. Additionally, there were stiff penalties for falsely claiming a someone to be a slave, and purported fugitives could not be held in public jails or other public buildings. (source)
Abolitionists and their opponents were usually in geographically distinct areas, so more direct conflict was usually limited.
Except for Bleeding Kansas and John Brown at Harper's Ferry. I don't care to go into those, but they were far from polite.
Then there was Uncle Tom's Cabin, which had two principle effects. First and foremost, it converted people to the abolitionist cause in the North. It was an immensely popular work, and its core message of the immorality of slavery resonated strongly in a culture that already disapproved of the practice.
Second, it greatly incensed the South. For obvious reasons, the South didn't like Stowe's book. It was generally viewed and propaganda and simply wrong in its portrayal of slavery, nevermind the moral message. To be fair, Stowe was an abolitionist, and certainly had an agenda. This reaction would only lend its message weight in the North. After all, they wouldn't be so angry if it wasn't accurate, right?
Stowe wasn't nice, and she didn't pull her punches. She wasn't out to take a moderate position, and most certainly did not adopt one. Her position was plain: slavery was immoral. The implication was that it should be stopped immediately, and that was quite the extreme position.
Enough about the abolitionists. There's enough history there for me to go on for a very long time, but it isn't wise the keep the suffragettes waiting. They often did not take kindly to such.
In the colonial and immediately post-colonial periods of American history, the women's suffrage movement was a fairly small and insignificant thing. It wasn't until the Reconstruction period that the movement began to intensify, particularly in clashes over the Fifteenth Amendment. The suffragists wanted the amendment to protect the rights of women as well, and as originally written would have done so. It was subsequently changed to remove such provisions, becoming the abolitionist work we now know.
It is notable that several states granted women suffrage well before it was done nationally. Specifically, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Jersey. In Illinois, in 1913, the suffragists secured for women of that state the right to vote in Presidential election. They did so by directly pressuring the legislature, along with other fairly extreme acts such as fetching House members from their homes when their bill came up for voting.
The suffragists also staged a public protest on March 3, 1913. In Washinton D.C., several thousand suffragists lined up and marched down Pennsylvania Avenue, where a far greater number had lined up to watch. Predictably, the crowd reacted badly, eventually becoming violent. When the local police failed to control the crowd, the cavalry was called in. A number of women were hospitalized.
In the wake of such an event, some might conclude that the women's suffrage movement lacked the support it required to succeed. The suffragists appear to have concluded the opposite: the strong reaction meant that they did indeed have wide support.
Alice Paul lead the formation of the National Women's Party in 1916. They adopted strong and disruptive tactics, such as parades, pickets, demonstrations, and hunger strikes. In January of 1917, they did what no one before had dared: they picketed the White House itself. In July, many picketers were arrested on charges of obstructing traffic and incarcerated at a workhouse.
The promptly went on a hunger strike. They were force-fed with tubes. This news made its way to the media, where public sympathies shifted somewhat in favor of the women. This, combined with continuing demonstrations and the resulting press coverage, led President Wilson to announce support for women's suffrage in January of 1918.
After several failed attempts, Congress passed the Nineteenth Amendment on June 4, 1919. Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin all ratified it in six days, on the 10th, while Georgia and Alabama rushed to reject it. It would ratified by thirty-two more states between then and March 22, 1920, when Washington became the 35th state to ratify. It would take until August for Tennessee to follow suit, making the Nineteenth Amendment law.
A bit of an interesting story there, actually. Predictably, with the amendment one state away from ratification, forces for and against ratification rallied to Nashville. After all, it was either the final hurdle or a last stand, depending on ones position.
The first roll call on the subject came up as a 48-48 deadlock, with chaos breaking loose upon the floor when this was announced. Order was eventually restored, and the vote taken again. Once more, a deadlock of 48-48 was the result. Thus, a third vote was in order.
Somewhere along the line, the mother of Harry T. Burn, a young Representative who had been in the anti-suffragist camp, saw fit to send her son a letter. In short, she told him to vote for ratification. His mothers pleas won out over his constituency, and he voted for ratification. Shortly afterwards, two other Representative, one of them the Speaker, also changed their votes to 'aye', yielding ratification.
The women of America had gained the right to vote, even in the Southern states that had rejected the idea. They didn't gain it by being nice, quiet, or polite. They gained the right to vote via demonstration, protest, and eventually, by leveraging personal relationships. To be sure, they were not well-behaved women, and they did indeed make history.
For the sake of brevity (ha!), I'm going to skip the civil rights movement. This post is long enough as is. Before I close, however, some concluding remarks.
As romantic as it is to think that silent desire for some will sway a nation and its laws, both history and reality expose this as a sham. Neither the abolitionists nor the suffragists gained their eventual goals by sitting on their hands and wishing. They worked for what they wanted, knowing that change is only ever effected by those willing to work long, hard, and loudly for it. They knew that a smoldering ember gives little heat, little light, little smoke, and will escape the notice of most.
So they became the raging inferno, and illumined their world.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
A Fiery Heritage – Dissent as an American Tradition
It doesn't take long in any political discussion to which I am party for my general opinions on the value of tradition to come out. In short, Tavion and I don't quite see eye to eye. I opine that unless the acts in question are worth doing, or the rituals worth enacting, on their own merits, then claiming that it is traditional should not make it worth time and effort. Traditions, I hold, are things to be created or cast aside on the basis of whether or not they're actually useful or beneficial. Tradition is often an excuse for something cruel, stupid, or wasteful.
This is not always the case, obviously. Some traditions are worth hanging on to. One of my favorites is an old American tradition: dissent.
Not just random dissent. Political dissent, coupled with significant action, and lasting changes.
The Puritans are an obvious starting point. They were religious dissidents from England. Unfortunately, they fled one form of religious oppression simply to enforce another. While they managed meaningful political dissent, they didn't really learn from it. They turned from dissidents into exactly what they had dissented from. Whoops.
Many years later, in the wake of the Stamp Act, would come a different group. Well, a set of groups, really. They started as the Loyal Nine, a group of shopkeepers and artisans in Boston. They planned, grew, organized, and on August 14, 1765, took to the streets. They hung, beheaded, and eventually burned in effigy the man who was to be commissioned the Distributor of Stamps for Massachusetts, Andrew Oliver. They burned his business property, and both stoned and ransacked his house. The forces of the English kept of the streets of Boston, that night. They were afraid of what the Loyal Nine had become. They were the Sons of Liberty, and they ruled Boston.
Before long, the Sons of Liberty existed in every colony. From there, they began to correspond and organize. Many of their members were printers and publishers, and many who weren't were sympathetic. After all, one of the taxes was on paper, meaning they had to paid high duties. As a result, the activities of the Sons of Liberty were widely publicized, with each dramatic act emboldening others to do the same. They are, doubtless, best known for the Boston Tea Party. I trust I need say no more on that subject.
What became of the Sons of Liberty? Well, as I said, they got organized. Eventually, they were subsumed into the larger Revolution at hand. They had made indelible their mark upon the pages of history.
I'm going to skip the American Revolution itself. Suffice to say, it is without a doubt the single greatest instance of American dissent in history.
The next item is Shays' Rebellion. This was an armed uprising in western Massachusetts, mostly small farmers, in 1786 and 1787. The state of the economy, combined with other factors such as a poll tax and the barter economy that existed in much of western Massachusetts, left these farmers deeply in debt and with little hope of escape. They could not get a fair price selling their land, and if they did not pay, they would find themselves in debtor's prison and their lands seized by the court. As voting rights at the time were tied to land ownership, the aggrieved found themselves deprived of the ability to protest. In essence, they were out and out screwed.
So, as some of them had done years before during the American Revolution, they took up arms. The progress of their rebellion is unimportant, save to say that they really didn't pull it off. More important are the political effects. First, the local militias were effectively paralyzed, in part by sympathy, and in part by the sheer magnitude of the uprising. This made clear the need for some form of standing army. Second, it brought George Washington out of retirement, and convinced him of the need for a strong central government. Shays' Rebellion had a significant impact on the Constitutional Convention, which occurred months after its conclusion. Shortly thereafter, the Militia Law of 1972 was passed. Third, and perhaps best known, Shays' Rebellion prompted Thomas Jefferson to write the following passage:
A little rebellion now and then is a good thing. …God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion. The people cannot be all, and always, well informed. The part which is wrong will be discontented, in proportion to the importance of the facts they misconceive. If they remain quiet under such misconceptions, it is lethargy, the forerunner of death to the public liberty. …And what country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not warned from time to time, that this people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms. The remedy is to set them right as to the facts, pardon and pacify them. What signify a few lives lost in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.
Certainly, Jefferson's sentiment would have gone over well with those who still remembered the struggle for independence. However, the next event would change everything for political dissidents: the Whiskey Rebellion.
In an effort to pay off debts accumulated from the American Revolution, an excise tax on whiskey was put into place in 1791. One notable aspect of it is that small distillers, such as farmers, had to pay nine cents a gallon. Larger distilleries paid six. Due to the geographic and economic issues involved, this struck directly at a major source of income for many Appalachian farmers. They took to arms, and adopted the tactics of the Sons of Liberty.
They conducted a multi-year campaign of harassment. Eventually, President Washington decided to end things. He exercised Martial Law to call out the militias of Pennsylvania, Virginia, and several other states. After raising a force of about 13,000 thousand men, they went hunting for the rebels.
Either the rebels were too intimidated to act against this army, or the very presence of the army was scary enough to put down the rebellion entirely. After a great deal of effort, a total of twenty men were caught. One died in prison. Two others were convicted of treason, but pardoned by President Washington. The hated tax remained in place until 1803, even if it was largely unenforceable.
The message was clear, though. Armed and violent political dissent was no longer a viable option. The Federal Government could and would put down any such threats with greater force than any rebel group might muster. Thus, relatively peaceful means would be required.
As later history shows, peaceful political dissent would be quite popular. Witness the movements for abolition, women's suffrage, and civil rights. Peaceable assembly and petition would become the mode of choice for dissent, occasional rumblings about violence and instances like Bleeding Kansas aside.
I expect that one or the other of us will blog more on the history of dissent, but not now. For now, it is enough to bask in awe that the vibrant American political life came from such roots. I'm no Tavion, but this is one tradition worth keeping. The tradition of fire in the belly, of impassioned dissent when the government does wrong, is among the greatest and most important of any in this nation. Too many forget.
Sources:
Wikipedia pages on Shays' Rebellion, Sons of Liberty, and Whiskey Rebellion
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