I Remember Why I’m Not a Liberal
I’m a right-winger.
No, I didn’t say I’m a Republican, though I share more views with them than Democrats. I don’t subscribe to platforms and bureaucracy and labels, so I don’t have a party affiliation. I tend to think of myself as a libertarian… that’s with the small “l.” Big “L” Libertarians are close, but one tends to find that a group based on individualism has a general effectiveness problem. “Hey, we’re a group of people, and we want to be left to oursel…ves.” “Hey, we’re a party that thinks our founders didn’t believe in parties, so you need a party to stick it to the other two parties.” It’s a proposition that wears pretty thin.
Classically speaking, being on the right of the spectrum is where individual freedom outweighs collective “security.” On the left, just the opposite—collective security outweighs any individual freedom. By definition, fully right would be anarchy. Fully left, totalitarianism. Our founding fathers sought to implement the greatest compromise, the most divinely inspired point on the spectrum, and that is liberty. Liberty says we do have a God-given right to freedom, so long as that freedom does not impose on another’s freedom. Our freedoms, granted by our creator, are equal.
I don’t know that a party today espouses this message very well. Certain individuals make me very hopeful that this message will be spread for future generations, but the execution of the principle has suffered lately by everyone in government. That word, “inalienable,” as in “inalienable rights” has a specific meaning. It is basically, “not transferrable.” See, these rights are granted to us by virtue of birth, by whatever power or God in which you believe, and they are not for us to give to politicians to cut deals or make compromises. Basically, I believe that God meant for people to have power over their lives. That’s what the Declaration of Independence affirms.
But, as much as I’ve studied this since, that isn’t why I became a right-wing lover of liberty. No, that love grew as a child. I believed in my home and family as a child, and it was the center of my world. The things my parents taught me, I valued as sacred. The things I learned there were more important that schooling. Even when I went to school, I was anxious to take things I learned from home with me. Maybe it was drawing a picture depicting a hunting trip with my dad. Maybe it was sharing a recipe from my mom’s kitchen. Sometimes it was show-and-tell, bringing a piece of country life into the classroom, like the time I brought the naturally blue and green chicken eggs from our Araucana hens to show my second grade class at Easter. I knew my life experiences gave me something special, of which I was proud and wanted to share.
At some point I realized the things of which I was so proud, many others sought to demean. Not just classmates, but even teachers. Sometimes it was even the news stories on TV. Some thought hunting cruel bloodsport, and near an act of abuse to take a child along. After all, besides the inhumanity of killing Bambi, I was being exposed to guns. Others had no appreciation for a mother who loved taking care of her family, because surely she was just caving to the pressures of an unfair patriarchal society. The eggs were fair game, I suppose, but I knew inherently, even then, not to explain too much to the others about the cycle of life and how I participated in slaughtering extra roosters or unproductive hens.
I came to realize as I was growing up that people on the TV who were similarly disapproving of things I considered a part of my home were Democrats. It seemed a little odd; I knew my parents had voted for Democrats. I learned that I wasn’t. And along the way, my parents learned they weren’t anymore, either. The only reason why that I knew back then, as a child, had nothing to do with political spectrums or reading of philosophical writings and historical documents. It was only that there was this group that openly disrespected things that I held dear.
Because now, that I am older, I have read and studied and thought and wrote, sometimes I forget the real reason I didn’t ever have a youthful dalliance with liberalism, like so many young people do. But over the last two and a half weeks, I’ve sure remembered.
I remember why I am not a liberal when Sarah Palin is mocked for being from rural parts and doing rural activities.
I remember why I am not a liberal when Sarah Palin is mocked for attending more than one college, none of which were in New England.
I remember why I am not a liberal when people have to tell lies about what Sarah Palin believes rather than simply debating whether she is right or not.
I remember why I am not a liberal when people take the side of a career government official, in this case the former state chief of police for Alaska, over that of an elected servant of the people, without regard to fact.
I remember why I am not a liberal when John McCain is implied to be an imbecile for not using a computer, when it was public knowledge that war injuries prevented him from typing.
I remember why I am not a liberal when people who are accuse everyone who isn’t them of telling lies… even if those things are provably true.
I remember why I am not a liberal when Rush Limbaugh has words taken out of context and is accused of racism.
You know, it would seem that there would be so many things we could debate, as a country. I certainly have had liberal friends with whom I had the liveliest of discussions. But when the discourse is all accusations and demeaning condescension about things in which I believe, I remember why in elementary school I realized I was not ever and never would be a liberal. And given the rhetoric now, I think a lot of others are going to remember along with me come November 4th.
Jared A. Chambers
