Monday, November 22, 2010

Living Fearfully

Look, I don’t care about the TSA taking pictures of me and groping me at the airport. I’m in pretty good shape for a man my age, but I’m an old guy and none of that is going to harm me or excite anybody. If it does it’s their problem not mine. I only travel a couple times a year and a few minutes of delay at the airport is a matter of complete indifference to me.

What I do care about is being surrounded by a miasma of fear; of living in a society that will pay any price, will suffer any indignity and inconvenience because it is afraid. If you want to do that, fine, but I resent being made to go along with it, because I am not afraid. If Osama bin Laden wants to come along and drop a bomb on me, so be it; I’m going to die sooner or later anyway. We all do. Whatever life I have left I don’t want to live it looking over my shoulder being afraid that the bogey man is going to pop out and kill me. I want to live free, and living a life that is consumed by fear is not freedom.

Fifty years ago we, as a nation, were not afraid of a Soviet Union armed with thermonuclear weapons. Our attitude was that they could give us their best shot and we would go pound them into the ground like a tent peg. Our mesaage to the Soviet Union was, "We're ready for you." Today we are quaking in mortal terror of a handful of guys hiding in the Pakistani wilderness because of something they did nine years ago and have not been able to repeat. Our message to Al Queda is, "We're afraid of you."

You want to be a prisoner of your own fear, that is your privilege, but don’t try to lock me in your prison.

No comments:

Post a Comment