To the Readers of the INDEPENDENT STATESMAN:

Western civilization is a tradition whose very nature, as a societal system designed to interfere with the common man as little as needed to fulfill the basic functions of the state, embodies an idea that we must continue to discuss, under the assumption that, since the uncontrollable lust for power can enslave even the kindest and gentlest of men, it will forever be out of our grasp the moment it leaves the focus of our attention: rather than relying on a monarch to use the full strength of their government to compel their subjects to create economic value, promote domestic peace, and fight to defend their land, it’s far more effective to restrict the power of the state, remove any limit to a citizen’s ambition, and let his natural patriotism bind him to his neighbors’ wellbeing. In the United States, this discussion was a public argument integral to the country’s founding story, and for that I’m proud; but historians, often quick to attribute societal change on a grand scale to the actions of a select few, compile the writings of our good friends Brutus, Publius, and Cato, among other Founding Fathers in names real and fictional, and call it the “American tradition.” When considering the time and place these men were in, under a group of former British colonies that just went through a unified secession, and were struggling to complete a chaotic unification, it should come as no surprise if I were to suggest, after applying some discretion and coming to my own thoughtful interpretation of historical events, that the republic’s intellectual elite might’ve over-indexed on the evils of government, applying their minds primarily towards designing a proper series of constraints for the state in the form of a living document. As noble as the Founders were, having constructed a framework for citizens to remain free under a central government, through endless debates ranging from the exact wording of the constitution to the practical application of jurisprudence, America’s true heroes are those who may never be discovered by posterity when flipping through the pages of our country’s history; not only did they ask the most important question of all, they also determined the answer on their own, and they lived it.

What does it mean to live a good life? Before the United States government was formed, the constitution’s Framers had to answer that question on our behalf in order to define the barriers which the state could not break through, lest their answer remain no longer possible to realize; now that we have an established set of rules for the country, and our basic freedoms are preserved, we have the privilege of answering this question for ourselves. You can delegate another man, or even the state, to give your life meaning, instilling in you a predefined purpose under the guise of “civic responsibility,” or you can find the courage to face the unknown without flinching, not out of ignorance of what a life unprotected has in store, but out of the understanding that life without liberty is worse than the loss of life itself; you can surrender your personal freedoms to the state, or you can choose your own ends. In western civilization, your decision in the matter is the defining moment of your existence.

If it is your goal above all else to be remembered, the decision is an easy one; I too have fallen victim to the enticing dream of building an empire alongside my brothers: to stand tall on the floor of the Senate before the masters of the universe, using the skills of the orator to solidify my place in history. Those who envision themselves preserved in marble, where they can be gazed upon by their descendants for centuries or more and be regarded as great men, fixate their minds on the alluring thought that, looking far enough ahead into an era where today’s society would be universally recognized as barbaric, they and they alone would be seen as the statesmen of their time; they work backwards from that goal to solve for the actions they must perform today in order to get there, and as a result, they are slaves to future generations. They do not transcend the impressions of the impressionable; they do not examine the innermost parts of themselves to craft their own convictions; and they certainly do not seek to satisfy no soul but their own: for these are the actions of free men, and they are not free.

It has been mentioned by other contributors to the INDEPENDENT STATESMAN that, since we as Americans live under a collective form of self-government, each and every individual is required to assume the responsibilities of statecraft, learn to govern, and devote his life to the republic. Narrowing in on one author in particular, whose sense of self-worth is inflated enough to name himself after a famed Roman senator, yet remains so simple-minded as to assert with fiery conviction that all our nation’s problems would be solved if everyone read Aristotle, Mr. Marcus Tullius insists that we all become politicians; he may claim that this is to build a more involved and republican community, but is it not also true that if his efforts were to succeed, and his words “inspire” the brightest minds to get involved in government, that he may be in a position to one day reveal his identity and be hailed as a hero? As a great man worthy of posterity’s praise? Mr. Tullius may one day read this essay, or he may not; neither outcome concerns me, for his life is his own, but when reflecting on the particular activities undertaken by me that I’ll recall on my deathbed, I firmly believe that freely expressing my ideas, as they pertain to western civilization, will have been a key contributor to a life well-lived, so even if my readership is nonexistent, I’ll be proud to have followed my own interests.

ALICE O.