We Might Make A Public Moan In

More Than Illness Or Death, The American Journalist Fears Standing Alone Against The Whim Of His Owners Or The Prejudices Of His Audience. Deprive William Safire Of The Insignia Of The New York Times, And He Would Have A Hard Time Selling His Truths To A Weekly Broadsheet In Suburban Duluth.

Love Of Country Follows From The Exercise Of Its Freedoms, Not From Pride In Its Fleets Or Its Armies.

A Society That Presumes A Norm Of Violence And Celebrates Aggression, Whether In The Subway, On The Football Field, Or In The Conduct Of Its Business, Cannot Help Making Celebrities Of The People Who Would Destroy It.

But The Line Of Thought That I'd Been Chasing For Several Days Was Implicit In The Ruins Of The Old Roman Empire, Which Gradually Destroyed Itself By Substituting The Faith In A Legion Of Miraculous Words For The Strength Of Armies And The Weight Of Walls.

Talk About The Flag Or Drugs Or Crime (never About Race Or Class Or Justice) And Follow The Yellow Brick Road To The Wonderful Land Of Consensus. In Place Of Honest Argument Among Consenting Adults The Politicians Substitute A Lullaby For Frightened Children: The Pretense That Conflict Doesn't Really Exist, That We Have Achieved The Blessed State In Which We No Longer Need Politics.