Democracy and Liberty Don't Necessarily Go Together
by B.K.
MARCUS
The crowd in
Tiananmen Square was losing hope. Their mass protest had drawn throngs of
students at first, but as the summer of 1989 approached, their numbers were
dwindling, their leaders were resigning, and the square itself, according to
one historian of China’s democracy movement, "had degenerated into a
shantytown, strewn with litter and permeated by the stench of garbage and
overflowing portable toilets."
The
democracy movement seemed to be dying, not with a bang, but with a whimper.
This was
before most of us in the West had ever heard of Tiananmen Square. What turned
the protest around? Why did hundreds of thousands of supporters pack the square
in the final days of May? What made the government, which had been ignoring the
protest and refusing to offer any reforms, suddenly sit up and take notice—and
send in tanks?
A lady with
a torch.
To American
eyes, she looked like a Chinese version of the Statue of Liberty, her torch of
freedom held aloft over Tiananmen’s huddled masses. The art students who had
quickly assembled the foam statue over a bamboo scaffolding had
deliberately avoided creating something that seemed "too openly
pro-American"—even basing the style on the Cold War art of the Soviet
socialist realists—but even with her Chinese features and a two-handed grip on
the torch, the comparison with Lady Liberty was unavoidable.
But while
the statue in New York Harbor represents Libertas, the Roman goddess of
freedom, the protestors in Tiananmen Square were worshipping a different deity.
They called their statue the Goddess of Democracy.
The tanks
rolled in and crushed the goddess beneath their treads, but her symbolic power
remains, and her likeness now appears in the form of commemorative statues
throughout the world.
The
authoritarian state may have won the battle, but the war for freedom lasts
longer than our history textbooks would have us believe. In England and
America, we had more than a century of struggles between liberty and power
before anything like a victory could be declared for our cause. It took more
than a piece of paper—more than the Declaration of Independence or the Treaty
of Paris. And for years the words and symbols of liberty and independence
inspired generations of freedom fighters, not just the ones we call the
Founding Fathers.
But did the
symbols ever unite us? Americans may look at the unifying force of the Goddess
of Democracy and long for a time when our own symbols had the power to inspire
our passion and our courage, but colonial America was never united on the cause
of independence. About a fifth of the white population was loyal to the British
Crown, with twice as many keeping their heads down and avoiding any openly held
position on the question of independence. That puts the American
Revolutionaries in the minority. And even among those who actively supported
America’s secession from the empire, there was a deep philosophical divide
about the goals of such a fight.










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