I recently wrote and posted a column challenging the notion that democracy is all it's cracked up to be. That doesn't mean I am anti-democracatic, I would still prefer a system with at least some semblance of popular sovereignty than one without, but there are other systems that could work as well.
A limited constitutional monarchy, such as Britain operated under for centuries doesn't seem like such a bad idea, and traditional societies such as the Ibo of West Africa operated quite well under a system without a leader at all, that is until the British came and imposed their system. Ancient Greece is considered the birthplace of democracy, but it was limited mostly to one city-state, Athens, and even that was limited to white, male citizens with property. Ancient Rome was a republic that became in effect a dictatorship, yet the Roman Empire thrived under that system for a couple of centuries in its heyday. China seems to be doing pretty well under a communist/capitalist hybrid, and India has a very messy and corrupt democracy, and might have been better off had Nehru been appointed sovereign for life, and then been able to turn the ship over to his daughter Indira Gandhi.
The point is, there are many ways to skin a cat, or to rule over a people, and there are numerous factors to consider. Democracy is one option, probably the best idea yet tried, but it's not the only way to do it.
One reaction I got to the posting was typical in that it was a defensive reaction, as if I was attacking America itself, which I suppose prompted me to write this column. I think America is a great place to live, and that my country has done much good over it's history. Yet, our nation is also with many faults, and much of the criticism that we receive around the world and from within is quite justified. So why is it that anything that challenges the status quo is automatically considered to be an attack? Why do many Americans feel threatened by other cultures and other systems? Why do many Americans feel it is their patriotic duty to tear down religions that differ from that of the Christianity of most, or to assume that anyone who doesn't buy into the company line is subversive? I don't have the answers to these questions necessarily, but I think that they are interesting to pose and consider.
I didn't choose to be an American, any more than I chose to have brown eyes or a big ass, it just happened. I'm glad it did, I feel fortunate to live somewhere where I can pursue my options and live a lifestyle that is the envy of much of the world, especially the developing world. But I can't help but think that if I had been born say, a Bangladeshi, I would love my country too and consider myself fortunate to have the life I have.
It's easy to generalize about America and its people, but how accurate is it to make broad statements about a diverse nation of over 300 million people? Living in Arizona I am particularly and acutely aware of the dangers of over-generalizations. People outside of the Grand Canyon, or Cactus State (yes we have two nicknames) often view the state as a bunch of conservative and dim-witted rednecks, and honestly they aren't wrong. Yet there are also many intelligent and thoughtful people who live in this state, people who think as progressively as any East Coast liberal, and who oppose dumb ideas, like the immigration bill that is currently in the national, and international news.
So how do you define a single state, or city, let alone an entire nation? Quite simply you really can't, not with much accuracy anyways, and I have to think that the same holds true of other countries. Yet we often do just that, and we like to draw relatively simple conclusions about complex issues, we like to label things that often defy such easy explanation, we ignore subtle variations and lump people and places together.
I propose that happiness and greatness, however they are defined, are much less reliant on political systems and the parties that control them, and much more dependent on other factors. Personally, I think that the personal relationships in one's life make all the difference. I would rather live in primitive conditions in the mountains of Tibet or in a rural village in Mexico with my family and the people that I love and cherish, than to live in luxury in America or anyplace else without those people and the richness they bring to my life. I'm glad that I can have it both ways of course, that I can live in a land of plenty. But I still reserve the right to call things as I see them, to criticize or praise as I see fit, and the irony in many of those who are threatened by anything remotely anti-American is sadly, lost on most of those who consider themselves to be patriotic simply because they wave the flag or put a bumper sticker on the back of their car.
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