Avoiding Trouble

I have to admit, although it seems like I am a real freedom fighter screaming from the mountaintop, “Give me liberty, or give me death,” I am actually quite a wimp. I don’t want trouble, and I am quite frightened of the power of authority to wreak havoc on my pitiful life.

I have never been a true rebel, flailing myself in front of the law with a “go ahead, try me” attitude. In fact, any time I have gotten close to authoritarian punishment I become paralyzed with fear. I have to say I don’t back down, I don’t squeal on my cohorts in order to be granted freedom, or anything truly wimpy like that, but the fear of punishment scares the piss out of me. At least it used to.

In my defence, however, I have always been a rabble-rouser of sorts. When I was in college, I headed up an ACLU inquiry (American Civil Liberties Union—back when they were decent) about “illegal search and seizure” in the campus dorms. It was common practice to have your dorm room invaded by school officials (usually a group of students from an on-campus “service fraternity” headed by a staff residency official) looking for booze and drugs (I never had drugs in my room, but did have a rather complete bar hidden in a large cardboard box).

I remember being really ticked off by the audacity of such humiliation. Wasn’t it a violation of our civil rights to have school officials raid a living space, unannounced, in order to find incriminating evidence? Evidence that would get you kicked out of school? This university in question was a private school in the Methodist Church university system. The school itself was not religious in nature (it was a music conservatory—at least that is why I was there) but it had some draconian rules and regulations (this, too, was back in 1974). No drinking, no co-ed dorms, no girls in your room without signing in and out, and only during certain hours, etc. etc. So, the no booze rule was one they were always looking to enforce (forget about drugs, that was such a no-no it was impossible for anyone with a drug habit to entertain their addiction at this place).

My roommate (who was also a rebel) and I, decided to contact the ACLU with a formal complaint. They wrote us a “we feel for you, but we can’t do anything” letter. Citing that our complaint was not addressable because it was a private school, and the school could do pretty much anything they wanted. The complaints my roommate and I engaged in (along with a rather large group of other rebellious students) reached the press, as well as the president of the school. My stepdad was a professor there and when word got out that I was making waves, shit started to hit the fan. Even my mother scolded me for stepping out of line and “embarrassing” her and my faculty step-dad.

I was really freaked out, and had visions of getting kicked out of school and dying in the streets a homeless wreck. I even called the president and apologized. What a wimp. Secretly, however, I still stuck to my convictions. But this experience goes to show when push came to shove I chickened out. Of course, that was 50 years ago. As I said, I wasn’t a snitch, and I did not back down privately from my convictions. It just seemed, at the time, that the whole point of the rebellion was lost. The ACLU backed out (damn liberals), so we really didn’t have any recourse.

How does this experience apply today? Actually, I am not quite sure. I know I have changed a bit since then because I really do not care what authority does to me anymore. But if push came to shove today, I am hoping that I would not act like a wimp. I don’t like thinking that people are looking to get me in trouble. I get those typical scams saying my computer has been hacked and everything I have stored on it will be exposed to the world. “I have nothing to hide,” as they say, but I do still value my privacy and would rather not have all my emails out there in public. These things do rattle me up. Wimp.

But that’s all pretty innocuous, what about going to prison for sedition? I have been sort of careful with what I write, but not that careful, considering they can get you for anything these days. The only reason I do not fret about all this is because I certainly am very small potatoes. But soon, I think, that will not matter. It would take no money or human resources to punish subversive behaviour these days. But prison? I hope not. That would be pretty scary.

There are so many times humans wonder what they would do if confronted with certain challenges. Would I really throw myself in front of a train to save a child? Would I really stand up to a hooligan who attacks my wife on a dark city street and risk losing my life in such a heroic act? I honestly think I would. From a rational conscious thinking point of view when not actually confronted, I know I would do anything to protect those I love. But I do wonder what I would do in the moment—during that split second when instincts take over. When I see someone doing something wrong, I typically get pissed, not scared. So, I think I can rely on anger propelling me into conflict engagement rather than fear pushing me to flee. I do think I can be brave. Even if I had time to think about the situation and not just rely on gut reaction.

I had many strange visions of police breaking into my house during the height of the scamdemic and chasing me around with a needle in their hand, ready to plunge it into me. I saw myself lying on the floor with a boot on my head while the jab went in. This is a rather scary thought, but it doesn’t scare me as much as being arrested and carted away to some holding pen surrounded by violent criminals. Of course, being in prison with other shrews is a bit appealing, but I doubt if it would go down that way.

So, am I a potential hero or a potential wimp? Who knows. I do hope I am never in a situation where my true nature is revealed. I do believe I have committed to the possibility and embrace the risk. If I perish, I perish (I know I use this Esther phrase a lot, forgive me). I believe you reach a point in your life, sometimes early, sometimes late, when you know what you believe, and you are indeed willing to die for it. “Give me liberty, or give me death,” as Patrick Henry stated. Words to live by. I believe I do.