“Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air bridge harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
“The New Colossus” Emma Lazarus
This poem, written by jewish-american poet Emma Lazarus, is of course the words of welcoming on the bronze plaque affixed to the Statue of Liberty.
The poem was originally written as part of a fundraising campaign to pay for the pedestal the statue was to stand on, and was donated to an auction of art and literary works. It was read at the auction exhibition, but was then largely forgotten and played no role at the opening of the Statue in 1886. It was not until seven years later that the plaque was added as a result of a campaign to memorialize Lazarus by her friend Georgina Schuyler.
The Old Colossus:
The title, “The New Colossus” implies that there was an old colossus, and indeed there was. The first line of the sonnet speaks of “the brazen Greek giant” and is a reference to the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Roughly the same height as Lady Liberty, the Colossus of Rhodes also guarded a harbor. It was erected to celebrate Rhodes victory over the ruler of Cyprus, and in homage to Helios, the sun-god whose likeness the statue represented. Finished in 280 B.C. it stood for 54 years, until an earthquake toppled it in 226. Plans to rebuild the statue were abandoned when an oracle declared that the statue had offended the god it was intended to portray. The remains of the Colossus lay on the ground for 800 years until they were finally sold for scrap metal.
The Mob and the Masses:
Okay, you can wake up now, the history lesson is over! Despite the similarities of these two enormous statues it is the differences that Emma Lazarus alludes to that I wish to highlight here. The Old Colossus was a symbol of defiance, a warning to the mighty to stay away. The New Colossus was a symbol of freedom, a welcome to the poor and afflicted. One giant a man, menacing and conquering, standing as a threatening guardian; the other a woman, mighty but mild, like a mother beckoning the lost children who would come to her. One says, “Avert your gaze before the mighty God of the Sun, cower and fear!”; the other says “Lift your head you tired and poor, come here and find freedom!”
It is a mistake to believe that the world is ruled by Presidents, Princes and Prime Ministers. It has long been understood by those in positions of political power that their authority is perpetually in jeopardy from the people they seek to control. Revolutions, small or large, are always just a heartbeat away, and the scepter of power ever rests precariously on the razor’s edge. The Romans recognized the rule of the mob, and much of their governance involved currying their favor or intimidating their dissent. The mob is a fickle paramour, worshipping her latest leader, but her wandering eye is easily distracted by other lovers; ready to rebel when one hero ceases to satisfy her lust, she seeks another leader, another savior, another deity to worship.
The “huddled masses” in Lazarus’s poem are not the mob. These are those who have been trampled and left behind by the mob, and the tyrants that the mob empowers. These are sheep without a shepherd, children without a home, exiles. Of such America was formed; we are a nation of orphans, we are the huddled masses. But unlike the mob we have not sought a colossus to rule over us, a new emperor, a new king, a new dictator… no we have discovered a whole new type of colossus; liberty, self governance; we are the New Colossus; we are Lady Liberty; we are America.
“What difference, at this point, does it make?”:
Hillary’s words could serve as a motto for many whose political philosophy reflects an attitude of apathetic nihilism. They excuse their failure to involve themselves in the work of steering our ship of state by supposing that the ship is sinking and cannot be saved. There is no point in voting, both sides are the same. One choice is always as bad as the other. Blogs like this are a waste of cyberspace; corruption rules the day. It is a convenient point of view, promoting lethargy to a sign of superior intellect, and hopeless cynicism to an indicator of great wisdom. This fatalist abandonment of faith in America is the refuge of those who have voluntarily given up hope, not lost it; they have given up hope because this hope requires work, and it is easier to lie down, fold their hands and close their eyes. It is a place I have known too well. If the masses insist on slumber, the mob will rule.
IMHO: It would seem a mathematical improbability that the power of one man, even a very powerful man, could outweigh the power of 300 million others. It is always the people who choose their governance, whether by affirmation, acquiescence, or submission. Like the Roman mob, we can revert to our baser selves and demand without reason a colossus who will provide us food and entertainment to sate our appetite for leisure; or we can take our stand in the huddled masses and be a part of something greater. We are the flame of liberty passed from generation to generation. We are the imprisoned lightning yearning always to breathe free. Never before have we had the tools now at our disposal to have a voice, and yet never before have so many remained silent, or mindlessly joined their voices to the jeering of the mob. We will have no excuse when we stand in judgement with the likes of Washington, Adams, Paine, and Franklin, if we permit the Republic to slip from our grasp because it was too hard to hold it. As it ever has been, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing”.
