On Rebels

There are two kinds of rebels, couldn’t be more different.

The first kind takes on the world for reasons of principle, and is willing to pay any price. My mother was such a rebel. Notwithstanding her unfailing gentleness and sweetness, if she saw an injustice, especially towards an underdog, you had better stand aside because you were about to see another side of her four foot ten, hundred and ten pounds. I never doubted that for the right cause she would have quietly laid down her life. I know that because she lived her life in quietness, simplicity, and often poverty, in the service of heartfelt causes.

Principled rebels believe their cause to be righteous and will not readily back off even if they are “the last man standing”, or for that matter, the only one who ever was standing.

Because each has had a unique, and often painful, reflective and spiritual path to rebellion, principled rebels always retain their individuality, even when they act together in common cause. Each has understood the cost of rebellion and each one alone has decided to pay it. Even if they’re wrong. And because it’s their nature to ask hard questions, they can be led only by principled individuals of good character.

Then there are the other rebels, in their millions. They all look the same and sound the same. Mobs in Iran and mobs in America are interchangeable. Think about it: that parade of pickup trucks, flags, and assault rifles could be on any street, anywhere. Same beards, same sunglasses, same “rebel chic”.

No matter the place, time, or language, their theme is universal and their anthem is “You’re not the boss of me!” These are the rebels of self interest. They care nothing for facts or reflection, they just know that somebody isn’t letting them do as they please, and they’re going to throw a tantrum. Thumb-suckers with weapons.

These people are always willing to take your life or your liberty, but not give up their own. They will bluster and snark and defy and threaten and disobey like so many kindergarteners, but at the first “whiff of grapeshot” are cowed into sullen silence.

Having spent little time or effort wrestling with principle, rebels of self interest are putty in the hands of a canny demagogue. Tell them what they want to hear and the mob will roar your name. Give them torches and pitchforks and they’ll throng the streets on your behalf. And if you name their enemy as your enemy, you can turn your mob into your army.

These hard, dark days have turned most of us into rebels. Some are rebels for a higher cause, and some are rebels in a snit.

Which kind are you?