By Charles
C. W. Cooke
Tuesday,
January 17, 2023
At this
point in the proceedings, President Joe Biden resembles nothing so well as a
cheap, faux-interactive children’s toy from the early 1990s.
Pre-loaded with a small handful of vacuous stock phrases, and programmed to
repeat them at random whenever the conversation meanders onto familiar ground,
Biden has become so predictable, monotonous, and dull that one occasionally
wonders whether his doctor is ever tempted to search his lower back for a
double-A-battery compartment and a row of rudimentary activation buttons. On
the left side of the array, he might find the
catchphrases:
“Malarkey!” “No joke!” “Literally, folks!” etc. On the right, he might uncover
some circumstance-specific clichés, which, though appearing to the uninitiated
to be bespoke, are in fact involuntary staples selected from an ever-dwindling
list.
Nowhere
is this tendency more evident than when the president is discussing
firearms. In comes the topic, and out come the chestnuts. Button A yields the
false claim that, at the time of the Founding, “You couldn’t buy a cannon.”
Button B yields the line, “Deer aren’t wearing Kevlar vests out there.” Button
C yields the contention that, “If you want to take on the federal government,
you need some F-15s, not an AR-15.” The audience may change, the location may
vary, the impetus may shift from time to time, but the bromides will remain as
constant as the sun.
Musing
yesterday on the utility of privately owned firearms, Biden ran once again
through the hits. “If you need to worry about taking on the federal
government,” he smirked, “you need some F-15s. You don’t need an AR-15.”
This is
a grotesque thing for an American president to say. Happily, there is no need
at present for the American citizenry to fight its own government. One hopes
there never will be. But this is not the sort of thing about which a sitting
president should be brooding. Having been written by a group of successful
insurrectionists, the U.S. Constitution is, in effect, a hybrid document. In
some places, it establishes the powers that the national government may
exercise; in others it ensures that, if the government oversteps its bounds,
the people have the opportunity to resist. By declaring that the public would
and should have no chance against a tyrannical American
government, President Biden was implying that the Declaration’s central promise
— “that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it
is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it” — has been rendered moot.
In so
doing, Biden was inadvertently channeling
George Orwell, who
proposed in 1945 that, “Ages in which the dominant weapon is expensive or
difficult to make will tend to be ages of despotism, whereas when the dominant
weapon is cheap and simple, the common people have a chance.” Orwell, unlike
Biden, did not consider this prospect to be either salutary or dispositive.
“Tanks, battleships and bombing planes,” he wrote with palpable disgust, “are
inherently tyrannical weapons, while rifles, muskets, long-bows and
hand-grenades are inherently democratic.” And what should people do about this?
They should remember that, however badly the citizenry might now be outgunned,
the mere fact that it is armed at all raises the cost of oppression. “That
rifle on the wall of the labourer’s cottage or working class flat,” Orwell
wrote during the darkest days of World War II, “is the symbol of democracy. It
is our job to see that it stays there.”
Orwell
was correct. Indeed, Orwell is still correct, for to believe
with any confidence that a population armed with AR-15s could not resist a
government armed with F-15s, one needs not only to ignore the last 50 years of
American foreign policy — which, in Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan saw
cave-dwellers armed with AK-47s outlast the world’s sole hyperpower — but also
to assume that the U.S. government would be more aggressive with its own people
than it was prepared to be with hostile foreigners. Would it be? That seems
highly unlikely. During the American Revolutionary War, many prominent figures
within the British parliament were openly skeptical of the King’s position,
which by 1781 was being described by no less a figure than William Pitt as
“most accursed, wicked, barbarous, cruel, unnatural, unjust, and most
diabolical,” and by 1782 was broadly considered to be unsustainable. Would this
tendency be more, or less, pronounced, if the tyranny were here at home?
That
phrase — “tyranny at home” — often provokes guffaws. It should not. During
debates over gun control, those of us who favor a robust right to keep and bear
arms are often informed by our opponents that the Founders “could not have
imagined the modern world.” Insofar as this is true, though, it is an argument
for our position, not our opponents’. Because they were well-versed in history
and the classics, James Madison and his compatriots understood that an
ostensibly stable nation was just as capable of descending into despotism as
any other. But even they could not have comprehended the scale of the depravity
that would drench the 20th century in blood. In 1789, it was merely ridiculous
for a public figure to propose that the citizenry should relinquish its arms;
in 2023, it is downright psychotic.
Writing
in 1960, just 15 years after the carnage of World War II, Hubert Humphrey
reminded Americans that, “The right of citizens to bear arms is just one
guarantee against arbitrary government, one more safeguard against the tyranny
which now appears remote in America, but which, historically, has proved to be
always possible.”
That
history is still in motion.
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