Collegiate Times

Have you ever wondered what transpired in people's lives to bring them to believe what they do? What events can be credited for what side of the political fence they pitch their lawn chair? Probably not.

Who cares where some pinko-commie or neocon-fascist comes from? Strike them from the face of the earth and be done with it. Chopping the ends off the political bell-curve might relieve many a headache, but without the bookends of militant partisanship of those opposite us, we'd have very dull anecdotes from which to hang our arguments.

Many will read this column looking for a launch pad for righteous indignation, others for affirmation. I have said once before that I am a conservative -- the minority opinion in academia. Frankly, neither of these classes of readership serve the purpose I want to achieve with this column. I take no sadistic joy in watching my ideological opponents squirm. I'm not interested in blind affirmation of my beliefs. I want dialogue.

But before the volley of a meaningful discourse can be achieved, we need to know each other. (For those English majors keeping score at home, this is exactly what the New Critics did not want.) We need to know the whys and hows of our fellow conversationalists. So here is why I'm a conservative.

Have you ever been taken to court? Were you convicted of the crime? Have you ever been convicted of a crime that would otherwise have put you before a firing squad? I have.

Many years ago, I was standing watch around 3 a.m. aboard a U.S. Navy Frigate in the Sea of Japan. Never had a blackness befallen the sea as it did that night. No stars, no moon, no lights of other ships sailing on in diligent silence. Nothing.

I'll dispense with the poesy and say that a rumor regarding the captain's alleged abuse of power had taken hold of the sailors. For some adolescent reason, I took it personally. I was losing sleep, but it really had nothing to do with me. Nevertheless, the only recourse I saw fit was a dangerous act of civil disobedience. I sat down and went to sleep -- on watch.

Very soon, I found myself facing a court martial. I was tried, convicted, sentenced. I was not put to death. The captain only wanted to make an example of me. And for years, I held his name in contempt -- the contempt of an ignorant brat. Even thinking about speaking his name aloud brought rage to my throat.

It took even more years for me outgrow this puerility. And when I did, I came to understand that everything that has happened to me could be credited to an adopted sense of victimization -- or at least my response to them. The wrongs I had committed, the bitterness I had harbored, the injustice I had perceived in my life, everything, in fact, was my own fault.

I had manufactured and sold myself all the failings I "didn't" deserve.

It wasn't long until I discovered that personal responsibility was a cornerstone of American conservatism. The appeal was quick and satiating.

Those more ambitious of my ideological opponents have Hokie-stalked me and found that I live in Monteith. My involvement in the Corps serves as a living example that I have taken this vow of personal responsibility seriously and that I hold no grudge against anyone for the recklessness of my less-informed days.

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