With the
Emancipation Proclamation, Abraham Lincoln signed his own death warrant. And he knew it. A man of uncompromising courage and deeply rooted sense of humanity, he wrote and signed one of the most important documents in American history, and world history - a document that contained principals he would die for.
Today, I saw the original Emancipation Proclamation at the Reagan Library in Simi Valley, CA. Here for only four days, and for only a few hours each day (the delicate nature of the old paper restricts its time in light and air), the EP was part of a small but impactful installation about the Civil War and the ongoing fight for human rights. Tonight, I'm melancholy.
While waiting in line, one could watch a brilliantly produced four-minute video that shows a map of the War region, and with each second of video representing one week's time, clearly watch as battles changed demarcation lines, sometimes subtly but often dramatically, and see the casualty ticker increase until nearly the 1 million mark. 1 million Americans dead or injured at the hands of other Americans. One hundred years later, the Civil Rights movement could probably have been illustrated similarly, with thankfully less casualty but definitely as much violent passion.
The whole experience was humbling and perspective-building. It reminded me how juvenile America is. We are so young - not even 250 years old yet! And yet so much of our history, and present, remains solidly fitted in inequalities. It made me ponder the definition of hero, and contemplate how the noise of the media and Internet prohibit voices from rising. Can there ever again be a Thomas Paine? Or a Harriet Tubman? Or even a Rosa Parks?
Last night while receiving his honorary Emmy, Tommy Smothers reminded us about the righteousness of the word, and our imperative to speak truth to power. In this volatile election year, with everyone screeching at each other in polarizing absolutes, they do so comfortably knowing ultimately their jaw-flapping isn't life endangering. What would we do if our words would end our lives? Would we still boldly exert what's in our hearts?
Lincoln's penmanship is deliberate, neat and unmistakeably readable, making the Emancipation Proclamation even more dramatic. He left no room for misprint, confusion or ambiguity - "And by virtue of the power, and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves within said designated States, and parts of States, are, and hence-forward shall be free;" It's as though he wanted to be sure generations would be able to see his enduring legacy - his words, his action, the thing he would die for.
History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again."
Maya AngelouRead the Emancipation Proclamation
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