These is an odd phenomenon I noticed today; people wishing me a "happy holiday," as if, like Christmas, they fear giving offense by naming the occasion.
Independence Day in my country celebrates an improbable course of human events: a thoughtful group of Englishmen, eager for the restoration of their rights, petitioned their King, practiced civil disobedience, and eventually, with a volunteer army of "mechanics, farmers and frontiersmen" fought the best army in the world to a stalemate and surrender (with the significant help of the French).
For the first year of the war, they sought the restoration of self-government and the end of oppressive taxation as British subjects. Independence came after the rejection of their attempts.
King George III asked his American painter, Benjamin West, what Washington would do after winning independence. West replied, “They say he will return to his farm.”
“If he does that,” the incredulous monarch said, “he will be the greatest man in the world.”
Washington retired twice; as head of the Army, and after two terms as President, consciously following the model of Cincinnatus.
We were very lucky; most revolutions end with a dictatorship worse than what preceded it.
It was a near thing, and done at extraordinary risk, by dedicated men (and women), who were only a small percent of the population at large.
Call it by its name; call others, gently, on allowing the meaning of the day to slip from memory.