On Mel Gibson's Braveheart: A Review of Freedom
By Mary Cashman
Several months ago, I watched the movie "Braveheart." It was riveting
and, my attention was held for far more than just the desperately good looks
of the movie's star, Mel Gibson. My attention was taught for more reasons
than just my Scots-Irish heritage. It was, instead, the sense that if art
follows life, these are exciting times indeed.
The movie's theme involved the struggle from British oppression that was
mounted by the Scotsman, William Wallace. It offered vivid and dramatic
footage, the vast opposition forces; armed and unarmed, rich and poor; educated
and ignorant; good and evil; in the now far removed fourteenth century.
If we're to believe the movie portrayal, it was a time when only nobles
didn't have to work; when nobles ate regularly, slept comfortably and when
only nobles appeared clean and well kept. Of course, only nobles were able
to conduct their lives in relative comfort at the expense of those over
whom they ruled. It was the abrasive intrusion of British empire builders
that caused William Wallace's personal discontent to evolve into a Scotland-wide
uprising: One in which support for his rebellion enveloped the countryside,
authoring a few, short-lived defeats of the ignoble invaders. All of its
detail and mesmerizing imagery notwithstanding, it seems particularly interesting
that the story of an otherwise unknown regional hero from nearly 600 years
ago should, today, win industry awards, gain popular favor and earn millions
of dollars. The awards, the acceptance and the money all bespeak an interest
in, if not an admiration for, the rebellious Scotsman.
What then, is the appeal of William Wallace, and why is it that his story
should be told on the eve of a new millennium? I suspect that we shall see
more William Wallace-type characters flash across the celluloid as we, like
he and they, have an ignoble oppressor from which escape will be impossible
unless it is the result of our own rebellion. Those are, by nothing short
of determination, very strong words.
For those of us in the late-1990s, our greatest oppressor is, not unlike
that of fourteenth century Scotland, the government. It is the only entity
on earth with a monopoly on the use of violence; a power to be disseminated
through any of its multitudinous policing arms. It has, essentially, free
reign to enforce the "legality" of its license(s) to steal --
increasing at an expansive rate the portions of incomes and profits it takes
via taxation from those whose only offense has been to create incomes or
profits. In an environment not too dissimilar to William Wallace's, we find
our daily lives governed by oppressive rule-makers who garner the benefits
of functioning within the shelter of the system while, at the same time,
they are exempt from the ethical standards prescribed by their system for
the balance of the population. We have become, like the Scots that Wallace
sought to free, the mere drones of empire builders who seek their empires
at our expense. More disconcerting, however, is the idea that we are different
than the Scots that lived some six hundred years ago.
We are, after all, the subjects of a civilized democracy. Unlike William
Wallace, we are not hardened by the difficulties inherent in seizing our
prey to provide food for our families. Neither are we, for the most part,
used to enduring drenching rains out-of-doors and experiencing the cold
dampness as minor inconvenience. And, for the most part, we are unlike William
Wallace in that we have familiarity with leisure; unfamiliarity with violence;
we enjoy a greater degree of physical health; and we are less accustomed
than perhaps any other society in all of human history to the overt tyranny
of government.
It may well be that our differences to William Wallace are those very things
that help to further inspire our economic, political and social demise.
It may be that our level of complacency has evolved to such an extend that
we allow whatever portion of our incomes taken by government to serve as
ransom for our families and our lifestyles, in order to avoid the consequences
of taking responsibility for ourselves; consequences that could involve
rebelliousness for our own well-beings and that of our families.
We have, in terms of material things, a lot to lose relative to William
Wallace, but not to fear. If life is, indeed, the imitator of art, the encroachments
of our own ignoble oppressors will continue at its present exponential rate
and we will arrive at the same place that Wallace did. We too, will have
nothing left to lose.
Posted 1997
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