Imagine the state police identified an area where a high level of
drug-smuggling was being committed. So they sent a police cruiser in, part of a
unit effective enough to really make the dealers angry.
One day, the cruiser broke down in the middle of the street. Hearing
about it, the dealers got together, went out, dragged the officers from the car
and shot one. Then they torched the car.
If you read that story in real life, you might be completely horrified at that kind of behavior. Yet, that’s almost exactly what the Burning of the HMS Gaspée was (I’m only reducing the scale).
Regardless of your opinion
of the Navigation Acts, Rhode Islanders actively engaged in criminal activity.
You can justify that criminal activity by saying the law itself was unjust, but
at the end of the day, plenty of Rhode Islanders were still breaking a law.
All of this isn’t to say
shame on Rhode Island
for celebrating the end of the Gaspée. It’s actually to say that it’s a great thing. Gaspée continues
to have lessons today to how Rhode Islanders (and Americans) go about resisting
unjust laws.
Ideally, we should agree
that violence isn’t the solution. We want no police officers shot, no cruisers
burned.
That it came to that should be considered something that was specific
to the time. But the idea that we can be so antagonistic to an institution like
the British customs service should demonstrate to us a solution: that we can,
and should, ignore unjust power structures.
Taking the historical view, this wasn’t something that was simply
Rhode Island-specific. It wasn’t even specific to the Thirteen Colonies. Across
the Americas
in the 18th Century, European powers were reaching out and enacting a series of
administrative reforms designed to increase control over their colonies.
In the case of Spain ,
they actually reduced taxes across the board in the colonies, but because the
new Spanish administrators were so much more competent at their jobs, revenues
increased. This sort of thing resulted in very angry colonies, from Maine to Buenos
Aires .
Which tells us a lot.
There are plenty of laws today that if enforced broadly would cause an uproar.
Drug laws are the best
example. We can already say that they are being enforced, just very
case-specifically (our “highly-policed communities”), which tend to be poor and
non-white. And even with that enforcement 42% of Americans have
admitted to smoking pot. Only New Zealand
comes close; the Netherlands
has a percentage half that and it’s legal there.
If our drug policy
extended beyond our highly-policed communities and into the suburbs and rural
areas, the uproar would be deafening.
It’s good that we’ve
passed both dispensaries, and passed decriminalization (though the governor
still needs to sign it). But ultimately, these are half-measures. Anything less
than legalization, regulation, and taxation is a farce.
We’re seeing the same
problems that led to the Gaspée Affair take place in microcosm today:
local authorities are lax on enforcement, or passing laws counter to central
government policy. Americans have signaled they are ready for a conversation
about drug policy. But it’s delusional if we don’t believe that conversation
must include space for legalization.
The Gaspée Affair
took place when the British were unwilling to have a conversation about what it
meant to be a British citizen and subject, and whether that conversation was a
two-way street or not. Ultimately, they found out that when the conversation
ended, action began.
I’ve always thought that as Rhode
Island , we have a difficult Revolutionary War
history. Beginning with a violent murder in 1772, Newport occupied with a siege culminating in
an exposure of the difficulties of French and American cooperation, and
ultimately having to be forced in accepting the United States Constitution by
the threat of being taxed as a foreign nation. But that’s not really it.
The Gaspée and its
demise should be a symbol of Rhode
Island ’s inherent nature to dissent. That we should
embrace this is very important. We should always dissent. We should encourage
dissension.
Whether it’s Roger
Williams, or Thomas Dorr, or more modernly Jessica Alqhuist, our ability to
argue for new ideas and against establishment ones is our ultimate strength.
That will be unpopular. It will be unpopular even among Rhode Islanders. But
that’s okay. You dissent not because you believe in the popularity of your
ideas, but because you believe you are right.
Which is why Gaspee Days is the most Rhode Island holiday that we celebrate.