Theodore Roosevelt was the first, at least I believe he was the first, to coin the term [i] in the arena [/i]as it relates to being involved in self-governance. That was actually the subtitle of his famous speech, Citizenship in a Republic, delivered in Paris, France in 1910. [i]In the arena [/i]was also the name of President Nixon's memoirs (a later memoir written in the 1980s or early 1990s). I've read both Roosevelt's speech and Nixon's book.
A lot of people strive to be [i]In the arena[/i], and some even make it onto the field of play. And people in the arena aren't necessarily limited to just those who get elected, per se. Just as you don't see the trainers and the coaches on the field of play at a football game, they're vital, nonetheless, to advance their preferred agenda. Some are very good at what they do; they're superstars; they make things happen. Others, however, even though they make it onto the field of play, just wallow in the pettiness and rhetoric. They seem to soak-up the basking in the spotlight, but they're really no more than insignificant, third-string players. They don't want to be in the arena to get bold things done, but rather for the sake of just being there. I look to the former as the ones who drive the engine of civic progress, even though I may disagree with some of them; but I totally dismiss the latter as being a total drag on that progress. I think so many people get so wrapped up in the pettiness and the rhetoric, that they fail to notice the difference between the two.
Personally, I think I consider myself on the bench, waiting for my chance (or the courage) to enter the field of play, to enter into the arena. In the meantime, the best I can do is to understand -- and I mean really understand -- and/or support those who have put themselves there so as to advance my version of what it means to be a citizen in a republic. Most people, however, at least in my estimation, are all but mere spectators. They're rooting for one side or the other, always crying foul when a call doesn't go their way, and cheering their team when one does. They don't understand the rules, or the strategy, or the game plan, or the reasons, nor do they really care to. They're just spectators. And listening to the evening news and reading the newspapers is only part of the spectator sport.
What can one do to be in the arena, or close to it, instead of in the stands merely watching and cheering for one side or the other? If I can't be on the field of play, I want to be around those who are. And even before such people make it to the arena, they're positioning themselves to get there, and educating themselves so they can make a difference when they finally do make it there. I make it a point to be involved in activities that puts me around such people. I met Bill Owens, for example, before he became Colorado's Governor Owens. I've had cocktails with Tom Tancredo before he became Congressman Tancredo. I once had a thirty minute conversation with Jack Kemp. I make a point to listen, in person, to every candidate for major office. I've listened to Ross Perot, Steve Forbes, Bob Dole, Bill Clinton, George Bush, and Al Gore when they were running for office. I've attended talks given by Gerald Ford, Rudy Giuliani, Dick Lamm, and many more. I want to hear what people have to say, not what other spectators say what they say. It's said that all people see things through the prism of their own bias and experiences. So I don't want to hear what a spectator saw through his prism. And reporters certainly have their own prism.
And if I can't be around those who are in the arena, up close and personal, I want to listen to what they say, and read what they write, and not through anyone else's prism. If I want to know what's going on in Iraq, for example, although I'm not in that arena of play, I want to hear from the ones who are. And I don't mean other spectators, or just engage in that spectator sport, but rather people involved in driving that particular engine of progress. I can't guess how many times I've suggested to people around here that they should read the book written by Lt. General Michael DeLong. He knows much better than Dan Rather, et al, what's going on in Iraq. General DeLong is in the arena; he knows about the weapons of mass destruction, and has some interesting insight as to their whereabouts. No one who's read that book would ever say that "Bush lied".
I'm currently reading, and am almost finished with, [i]My Year in Iraq[/i] by Paul Bremer. Interestingly enough, before I bought the book, I had read a New York Times review of it, which used it to further criticize the Bush administration and the war in Iraq. I now wonder if we read the same book! The "cut and pasted" excerpts used to advance a view that's different than what Mr. Bremer wrote is amazing! The spectators will read the New York Times reviews, and base their opinions on that review. Being in the arena, at least getting as close as possible, requires reading the book for one's self.
Read Paul Bremmer's book to learn about the progress being made in Iraq, not Nina Totenberg's report on her version of it. Read General DeLong's book before you criticize someone based on yet another spectator's version. Read Rudy Giuliani's book, Leadership. How many newspaper articles have you read that were written by mere spectator -- reporters, in this case? Thousands, I would guess. And we now know your opinion of such reporters. How many books have you read written by people in the arena? I won't attempt to guess, but not many read any at all, because they're mere spectators -- and those spectators claim to have the right answers.
You may not be receptive to taking advice from a person who has, in many ways, become your staunchest critic. But I'll offer it anyway. The first is to get into the arena. No further explanation is required. The second bit of advice is to get some yeast. What? Get some yeast? What does that mean, you might ask?
You and I share many of the same ideals, perhaps to a different degree, but with a similar basis in protecting the importance of individual liberty. And one's ideals might be analogous to a loaf of bread; one prefers white bread, while another prefers wheat. (You and I are both wheat bread, by the way.) But while the basic ingredient in that bread is different, the commonality is a bit of yeast to make it rise. So while the flour might be considered the basic principle, the yeast is what makes it rise within today's reality.
Without the yeast, the bread will not rise, but rather remain flat and unappetizing. You need to add some yeast -- a dose of reality. If not, you'll not only drive yourself batty, but you'll never be involved in what's going on in the arena. I have some pretty firm libertarian principles, but I'll never waste my efforts with the Libertarian Party. That's not realistic; they don't have the yeast. Instead I elect to advance my libertarian principles recognizing the realities of today, which is our firmly entrenched two-party system. A person has a much better chance, a movement has a much better chance, of changing the Republican Party from within, for example, than to try to get the outsider Libertarian Party any semblance of a voice. Not only is the Libertarian Party not in the arena, they can't even get into the stadium.
I may not be in the arena (at least not yet), but I'm closer than most mere spectators. And I always have my bag of yeast, so that my principles might rise a little closer to the top.
From Citizenship in a Republic: The Man in the Arena
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Shame on the man of cultivated taste who permits refinement to develop into fastidiousness that unfits him for doing the rough work of a workaday world. Among the free peoples who govern themselves there is but a small field of usefulness open for the men of cloistered life who shrink from contact with their fellows. Still less room is there for those who deride of slight what is done by those who actually bear the brunt of the day; nor yet for those others who always profess that they would like to take action, if only the conditions of life were not exactly what they actually are. The man who does nothing cuts the same sordid figure in the pages of history, whether he be a cynic, or fop, or voluptuary. There is little use for the being whose tepid soul knows nothing of great and generous emotion, of the high pride, the stern belief, the lofty enthusiasm, of the men who quell the storm and ride the thunder. Well for these men if they succeed; well also, though not so well, if they fail, given only that they have nobly ventured, and have put forth all their heart and strength. It is war-worn Hotspur, spent with hard fighting, he of the many errors and valiant end, over whose memory we love to linger, not over the memory of the young lord who "but for the vile guns would have been a valiant soldier."
(Yahoo for the whole speech if you're interested ..... I don't use Google.)
