"To those who scare peace-loving people with phantoms of lost liberty, my message is this: Your tactics only aid terrorists — for they erode our national unity and diminish our resolve."
— John Ashcroft, Testifying before the Senate Judiciary Committee, Dec. 6.
It was Christmastime again in the land of the free and the home of the brave — a time when all the good citizens came together to celebrate another year under their beloved Constitution — but mean old Mr. Ashcroft would have none of it. "Inalienable rights? Bah! Humbug!" he would declare. "You take your Constitution your way, and I'll take it mine. No amendments for me but the Second!"
That Christmas Eve, old Ashcroft was fast asleep, visions of military tribunals dancing in his head. Suddenly, he was woken by an infernal groan. Before him stood the most frightful spirit, one whose visage he could hardly make out. "Who are you?" he queried fearfully.
"In life, I was your hero, Joseph McCarthy," the spirit said. "Now I am a cursed soul from the pits of hell, Ashcroft, burning for my sins against the Constitution. I have come to warn you that tonight you will be visited by three spirits — the phantom of lost liberty past, the phantom of lost liberty present and the phantom of lost liberty future. You must heed their warning, Ashcroft, lest your fate soon be like mine."
With that, the spirit disappeared, and Ashcroft, convinced that he had been dreaming, fell fast asleep once more. Soon, however, he awoke to find himself not in his bedroom but in a compound lined by a barbed-wire fence. Nearby, countless families were exiting a train, herded by armed guards into the menacing enclosure.
"Where am I?" he asked aloud.
"You're in an internment camp, Ashcroft," responded a ghostly figure standing next to him. "It's 1942. These are just a few of the 120,000 Japanese Americans — two-thirds of them citizens — who lost their freedom in a previous era of wartime xenophobia."
"Oh, vile phantom of lost liberty past!" Ashcroft cried. "Take me away from here."
With that, Ashcroft found himself standing in a long hallway lined with prison cells. In the cell before him sat a single young man, and outside the cell was yet another ghostly figure.
"This, Ashcroft, is Salam El Zaatari," the spirit said, "a Lebanese art student who has been held in solitary confinement for six weeks after airport security found an artist's knife in his carry-on case. There are hundreds of other innocent Muslims in this cell block, Ashcroft, all being held without trial, and all thanks to you."
"Cursed phantom of lost liberty present, I shall . . ."
But before Ashcroft could finish his sentence, he found himself in his own den, admiring his cabinet filled with hunting rifles. Suddenly, a team of jackbooted thugs burst into the room and began carrying the guns away.
"Lord in heaven, no!" Ashcroft wailed. "Who are you, and what are you doing with my darling guns?"
A rather spectral thug turned to address the now-trembling Attorney General. "We are the phantoms of lost liberty future. Remember, Ashcroft, that as soon as one individual loses his Constitutional protections, all of our rights are at risk. Today, resident aliens can be imprisoned without due process of law. Soon, even American citizens will lose their civil liberties, including your beloved right to bear arms."
With that, Ashcroft found himself back in his own bed, covered in sweat. Immediately, he ran to the federal penitentiary and threw open the cells of the foreigners being held there without cause.
"You're free!" he cried. "Free, and endowed by your creator with the same inalienable rights as all other men! Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! And a joyous Ramadan to you all!"
Salam El Zaatari rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Surely this was not the same John Ashcroft that had condemned him to solitary confinement. "Allah bless us," Salam whispered, "every one." Michael Frazer is a politics graduate student from Riverdale, N.Y. He can be reached at mfrazer@princeton.edu.
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