Lessons From Tripoli

History upholds our third President as having been a standup kind of guy. One who had stood up for his convictions against those who were willing to continue to struggle under British oppression in the Continental Congress. But did you know that Thomas Jefferson also stood up against the maritime bullies of his day during his term as President, when it had become accepted over the course of the previous decade to pay tribute to the Barbary Coast pirates rather than risk enslavement aboard their ships, in the pre-Marines days of our nation's early history?

According to Wikipedia, "Jefferson's own Democratic-Republicans and anti-navalists believed that the future of the country lay in westward expansion, with Atlantic trade threatening to siphon money and energy away from the new nation, to be spent on wars in the Old World.[22] During the divisive 1800 presidential election, Thomas Jefferson defeated incumbent President John Adams. Jefferson was sworn into office on March 4, 1801. The third President believed military force, rather than endless tributes, would be needed to resolve the Tripoli crisis."

Rather than do what by then had become common practice, that is, capitulate to the bullies, he stood to fight them. And eventually won.

It was during that war that the United States flag was raised in victory on foreign soil for the first time, and by virtue of that war that the Marine corps was born, part of whose hymn pays tribute to our victory in that conflict.

Lesson learned: If you continue to bend to a bully's demands, you cannot stand for freedom.

That came up in conversation just last Thursday with one of my former coleaders as my husband and I sipped coffee with him on our back deck. He described a discussion he'd had with a left-leaning individual who had yet to demonstrate that he was even willing to listen to facts that refuted his emotionally-based opinions, yet was continually demanding "compromise" on our friend's part, to accept and embrace what truth did not support, to accommodate his beliefs and to further "unity" with him. Our friend's response was that, honestly, he couldn't see any ground on which he could agree with him, on which they might establish a foundation for compromise. They had reached the point at which all they could do was agree to disagree and let the chips fall where they may. And, indeed, it's a point at which I believe we have all arrived. Because, after all, in a spiritual war, which clearly we are in, on what grounds can good find to compromise with evil?

Did Jesus compromise with the money-changers in the temple, and say, I'll tell you what. You can set up shop here on weekdays only? Or when he responded to whether taxes should be paid, did He say, "Render to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's, except for ...."? If we truly believe that our freedoms come inherently from God as a gift from Him, and that His word is the truth, then what room does that leave us for compromising on either?

There comes a time when faced with making a compromise with a bully, one's only option is to stand against them, and stand up for what's true and what's right.

It's a lesson we've found similarly embodied of late in another Tripoli: our fifth (and final!) cat.

When we renamed the former "Zona" Tripoli, it was to allude to her status as a tripod (missing one hind leg from some trauma as a stray, possibly from a dog or a bullet) while paying homage to her sweet nature by incorporating the first two syllables of the name of the sugary-sweet fictional character Pollyanna. Little did we know how reminiscent of a fighting spirit her name would be, as well.

Of our other four cats, despite being sweetly loving with us, at 14 lbs., our white Turkish Van-mix Buster is undeniably a bully when it comes to his relationship with the rest of our crew. Both he and Chipper are alpha cats. But Chipper will scamper away from Buster and acquiesce to whatever Buster demands, even as he occasionally braves a timid swat at Buster's head, in a feeble effort to reclaim some measure of dignity. But Buster knows it's all a bluff and takes no prisoners in showing who's really in charge. All it takes is a look from Buster to get Chipper to stop and recoil from a safe distance behind a chair across the room. That's when he's lucky. Other times, Buster lights into him with every fiber of his body, charging him and pinning him beneath his weight, teeth and claws fully engaged, before Chipper can even find his footing. (Don't let this get around, but we actually refer to Buster as our "white supremacist"!)

Such were the dynamics into which we were introducing our newest addition, even with one leg short (actually, completely missing, at the hip.) Understandably with justifiable concern.

Concerns that turned out to be wholly unfounded, as we discovered in less than four days. It was a confrontation that was a study in bravery like we'd never seen, no less so than in the battle of her namesake.

It was time to introduce Tripoli to her new brothers and sister. With each gutteral growl beneath their breath, we'd softly cajole with platitudes any who expressed an objection to having to accept a newcomer into their well-ordered domain. Prissy abjectly ignored her. Tucker vehemently spat at her but then left her alone. Chipper aggressively approached her but not viciously, seemingly hoping to become friends (which they now are, as is she with Tucker). All that remained was Buster.

Crouching low and menacingly, he began to stalk towards her with head down, eyes fixed on hers, a low growl emanating from his throat.

Yet there she sat, still, composed and confident, all three legs planted firmly on the floor. Staring him down. Unmoving. Even at mere inches away.

Buster didn't know what to make of her. So he raised a paw to strike, claws extended.

Her response was swift and precisely on target. She landed a right hook to his cheek with claws unsheathed, calmly standing her ground without batting an eye. Buster leaped back, totally caught off-guard by this lopsided pipsqueak less than a third his size actually standing up to him. He has since then regarded her warily whenever she enters the room. If he got remotely close to her, at first she'd issue a warning growl (now it's not even necessary), her message unmistakable: I'm here, I have a right to be here, and you'd just better get used to it. Because, I've been around enough to know how to handle bullies like you. And, buddy, I can take you on. Even with three legs.

Wisdom from the mouth of babes. Even if they are fur-covered ones.

It's a lesson we need to emulate in our encounters, as well. As we face those who expect and insist upon our compromising our values, beliefs, and freedoms to their unfounded distortions, myths, and oppression, let us take our instruction from both Tripoli's and, especially, from God, the author of all of our freedoms and of the Book in which the phrase "Fear not" is repeated 366 times: Stand tall. Stand boldly. Fight for your place. Stand against tyranny. And never back down.