The time of my life

As I write I am watching what the commentator tells us is the opening of the 29th Olympiad of the "Modern Era." The "modern" era. Modern Times, as the historian Paul Johnson points out in his excellent book of the same name, have been stained repeatedly by the treacherous slope of moral relativism. From the genocide of the Stalinist era to the Final Solution to the extermination efforts in Rwanda and the Sudan we have seen wrong portrayed as right; a world where any conduct can be justified; where there is no wrong and there is no right. And where too much evil is tolerated by too many for far too long.

Well, as the august head of the International Olympic Committee delivered his "one world, one dream, that is what we are tonight" speech, I am afraid my mind drifted back to that one man; that one man standing in front of that one tank in Tiananmen Square. For those who might not remember, or perhaps were not even born at the time, a column of Chinese army tanks attempting to break up demonstrations for basic freedoms was stopped by a single man standing in front of the lead tank. As the tank would turn to one side or the other the man would move to reposition himself straight in the tank's path. This just one day after tanks had crushed many under their treads. That one man's act of courage symbolized the dream of ordinary Chinese: to have freedoms we in the United States tend to take for granted.

Nearly 20 years later that one dream has not been realized. Not even close. Dissident bloggers jailed. Internet access censored for foreign journalists. 300,000 video cameras watching for "trouble" in Beijing. Forty thousand villagers ready to fire rockets into the sky in an effort to prevent rain from landing in Beijing. All to ensure that the attention of the world remains on the extravaganza of color and light rather than what is happening behind the curtain.

The broadcast closed with the lyrics "this is the time; the time of my life." I hope they are wrong.