Félix Maradiaga is a democracy leader from Nicaragua. Many National Review readers are well-familiar with him. In the past several years, I have written about him and podcasted with him. From June 2021 to February 2023, he was in prison — in El Chipote, that special hell in Managua. I have talked with him at length about his ordeal. About the future, too. You can read about him in a piece I have today: “Angels and Demons.” Félix is an inspiring person.
On February 9, Daniel Ortega, the Nicaraguan dictator, released 222 political prisoners. He did not do this out of the goodness of his heart. He did it because he felt he had to — the prisoners were more trouble than they were worth. The U.S. government had put heavy pressure on the Ortega regime, through sanctions and other measures.
That day — February 9 — officials at El Chipote told prisoners to put on civilian clothes. Then they put the prisoners on a bus, whose windows were covered in black cloth. The prisoners were handcuffed and made to keep their heads down. Where were they going? Eventually, they arrived at the Managua airport. They saw before them a team of American diplomats. And then they knew.
They were exiled to the United States. They did not want to be exiled — but they were sent on a plane to the United States and stripped of their citizenship. The prisoners’ emotions were a jumble. Here is an excerpt from my piece:
The plane was a charter from Omni Air Transport. When it took off, the prisoners — now ex-prisoners — sang the national anthem. And prayed. The moment was “bittersweet,” says Maradiaga. Sweet, because they were out of prison. Bitter, because it would be some time before they were allowed to return to their homeland. (If ever?) . . .
On the plane, a U.S. diplomat spoke over the public-address system. (She spoke in Spanish.) She said — in Maradiaga’s paraphrase — “We know that you have been through hard things. You are going to the United States. We are going to make it as soft a landing as possible for you. The American government is your friend, and we are here to support you.”
The emotion of this, we can only imagine. Says Maradiaga, “I cannot find the right words to describe that experience.”
Now I will get to the point of my post here. There is a lot wrong with the U.S. government, obviously, as there is a lot wrong with America. (We are a democracy. Our government reflects us.) But there is a lot right with us, too. Many people spend full time bashing the U.S. government, even demonizing it. And spinning conspiracies about it: the “Deep State” and all that. But the U.S. government has a lot of good people, doing a lot of good. Earnest people, working for a better country and world.
Should that be necessary to say? Maybe not, but I say it nonetheless.
When Félix told me about the U.S. diplomat on the plane, I was moved — and maybe even a little proud. A lot of people around the world look to America for hope. They think America stands for decency — for freedom, democracy, human rights. “We hold these truths to be self-evident . . .”
This is fine with plenty of Americans. And with plenty of other Americans — not so fine.
I often quote the first George Bush, accepting the Republican presidential nomination in 1988. Speaking of his opponent in the general election — fairly or not — Bush said, “He sees America as another pleasant country on the U.N. roll call, somewhere between Albania and Zimbabwe. And I see America as the leader — a unique nation with a special role in the world.”
A lot of Americans gag on that. Some accept it. Some do a little of each, depending (which is perfectly understandable).
Over the past year, I have often remembered Charles Krauthammer, and what he said when I asked, “Will Israel survive?” The survival of Israel, he said, depends on two things: the will of the people to survive and the support of the United States. Without either, the country is cooked. I believe the same of Ukraine. I think that Americans can take satisfaction in what we are doing for Ukraine — and for ourselves, out of national interest. We are enabling the Ukrainians to take a stand for their country and their freedom, against an invader that seeks to obliterate them.
Obviously, there is sharp division in our country over this.
Two and a half weeks ago, President Biden took a long, difficult, and secretive journey to Ukraine. I wrote,
In Kyiv, our president stood shoulder to shoulder with Zelensky and, by extension, the Ukrainians. To use an oft-trite phrase: I was proud to be an American. What letter the president had after his name — “R” or “D” — I didn’t care. I was proud to be an American.
Doesn’t sit well with some people (to put it mildly). No problem.
Being an opinion journalist, I spend a lot of time expressing opinions, and a lot of those opinions are aimed against the government: this or that actor, this or that decision. Shine, sweet freedom. Shine, sweet American democracy, with its First Amendment. Shine, big, raucous country.
The government commits a lot of blunders. (So do we private citizens.) The Afghan debacle in August 2021 made me feel something like shame — even shame itself. We are inconsistent in our foreign policy (and human affairs are impossible to conduct without inconsistency). We’re all for freedom, democracy, and human rights in Iran. In Saudi Arabia? Well . . .
Everyone has his favorite dictatorship. For some, it’s Cuba. For some, it’s Saudi Arabia. I know people — Americans — who think that Putin is the cat’s meow. Very few are the people who oppose dictatorship across the board.
But let me say again: In the matter of Nicaragua, the U.S. government has been impressive. When Félix Maradiaga told me what that lady had said on the plane — again, I was moved. I like to think, “Yeah, that’s us.” I know that many readers will know what I mean.