The New Colossus
By Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Emma Lazarus wrote this universally recognized sonnet in 1883, as part of a fundraising effort for a pedestal to secure the Statue of Liberty. The poem was engraved on a bronze plaque and affixed to the lower level of the statue’s pedestal in 1903, sixteen years after Emma Lazarus died. If the words describe a promise not always kept, they do nevertheless, represent a noble aspiration.
Given the current state of affairs in my home country, with the welcome mat having been tossed onto the refuse heap, I knew, before she was officially added to the travel itinerary, that a visit to Lady Liberty would be unsettling. I guess I didn’t realize the degree to which it would be heartbreaking.
It’s a drizzly, gray Manhattan morning, not unlike the day when the Statue of Liberty was dedicated. From Battery Park, the peak of the soaring Freedom Tower (officially One World Trade Center) is shrouded in fog and mist. It’s not an ideal day to visit the Statue of Liberty – but here we are.
We’ve been in New York for nearly a week and during our entire visit the weather has been capricious, everything from sunny and clear to downpours and thunder storms, so rescheduling would be a gamble. Travel during the shoulder season avoids the tourist hordes but the dark cloud to the silver lining is, well, dark clouds – full of rain.
During our last trip to New York we visited Ellis Island and skipped the Statue of Liberty. This time we’re visiting the statue. If we were visiting during what I often refer to as “the before times,” (the days before MAGA) I know that I would feel a swell of pride in that iconic symbol of acceptance and commonwealth. Today, as the boat churns and tosses through the chop of New York Harbor, and the Manhattan skyline becomes an apparition behind the dreary mist, I have misgivings.
Both the sonnet and The Lady are odes to a compassionate and a just America, an America as a haven for the oppressed, the poor, and the unwanted, a place of justice, hope and new beginnings. That has too often not been the case. America has a history of both upholding its ideals and struggling with them. At various times in history, those seeking new lives in the “land of opportunity” or those “yearning to breathe free,” have been met with the “No Vacancy” sign. For some, breathing free has – both figuratively and literally – been a struggle.
During the very decade when Ms. Lazarus wrote The Great Colossus, and The Statue of Liberty was dedicated, the ideals of both the sonnet and the statue were burdened by some inconvenient ironies.
As Ms. Lazarus, a Jew, was composing The New Colossus, systemic discrimination against Jews was on the rise. As a woman, Ms. Lazarus would never enjoy the right to vote.
In 1884, a year after The New Colossus was written, and two years before the dedication of the statue, the Chinese Exclusion Act was passed in response to a growing, nationwide anti-Chinese sentiment. By the mid-1880s, Reconstruction had long ended, and Jim Crow was on the rise.
The boat docks at Liberty Island. The engine gurgles, the choppy water slaps boat and dock, gulls caw as they swoop for scraps dropped by tourists, and the people, rush to exit the boat, bumping into each other as they lose their balance with the tossing of the boat. It’s as if Lady Liberty is about to leave on a date. She’s been there for over a century folks, she’s not going anywhere.
Then again, given the tendency of the current president to get a wild hair and tear down some random national monument she may be here today and so much scrap tomorrow. The ideals she represents certainly aren’t in favor with the current powers that be. And that old poem? A bit “woke,” don’t you think?
Disembarked, our first stop is the Statue of Liberty Museum.
The National Park Service Website describes the Statue of Liberty Museum as a place that tells “the statue’s history in thought-provoking ways. Each gallery is designed to inspire visitors.”
We start in the Immersive Theater to watch a series of short videos narrated by broadcast journalist Diane Sawyer. According to the website, the presentation sheds “light on the sweeping story of the Statue of Liberty and the ideals it represents.”
All of this is true. It’s a beautiful and moving presentation, but I’m watching it through welled tears because I know that before the eyes of a disbelieving world, “the sweeping story” is being rewritten and the “ideals” are being repudiated. As I watch, I have to wonder how long it will take before Secretary of the Interior, and Trump acolyte, Doug Burgum will find it all to be too DEI-ish and order those pesky parts about “ideals” edited out.
Will Stephen Miller demand that the people of color presented in the films be replaced by white South Africans?
As we leave the small theatre I feel emotionally spent (later, Cora will tell me that she was crying while she watched the videos).
The museum itself is filled with displays explaining the Statue of Liberty’s timeline; from inspiration to the planning and engineering, to the construction, to the statue’s dedication, and finally to it’s current popularity as an attraction.
At the end, we come to an interactive feature in which visitors take selfies of themselves while choosing among traditional American rights and values that are most important to them. Their images will appear on an adjacent screen, along with the values that they chose.
I’m drawn to an array of banners hanging from the ceiling that extole ideals that were put forth in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution; timeless ideals, some dating back to the early 13th century and the Magna Carta – rule of law, independence, suffrage, opportunity, and equality.
I have to shake my head as I pass beneath those banners. The president and his acolytes use these basic human rights as talking points, even as they labor to deny freedom loving people those self-same rights.
Rule of law? It doesn’t thrive among thieves.
It’s airport style security getting into the pedestal of the Statue – no backpacks, open your camera bags and purses for inspection, and empty your pockets right down to the lint balls. The unhappy guy in charge of the inspection station barks out orders. His breakfast bacon must’ve been a little too crispy for his liking this morning.
Get out of one line and into the next as, inside the base, the elevator to the pedestal only takes a few people at a time. In contrast to the security guy, the Park Ranger operating the elevator is cheery and informative during the short ride up to the pedestal. By the time we get to the lobby of the pedestal the rain has started to pour down. While Cora stays inside the dry crowded lobby I take a brief, rain soaked walk around the perimeter of the pedestal.
Back outside, we walk around to the front of the statue, and wait under our umbrellas for the rain to let up. Finally, a break, and a sudden rush among the tourists to take selfies with the statue or the cloud shrouded skyline as backdrops. Many visitors are sporting green foam Liberty crowns. Lost in my own gloom, I feel detached from the joyous crowd. I want to stay and capture some decent photos but I’d also just as soon leave and call it a wash.
One man wearing a sweatsuit and a foam crown preens and poses before his phone. He stops, looks at his work, and does it all over again. Every now and then he asks a visitor to take his picture – more poses, more preening. Another video – another visitor – more photos; repeat as unnecessary. As we near the man he notices me and asks me to take his picture. I kindly oblige and take a half dozen or so photos, hand him back his phone, and he wanders around the crowd looking for his next victim.
During the boat ride back to Manhattan we’re seated next to a young couple visiting from Vienna. It’s a pleasant conversation. We tell them how much we loved their city during our visit two years ago. The woman tells Cora that she wants a full day of walking and sightseeing, and complains that her husband likes more relaxation time. They’re the inverse of Cora and I. Once back in Manhattan she’ll head for the hotel and, rain or shine, I’ll go out and explore.
The boat docks and before we head to the exit we say our goodbyes to the Austrian couple. As I shake hands with the man I offer an apology for the behavior of our president. It’s something that’s become a standard part of our interactions when we’re abroad or when we meet visitors from abroad. The man thanks me and responds kindly, “Thank you. I understand.”
Back home, nearly a month later, I still reflect on my somber mood that day. Looking back on it I sometimes feel as if we wasted half a day when we could’ve been doing something else. Maybe it was the weather. More likely it was the stark paradox. I have to wonder if I was the only one there who realized the glaring contradictions.
La Liberté éclairant le monde
It’s the French, for the Statue of Liberty’s official name – Liberty Enlightening the World
The statue is rife with symbolism.
In her left hand, Lady Liberty holds a tablet that bears, in Roman numerals, the date, July 4th 1776 – the day in which the Declaration of Independence was adopted by Congress, and the Thirteen Colonies rejected the idea of autocratic rule.
In her right hand, she bears the torch, symbolizing enlightenment.
The broken shackles at her feet represent the abolition of slavery.
Her raised right heel symbolizes progress; the march ever forward towards enlightenment and justice.
And yet, here we are, in the midst of the contradiction – the hypocrisy.
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free . . .”
“Go home! Get out! We know our country is better than yours,” she screamed. “That’s because we filled it with our work ethic, culture, and values. You being here only dilutes it for us. Those who built it, and live it. And half of you people, more than half of you, won’t assimilate. We don’t want you. We don’t care if you’re offended. Get out. Go home. Go back to fucking Haiti . . . They don’t want to live like Americans live.” ~ Megyn Kelly’s shrieking tirade aimed at Haitians legally residing in the United States, following a Supreme Court ruling denying Temporary Protected Status to certain immigrant groups.
“The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
“America’s doors are closed fully to asylum seekers. We’ve set up agreements where if you want asylum, then we will find a country elsewhere in the world for you to go. It’s a very simple, very elegant, very complete solution . . .” ~ White House Deputy Chief of Staff, Stephen Miller.
“A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome . . .”
“They contribute nothing. I don’t want them in our country. Their country is no good for a reason. Your country stinks and we don’t want them in our country.” ~ Remarks directed at Somalis in America by President of the United States, Donald John Trump in December of 2025 .
The light of Lady Liberty’s torch has been dimmed. That right foot, symbolizing a forward march, has been stayed.
The promises expressed in America’s cherished and celebrated documents and symbols have, throughout a troubled and conflicted history, been hits and misses. But the troubles and the stumbles shouldn’t diminish the ambitions. It’s better to hold onto those ideals and to work towards them with honest intentions rather to repudiate them or to hypocritically and deceitfully co-opt them.
My mother’s first American vision from the ship MS Saturnia was the Statue of Liberty. World War II had just ended and she was arriving at her new home with her American serviceman husband. Until the day she died, mom was fiercly patriotic. The same is true of my wife Corazon, who came to America in 1979. That’s not uncommon among immigrants to America. Their belief remains unshaken when the native born waver. Whenever I’ve chastised the nation of my birth, Corazon has always defended her adopted home, insisting, “I still believe in America.”
Today she says, “Trump ruined America.”
The broken shackles at Lady Liberty’s feet are being replaced by new ones. The new manacles, injustice, racism, and the denial of political and human rights are being forged by a profligate and wicked ring, using the hammer of greed, the tongs of autocracy and the fires of corruption.
It’s hard to square the symbolism of the Statue of Liberty with what is happening in America today. I think what I’ll remember most about that short visit to Liberty Island is gazing up at the statue, squinting through the rain, and feeling lost. What a waste, I thought. Two hundred and fifty years of hard fought progress, followed by disappointment, more struggles and more gains, and then all of it thrown away as so much trash by a corrupt, self-dealing reprobate and his pathetic rabble of cowards and sycophants. All in just a decade.
Epilogue
During his final lucid years, my father and I would sometimes meet up at Borel’s, a restaurant in San Mateo near the family home. We would sip our three dry martinis, cut into our bloody steaks, and agree that Ronald Reagan was, in dad’s oft spoken words, “a goddamned son of a bitch.”
Well, you know what they say about a broken clock – correct twice a day. Recently I was digging into some archives of speeches and I came across Ronald Reagan’s final speech as president, delivered on January 19, 1989. Credit where it’s due, the speech was written by Peggy Noonan for a Medal of Freedom presentation. It captures beautifully the ideals symbolized by the Statue of Liberty.
“A man wrote me and said: “You can go to live in France, but you cannot become a Frenchman. You can go to live in Germany or Turkey or Japan, but you cannot become a German, a Turk, or a Japanese. But anyone, from any corner of the Earth, can come to live in America and become an American.”
Yes, the torch of Lady Liberty symbolizes our freedom and represents our heritage, the compact with our parents, our grandparents, and our ancestors. It is that lady who gives us our great and special place in the world. For it’s the great life force of each generation of new Americans that guarantees that America’s triumph shall continue unsurpassed into the next century and beyond. Other countries may seek to compete with us; but in one vital area, as a beacon of freedom and opportunity that draws the people of the world, no country on Earth comes close.
This, I believe, is one of the most important sources of America’s greatness. We lead the world because, unique among nations, we draw our people — our strength — from every country and every corner of the world. And by doing so we continuously renew and enrich our nation. While other countries cling to the stale past, here in America we breathe life into dreams. We create the future, and the world follows us into tomorrow. Thanks to each wave of new arrivals to this land of opportunity, we’re a nation forever young, forever bursting with energy and new ideas, and always on the cutting edge, always leading the world to the next frontier. This quality is vital to our future as a nation. If we ever closed the door to new Americans, our leadership in the world would soon be lost.
A number of years ago, an American student traveling in Europe took an East German ship across the Baltic Sea. One of the ship’s crewmembers from East Germany, a man in his sixties, struck up a conversation with the American student. After a while the student asked the man how he had learned such good English. And the man explained that he had once lived in America. He said that for over a year he had worked as a farmer in Oklahoma and California, that he had planted tomatoes and picked ripe melons. It was, the man said, the happiest time of his life. Well, the student, who had seen the awful conditions behind the Iron Curtain, blurted out the question, Well, why did you ever leave?'' I had to,” he said, “the war ended.” The man had been in America as a German prisoner of war.
Now, I don’t tell this story to make the case for former POW’s. Instead, I tell this story just to remind you of the magical, intoxicating power of America. We may sometimes forget it, but others do not. Even a man from a country at war with the United States, while held here as a prisoner, could fall in love with us. Those who become American citizens love this country even more. And that’s why the Statue of Liberty lifts her lamp to welcome them to the golden door.“
It is bold men and women, yearning for freedom and opportunity, who leave their homelands and come to a new country to start their lives over. They believe in the American dream. And over and over, they make it come true for themselves, for their children, and for others. They give more than they receive. They labor and succeed. And often they are entrepreneurs. But their greatest contribution is more than economic, because they understand in a special way how glorious it is to be an American. They renew our pride and gratitude in the United States of America, the greatest, freest nation in the world — the last, best hope of man on Earth.”
There’s work to be done to keep her light from going dark.
Paul, this was a beautiful but hard read. We are no longer a nation that leads. We are a nation whose people the world cries for. Someday, but not probably in my lifetime, we will return to a pre-Trump status. I just keep thinking what have the people done to allow him the presidency again.
LikeLike