Some say we fight for democracy. But what if that fight is misplaced?

Some Hills are Worth Dying On

July 2, 1863, outside of Gettysburg. It’s the second day of the Battle of Gettysburg. The air is thick with smoke, the smell of gunpowder, sweat, and blood. Cannon fire rumbles in the distance, and the screams of wounded men echo through the Pennsylvania hills.

The Confederate Army, under General Robert E. Lee, is pressing hard against the Union lines. After a brutal first day of fighting, Lee has ordered an all-out assault on the Union flanks. He intended to break their defenses, separate the Union Army from Washington, and win the war right here and now.

Up on the far left of the Union line was a rocky little hill called Little Round Top. There, a professor-turned-soldier named Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain stood with his men, the 20th Maine Regiment.

Chamberlain wasn’t a career military officer. Just two years ago, he stood in front of a classroom at Bowdoin College in Maine. He taught students theology, philosophy, and the great ideas that shape nations.

He pursued truth. He was a man of character and conviction and believed in the union of states. He studied the moral arguments against slavery, knowing that America could not truly be free while slavery existed. He believed in liberty and justice.

After the war broke out, Chamberlain volunteered for the Union Army. In his letter to Maine Governor Israel Washburn, Chamberlain stated he had much to learn about military service, but continued that…

“I fear, this war, so costly of blood and treasure, will not cease until the men of the North are willing to leave good positions, and sacrifice the dearest personal interests, to rescue our Country from Desolation, and defend the National Existence against treachery at home and jeopardy abroad.”

So, volunteer he did. But in all his reading and studying, nothing had prepared him for this moment at Gettysburg.

He stood on this hill, gripped his sword, and stared down at the tree line below. The Confederate army was coming. If they broke through and took the hill, the Union line would collapse. And if that happened, Gettysburg could be lost. Maybe even the war.

The first wave hit them hard. The men of the 15th and 47th Alabama came crashing up the rocky slope, firing, shouting, bayonets flashing in the sunlight. The 20th Maine fired down into them, holding the line. The Confederates fell back, regrouped, and came again. Then again. Then again.

Chamberlain’s men fell exhausted, running low on ammunition, some down to their last few rounds.

Chamberlain looked down at his men. They were bloody, battered, barely standing. The logical thing to do would be to fall back. But there was nowhere to fall back to. If they broke, the enemy would sweep through them like a flood.

In war, everything is simple. But achieving even the simplest task is daunting. Fog, friction, risk, and the unknown close in on you. Exhausted, outnumbered, and wounded in the leg, Chamberlain could barely stand. His men had no more bullets. He did not know if help would arrive, and whether his unit would survive the day. He took a breath, steadied himself against the pain, and gave the order.

He shouted, “Bayonet!”

The 20th Maine roared to life. They charge.

Down the slope, straight into the enemy. The Confederates, themselves tired, expecting another volley of bullets, not cold steel, panic. The Union men slam into them, driving them back, pushing them down the hill. Other Union soldiers arriving at that moment on Little Round Top fire volleys behind the Confederates. The Confederate line buckles. Then it shatters. They turn and run.

And just like that, Little Round Top, Gettysburg, the Union Army, and the United States of America, held. Had Chamberlain’s men lost the hill, the Confederates may well have won the war. There would be no America.

Chamberlain had spent his life studying ideas, philosophies, great speeches. He had left a good position in Maine and sacrificed his dearest personal interests for the union of states.

He believed in liberty and justice.

For him, that hill was worth dying on.

And Some Hills Are Not Worth Dying On

It’s 1953, the final months of the Korean War. The war is dragging on. Behind closed doors, diplomats are hammering out the details of a ceasefire. The fighting, at least in theory, should be winding down. But on a barren, rocky outpost known as Pork Chop Hill, men are still killing and dying.

The hill itself is meaningless. It’s a craggy mound of earth, scarred by months of shelling, roughly shaped like a pork chop. No major roads lead to it. No towns depend on it. It has no real strategic value. And yet, it has become a battlefield. Two sides fight not to win the war but to influence the negotiations.

The first battle erupts in April 1953. US forces, led by Lieutenant Colonel William Kern, first hold the hill when the Chinese launch a massive assault. The fighting is brutal. Soldiers fight hand-to-hand, clawing for control of bunkers, trenches, and high ground. The Americans barely hold. Casualties pile up. When the shooting stops, the hill is still ours, but we’ve gained nothing.

Three months later, in July 1953, the Chinese come again. Thousands of soldiers charge up the slopes in waves. The battle turns into a meat grinder. The US high command debates whether we should keep defending this worthless hill, or we should let it go.

(The low rumble of retreating trucks.)

The decision comes down. We abandon the hill. The Chinese take it, planting their flag in the same dirt that had swallowed hundreds of lives over the past few months. And then, just a few weeks later, the war ends.

After the bloodshed and sacrifice, the final armistice line was drawn north of the hill. The Chinese didn’t even keep it. The battle, in the end, meant nothing.

This fact makes the battle even more tragic. Real breathing men fought and died over a worthless position. It was abandoned by the US, taken by the Chinese, and then given up anyway as part of the armistice agreement.

Pork Chop Hill is one of the clearest examples of fighting for the sake of fighting, with no real strategic or territorial gain for either side.

Some hills are worth dying on.

This wasn’t one of them.

History has made clear that some fights are necessary, and some are senseless. Today, we hear calls to ‘save democracy.’ We have to ask: What are we fighting for?

Save American Democracy!

Today, some call for Americans to “Save our Democracy.” This call has echoed for several years.

To be clear, this rallying cry is futile.

The word democracy appears in the US Constitution exactly zero times. That wasn’t an oversight. The founders didn’t build America on majority rule. They built it on structure, balance, and law. American government was designed to restrain power, not distribute it. The father of the Constitution, James Madison, even wrote a series of documents identifying why America is not a democracy.

In Federalist Paper No. 51, Madison identified the purpose of government. He stated…

Justice is the end of government. It is the end of civil society. It ever has been and ever will be pursued until it be obtained, or until liberty be lost in the pursuit.

Justice is the purpose of government. Not power or control. Not democracy. Justice. It is the purpose of civil society. It’s the reason we create laws, elect leaders, and build nations. Only when we start to threaten liberty should we stop pursuing justice.

The American founding fathers outlined a dogma that a just government exists to protect the weak, not to serve the strong. America owes allegiance to no king, and no aristocracy. America owes allegiance to the American people.

The best way to safeguard justice is with many voices, many factions, and competing interests. No single group should be able to seize control and oppress the others. Justice requires checks and balances that divide, limit, and restrain power and influence. No branch of government should dominate. No leader should rule unchecked. No law or executive order should go unchallenged.

Justice and liberty are inseparable. One cannot exist without the other. A government that fails to uphold justice will eventually destroy liberty, and a society that loses liberty will never know justice.

This is a rallying cry.

Our goals are simple. But achieving even the simplest goal is daunting.

Until government servants establish conditions of justice that enable every American family to work for and achieve heat in the house and food on the table without taxpayer support, we will fight for liberty and justice.

Until women have the liberty to make their own healthcare decisions without the government knowing what they decided, we will fight for liberty and justice.

Until American institutions again support checks and balances and no longer threaten the due process and structure of the nation itself, we will fight for liberty and justice.

The list goes on. Sure seems like we have plenty to keep us busy fighting for liberty and justice. We need not die on the hill of democracy.

Those Who Cry for Democracy Have Lost Their Way

Yes, we are a democratic republic. But the point of American governance is not democracy.

The foundation of America has never been majority rule. We are built on the higher purpose of liberty and justice.

Justice for the oppressed.Provision for those in need.Liberty for those whose rights are threatened by the majority or the ruling class.

Some say we must fight for democracy, but democracy is just a process. It means nothing without justice, and it is worthless without liberty. If we fight, let it be for the only things that matter.

America was never meant to serve the will of the strongest, even if the strongest is the majority. It was meant to defend the rights of the weakest.

That is the hill worth dying on.

May we seek justice. May we defend liberty.

May God bless the United States of America.

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