The world is moved by men of principle. Sad to say, many people fear men of principle. Fearing men and women who stand for something they often ridicule, laugh at, and tear them down. Most people, too often it seems, prefer argumentum ad populum,
or populism.

In short, what's in it for me, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead with unprecedented government spending. It applies to manipulators and the manipulated.

Originally the term "Bread and Circuses" meant the manner in which the government in Ancient Rome pacified the populace. Today it's a metaphor for pacifying the general population to distract them from the mess politicians are making of our economy.

In Ancient Rome, Tiberius Gracchus tried to implement an agrarian reform law that took lands captured from rich enemies and redistributed it to the peasants. After his assassination -- he was followed by his younger brother Gaius Gracchus. In the family tradition Gaius opened public granaries for whoever was willing to stand in line, grain to be paid for --- by the rich. Gaius too was assassinated. When Julius Caesar came to power he implemented welfare reform, cutting the relief rolls by an estimated 150,000 or by about one-half. This is the bread part of Bread and Circuses.

The circuses took place in the Coliseum in Rome, which my wife and I visited a few years ago. Looking down upon the floor you couldn't help see in your mind's eye the games that occurred there; imagine Spartacus, the Circus Maximus, Ben-Hur, imagine the Gladiators' quarters and written in Latin on the walls: Lions 10, Christians zero.

Have you ever wondered why the Roman circuses ended --- in that Coliseum where men would fight men and men would fight animals --- combat to the death? Where the crowds ultimately would determine who lived or died with a thumbs up or thumbs down? Well, the end of the games can be traced to "One Man of Principle." One man with courage makes a majority, as the saying goes.

Robert LeFevre gives his rendition of the story about the Asiatic monk, Telemachus, on his first trip to Rome in the fifth century. "It was a holiday in the city by the Tiber. Men and women dressed in their brightest and best, swarmed into the Coliseum for one of those brilliant, bloody spectacles which excited the emotions of ... a jaded people."

Telemachus found a seat in the lowest tier next to the arena wall. The crowd of 80,000 roared approval as the column of men marched into the arena below Caesar's royal box. "Giving the Roman salute -- sword raised upward, slapped smartly across the chest -- the gladiators shouted in unison, 'We who are about to die salute you!' "

Telemachus expected what today would be a Chargers' game with pomp and circumstance, not a game to the death with swords and tridents. But the meaning of that salute was clear to him making him want to vomit. Being Christian he could not sit quietly as gladiators tried to mutilate and decapitate each other. Killing a man for amusement is wrong.

Without thinking he vaulted over the wall and ran to the place between the gladiators and the emperor. "In the name of Christ: Stop!" The crowd stared in disbelief. The arrogance -- trying to interfere with their fun and games! On second thought perhaps he was a paid clown, part of the pageant. Loud laughter rang out among the throng. "This guy is hysterical."  Telemachus ran between the two rows of gladiators facing each other, who if lost who would die at the pleasure of the crowd. As loud as he could Telemachus cried out: Stop this unspeakable act! Right this instant: Stop!

A gladiator knocked him off his feet. The crowd laughed even louder. Telemachus jumped up and tried to disarm the gladiator. This clown was serious. From the stands: "Run him through!" rang out. A blade flashed and Telemachus fell to his knees --- his blood oozing dark red in the sand beneath him. Then the clanging of steel --- the games began.

Then something odd happened. From one of the furthest seats at the top of the arena one man rose hardly noticed and left. Those seated next to him nodded to each other, "let's go." The sickening feeling spread rapidly. Then by the tens, hundreds and thousands, people quietly filed out of the Coliseum.

The spectacle went on but a pall fell upon those who remained perhaps dawning on them what Martin Luther King, Jr. would describe some 16 centuries later, "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." The beginning of the end of the annual slaughter of thousands was at hand -- the end of the government's ability to divert the people's attention from the mess it had made of Roman lives, their economy and culture.

More circuses were organized with fewer and fewer attending. Today the Coliseum is empty -- standing in eerie silence. One man of principle defied Caesar -- one man of courage defied a multitude of 80,000 and became a majority. (The Catholic Church, attributing the sudden end of the games in 404 A.D. to Telemachus, canonized him a saint. He died. But the principle had been established.)

Today, men and women of principle look at the mess our government is making of the economy and spontaneously are joining the TEA (Taxed Enough Already) Party. They are being ridiculed, laughed at, and torn down all across the land. Seeing Congressmen on TV deliberately mocking our Constitution, they are standing up and crying out: Stop!

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