We should be bolstering American energy independence and American

"We should be bolstering American energy independence and American jobs — not making ourselves vulnerable by lining the pockets of foreign energy suppliers." — thus spoke Andrew R. Wheeler, a guardian of national stewardship, warning against the quiet surrender of sovereignty through dependency. His words burn with the fire of patriotism and foresight, echoing the wisdom of ages past: that a nation’s independence is not merely political, but also economic, and that the one who controls a people’s resources holds power over their destiny.

When Wheeler speaks of bolstering American energy independence, he does not speak only of oil, gas, or the wind that turns the turbines — he speaks of freedom itself. For when a nation relies too heavily on others to feed its engines, to light its homes, or to drive its factories, it has already bent its neck to the yoke of another’s will. Independence of energy is, in truth, the lifeblood of independence of thought. He warns that to “line the pockets of foreign suppliers” is not simply to trade — it is to trade away the soul of self-reliance, one coin at a time.

The ancients understood this well. The Greek states, when dependent on Persian grain, learned that power begins where sustenance begins. The Roman Empire, when stretched across continents, was undone not by its enemies’ swords, but by its own need for resources beyond its borders. Likewise, in our own age, Wheeler’s words remind us that the measure of a nation’s strength lies not only in its armies, but in its ability to sustain itself — to harness its own gifts, its own soil, its own skies.

Consider the story of America in the 1970s, when the oil crises brought the mighty nation to its knees. Long lines at gas stations became a symbol of dependency — a warning carved in memory. It was then that the call for energy independence became a cry of renewal: to invest in domestic production, innovation, and stewardship. Yet as time passed and convenience returned, the lesson began to fade. Wheeler’s words are a rekindling of that fire, a reminder that freedom neglected is freedom endangered.

To “make ourselves vulnerable,” as Wheeler warns, is to surrender the power of choice. A nation that depends on others for energy depends also on their mercy, their politics, their whims. Such vulnerability breeds not peace, but quiet subjugation. But to build within, to create jobs rooted in the soil of one’s own land, is to forge a foundation of resilience — where prosperity is not borrowed, but earned. Energy independence thus becomes more than policy; it becomes an act of honor, a promise to future generations that their fate will be decided by their own hands.

Yet Wheeler’s message also carries a deeper lesson for every individual: true independence, whether of a nation or a soul, demands responsibility. To build from within requires labor, innovation, and sacrifice. The path of convenience — of taking what others produce, of leaning upon their strength — is easy but perilous. But the path of creation, though hard, is the path of endurance. For the one who builds his own light need never fear the darkness.

So, children of tomorrow, take this wisdom to heart. Cultivate self-reliance, in your homes, your work, your nation. Support the endeavors that strengthen your people’s hand, not those that enrich the distant and the powerful. Let your independence be both practical and spiritual — rooted in effort, nourished by unity, and guided by foresight. For as Andrew R. Wheeler reminds us, dependence may buy comfort for a season, but independence secures destiny for an age. To guard your energy is to guard your freedom — and to guard your freedom is to guard your very soul.