When a confused friend once called me the “N-word,” I told him that I was not from Niger but that I was from Sri Lanka.  I explained that I had grown up with water buffaloes in rice fields and monkeys in coconut trees. “Oh, so you are a monkey,” my friend teased me again.  “Well, I suppose that I really am a Macaca,” I joked, explaining that Macaca is a Portuguese word for monkey and Sri Lanka was once a Portuguese colony for more than 150 years.

This episode happened more than a quarter century ago when I was a high school exchange student in Minnesota.  Last summer, when Senator George Allen used the so-called “made-up” word, “Macaca,” I was back in Minnesota, attending the funeral of my American “father.”  Initially, I was surprised that the Senator has used a word that I had once used to describe myself, but the subsequent news reports and bloggers portrayed the Senator as a racist, followed by the alleged usage of the N-word, which Allen subsequently denied.

Over the years, I have gotten to know Senator George Allen and he is no racist.  In 2002, he came to the U.S. State Department for a presentation where I was the vice chair of the Secretary of State’s Open Forum.  Senator Allen took a great interest in me and spoke very courteously.  He wanted to know how in the world I ended up in Minnesota.  “It was a computer mistake in New York City,” I joked with him, later explaining how the exchange program had matched my rural Sri Lankan background with a farming community that milked cows—but certainly no water buffalos and coconut trees—in northern Minnesota. 

Since that initial encounter, I have met with Senator Allen and his wife Susan on several occasions.  We talked about family and sports in general.  He liked to talk about football; I preferred to talk about cricket.  Our conversations on sports did not get us anywhere, except to say that I am a fan of the Minnesota Vikings and the Golden Gophers.  

Early this February, I gave him a copy of my book, Freedom on the March: An American Voyage to Explore Globalization, and he thanked me for donating the proceeds to tsunami projects in Sri Lanka.  The book became the centerpiece of our conversation.  This was the first time Senator Allen and I had a long, meaningful discussion in his Russell Senate Office.  Paging through the book, a collection of 11 country studies on globalization, he wanted to discuss two of the chapters: Cuba and India.

Senator Allen was eager to know what I thought about Fidel Castro, whose four-hour monologue and private conversation were nonetheless memorable.  Castro’s idea of freedom and security was of great interest to Senator Allen.  The Senator forcefully argued with Jeffersonian eloquence and presented his perspectives.  Without defending Castro, I offered him to think about the sequence of wording “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” and Patrick Henry’s powerful words of “Give me liberty or give me death.”  The Cuban leader thinks life comes before liberty.  “Well, freedom comes first, Patrick” Senator Allen told me.  I agreed.

The Senator laughed when he read my characterization of India, “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of yuppiness,” which I used to illustrate the world’s largest democracy, its economic ascendancy, and the power of the Indian Diaspora.  He said that he has great admiration for India and its people, especially the hardworking Indian-Americans.  He supports the three US-Indian initiatives on knowledge, space, and civil nuclear cooperation as well as the H1-B visa for immigrant high-tech workers.

 Senator Allen, a highly focused man, has a remarkable intellectual curiosity in everything because everything is related to everything else—a prime requirement for 21st century leadership. He has a Jeffersonian worldview, which we mutually share.  I do not believe that he would ever deviate from Jefferson’s notion of freedom, which advocated the protection of “the Jew and the Gentile, the Christian and Mahometan, the Hindoo (sic) and infidel of every denomination.”  The racial or religious intention of the Macaca remark is not ingrained in the DNA of George Allen; it was a spontaneous comment that had a snowball effect in a highly charged political season.

As a congressman and as the governor of Virginia, Senator Allen has established a record of performance.  Everyone knows where he stands on the issues.  He is no racist.  Even if his use of “Macaca” were considered racist in some cultures, he apologized quickly and repeatedly.  It affirms the gentle and sensitive character of the learned man.  As a sports enthusiast and a college football quarterback, he knows what it means to have the best players on a team.  He did not care whether his team players were black, white, brown, or yellow. 

Senator Allen could have ignored me at our first as well as at subsequent encounters. Yet he did not care about my origin, religion, color, or even my Minnesota accent!  He is a true American—a collage of North African, European, and newly-discovered Jewish heritage. George Allen is truly one of us and his authenticity should be measured not by a random comment at a campaign rally, but by his record of performance and his vision for all Virginians.

Americans always take a step back and reflect on the human aspects of our leaders who make mistakes and take the personal responsibility.  That makes America great.  It is with the same genuineness that Senator Allen sustained an avalanche of personal attacks in this season of political destruction—and, reborn as a better and humble leader.  For this reason alone, he exemplifies the very character of greatness. 

My friends in Minnesota – the “heart of America” – who once teased me for being an “N----” and a “Macaca” are fun-loving great Americans; there is neither ill will in their souls nor racism in their DNA.  The same goes for Senator George Allen.

*The writer is a former American diplomat and a military professor in the U.S. European and Pacific Commands.  He lives in Reston, Virginia.