It has greeted countless immigrants arriving in New York having crossed the Atlantic ocean from Europe, seeking a new life. The Statue of Liberty, a gift from the people of France, designed by the sculptor Bartholdi on an iron frame work built by Eiffel was dedicated in October of 1886.

On its plinth are the famous words of the poet Emma Lazarus

"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!"

More recently, the image that heads this article by British artist Izaac Zevalking, appeared as a wall mural in downtown Las Vegas. This striking image of a handcuffed Liberty face down on the bonnet of an Immigration and Customs Enforcement  vehicle drew attention to America’s founding by immigrants, a fact apparently forgotten in recent months. With the shootings in El Paso, Texas and in Dayton Ohio we have witnessed the tragic consequence of thoughtless political rhetoric which appears to give licence to violent action.

I wrote these few words when I first saw this image in the press.

Not only in the US is liberty sought by people who feel down- trodden and oppressed. In recent years we have become numb to stories of great loss of life in the Mediterranean as fearful people from North Africa seeking safety in Europe drown in boats that are far from seaworthy.

In the Far East, many Moslem villagers from northern Myanmar have lost their lives seeking safety in nearby lands. Closer to Europe, in Syria and the Yemen, the story is the same, of men women and young children caught up in the strife and terror of conflict, seeking help.

So how should we react, how should people living in Democracies that have all the appearances of security and stability respond? I would suggest that we do so by first looking at ourselves and in so doing ask how much we value our hard fought-for freedoms. In this year marking 200 years since the confrontation in St Peter's field in Manchester, which we refer to now as Peterloo, the cost of our own political voice must not be forgotten. On Monday 16 August 1819 horse cavalry charged into a crowd of 60,000–80,000 who had gathered to demand the reform of parliamentary representation. Eighteen lost their lives and between 400 and 700 were injured in consequence.

The rise of populism in many countries of the West, the raised voice of the extreme right in politics, should be a matter of concern to democrats across the political spectrum. As the citizens of the US move towards the presidential election in 2020 the irrationality of their argument will continue.

Here in the UK we face, in the immediate future, continued political argument over our leaving the European Community with a divided country and a fractured parliament. Our democracy has been achieved over many decades and it is precious. The first free elections in South Africa, post-apartheid, gave us memorable pictures of long lines of people queuing to register their vote, often in line for many hours. It was too precious and had cost too much to be ignored. Maybe we should reflect on those images when it comes to our own elections and we feel it to be of little consequence whether or not we cast our vote.

Our voice as members of a Christian community is also of vital importance. It is not sufficient that we wait to be told what to do, or how to act when each of us has the responsibility to be a witness of the resurrected Christ. We fail in our Christian mission if we remain silent and acquiescent in the face of adversity and wrong-doing. It is that attitude that led to the cover-up and huge wrong of the abuse crisis. It must not happen again.

So in seeing Liberty handcuffed and face down on the hood of a car, remember the cost our forebears paid for the precious gift of democracy and our own responsibility to protect its fruits for the benefit of this generation and for that of our children and our grandchildren.