Dark Days

Just a reminder, most of my writing is really done for myself, as sort of therapy and a way to organize my thoughts. That especially applies to this piece.

I’m not that tough. I haven’t had to be. My experience with (true) adversity has been minimal. Even events that were cataclysmic didn’t really affect me personally that much. In terms of grief, I think it’s safe to say I’ve had less than my share.

I try to be aware and empathetic, so I’ve never been ignorant of world events and how they impact others; I’ve never belonged to the Libertarian school of thought that says, “If it’s not MY problem, it’s not a problem worth society taking a role in solving.” 

I was in high school when President Kennedy was assassinated; I thought it was awful, but it didn’t affect me like some of my classmates (or my wife, whom I was a long way, in terms of both time and distance, from knowing at the time). I understood why people were upset at the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., but its only direct impact on me was relief that the class I cut wouldn’t count against me because the professor was so distraught he cancelled it. 

I legitimately failed my physical (which I took, no doctor’s note for me) after being drafted during the Vietnam War, and I darkly joked that for me to boycott classes after the Kent State massacre would have required I actually go to class. The floods in the district in which I taught were more impactful on my students than me. Student deaths are an unfortunate fact of life; I always tried to be supportive, but I felt far worse for my kids than myself. I knew that 9-11 was world changing, but I was always confident that we’d adapt and recover – and we did, even if such a recovery required redefining “normal.” 

I guess what I’m saying is that none of the above were really all that personal. Even my personal grief has been generally muted and not exactly tragic. Deaths of too young friends and co-workers were sad, but not devastating. The one unexpected death that I did grieve faded and didn’t resurface until well after the event itself, sitting with my wife having a drink, when the tears blew in like a summer storm. But like a storm, they, too, passed quickly and my life returned to normal.

But this feels different. This C-19 pandemic doesn’t seem like a temporary inconvenience, but more of a permanent upheaval in life as we know it, or at least I know it. Maybe things will truly get better, but at the moment I have almost no hope of an only slightly modified new normal, like 9-11. And I don’t feel well positioned to deal with it. Not tough enough, if you will. 

Part of that is based on my complete lack of confidence in the president of my country. I didn’t feel that way after 9-11. I’ve never felt this way, and I’ve lived under 11 previous presidents of both parties, 10 of whom I remember with some, if varying degrees of, clarity. I may not have been happy with the country’s direction or presidential leadership, but I viewed those administrations like I viewed some of the school administrators for whom I worked: “I’ll be here after you’re gone.” 

Congress, with its obsession on tribal victories, is only a little better. That toxic combo of presidential incompetence and irresponsibility and tribal, winner take all, congressional warfare, is just part of the problem, though. 

Another part, and related to my lack of confidence in the chief executive, is that mitigation compliance has become political, almost perverse. “If I support Trump, I must oppose any action to tamp down the pandemic. If I support Trump, attempts at mitigation are a plot against his re-election.” Interestingly this has even become a bit separated from political party; in Missouri there’s a protest planned against a Republican governor who was late to the party and an unenthusiastic guest but eventually joined in issuing a “Stay at Home” order.

Right now the disease is winning, even if far too many people are in denial, which threatens to make it even worse. I have little hope of a return to my comfortable, privileged life, and I, myself, am so much better off than people who are truly suffering, who have lost not just livelihoods but loved ones. For perhaps the first time since my early 20s, when I sort of enjoyed wallowing in negativity and angst, I am struggling to channel my inner Polyanna.

The Why Not The What

The why is more important than the what, motivation > outcome, process > result. When teaching history, what happened interested me far less than the why and how; in English, reasoning always eclipsed the actual conclusion.

As the tribes dig their trenches ever deeper and their siege mentality fossilizes, I struggle mightily, with ever increasing fatigue, to listen to, if not agree with, those who see politics (and society) as what more and more seems to resemble a war. I get that people view life through different lenses. So I don’t really care what people think nearly as much as I care why they think as they do.

I know good people who voted for the current president; I respect, even I don’t completely understand, their reasons. That I could never have come to that same conclusion does not negate their process or value as fellow inhabitants on this planet. I have been clear from long before the election that I had no respect for Donald Trump as a person, that I found him a despicable being, based on his own words and actions, not on what others said about him. 

I do have to give him credit for subsequently pushing his stock lower than even I could have imagined during his tenure; he has revealed himself to be an even worse being than I could have possibly anticipated. Understand, I’m talking personal traits (the word qualities seems so inappropriate), not political positions. Again, based on his own words and actions, not the opinions of others. 

Still, I get that at least many, if not most, of his supporters don’t think character matters; as long as that remains a consistent metric for future candidates with opposing POVs, I won’t argue. Some are so invested in the Republican Party (which is no longer resembles anything like the party of Eisenhower or Reagan or even Bush (43), but never mind) that their support is unwavering. Others are so anti-Democrat, frightened or disgusted by their vision of that party, that nothing else matters. Okay, I get that, too. I may view those positions as mistaken or wrong, but valid at least through their own lenses. The why, not the what.

Believe me, it takes a lot of effort for me to ignore everything to arrive at that point, but I can generally, grudgingly, manage. For so many people committed to their tribe, whichever tribe it is, it’s a black and white world.

But what truly frustrates me is that as hard as I work to give/find credit, to respect those who hold opposing views, to understand the why if not the what, I find little evidence that there is any attempt to understand MY why. Instead, I see memes and snarky reposts that too frequently border on personal (if not specifically addressed to me) attacks. For those defending the current president, if I can try to understand the why of your position, is reciprocity, the respect for one who disagrees with you, too much to ask? 

That is what is wearing me out and down. That is what makes me want to completely disengage. But my gift this holiday season is to persist. If you would like to reciprocate, may I suggest resisting the temptation to share that meme or post which demonizes, denigrates, or discounts those who don’t see the world through your lens, but their own, a lens they value. Think about their why.

No matter the tribe to which you pledge allegiance, mindlessly posting memes about the other just expands and mines a “No Man’s Land,” shredding the fabric of our nation, building a wall that keeps our country apart — and weak. 

Spirit of '76

There are some advantages to growing older (not the least of which is it beats the alternative), assuming you can remember them.

Remembering the past, for example. I’ve been involuntarily reminded recently (and frequently) of an attitude that prevailed for a while in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s as the nation was roiled by protests over the ill-fated Vietnam War and civil rights. Car bumper stickers sprouted like modern-day memes. “America, Love it or Leave it” is the one that comes to mind in light of modern day events. That ugly assumption, that if you have the temerity to criticize your country you must hate it, is making a resurgence. News commentators, social media posts and more are implying, if not outright yelling, that POV.

Why must everything be a zero-sum game, an all or nothing proposal, with both poles screeching at their opposites, and, worst of all, dismissing any valid points that get lost in the halitosis of the shouting? And what is MORE American, especially on the day celebrating our independence, than protesting? Tea Party anyone?

On this 4^thof July, before getting into snark, meme posting, or finger pointing, let’s apply the stink test to our thinking. Would I react the same way if the action or opinion came from my “team?” 

I saw a great t-shirt at the Pride Parade in St. Louis Sunday: “Be careful who you hate; it might be someone you love.” I think that applies on multiple levels.

One of These Things is Not Like the Others

Memes, almost by  definition, are simplistic and misleading.

In the wake of a restaurant’s request to Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders that she leave, (false) comparative memes have popped up: the (CO) baker who refused to bake a cake for a gay wedding or the (WA) florist who refused another couple flowers; even more of a stretch, the refusal of restaurants to serve blacks prior to passage of the Civil Rights Act.

Here’s the difference. Refusing to serve or do business with any individual is always that business owner’s right (it must be nice to be able to turn away business). But to do it based on the accident of a person’s birth, by virtue of race or sexual orientation, is discrimination by definition because it is not a decision about an individual, but a group, and not based on the actions (or even attitudes) of a particular person.

Ms. Sanders chooses to work for an administration that many people find abhorrent. This is her choice, as is the business owner’s (and its employees) to protest the policies of the Trump White House, a White House of which she is the face (at least as much as President Trump is willing to share the limelight for anything). That choice triggered the business owner’s choice.

Whether that turns out to be a sound economic decision or not remains to be seen. This particular protest, and others it may inspire, strike me as meaningless challenges that will accomplish nothing except to further fuel the outrage and divisions that are already growing the chasm between citizens. Unless the energy of outrage can be channeled into organized action, it is really little more than self-gratification. So feel free to vent your own outrage with prank calls, fake reviews, etc. if you have nothing better to do with your time. For me, I have now spent more time on this event than it probably deserves.

As counterproductive as the owner’s action may turn out to be, it does not compare to a civil rights violation, as were the segregation laws and policies and discrimination against gays. Business owners can refuse service to any individual for virtually any reason (including “You were mean to me in high school!”), but only as long as it is not based on that individual’s membership in a protected class of people. By the way, except for the District of Columbia, party affiliation is not protected.*

* I do not dispute for a minute that similar outrage (and quite possibly charges of racism) would have been generated in the opposite direction had a member of President Obama’s staff been treated in like manner. That, too, would have been counterproductive. Hypocrisy is a two-way street with both red and blue cars in more or less equal numbers. Secretary Sanders deserves credit for handling herself with grace and class under the circumstances. More than can be said about her boss's tweet rant reaction.

Collusion Confusion & The Partisan Divide

President Trump repeatedly tweets and claims that he is not guilty of collusion. It may come as a surprise that I absolutely concur, although it’s neither a compliment nor an endorsement; Donald J. Trump is not capable of collusion (as far as I know, it is not even one of the many words he has misspelled).

Collusion requires listening skills; collusion requires the ability to work with others; collusion requires discretion and self-discipline; collusion requires loyalty and commitment to a common goal; collusion requires consistency. None of those attributes are hallmarks of the current president. His minions, of course, are, perhaps, another story.

Beyond that, I don’t think the Russians really cared who won the 2016 election. (If you think HRC was in their pocket but Trump is independent, or vice versa, your “stink test” detector might need a new battery.) There were advantages and disadvantages for Vladimir Putin to both candidates. No, what Putin wanted was exactly what he got, a divided nation with citizens so busy fighting amongst ourselves that Russian objectives, prime among them restoring Russia to global player and superpower status, could be achieved with a minimum of American interference. Russian trolls continue working to perpetuate those divisions.

“We have met the enemy and he is us,” said Pogo, so far back in the day that few of you reading this even get the reference.

Getting it, however, is less important than its truth. Are you part of the problem that is our toxic, tribal political atmosphere? If you’re posting or even sharing partisan memes, my answer is, “Yes.” If you’re railing and ranting against either liberals or conservatives, as if one group has a monopoly on truth or virtue, my answer is, “Yes.” If you’re pointing fingers (not just the middle one) or shaking fists at one group or another, religious or political or racial, if you’re generalizing and stereotyping, my answer is, “Yes.” If you believe that your team is good or that the “other” team is evil, my answer is, “Yes.” Political beliefs do not qualify their adherents as either saintly or ungodly.

Rabid partisans, almost by definition, are not prone to self-examination. Asking yourself, “What if I’m wrong?” before jumping in or sharing vitriol at least has the potential of mitigating some of the anger so prevalent on social media, the anger that continues to drive that wedge between us even deeper into our national soul. Of course, that means we have to admit such a possibility. But I’m guessing if you won’t, or can’t, admit that maybe, just maybe, you could be wrong (and that an opposing point of view might have value), you probably never started reading this in the first place.