Thursday, December 31, 2020

"Begin Again: James Baldwin's America and its Urgent Lessons for Our Own," by Eddie Glaude Jr.

Just under the wire, I have finished my last book of 2020: "Begin Again: James Baldwin's America and its Urgent Lessons for Our Own," by Eddie Glaude Jr. One of the central themes is one I have long felt -- that the triumphalist narrative of American history is a lie, that we fail to truly grapple with the sins of the real history in favor of a myth that comforts us even as it works to cement the results of those sins in place.

This is a passage I have highlighted in my own copy of Baldwin's "The Fire Next Time," and Glaude excerpts it in this book:

"To accept one's past--one's history--is not the same as drowning in it; it is learning how to use it. An invented past can never be used; it cracks and crumbles under the pressures of life like clay in a season of drought. How can the American Negro's past be used? The unprecedented price demanded--and at this embattled hour of the world's history--is the transcendence of the realities of color, of nations, and of altars.

Glaude echoes that notion in his reflections on Baldwin.

"We have to rid ourselves, once and for all, of this belief that white people matter more than others," he writes, "or we're doomed to repeat the cycles of our ugly history over and over again." He calls for "a world and a society that reflect the value that all human life, no matter the color of your skin, your zip code, your gender, or who you love, is sacred."

But, he also says, as an aside: "My understanding of history suggests that we will probably fail trying."

That, unfortunately, is also my understanding of history. We humans are fallen creatures, prone to drawing lines that pit us -- however we define "us" in any given moment -- against "them." It seems inherent to us as a species.

And yet: We need people like Baldwin, like Glaude, to continue to insist that we reach for that impossible world, the "New Jerusalem" as Baldwin calls it, and a new American founding as Glaude calls it. It is only by striving to rise above that that we ever do any rising -- even if we fall short of the heights we're aiming for.

Update: Coincidentally, after posting this, I ended up listening to this podcast on my walk ... featuring Glaude speaking about the book. It's a good overview, if you don't want to read the entire (short) work. It opens with a Baldwin quote I'd forgotten: “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” That says what I was getting at, but better of course.

Tuesday, December 22, 2020

In 2021, I need to rebuild my personal community

When my family returned to Lawrence, Kan. in 2016, there was a group of people waiting at the house we were moving into to help us move in. It was a tremendous affirmation of our decision to come "home," reflecting the relationships we'd made here during my first stint living in the town from 2000 to 2008.

I feel like I've squandered that moment.

I'm reading Timothy Carney's "Alienated America" at the moment, and early on he describes the realization that the people who had helped his family were all connected by institutions.

Even before the pandemic, I was a freelance writer who works from home and who attends church once or twice a year. It didn't feel great! I could go days without leaving the house, even, unless I made a real effort. Oh, I have a few friends I see now and again, and sitting outside the coffee shop with a socially distanced group of men has saved my sanity over the last few months, but the truth is it has been awhile since I was enmeshed in the networks he describes here. I feel their absence.

To be sure, I'm not sure how to reclaim those networks for myself. But I've come to realize I need to try, somehow.

Wednesday, December 16, 2020

Twitter will be the death of me

Damon Linker: "We open the app, we scroll, we hate, we lash out, we shut down — and then we do it all again tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Because part of us loves to experience the addictive thrill of righteous indignation. And that, in the end, is what the app is really for."

Sunday, November 29, 2020

Pandemic stress dreams

I dreamed last night I went without a mask into a crowded restaurant where nobody else was wearing a mask, and realizing I probably had just signed my own death warrant.

I didn't sleep well last night.

The sources of Donald Trump's shame

The Week: "In his first one-on-one interview since the general election, President Trump told Fox News' Maria Bartiromo over the phone that he is "ashamed" he once endorsed Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp (R)."

Let's see:

He's not ashamed of committing adultery on numerous occasions.

He's not ashamed of failing the country during the COVID-19 pandemic.

He's not ashamed that his Iran policy has failed so spectacularly.

He's not ashamed of running his businesses into the ground, or of acquiring massive debt.

He is ashamed of once endorsing a guy who failed to assist his cheating.

Whatever.

A little theology for Sunday morning

From The Atlantic:

Rev. William J. Barber II: Well, I was trained in theology that whatever you call your spiritual experience, if it does not produce a quarrel with the world, then the claim to be spiritual is suspect.

Sounds right to me. 

Saturday, November 28, 2020

Maybe it is time for the NFL to give up on this season





The astonishing thing is that it has taken this long for professional and college sports to arrive at this point. I wouldn't have guessed anybody could get very far this year, and I was wrong about that, but football -- with its rosters of fifty-some-odd people -- has too many moving parts for this not to happen.

 

To schadenfreude or not to schadenfreude?

I am torn by hoping that Republicans' cynical and false allegations of voter fraud come back to bite them by persuading their voters there is no reason to vote again -- costing them elections they might've won -- and a believe that democracy isn't sustainable if a huge chunk of the population doesn't believe the results are legitimate.

Today on the Kansas River


 

One small step to putting civilians back in charge at Defense

NYT reports that Lloyd J. Austin III, a retired Army general, is under consideration to lead the Department of Defense under Joe Biden. I'd prefer not -- not because of anything necessarily wrong about Austin (I know literally nothing about him) but because Trump tried to blur the whole distinction between civilian and military control of the military, which has been a pretty important principle of our democracy. That's how former General James Mattis became Trump's first secretary of defense, even though he required a waiver to do so. There are civilian Democrats with expertise in national security. Pick one of them.

Friday, November 27, 2020

Humans and Vulcans

There's a lot of talk about "Federation values" in the Star Trek universe, but humans and Vulcans are pretty much always jerks to each other, except when they learn the lesson not to be at the end of the episode.

No, journalism is not 'morally indefensible'

Also from Ryu Spaeth's takedown of Ben Smith:

However, every journalist, very much including Smith, at some point will have to face the morally indefensible way we go about our business: namely, using other people to tell a story about the world. Not everyone dupes their subjects into trusting them, but absolutely everyone robs other people of their stories to tell their own.

Oh, bullshit.

At its best, journalism provides journalists a platform not to rob other people of their stories, but to amplify the stories of people who might not otherwise be heard widely. This is especially true of journalists at local papers, who go to church and shop in the same stores and send their kids to the same schools as the people they both serve and cover. It's an imperfect, messily human process, and journalists don't always get it right. I haven't always gotten it right. But to characterize this process, of listening and then passing on what you have heard, as a robbery -- instead of the necessarily flawed process of communication that it is -- is morally obtuse.


Question about the assassination of Iran's top nuclear scientist

I get that hawks are hawks, and they're going to want to go to war. But why do hawks in Israel and the U.S. seem to want a war with Iran so badly? What am I missing?

Have I been using em-dashes incorrectly?

 From TNR's critique of media columnist Ben Smith:


Wait. I often use em-dashes like Smith does, basically as a replacement for a colon. I also use them, paired, basically as parentheses within a sentence.

Have I been doing it wrong the whole time?

Presidential transitions are bad

 If we can’t shorten transitions after a presidential election, perhaps we could at least make them less-prone to mishchief? A president should serve out the full length of the term, of course. But maybe rule making should cease between election and inauguration, when a new president is arriving in office. If you didn’t get it done in the four years before now, well, you had your chance. 

Donald Trump demands proof of a negative

 

Needless to say, we don’t require people in America to prove their innocence. It’s up to Trump to prove fraud happened in the election. So far, he has made a lot of allegations. Proof? Not so much. But it is worrisome to suggest the White House is Biden’s only if Biden can prove he didn’t do the stuff that Trump is making up about him. He may be a bad authoritarian, but this is still authoritarian behavior.  

Thursday, November 26, 2020

I couldn't sleep for a long time. Now I can.

This year, I am thankful for the ability to sleep. Because until earlier this year, I hadn’t slept well for most of a decade. And it was killing me. Let me tell you a story...

I trace my years of bad sleep back to the surgeries I had in 2011. My already-bad nasal passageways were messed up even more by a bad attempt to shove an oxygen tube up them before the second surgery, with the result that almost no air got through afterward. (I was a mouthbreather by necessity.) I never really recovered from those surgeries -- my torso is broken -- and my sleep was the worst outcome of all: During my last years in Philly, I would fall asleep at work (humiliating -- I even fell asleep during a cop corruption trial in front of colleagues) or wake up in my home at night having sleptwalk around the place. A couple of times I woke up because I was accidentally injuring myself.

And the exhaustion was total.

My life felt awful. My ability to hold a regular job, instead of freelancing, felt awful. (Spending eight hours in an office was an ungodly challenge.) My blood pressure and weight ballooned. Depression set in. I couldn’t read a book or watch a movie without falling asleep. Everything was a struggle.

A nasal surgery a couple of years back helped restore some function -- I haven’t sleptwalk in a couple of years -- but honestly -- I entered 2020 ready, and maybe even willing, to be done. To die. It was that bad. It had been years since I slept more than about two hours at a stretch, and even that sleep was nastily oxygen deprived.

I took a sleep apnea test the night of the Iowa caucuses. It came back how I expected, but with a discouraging result: The CPAP machine they tried to use on me was impossible. I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t keep it on for more than a few seconds at a time. I felt like I had run out of options.

Only, I hadn't.

One weird thing about the pandemic lockdown. They made me reset. I stopped eating out much. The result: No more fried foods. The reflux that had been a regular part of my life for years just ... kind of disappeared. And the anxiety made my heart palpitate a bit, so I stopped drinking coffee. And I adjusted my sleeping arrangements to prop my upper body up a bit so that my sleepy breathing is better. 

And sometime over the summer, I realized I'd had a few good nights of sleep. That I wasn't waking up all the time.

That I felt ... rested.

There is something of a virtuous feedback loop to all of this. Not being exhausted and out of oxygen has made it possible for me to exercise better than I have in a long time. Starting in August, I regularly walk two miles a day. When the year started, that would have been beyond me.

So the weird thing for me about 2020 is that I arrive at Thanksgiving more personally hopeful about my ability to live than I have been for years. I am a better father and husband than I was, I think. Not so crippled by depression, or an inability to walk more than a block without needing to find a seat. I am not all the way back -- and honestly, I probably won't get there. But I am a lot further back than I expected to be. I'd lost hope. Now I can sleep again. And everything about me is better for it.

Tuesday, November 24, 2020

The Pentagon's big old budget

 Stephen Wertheim speaks the truth



This is true about domestic priorities as well. I think it's weird, for example, that there is so much talk about having the military distribute a coronavirus vaccine. A country as prosperous as the United States has been should have a robust enough public health system to do that job, shouldn't it?

Call me Cassandra

Are people really arguing that because Donald Trump has failed to steal the election, the people who were worried he would try to steal the election are silly and overwrought?

Because ... he really tried to steal the election.

Friday, November 20, 2020

The Electoral College is failing on its own terms

I think about Federalist Paper No. 68 sometimes:

The process of election affords a moral certainty, that the office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications. Talents for low intrigue, and the little arts of popularity, may alone suffice to elevate a man to the first honors in a single State; but it will require other talents, and a different kind of merit, to establish him in the esteem and confidence of the whole Union, or of so considerable a portion of it as would be necessary to make him a successful candidate for the distinguished office of President of the United States. It will not be too strong to say, that there will be a constant probability of seeing the station filled by characters pre-eminent for ability and virtue. And this will be thought no inconsiderable recommendation of the Constitution, by those who are able to estimate the share which the executive in every government must necessarily have in its good or ill administration. Though we cannot acquiesce in the political heresy of the poet who says: "For forms of government let fools contest That which is best administered is best,'' yet we may safely pronounce, that the true test of a good government is its aptitude and tendency to produce a good administration.

Read the whole thing, of course, but the Electoral College was intended to prevent corrupt figures from capturing the imagination of the masses and riding that adoration to the presidency. It failed to do so in 2016. Now Donald Trump is trying to game the system -- despite the clear preference of the masses --  to stay in office. The Electoral College is failing on its own terms. Demolish it.

One thing I have to remind myself of these days...

 ....is that I can be a serious person while also taking moments for frivolous things that bring me some small bit of joy in this miserable world.

So, yes, I just spent a few minutes perusing the Star Trek reddit.

Prosecuting Trump

At the beginning of the week, I was prepared to argue that investigating and prosecuting Trump -- at the federal level, at least -- would be more trouble than it's worth. I don't want the Biden Administration to *also* be all about Donald Trump. Four years is enough, right?

Now I think he's a tumor that must be excised. It will probably cause a lot of pain, but there has to be a price for his wholesale assault on the integrity of the election, on top of his thoroughgoing corruption.

Thursday, November 19, 2020

My post-Trump future

I would really like to settle down for a few minutes to think about how to be an effective and quality opinion writer when Trump leaves office. The benefit of Trump's presidency was a certain, righteous clarity -- he is such a bad president, that often writing was a matter of waiting for him to do something bad, then criticize it. That's overly reductive, but not as much as I would like it to be. And I'm ok with that. Trump really is a bad president. Serving truth, in my mind, means constantly pointing how how he steers America wrong.

The problem with my whole "pivot to a post-Trump future" plan, though, is that Trump won't pivot. There's still too much happening. We should be looking forward to Joe Biden's presidency. Right now, though, the current president is still keeping all of us on our tippy toes.

One of the things I worry about...

 ...is that our healthcare system might be broken if and when we get to the other side of this.

More than 900 staff members across the Midwest Mayo Clinic system have been diagnosed with Covid-19 over the last 14 days, a spokesperson told CNN "Our staff are being infected mostly due to community spread (93% of staff infections), and this impacts our ability to care for patients," Kelley Luckstein wrote to CNN in a Wednesday email.

Wednesday, November 18, 2020

Republicans are Democrats now

Jamelle Bouie explains why President Trump did better than expected:

At the end of March, President Trump signed the Cares Act, which distributed more than half a trillion dollars in direct aid to more than 150 million Americans, from stimulus checks ($1,200 per adult and $500 per child for households below a certain income threshold) to $600 per week in additional unemployment benefits. ... But voters, and especially the low-propensity voters who flooded the electorate in support of Trump, aren’t attuned to the ins and outs of congressional debate. They did not know — and Democrats didn’t do a good enough job of telling them — that the president and his party opposed more generous benefits. All they knew is that Trump signed the bill (and the checks), giving them the kind of government assistance usually reserved for the nation’s ownership class.

I think there's something to this, but I'm also kind of amused. The conservative critique of social spending has often been that amounts to Democrats buying political power -- votes -- by bribing voters with government goodies. Remember Romney's "47 percent"? Remember "Obamaphones?" Republicans have even argued against universal health coverage because it would "revive the reputation of the party that spends and regulates, the Democrats, as the generous protector of middle-class interests."

Trump tossed that line of thinking away, and honestly, maybe that's valuable in the long-term. Except: Republicans will rediscover their fiscal rectitude when Biden takes power, of course.

God help us


 

When America plays cop in the world...

...it can end up having the same effects that cops sometimes do at home.

WaPo:

Ahmad’s relatives are among the civilians killed in events that are being documented with an unprecedented level of precision in a new accounting of the U.S.-led war against the Islamic State. Using U.S. military geolocation data being made public for the first time, U.K.-based watchdog group Airwars has pinpointed locations, some of them to within a meter squared, for hundreds of strikes resulting in more than 1,400 civilian deaths.

Throughout the campaign, strikes took place in crowded urban environments, where it was more difficult to distinguish between civilian and Islamic State targets. They also occurred in remote or militant-controlled areas, which complicated intelligence gathering and target verification.


Let me explain myself.

When police officers in America shoot unarmed civilians, they frequently end up unpenalized because the law gives great leeway to agents of the state who use lethal force when they "reasonably" feel like their personal safety is under threat. As we have seen, that "reasonably" stretches a long way, to almost unreasonable lengths.

Similarly, it appears that in the fight against ISIS -- a genuinely terrible, deadly organization -- the United States has decided to err on the side of its own safety, the the degree that the safety of non-American innocents becomes, well, not nearly as high as a priority as it should be.

It is probably the case that each individual targeting decision can be individually justified. Taken together, though, this number of civilian deaths is unconscionable. 

Sen. Josh Hawley could make himself really useful....

...by proving his economic populism bona fides and putting real pressure on Sen. Mitch McConnell to do something about this.

NYT:

The Treasury Department’s Office of Financial Research warned on Wednesday that there were “significant downside risks” to the nation’s financial stability from the economic fallout of the coronavirus pandemic and predicted that many households and businesses might be unable to recover without additional government assistance.

The end of the pandemic may be in sight. But we'll get there faster, and with less damage, if we spend a lot of money now.

The "Live Not By Lies" guy....

...is notably silent about all the lying this president is doing in order to keep his job. 

I guess some lies are more equal than others.

Tuesday, November 17, 2020

'That's politics'

This part of Paul Waldman's column alarms me:

And unlike the zillions of investigations of Democrats that Republicans have mounted whenever they had the opportunity, these wouldn’t be undertaken solely to gain political advantage. But so what if they were? That’s politics. If there’s actual wrongdoing to be exposed, then the investigation is justified.

Investigations shouldn't be undertaken solely for political advantage. Period. There's plenty to investigate about the Trump years. But it's wrong to use the powers of government just to usurp your rivals. It was wrong when Trump tried to pressure Ukraine into investigating Biden. It was wrong when Republicans investigated Benghazi forever. Democrats might help themselves by playing the same game, but it would still be wrong and corrosive to what's left of our idea of "the rule of law."

A note about grace

About a decade ago, when I was undergoing a series of surgeries that saved my life but also left me broken, I was struck that several people reached out to me -- people with whom I thought I had burnt bridges, people I didn't expect or have any right to expect to show me kindness -- to express well-wishes and a speedy recovery for me.

I received a lot of grace, in other words.

Grace isn't something you earn or deserve, as a recipient. But it is wonderful to receive, and it can relieve the burden of hurt feelings and wrongdoings left unrighted.

I mention this because I ran into an old friend on the river trail today -- somebody whose entrance into my life a few decades ago caused a lot of anguish for people I deeply cared about. And I realized that, as the recipient of grace, I also needed to try and give it.

There's a quasi-spiritual dimension to all of this, I realize, that not everybody will buy into. I recognize that my understanding of all this is probably shaped by my Christian upbringing. What's more, I'm not in a position to expect anybody to show grace to others, especially when they've been wronged. All I know is that receiving grace humbled me. And for me, the proper response to that is to pay it forward.

About guns and suicide

 This piece in the NYT is frustrating:

Clark Aposhian, chairman of a lobbying group for gun owners in Utah, where suicides outnumber homicides by a factor of eight, said he did not believe the numbers when he first heard them: “How did we not know?” Mr. Aposhian blamed the media for hiding the truth and fostering an impression that most gun deaths are murders.

There has been lots of coverage of guns-as-a-major-tool-of-suicide, though. (Those links are all examples from within the last year.) The "media" has covered murders quite a bit, yes, but there has been a lot of reporting about the gun-suicide link.

There has been a problem with gun-rights activists playing down those suicide numbers, though, for fear it will increase pressure to restrict gun sales somehow.

In counting down top-three fake news stories about guns from 2017, NRATV host Grant Stinchfield asserted that suicides by firearms shouldn't be counted as "gun deaths," even though they very clearly are deaths by gun. Fancy that.

"The final fake news of the year comes in the form of a statistic, the overused 30,000 gun deaths a year," Stinchfield said. "The left never mentions that two-thirds of those include suicides. Yet it is a number thrown around like confetti. And it’s deceptive to say the least. From The Washington Post to The New York Times, they all use it to wage war on gun ownership."

This just happened last month:

The Commander John Scott Hannon Veterans Mental Health Care Improvement Act, now awaiting the president’s signature, still does things the commander’s family says he would be proud of: funding community organizations that work with veterans, and scholarships to train more mental health professionals.

But before it was modified, the bill would also have required health care workers who treat veterans to be trained on how to talk with at-risk patients about the danger of having guns in the house and about how to reduce that risk — a strategy known as lethal-means safety.

The provision was stripped out "because the provision in question touched a third rail in Washington politics: the danger posed by firearms."

The link between the availability of guns and completed suicides isn't a secret, and hasn't been for years. There are a few people, though, who have been invested in playing down that link. 

Friday, November 13, 2020

The problem with the Substack revolution

Matt Yglesias is leaving Vox to start his own Substack blog. There is part of me that really likes this -- my preference would be to get off social media and return to the blog glory days of the late aughts. I've tried doing it a couple of times, but I always fail to stick with it -- partly because people are on social media instead of blogs, and it gets to feeling very lonely around here.

I'll subscribe to Yglesias' free tier. But I won't spend money on him, or Andrew Sullivan, or Matt Taibbi or any of the other, um, independent thinkers who have abandoned big publications in the last year or so to strike out on their own for Substack and its subscription model.

My subscription dollars are finite. So I have to make them work efficiently. Which means they'll go to publications where I can get news and multiplicity of voices. I simply can't afford to support every writer I want to read who decides to strike out on their own. I can't imagine I am the only person in this position.

And this strikes me as a problem, both for the writers and the larger discourse.

A number of observers have already noted that rise of newspaper paywalls, while absolutely necessary to sustaining what's left of the news media, is a problem for democracy. You can get all the misinformation you want for free, but it increasingly takes cash to get reported, reliable news. Somebody's got to pay for the reporters, writers and editors -- but that means that people who can't or won't pay for that news are vulnerable to misinformation.

Similarly, if -- as appears to be the case -- somewhat independent writers increasingly feel uncomfortable or unable to exist within the framework of a larger publication where their coworkers don't all love their views, and they follow Yglesias et al to Substack and its paywall, it might also be the cases their voices go missing from the national conversation. It'll be easy not to pay to hear ideas you don't want to hear, and if you don't pay, it's less likely you'll be forced to encounter them.

I don't love everything about Yglesias, Sullivan or Taibbi, but it is also true that the three have done valuable work over the years. People are complicated! And sometimes it's good to have complicated people complicating the discourse, even if it's also irritating. It worries me that the complications are disappearing behind a paywall.

Monday, October 26, 2020

Book Review: "Divided We Fall" by David French

I like David French.

Oh, I don't much agree with David French. He has a more pro-gun sensibility than I do, and a more restrictive sense of what sexuality and orientation is proper. But he strikes me as being thoughtful and independent -- he doesn't just follow the crowd, even when it's "his" crowd -- and having integrity: He won't call an evil thing good even if his side is for it. That has cost him professional relationships on the right, and his family has endured fierce criticism and ugly threats for it. He remains who he is, a conservative Christian -- but not in the sense the phrase "conservative Christian" has come to mean during the Trump years. In those respects, French is a writer whose way of thinking I personally would do well to emulate.

So I was interested to check out his new book, "Divided We Fall: America's Secession Threat and How to Restore Our Nation," in which he worries that United States is coming apart, driven by increasing polarization in which both sides don't just want to see their side win, but to see the other side broken and dominated -- and, ultimately silenced. Americans have mostly given up on pluralism and classical liberalism, French writes.

Instead, he says, we've mostly retreated into tribalism. "There is no anguished choice between truth and tribe," he writes, critically, about the ideological wars that consume the country's political class. "The truth was never an option. When push comes to shove, they place self-interest and partisan interest over even the most basic of virtues."

French is at his best when diagnosing this problem -- he is unabashedly conservative, but he's lived among liberals, and he can speak their language (I'm guessing not many conservatives use variations on the phrase "marginalized people" as much as he does in this book.) and can fairly, accurately sum up their perspective even when he disagrees with them. (And liberals would benefit from reading this book to get a sympathetic account of some of the things conservatives believe.) I am reminded of Alan Jacobs' book, "How to Think," in which Jacobs challenges readers to do just that. French, meanwhile, describes how Americans are increasingly clustered: Left-leaning people live among left-leaning people and right-leaning people do the same. And polarization has a cascading effect -- being around liberal people tends to make liberals more liberal, and so on.The more we cluster among like-minded folks, the less familiar we are with people who think differently -- and, perhaps more importantly, makes it easier for us to dehumanize them.

"There is a vast difference between disagreeing with your opponent and believing their views are outside the realm of acceptable discourse," he writes. "And if you believe your opponent’s views are outside short trip to conclude that they shouldn’t enjoy the right to speak at all." One poll of college students, he notes, found that "when asked to choose between free speech and inclusivity, the students chose inclusivity by a 53–46 percent margin."

French argues that's a false choice. "I remember once asking the Reverend Walter Fauntroy, an early member of the Congressional Black Caucus, why he believed the movement for African American equality made such rapid legal gains once it was able to fully mobilize. 'Almighty God and the First Amendment,' he responded."

If French is good at diagnosing, though, the worst part -- or, at least, the most-distressing and least-readable -- is the middle portion, in which he writes fictional scenarios envisioning America's slide into disunion. I'll leave that portion to other readers for comment.

The solution to these problems, he argues, is twofold. First, America would do well to commit itself to a "healthy federalism" in which states are allowed to make vastly different policy choices while still adhering to the Bill of Rights. He doesn't think that is likely to happen, though, because both sides of the ideological divide are so committed to ideological domination they won't let the other have a win, even if that win is contained to the state of Tennessee.

There is some truth to that, but it is limited in its explanatory power. "Just stick to the Bill of Rights" seems like a clean instruction to states until you realize that we're still arguing about what those rights encompass. Sometimes it's clear, sometimes it's not. The Second Amendment, for example, is read by folks like French as guaranteeing an individual right to bear arms. Many on the left, though, see that right as being tied to a "well-regulated militia." And let's not even get started on abortion! The problems that divide us don't entirely reside in our collective bad attitudes, but in a real disagreement over what the Constitution even means and requries of us.

French's second solution -- a bit more ephemeral, but also difficult to achieve -- is that we have to aspire again to be able to disagree without hating each other for it. This isn't a call for moderation, he makes clear, but a rededication to the idea that we have to allow other people to be wrong about stuff. 

...mercy and humility, are indispensable to our national life. Mercy is the quality we display when We treat them not with contempt but with compassion. In the aftermath of political victory, we seek reconciliation. We operate with 'malice towards none.'

Humility reminds us that we are not perfect. Indeed, we are often wrong and will ourselves need mercy.

What can I say to that but, 'Amen.'

In the end, French argues that the big conflict in American culture is less between left and right than between decency and indecency, between "those people of all political persuasions who continue to believe in constitutional processes and basic democratic norms, on the one hand, and those people who’ve adopted the anything-goes, end-justifies-the-means tactics of the campus social justice warrior or the “Flight 93” Trump populist, on the other."

Right now, it looks like the latter group is winning. And like French, I'm dubious that will change -- I worry, in fact, we're already too far down the road toward division. That might not be all bad, but it will probably be painful. The last few years have challenged my commitment to seeing many conservatives as essentially good people -- I'm speaking more of my neighbors here in Kansas, not so much Donald Trump and his immediate enablers-- even if I disagree with them on stuff. French's book is a reminder to me to keep trying. 

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Bag O' Books: CASTE

Caste: The Origins of Our DiscontentsCaste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson

There's a question that pops up now and again. About whether, if you lived in the era of slavery, or as a German during the Third Reich, if you would be the kind of person to go against the grain-- to stand for human dignity and freedom.

We like to think we'd be the exception.

But most of us would be the rule.

I think I shared this book's overall viewpoint, but I learned things new to me about the history of racism and slavery in America, some ugly and breath-taking details about the immense evils done to black people in this country. You can know it's bad and still get sucker-punched with a fresh realization of just how bad it is. And it is distressing to know how difficult, how dangerous it was for people of goodwill to step outside that system.

I worry there are evils that I am now complicit with that I don't even recognize because I am immersed in them. All I can try to do is evaluate the day-to-day details of my own life and work to act as humanely as possible in every situation -- even when doing so isn't to my advantage.

Wilkerson writes:

"We are, each of us, responsible for every decision we make that hurts or harms another human being. We are responsible for recognizing that what happened in previous generations at the hands of or to people who look like us set the stage for the world we now live in and that what has gone before us grants us advantages or burdens through no effort or fault of our own, gains or deficits that others who do not look like us often do not share."

I must try to do better.

(Via Goodreads)

Sunday, October 11, 2020

Bag O' Books: THE ROUND HOUSE

The Round HouseThe Round House by Louise Erdrich


This is the first Louise Erdrich novel I've read from beginning to end (I started "The Night Watchman" right when the pandemic started and got distracted) and I am utterly devastated.

This novel plays like an update of "Stand By Me," only set on a reservation. But the indigenous setting aside, I was about the age of the protagonist, Joe, in the precise era of this story, and shared Joe's obsession with "Star Trek: The Next Generation" at the time. I am stunned out how clearly and precisely Erdrich nails the interior life of an early teen nerdy boy -- I feel completely seen.

But I don't just love this novel because it reminds me of, well, me, but for how well it transports me into a real but unfamiliar world, it's details so closely observed, its storytelling so readable. I learned things from "The Round House." But I was captured by it, too.

Utterly absorbing. Heart-breaking. This is my favorite book I've read this year.

View all my reviews

Saturday, October 3, 2020

Watching: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (1995)

Some quick thoughts about PRIDE AND PREJUDICE:



* I have never read the novel nor seen any of the adaptations before. This was delightful.

* The British class system is pretty fucked, but there's a reason it provides the basis for so much art: There's *so much subtext* in every conversation, every glance. Only rarely are people saying what they mean to say. (This gives writers and actors so much to play with, to convey in ways other than dialogue what they mean to convey.) The characters who obviously see the absurdity in all of this are the ones we modern folk are most likely to empathize with. Still, it's kind of fun to spend six hours with a romance in which the only kiss comes in the final freeze frame shot.

* That said, she was kissing his chin in that shot.

* Also, I don't get all the hubub about Colin Firth in a wet shirt, but to each his own.

* Maybe I *should* read some Jane Austen.

Friday, October 2, 2020

Endurance

I've been thinking lately that we Americans are going to need a virtue we haven't been much called on to collectively display lately: Endurance. It seems likely that we're not going to live so close to the top of Maslow's pyramid as we have for most of my lifetime, but that doesn't mean we can or should give up. We're simply going to have to learn to endure bad times and persevere through them.

Our art these days doesn't teach us much about endurance, but it used to. I listened to this song this morning:


Well, there's a dark and a troubled side of life
There's a bright and a sunny side too
But if you meet with the darkness and strife
The sunny side we also may view
Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way
If we keep on the sunny side of life
Oh, the storm and its fury broke today
Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear
Clouds and storms will in time pass away
The sun again will shine bright and clear
It's probably time to get into that mindset.



Monday, September 28, 2020

Listening to: Rebirth Brass Band

 


It's kind of embarrassing to admit now, but my first extended exposure to New Orleans-style brass band music came ... via a bunch of white guys from Madison, Wisconsin.

During my early days in Lawrence, I made friends with a guy named Joe -- a little older than I was, a lot more hip, and fun to hang around. One evening after work we went and got dinner, then walked around Massachusetts Street looking for something to do. We walked by the Jazzhaus, saw a group called the "Youngblood Brass Band" was playing, and decided why not? The cover charge was something like $3 -- maybe a little more, but not vastly more.

These were the aforementioned white guys from Madison, Wisconsin. The tuba player was particularly talented, using his giant horn to spin out turntable-style sounds while the snare drummer doubled as the band's MC. And what can I say? I'd heard brass band music before -- I'd gotten to see the Dirty Dozen brass band play maybe three songs a few years before, and I enjoyed it, and I should've appreciated what I was seeing more, but it didn't take then. The night I saw Youngblood, it took. 

A few days later, I was at a record store, chatting with a friend about how much I'd enjoyed the concert when a stranger approached. "If you think you like brass band music," try this out. He shoved a new CD copy of "Rebirth Brass Band: Live at the Maple Leaf" into my hands. Some meetings are serendipitous I guess. I bought the CD.

And then I was amazed. I probably kept the disc in my player for a month. The music was raw and energetic -- the recording was live, made in what sounded like a party. The songs went on forever. It was all new to me. I loved it.

I'm listening to them now, loving the music and feeling regrets. I always meant to get to New Orleans someday -- to hear them at the Maple Leaf, to hear Kermit Ruffins at Vaughn's. Saw Rebirth here in Lawrence a couple of years ago, and they were great, but they played at the Lied Center -- a big stage, the kind of place build like an opera house with balcony seats -- and that wasn't really their milieu. New Orleans is. I thought I'd get around to it sooner or later. But now I'm not sure there's going to be a later, at least as far as travel and live music are concerned. I hope there is. Until then, I have the recordings.


Bag O' Books: MOBY DICK

A spoiler or two follows, but kids: The book is 170 years old. It's not my fault if you get spoiled.

There are some works of art that I am slow to getting to because the weight of their reputation makes them seem -- forgive me, teachers -- like homework. I didn't watch "The Godfather" for years for precisely that reason: It just seemed like too much. Then I watched it and fell in an obsessive kind of love.


"Moby Dick" turns out to be a similar experience. I didn't read it for a long time, because in addition to the weight of the book's reputation, there was the sheer damn size of the actual physical novel. It's not small! But the pandemic slowed my life down a little, and I have resolved to tackle some works of literature I'd skipped before.

Things about "Moby Dick" that I didn't expect:

* That it would be so gay. 

Thursday, September 24, 2020

Listening to: An explanation

I'm going to make this an occasional series, I think, about whatever album I happen to be listening to when the mood strikes. I can't really write about music -- it's like dancing about math -- but I can describe how music intersected with my life and made me feel, so that's what I'll do. It's my blog! Would love to hear your own experiences with the artists I mention. 

Listening to: Sharon Jones

 


I never quite made my life match up to getting the full Sharon Jones experience.

My friend Josh Powers told me about her back in the mid-aughts, had been to a couple of her shows in Lawrence, Kansas and said they were amazing. I found my to to one of her albums and could not believe her albums had been made during this century.

When the time came that she visited Lawrence again, my wife and I got tickets. But Jo was pregnant, battling pretty severe morning sickness that lasted all day long. We made an attempt to go to and enjoy the show -- I remember Jones was wearing a skimpy dress, and worked the stage hard, shimmying and shaking all over the stage, and even then I knew I'd never have that much energy again -- but Jo was miserably ill, so we left after a half-dozen songs or so.

I remember being cranky that Amy Winehouse got famous using Jones' backup band.

There was one other opportunity to listen to Sharon Jones for me. It was Philly, 2011, and we were broke and barely employed. But Jones was playing a free show on Broad Street that spring -- it would've been a huge crowd, we probably would've been miserable. But as it happened, we didn't get to go. I was in the hospital, septic with infection and vomiting green bile. The next day I had a surgery that saved my life -- the first of three I would have that year. I've been broken since then. But I lived and got to see my son grow up.

And another opportunity to go see Sharon Jones live -- in what, I gather, was her element -- never presented itself before she died. 

Right now, I'm listening to her album, "Naturally," and ... I still can't believe it was made during this century.

Listening to: Lou Reed

I first really encountered Lou Reed in high school, about the time he released the "New York" album. A friend -- a Spanish exchange student -- lent me the cassette tape, so I took home and listened on my miniature boom box (known at the time, somewhat egregiously, as a "ghetto blaster" because we didn't quite realize how racist that was) and decided the album wasn't really for me. But Reed's use of the term "Statue of Bigotry" in the song "Dirty Boulevard" stuck in my head for years after.

(Actually, I didn't know it at the time, but my FIRST first encounter with Reed was the Honda scooter commercial in 1985 that used "Walk on the Wild Side," which is a really weird song for a commercial.) 

I gave Lou a second chance in the late 1990s, thanks to the BMG music club -- and discovered I really loved his 70s stuff. (For music snobs of a certain age, "best of" compilations are thought of as belonging to the newbs and amateurs. Guilty as charged, I suppose.) I heard songs like "Satellite of Love" and "Perfect Day" for the first time and was blown the hell away.

The CD got lost somewhere along the way. But a couple of years ago I found another "best of" collection featuring a lot of the same songs -- I mean, they really were his best songs -- on vinyl. I am listening to it now and I'm feeling kind of content.

Monday, September 21, 2020

What both sides need to understand about Amy Coney Barrett's quote about faith

 So I keep seeing this quote from possible Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett being bandied about the Twitters:

For my friends on the left: This quote, in and of itself, is not proof that Amy Coney Barrett intends to establish a theocracy. It's pretty standard stuff for many practicing Christians! Even people who do their jobs in completely normal ways will talk about how they try to do their best for the glory of God. The better tactic is to focus on her actual legal philosophy -- she has a track record of rulings you know -- and talk about how that might be at odds with the American common good.

For my friends on the right: People being afraid of this quote doesn't mean they're "bigoted" against faith, per se. They're worried about how that faith will manifest itself in her rulings -- just as, presumably, people like Robert George are hopeful that her faith will manifest itself in her rulings. Clothing yourself in the garments of bigotry victim might feel good, but it's not all that accurate.

I'm no fan of Barrett, precisely because of how I think she will rule as a judge. And it's impossible at this point for everybody not to assume that the other side is acting in bad faith, I realize. But that assumption becomes its own kind of bad faith.

Sunday, September 20, 2020

Coronavirus Diary: Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

My big regret from the last decade or so of my life is that I've spent too much time living in my head and in cyberspace and not enough in real life with real people, and now that it's better to live in cyberspace than in real places, I find I'm going a bit stir-crazy. I miss tangible experiences.

"I don't see race": Living in a bubble of whiteness

 I've been thinking about this, from Roger Marshall, the Republican candidate for U.S. Senate from Kansas:


"I don't see race" is a line that has become a punch line, but it occurred to me that for Kansans, it is literally true: They think they don't see race because so often they don't actually see Black people: 13.4 percent of the U.S. population is Black, according to the U.S. Census, but just 6.1 percent of the Kansas population is. In Great Bend, where Marshall lives, the number is less than 2 percent.

I went to a central Kansas high school where (reputedly) one Black person had ever graduated in the entire history, and that was before my era. For many rural or rural-ish Kansans who live outside the cities of Wichita, Topeka and Kansas City, it is pretty easy to go about your life -- work, education, church, everything -- and only occasionally, if ever, encounter a Black person.* That means your primary source of understanding comes from media sources instead of anything remotely resembling real life. 

*There's a related but also separate discussion to be had about the state's Latino population, but Marshall's quote comes in the context of Black Lives Matter.

Which is how you can start a sentence saying that you don't see race and finish it by talking about "the ghetto."

As a political matter, it's pretty easy to vote for somebody like Marshall, then, because -- even though he's going to go and caucus with a party that do esso much, for example, to gut the Voting Rights Act, and which supports a president who is plainly racist -- you don't see the ramifications of that party's acts in your real life. The color line is a theory, and not one that bears much thinking about in one's politics. A lot of us in Kansas "don't see race" because -- all to often -- we don't have to see Black people. I suspect that makes a difference. 

These folks are in a bubble of whiteness, and it's no less pernicious than any other bubble we've talked about in recent years. Maybe even more so: As Nate Silver notes, America's rural areas get 2.5 times the representation in the U.S. Senate than do urban areas. It probably goes without saying that those rural areas are considerably whiter than America as a whole. Some of the folks who live in those areas are surely racist. But a lot of people are probably comfortable with the racially disparate impact of their votes because they think they don't see race -- and in a very real sense, they don't.

Updated with some copyedits.

Saturday, September 19, 2020

Bag O' Books: FREDERICK DOUGLASS: PROPHET OF FREEDOM

This has been, for many white Americans, the summer of anti-racism reading. I guess that my dive into David Blight's FREDERICK DOUGLASS: PROPHET OF FREEDOM counts in that category. I can't tell other people how to try and figure out how to do their own thinking about race -- but I don't have much patience for "how to" books like "White Fragility." I'd rather read histories and current books by and about people who have lived the struggle. I've re-read James Baldwin's "The Fire Next Time" this summer, as well as Toni Morrison's "Beloved." Next up on my reading list is Isabel Wilkerson's "Caste." In between all of these books, I'm getting in a chapter or two of "Moby Dick" now and again.

Among the lessons to be learned from Blight's book is that discerning the One True Way to battle the evil of racism may not be so easy, or even possible. Douglass evolved over time from a "moral suasionist" form of abolition to a fiery advocate of righteous, cleansing violence. He moved from being a radical outsider to a Republican "party man." He struggled with human foibles. 

The two through-lines in his life, though, are this: He always fought for the advancement of his race. And he often did so by telling his own story -- a biography in which he escaped slavery and rose to become a preeminent orator, writer and (three times!) autobiographer.

The other through line, perhaps, is that the struggle never ends. Douglass started his fight against slavery and ended it an enemy of lynching. Evil never subsides. It just takes on new-- and, sometimes, not-so-new -- forms to be opposed.

Thursday, September 17, 2020

Bill Barr, civil liberties, and sedition

 It's interesting that this news:

Attorney General William Barr drew criticism after calling lockdown measures aimed at controlling the spread of COVID-19 the worst infringement on civil liberties other than slavery.

Came down at the same time as this news:

William Barr told prosecutors to explore aggressive charges against people arrested at recent demonstrations across the US, even suggesting bringing a rarely used sedition charge, reserved for those who have plotted a threat that posed imminent danger to government authority, according to multiple reports on Wednesday.

Barr's interest in civil liberties is ... situational, shall we say.

There is no right to commit vandalism of and destruction to government property, of course, but there's a reason sedition charges are rarely used: They've often been used in American history to tamp down legitimate dissent.

This was notoriously the case under President John Adams. Jill Lepore, in her book THESE TRUTHS, wrote about his use of a sedition law to punish political opponents:


Sedition laws were also used abusively around World War I.

Though Wilson and Congress regarded the Sedition Act as crucial in order to stifle the spread of dissent within the country in that time of war, modern legal scholars consider the act as contrary to the letter and spirit of the U.S. Constitution, namely to the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights. One of the most famous prosecutions under the Sedition Act during World War I was that of Eugene V. Debs, a pacifist labor organizer and founder of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) who had run for president in 1900 as a Social Democrat and in 1904, 1908 and 1912 on the Socialist Party of America ticket.

After delivering an anti-war speech in June 1918 in Canton, Ohio, Debs was arrested, tried and sentenced to 10 years in prison under the Sedition Act. Debs appealed the decision, and the case eventually reached the U.S. Supreme Court, where the court ruled Debs had acted with the intention of obstructing the war effort and upheld his conviction. In the decision, Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes referred to the earlier landmark case of Schenck v. United States (1919), when Charles Schenck, also a Socialist, had been found guilty under the Espionage Act after distributing a flyer urging recently drafted men to oppose the U.S. conscription policy.

I don't envy the politicians who have tried -- not always successfully -- to balance the requirements of public health with the obligations of protecting civil liberties. But they have been working (despite criticisms) to protect public health, not to punish their enemies. Sedition laws are generally used to punish acts committed in the name of some sort of wrongthink. To me, at least, that's a more dangerous kind of civil liberties violation. It also happens to be the kind that Attorney General Bill Barr endorses.


Wednesday, September 16, 2020

Does this count against Donald Trump breaking America's "39-year streak" of new wars?

We refuse to spend enough money to make sure that unemployed people can eat and pay rent, but we can talk about spending tens of billions of dollars to create a fleet of deadly robot submarines. President Trump doesn't get to claim to be the peace president when he's spending so much money trying to make the United States a more lethal nation. We're already pretty lethal!

Anyway, POTUS and his cronies have been speaking lately that he stopped America's 39-year streak of starting new wars. To my way of thinking, this counts against that:

The U.S. military’s Africa Command is pressing for new authorities to carry out armed drone strikes targeting Qaeda-linked Shabab fighters in portions of eastern Kenya, potentially expanding the war zone across the border from their sanctuaries in Somalia, according to four American officials.

The new authorities, which must still be approved by Defense Secretary Mark T. Esper and then President Trump, do not necessarily mean the United States will start carrying out drone attacks in Kenya. Nevertheless, they would give Africa Command permission under certain circumstances to expand the counterterrorism drone war into another country.

Arguably, this is an old war expanding to a new arena. If Trump gets to keep his streak-breaking claim, though, it won't be because he's not expanding the United States' wars.

Coronavirus Diary: There's only so many times you can binge-watch "Parks & Recreation"

I am at the stage of pandemic isolation where there isn't much left for me to re-watch on TV that brings comfort -- or, at least, I can't do it without diminishing returns. "Parks & Rec" is great, but you can only go to that well so many times.

I've been allowing myself some socially distanced socialization lately -- mostly, standing out in front of the coffee shop with a small group of men (it's usually all men, most of them a bit older than I am) -- and chatting for a few minutes. Is it distanced enough? I don't know. I'm terrified it's not. But I've also been going stir-crazy in isolation, so I've decided I will allow myself that little bit. If the crowd gets too large, I leave.

I hope I don't regret it.

I hope my family doesn't regret it.

There isn't a lot bringing me joy these days. The other morning, walking my daily two miles in the rain, I felt a sense of well-being I haven't felt in awhile. But it passed. Most days I'm stuck on "dread" and "despair" as my dominant emotions. All I can do is the bit of work that I have, and try not to let my son see what I'm feeling, lest I discourage him. School seems to be going well for the most part. There is that, at least. I wonder if he is learning anything that will help him survive the terrible times I suspect are coming.

A few years back, I read that depressed people are actually ... just more realistic than optimists. I am feeling very realistic lately.


Forgiveness

David Blight, writing about Frederick Douglass meeting his former enslaver: “In much of Christian tradition—in which Douglass had learned to think and write—the forgiver often forgives for his own sake, not to excuse the oppressor.”

I’m not firmly a Christian these days, by but I think about these concepts a lot. I’m not sure why I still aspire to this kind of moral attitude. I certainly cannot expect it of others, least of all somebody as badly wronged as Douglass has been. I barely practice this level of grace myself. And yet I suspect it is what my goal should be. 

Saturday, September 12, 2020

Movie Night: THE SECRET GARDEN (1949)

 You can find the synopsis of THE SECRET GARDEN right here.


No movie is the same as the book that inspired it, of course. I like some of what this movie does that's different than the book -- it leans into a haunted house vibe more heavily (it feels a bit like Alfred Hitchcock's REBECCA), which is aided by the appearance of Elsa Manchester (THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN) laughing endlessly just a little too much. But: It makes villains out of characters who were anything but villainous in the book, and it more strongly hints at a love connection between Dickon and Mary. (Given that the actor playing Dickon was nearly 20 when the movie was made, it's good they didn't take it further.)

There is some first-rate child tantruming in this movie. But the real star is, of course, Margaret O'Brien as Mary. She has a charismatic presence, and it's easy to see how she became a (child) star during this era. Overall this movie is a pleasant enough way to spend an afternoon, but it's not essential.

THE SECRET GARDEN is currently streaming at Criterion Channel.

Friday, September 11, 2020

Movie Night: LENNY

 


This is a story about an artist who comes up in the industry starting out at strip clubs, is abusive to women, and does a lot of drugs. Bob Fosse went on to make ALL THAT JAZZ, which is considered his autobiographical film, but if he hadn't made that, LENNY would probably suffice. Yeah, it's about Lenny Bruce. But if you're familiar with Fosse's biography, you know that this movie isn't just about Lenny Bruce.

Valerie Perrine won an award at Cannes for her role here, and I've got to say that this is a great performance from her as Bruce's stripper wife, Honey. Dustin Hoffman buries himself in the role. But something feels like it's missing from this movie -- a sense, perhaps, of why Bruce might've been compelling beyond mere shock value. Or maybe that's all there was.

LENNY is playing now on the Criterion Channel.

9/11

I've probably said enough about 9/11 over the years. Long story short: My first-ever visit to New York City was a few weeks after the attacks. There was still smoke rising from the bowels of the World Trade Center. The makeshift memorials -- on fences around the perimeter, in subway stations -- were still fresh and full of living pain. 

Also: The city was still, unmistakably alive and vibrant.

I drove across country to get to New York that week, stopping in Shanksville along the way. It was the first time I'd driven so far by myself. I realized how big this country is. And how much New York differed from the world I'd grown up in. And I loved it. 

9/11 made me back away from the pacifism I'd grown up with, and in retrospect I think I was wrong to make that choice. The wars that grew out of the attacks have not created much safety, but they have increased the total amount of misery in the world. What a shame.

Time passes faster than you think. I was still young when 9/11 happened. I'm not now. That day is history. Before too long, it'll be ancient history. But it still feels like current events to me. Except for this part: Between 9/11, the Great Recession and now, this is the third time in my adult life where I've wondered if the world is coming to an end.

One of these days, I might be right.

How Trump's lies make us less safe, vaccine edition

We already know that Donald Trump lied to Americans about the dangerousness of the pandemic. Trump's lies are designed to be self-serving, but they have a real affect on our safety.

There is a lot of skepticism out there, for example, about the possibility of a vaccine arriving just in time for election day. There is good reason for that skepticism -- even crash vaccine efforts usually take years to come to fruition. Doing on a timeline of months is pretty much unheard of. But the other reason people are skeptical of the vaccine is because Donald Trump is promising us it is on the way and will make everything alright. And because we Americans know Donald Trump is such a huge liar, this makes us understandably skittish that such a vaccine, if and when it arrives, will provide us with as much protection as a broken condom. Which means, inevitably, that fewer people will line up to take the vaccine when it becomes available -- which, if it is effective, means that a number of people will forgo the protection, and that they in turn will deny us collective immunity.

Health and drug company officials understand the problem, which is why you've seen them out in public the last few days, telling us they would never, ever put out an ineffective or unsafe vaccine for political reasons. But Trump's lies, and his willingness to bend the bureaucracy to his will for political reasons, means we can't really trust those promises. It's possible that we're going to have a snake oil salesman whose snake oil really works, but whose reputation for cons and selling quack cures means many of us pass on the good stuff. That would be tragic. But we're talking about Trump here. It's just as likely the snake oil salesman's product won't actually work, and we'll be stuck with the consequences of his selfishness.

Perhaps we can replace the State of Liberty's torch with an extended middle finger

Vox:

The Trump administration is reportedly considering allowing even fewer refugees — or even none at all — into the US next year, another potential blow to the US’s already decimated refugee program.

Reuters reported Thursday, citing a senior administration official, that officials are weighing several options: delaying some or all refugee admissions until a lawsuit challenging President Donald Trump’s executive order curbing refugee resettlement is resolved, deepening cuts to refugee admissions, or both.

@TheWeek: "Lol nothing matters"

I found myself moved by Damon Linker's column this morning about these awful times: "Maybe we can love the world, mourn our losses, and recognize the awfulness of so much of what swirls around us while also striving to place it in a perspective that makes some space for wry smiles. In dark times, a little irony can go a long way — transforming a tragedy not so much into a comedy as into a chapter with a mixture of darkness and light and an indeterminate end that leaves a little room for hope."


Thursday, September 10, 2020

“Woke”

One of my big pet peeves these days is right-wing sneering at Black people not wanting to get shot or unfairly policed as “woke.” Like the survival instinct, or wanting to be left alone, is merely a form of radical chic. 

Yes, Trump is a warmonger

American Conservative: "President Trump has been nominated for the 2021 Nobel Peace Prize, thanks to his role in brokering a historic peace deal between Israel and the United Arab Emirates, and for breaking a 39-year streak of U.S. presidents leading the U.S. into a new war."

This "broken streak" idea is specious. Trump's early presidency included dropping "the Mother of All Bombs" on Afghanistan. He vetoed a measure to end U.S. involvement in Yemen's war. He had a top Iranian general assassinated. The list goes on, but you get the idea: No American president gets out of office without some blood on his hands. and Trump is not an exception.

Maybe the first step to peace is not starting new wars. Great! But the United States armed forces are still involved in conflicts around the world. And Trump bears a great deal of responsibility for that. Don't let the lack of *new* wars fool you.

A good walk just might save my life

 

Me walking in the rain

Yesterday, I was so angry at the state of the world -- justifiably, I think -- that I actually thought for a few minutes I was giving myself a heart attack. I wasn't. But the rage I was feeling about everything manifested itself as, well, physical pain.

Since the beginning of August, I have been getting out every day to walk a couple of miles. Before that, I'd gotten very pandemic sedentary: My Apple Health app tells me I averaged 365 steps a day in July. That's bad. So I made a goal of 5,000 steps a day, and I've mostly stuck with it. It is the most consistent exercise I've gotten since 2002. (My body and I don't always have a great relationship. I'm kind of a "stuck in my head" guy.

Anyway, it was raining this morning. I walked anyway. Through the downtown of my suburbanish college town and back, through the park. And I felt something I hadn't felt in months, maybe years: Maybe it was joy? I don't know. It felt good, though.

The state of the world is cause for rage. And sometimes I have to live with that anger. But I am not capable of living with it so acutely. The walk let me listen to music -- I've gotten very deeply into comfort music of late (more on that later) -- but otherwise I wasn't staring at a screen, obsessing about things. I let my mind get to other places. Getting physical activity every day is good in its own right. But the mental health aspect is pretty important too. A good walk just might save my life.

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

The narcissism of small differences: Pew Research edition

Seems like a better way to put this would be: Large majorities of U.S. adults -- in both parties -- believe that social media is a distraction. Emphasizing that one party believes it slightly more than the other, when lots of people in both parties believe it, does more to emphasize our differences than our commonalities.