The more severe the wrongdoing, the more likely we are to react rather than respond, to act toward wrongdoers the way we feel like acting rather than the way we should act. – Miroslav Volf, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly In A Violent World, p.8
It was the evening of the first day of the new Administration, January 20, 2017, when newly installed Presidential Press Secretary came to the podium and, rather than welcoming the press to a new Administration, harangued the alleged misconduct of the press by presenting as fact the relative smallness of the inauguration crowd when the Trump Administration insisted it’s crowd was far larger than either of his predecessors. Of course, everyone in the room, presumably including Sean Spicer, knew it was bullshit. The gathering for the inauguration of Donald Trump as President of the United States was comically small, made even more ridiculous by the days-long obsession with denying this very obvious reality.
In the months since, we have come to accept that no words from this Administration or those who have roles of authority within it have any value whatever. Our 45th President has not even a glancing acquaintance with the truth and feels no need to improve his eyesight. We are nation gaslighted on a daily basis by a small group of (mostly) men who believe that reality is so malleable that mere repetition of falsehoods somehow makes them true.
And this is no odd occurrence. It is, rather, the outcome of nearly two decades of FOXNews presenting its alternative reality to a shrinking cohort of Americans who just want to count. Few things are as threatening as the complicated reality within which we live, a reality that less and less abides a single narrative voice speaking from one perspective to offer any authoritative commentary upon it. Building upon the manipulations of one of Richard Nixon’s original rat-fuckers, Roger Ailes, and aided and abetted by the spread of toxic “talk radio” in the voices of Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Laura Ingraham, and others, there are millions of Americans whose view of the past two decades is not only radically different than the majority’s; it is a castle floating in the air, supported by the comforting tones of white men repeating a mantra that everything can be good once again, once we silence those other voices that aren’t white, aren’t male, aren’t like us.
That the past is contested space isn’t a new idea. That’s precisely how historians present the ethical dilemma of their work: as best as possible to present the past as it was for those who lived and moved and had their being in the past. Rather than history, however, our reactionary fellow-Americans are far more content with a noxious nostalgia stripped of any humanity or meaning other than to bolster the fading power of a white cultural and political voice. Particularly with the rise of African-American history, feminist historiography, histories that bring to light hidden realities from the past whether that be the treatment of the native nations of North America or how Chinese immigrants living on the west coast were treated as viciously as African-Americans by a nation ungrateful for the labor they provided building our continental railroad system. We don’t like to hear or see things that upset our tranquil view of America as a beneficent provider of freedom and opportunity to the world. Such histories, however, darken the far too clean edges of our official memories.
I was sitting down to read Miroslav Volf’s The End of Memory, already disturbed by the subtitle, Remembering Rightly in a Violent World. The idea there is “one right way” to do the necessary individual and social act of remembering is an idea that no longer carries any weight. Individual memories, as psychological studies have shown over and over again, are malleable things, sometimes presenting us with false memories either to console or disturb us. That our collective memory has long been contested space is something historians take for granted. To offer, then, a view of “remembering” as something to do “rightly” seems difficult to sustain. Human communities, including religious communities, are not immune either to the false god of nostalgia or the weakening of hegemonic discourses leaving confusion about what is and is not true and right. We in the churches find ourselves struggling in the midst of rapid social and cultural changes for which the assertion of “should” has no moral or pedagogical weight. There are only communities and the various ways they embody remembrance, including most especially the remembrance of violence, injustice, and persecution, as part of their practice of faith. Whether it’s in the liturgy, the pastoral, the missional, or theological expressions of the faith, we can no longer pretend there is a single answer to the question, “How should we Christians deal with memory in all its variety?”
Even more troubling, however, is Volf’s stated intention to present an ethic of memory that “goes beyond” justice (p.10). It is in remembering that the hunger for justice is kept alive. Memory is the enemy of any official statement, be it sacred or secular. The messy realities of human life, too often denied by our national or church leaders, are the one thing that keeps us from succumbing to the constant barrage of falsehoods either from secular leaders creating a false narrative and reality, or some in the churches who would insist that only doctrinally approved memories are fit grist for our theological mills. In a time when the very act of remembering denies the truthfulness of our public officials; when some would silence the memories of faithful lives lived outside sanctioned lifeways; living in such a moment when the very fabric of reality seems, at times, to be the main battleground, to demand an ethic of “right” remembering, rather than celebrating the varieties of remembering that keep alive identities too long denied and never fully satisfy the hunger for real justice that can only come by a transformation of our institutions. This doesn’t mean the past will somehow cease to be contested space; it will always be such. It is only to assert that remembering is a contested political act and contested act of faith. To declare the contest over by the mere assertion of how we “should” act, including remembering as an active ethical concern of real individuals and communities is a kind of religious imperialism that can only land within the already contested areas where memory and history, where real human lives and communities struggle to assert their full place within our collective consciousness.
I don’t regret not being able to get much beyond p. 12 or 13 of Volf’s work. The entire premise – there is a single ethical stance Christians should take regarding memory – is a house built on sand. That this sand is the all-too-popular idea of a transcendent, peaceful, “liberal” Christian “tolerance” (always a disparaging, derogatory stance) of The Other, even when that Other has done violence to oneself or one’s community, it is easy to watch the beautiful house crumble as the bloody flood of history rises and destroys it. To claim that we as Christians need to move beyond justice rather than always hold it before ourselves as a necessary part of true reconciliation is a blasphemous attempt to silence those whose history is one of official repression, denial, and murder in order to keep our histories and memories clean and male and white.
Now I just need to find something else to read . . .
I remember a time when churches were full on Sunday mornings. I remember when my home church, now dead and gone, had so many in attendance they’d set out extra chairs for people to sit in. The mighty sound of a full and full-throated choir bouncing off the hardwood and stained glass was powerful. People greeting one another after worship in long queues, across generations, smiling and thankful to be together.
I’m not saying I remember some golden age to which I wish to return. I’m just saying I remember a time when faith, a life of faith, the practice of faith still meant something. More than anything, such memories mark me as a bit older than I’d care to admit.
When I started Seminary, it was at the point in our local and national life when the decline of active church membership, and church membership at all, was starting to be noticed. Even as there were whispers and guarded discussions about what was happening, by and large our education was preparing us for a world that was disappearing far more rapidly than we could imagine, let alone wanted to admit to ourselves. There’s a saying that our military is always preparing for the last war. I guess it’s true with training our pastoral leaders: We’re getting them ready with old tools and skills for a world with new challenges, new dangers, and always always always the promise of something new happening.
Like anyone else entering middle age, the world around us is becoming less and less about us. The things we knew when we were younger are as dead as the past from which we dredge up memories of overflowing pews on Sunday mornings and a louder voice in our local and national affairs. Of all the new challenges with which we must deal, perhaps the most perplexing is the reality that for more and more people, the whole church-thing, God-thing, all the trappings of a bygone era are no more relevant than are tail fins on cars or touring with the Grateful Dead. It isn’t so much militant atheism with which the church must contend as it is a growing number of people who just don’t see what all the fuss is about. Meaning? Purpose? These things can be found in all sorts of organizations, life-ways, occupations, without all that weird metaphysical baggage that no longer makes any sense in our post-modern, post-Christian, post-secular age. We in the churches speak of Good News in a world that just no longer thinks it needs it.
A lot of churches, local and denominational, fall back on upholding old truths, drawing far more strict lines about who’s in and who’s out, demanding even greater adherence to doctrinal formulae and theological methods that, for all they once fed the multitudes are no so many empty baskets, ignored by those fed by other means. We now not so much invite as demand people come and see and hear and adhere and submit and their lives will have an overarching meaning, purpose, and telos that extends beyond the fragmented eternal nows that are the hollow substance of post-modern time. There are some, perhaps many, who find comfort and strength within such gated church communities. Upholding the past as true and the present as false offers a rock upon which to stand, someplace solid upon which to build a life of verities in the midst of a world that no longer cares about such things.
For every family that finds refuge within such seemingly solid structures, however, there are five, perhaps ten, that see these attempts at reconstructing a dead age for what it is – not a fortress within which one is safe from the world, but a Potemkin village, empty of anything other than those who admire the beautiful facades without caring how flat and false they are. Seeing this in abundance, all too often they look upon all churches as such false fronts, holding no promise, no message, no possibilities that cannot be found far better elsewhere. What these growing number of people see and hear isn’t so much Good News as it is a bunch of old words and promises for something no longer thought possible – safety and security in the midst of our chaotic world.
Is it necessary, or even possible, to reach such people? How do we in the churches who do not accept the crumbling sand of the same old thing and the incomprehensibility of so much of our talk about ourselves and our God still answer what we feel to be a call to tell the world there really is Good News? How do we live and practice our faith in a time when the very idea of “faith” is something about which fewer people care? These are the realities our churches face, the wall that separates us from those around us: we recognize the irrelevance of emptiness of so much of our talk, our ways of worship, our ways of living yet understand ourselves caught up in something the compels us to declare that God is, God is love, and God’s love extends to all creation.
I know I wasn’t educated or trained for such a world; I think our church leaders, those of my generation, weren’t either. We still read Bonhoeffer and Barth, Tillich and Niebuhr as if they were contemporaries, rather than oracles to a world that, even as we read their words, were receding more and more quickly. We thought Cone and Daly, Reuther and Gutierrez were radical when in fact they were no more than prophets to institutions unsuited to the challenges their messages announced. Ours is a world – truly a world – made up of neighborhoods. Whether we call them countries our states or even our local towns and villages, any global view always ends up zooming in on our increasingly nonhegemonic society, in which white and male faces no longer dominate; where love is greater than we thought, watching as same-sex couples celebrate blessed unions and state-sanctioned marriages; communities where the ravages of centuries of racism, of economic exploitation, of imperialism of all kinds have left indelible scars, requiring more than just good intentions and open minds and open hearts not only to overcome, but to accept the scars as a permanent part of our social, cultural, and political landscape. These and more are the new realities which confront our local churches, demanding an answer to the challenge, “With all this, why should I care about what you have to say and do?”
I’m not sure we yet have the tools to even begin searching for an answer, beyond recognizing the reality of the urgency of the question. I know our current generation of leaders weren’t given the tools with which to work toward anything like an answer. At the same time, I also know this is where we are, this is what our churches face, and if we do not even recognize the irrelevance of our claims to having something called “faith” that is vital to our lives and identities, we may very well wither and die. Falling back on false “timeless truths” is no answer, not really; it’s a reaction born of fear. We need to do and say something new in new ways, trusting that something beyond our own fears is giving us the ability to keep going.
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post in which I argued that what we United Methodists need isn’t yet another fruitless debate and discussion of the question of the language regarding “homosexual practice”. Rather, it would be far better were we to have a discussion about the nature of our churches, their mission and ministry. All the same, I’m hardly surprised to find our General Board of Higher Education and Ministry has offered yet another study guide focused on the question of human sexuality. The subtitle, “Toward a Faithful United Methodist Witness,” assumes both that there is some vague, as-yet defined “faithful witness” specific to United Methodism that we currently aren’t doing and that our churches don’t know how to include matters of human sexuality in their faithful witness. First of all, to take the two matters in reverse orders, our local churches tend to be wary of delving too much into matters of human sexuality not only because we Americans are embarrassed to talk about sex; they are also, by and large, adults who view matters of human sexuality as highly personal, and not matters about which the church should exercise itself overmuch. As for “faithful witness”, I would argue that our churches by and large are being faithful witnesses to the Gospel by keeping the doors of their churches open to pretty much anyone who walks in. They are being faithful witnesses by their local outreach, whether its local mission projects, Vacation Bible School in the summer, or what have you. Our churches know what they’re about, and to presume they need some kind of guidance from seminary professors on what it means to be a faithful witness both in general and in regards to matters of human sexuality in particular is precisely our problem.
Simply put, I think we’re supersaturated with study guides, books written by successful pastors on everything under the sun, and yet another class meeting some weeknight led by the pastor. Most churches liturgy is overflowing with sermon series’, sometimes based upon Scripture, sometimes on a, yes indeed, study guide. In an effort to coordinate everything from adult Christian education to liturgy to missional focus, ours is a denomination flooded with far too much top-down guidance through select issues.
In the United States, we are a church of thousands of congregations with around 8 million members. Among those members are successful business people, doctors, lawyers, counselors, teachers, non-profit workers and executives, academics, scientists, retired clergy, and based upon our demographics among the best-educated people in America. These are the people who make up our committees, our United Methodist Women groups, our Sunday School teachers, our small group leaders, and our faithful givers, tithers, and members. Rather than tap this ocean of expertise, we turn yet again to the same authors who ask the same questions and offer the same answers time and time again.
How many of our local church members are even aware that General Conference last year was a cock-up of epic proportions? How many know there will be a special called session of General Conference in February, 2019 to address not questions of human sexuality but primarily matters of the larger church’s organization? How many people know there’s an organization of clergy, some in their own conference, who are part of a group actively encouraging schism? How many of our local churches understand now is the time to speak up and act, to demand we focus our attention on our core mission of discipleship formation for the transformation of our world?
Why are we afraid of being open and honest about what’s going to happen over the next 18 months or so? Why are we ignoring the wealth of experience, of understanding, of specialized knowledge, of all the gifts and grace of our local churches, turning yet again to a study guide written by a committee, rather than coming to a consensus among the members of each local church after ad hoc conversations among themselves? Why is faithful witness something that is not assumed? Why? WHY? WHY???
We are facing grace matters yet there is little effort to harness the people called Methodists to shape and inform the discussions. We are looking to our usual ways of working with our usual problems: a study guide, taught in a class, usually by clergy. Not that there’s anything wrong per se with the current study guide; rather, it’s the lack of imagination that seeks to tell our local churches rather than listen to them.
Rather than talk about what others insist we must talk about, wouldn’t it be great for once if we listened to what our local churches had to say on matters of faithfulness, of in what each local church’s witness consists, its mission experience and goals? Wouldn’t it be nice if matters of human sexuality could be set within the context not of a 45 year old undefined formula (“practice of homosexuality”) that is really quite meaningless, considering what we know about human sexuality, and instead talked about the fact that sexuality might well be of little to no concern when it comes to the actual goings-on in our local churches? Wouldn’t it be nice if our delegations to the special General Conference went carrying not just the endorsements of their fellow Annual Conference members, but carrying the messages from our local churches regarding matters of church mission and ministry, the place and role of human sexuality, and what this should mean for our church structure?
In her latest column at Patheos.com, the Rev. Christy Thomas highlights what she sees as one of our major structural weaknesses inhibiting our growth:
[O]ur bureaucratic structure is just about to kill us. We are incapable of making quick decisions. There are times when it appears that every single detail of every single proposal has to be debated by every single delegate at outrageously expensive conferences.
Rather than a weakness, I for one see this as one of our great strengths. While not always perfect, and with some voices silenced either by cacophony or official proclamation, we are a denomination that insists that all voices are of value, all persons should be heard. I cannot imagine a church as large and diverse as ours operating in a way that limited discussions or sought to make quick decisions based upon matters of financial expense. This is who we are, and we should be proud of the occasional near-anarchy of our large meetings. Democracy is the least efficient way to do anything; we should seek faithfulness through consensus over efficiency every time.
By all means, we should be using the above study guide (and all those that are sure to follow). They should never replace the need we have to allow our congregations to speak for themselves, to tell their stories of faithful witness and mission. Let them tell their stories of their sense of place within the larger church. Let them talk about their understanding of the place of human sexuality within the life and mission of the church, an understanding that comes from years of faithful work at the heart of all church work – the local congregation. Not everyone is going to come out in the same place, and that’s OK. At least our church might actually be heard from, rather than told afterward what’s happening.
Since the inauguration, I’ve only written one post. While I haven’t been silent – my whole Twitter account is dedicated to politics – I have tried to make sure I don’t get too caught up in any given event or moment. I’ve really wanted to be able to think about what’s going on in order to make sure that, when the time came to say something, I felt confident what I was writing was as correct as possible. This is not a time for anyone to go off half-cocked. Sad to say, I see just a bit too much of that, especially on Twitter.
I thought I’d point out some things Trump critics do on a fairly regular basis I find either wrong-headed, distasteful, or both. First, I truly dislike armchair psychiatric diagnoses, particularly from people who think reading a paragraph in the DSM-V teaches them all they need to know about this or that mental illness. That’s not how it works. To diagnose someone without professional training, without repeated personal interactions, without any collaboration with like-minded colleagues is both stupid and unprofessional. Alas, way too many people call Trump a “narcissist” or “crazy” or “needing meds” or some such related word or phrase. Besides displaying a great deal of ignorance, this stigmatizes people who have mental illnesses. It tells folks like me that the world is watching and waiting to pass judgment upon us. It’s wrong, it’s hurtful, it’s ignorant, and it achieves nothing at all. Donald Trump may be many things, but pathologically narcissist is just not one of them. To repeat this over and over does no one any good at all and needs to stop.
Second, I really and truly believe people who insist this or that action taken by the White House is a “distraction” from “the real issue”. As if people cannot concentrate on more than one particular matter at a time! It is at least possible there are people who follow current events and politics who can see and understand multiple events and connect them – or not – without a whole lot of trouble. The ability to do so is kind of the mark of intelligent adulthood.
Now, another reason I dislike the whole “distraction” stuff is because it grants to Trump and his senior advisors both intelligence and an ability to plan neither he nor they have evidenced since the summer of 2015 when Trump announced his candidacy. To be blunt, these people just aren’t that smart; or if they are intelligent, they work with certain dysfunctions – obvious alcoholism in Steve Bannon; a desire to be liked that pushes hi to discredit criticism in Trump; these are just a couple – that hobble any advantage their natural intelligence might give them. There is no “larger strategy”, there are no planned distractions from this or that crisis of the moment or the whole Administration. These guys are flying by the seat of their pants, lashing out at critics inside and outside the state bureaucracy more from habit than anything else. If we grant them more intelligence, foresight, ability to think and act strategically than they actually possess, we miss the far more important point that the appearance of ineptitude and chaos may actually be just that and no more: ineptitude and chaos.
I think it’ fair to say that the various elements of the federal bureaucracy cannot function under current conditions for an extended period of time. While senior cabinet positions have been filled for the most part, there exist hundreds of Assistant Secretaries, Under Secretaries, Assistant Under Secretaries who are in need of Senate advising and consenting. Absent the guidance from these political appointees, the various federal agencies and departments simply cannot function. Now, I know there are some who would and do insist these positions are unnecessary: we have cabinet secretaries who develop policies along guidelines set by the President. It seems so easy, right?
Just this week, several junior members of the White House staff were escorted out by Secret Service because they failed their background checks for security clearances. This isn’t a fluke; Trump lost his National Security Advisor because he was compromised by the Russians. Should Trump, his chief of staff, or others continue to select people who cannot pass government clearance, or even display basic competence (Ben Carson at HUD, Betsy DeVos at Education), the whole machine grinds to a halt. We are not just a nation of over 300 million people. We are a continental nation-state, with discontiguous states and territories in need of the smooth functioning and open communication of state and federal bureaucracies. The federal government may or may not be too large – that’s an ideological and political matter that’s certainly debatable – but as of right now, it is what it is and combining the internal chaos at the top and the absence of a mass of critically needed upper and mid-level people to help develop policies, quite literally nothing will get done. Not relief to California; not the coordination necessary for our military to function properly; not agricultural policy to continue as we enter planting season. The whole thing just stops, or at best coasts along without any real understanding whether what they’re doing is in line with current policy parameters.
As for the matter of Russian penetration of the national elections last year, since stories about just that were appearing over the summer and continued with more or less attention paid to them during the Presidential campaign, I think it is more than fair to insist we need a serious, full-on investigation. Our National Security Advisor to the President of the United States was compromised by the Russians. We know Donald Trump has business ties in and with Russia, both private and public. We also know Russian intelligence hacked the databases and internal servers of both major political parties. We know they fed matieral concerning just one of those parties to a third party – Wikileaks – who published it, damaging Trump’ opponent. Hell, we even know Candidate Trump all-but-invited the Russians to conduct espionage on the Democratic Party. Considering recent Russian actions, from buzzing an American destroyer in the Black Sea to parking a military/intelligence ship just outside our territorial waters on the East Coast without a word either from the President or more than general statements from the Secretary of Defense, I think it is more than fair to insist we need to understand the full extent of Russian penetration of our recent elections. If anyone was compromised in one way or another by Russian intelligence or business interests.
These are the more important matters. There are others, such as Trump’s mindless Twitter-usage, including using a “lügenpresse” and an old Soviet epithet “enemy of the people” to describe our major corporate media outlets. This latest crosses a very dangerous line, with the President of the United States not only attempting to further discredit a constitutionally protected part of our civic life, but make of it an opponent to the orderly functioning of government. Yeah, this is bad and lots of folks have made that point so I won’t belabor it that much.
Speaking of dangerous territory, I do have to say that seeing currently serving general officers of the US military publicly comment on the current political climate – chaotic and confusing – is also disquieting. While I appreciate that senior military officials might well just be looking for the public to pressure the White House, particularly the National Security apparatus up to and including the Commander-in-Chief to get their act together, I honestly don’t like it when military officers, particularly generals, go public with stuff like this. I didn’t like it when they did it to George W. Bush. I didn’t like it when they did it to Barack Obama. And I’m not a fan of it now with Donald Trump is President.
I also do not like rumors that either the Intelligence Community or what’s called the Deep State (the domestic and foreign National Security apparatus, from the FBI through the various intelligence agencies, the military) might well be planning on the strategic release of damaging information the end the Trump Presidency. If that’s even in discussion among some folks in the Intelligence Community, they need to stop it. We do not need parts of our national security bureaucracy deciding who is and is not fit either to lead them or to be our President.
Venturing a guess, barring some serious disaster somewhere, either Congress will discover it’s collective spine and act, or pressure from the public will push them to act in their oversight funtions both to investigate and demand accountability from the departments of the executive and the President himself. This will happen sooner rather than later precisely because the status quo is just not tenable. Something will give soon enough. My greatest hope is that when it does, as little damage as possible is done either to our public institutions or the American people.
Today is the last day of Pres. Obama’s two terms as President of the United States. There’s been so much written about how people “feel” about the end of his terms, with people expressing sorrow and joy, wishing them will and wishing them ill, I thought it would be a good idea to take a look at Barack Obama’s record as President of the United States. What has happened in the United States over the past 2,922 days? Are we as a nation more economically stable? Are we safer? Have Americans lost any rights or privileges because of President Obama? What kind of America is Donald Trump going to be leading as of noon tomorrow?
One measure of economic vitality is how well the Stock Market is doing. There are many averages, but the one most commonly used is the Dow Jones Industrial Average. At the close of business on Jan. 20, 2009, the Dow stood at 7949.09. Yesterday it closed at 19,774.01. This shows both that the economy is moving along and that investors feel confident the economy will continue to be healthy.
Another way of understanding economic health is the unemployment rate. Now, that number only examines potential members of the workforce who are currently unemployed who are actively seeking unemployment. It is not a measure of the total numbers of Americans who are eligible to work and are not working. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics in January 2009, the unemployment rate was 7.8 percent. Because of the worsening of the American economy due to the bursting of the housing bubble, it would continue to rise to a high of 10% in October 2009. In December 2016, the unemployment rate was 4.7%. Since the end of the Second World War, “full employment” was usually thought to be an unemployment rate of 5% or less. With that in mind, the United States has been at “full employment” since September 2015.
The safety and security of the American people and nation-state should be one of the highest priority of any state executive. There are several measures that are helpful in understanding our safety both here and abroad. According to the FBI’s Uniform Crime Reporting tables, the first is the violent crime rate in 2008 was 454.5. The property crime rate was 3212.5. In 2014, the last full year for which data is available, the violent crime rate was 365.5; the property crime rate was 2596.1. It’s important to note that this continues a downward trend in the overall crime rate that began in the early 1990’s and has continued more or less unbroken in the years since. It’s also important to note these rates represent the number of persons per 100,00 Americans. In the early 1990’s, the American population was around 275 million people. It’s around 335,000,000 now. Not only are the rates lower, with a far larger population the chances of any particular individual being the victim of crime has reduced significantly.
The United States Department of Homeland Security and the University of Maryland have teamed up to create a single source database for terrorist activity around the world, including the United States. START, The Study of Terrorism And Responses to Terrorism project is an invaluable resource for scholars and your average citizen to learn about how terrorism has evolved over the past four decades, how terrorist attacks have changed, and what groups – at any given moment – are responsible for terrorist activity.
According to the report, Patterns of Terrorism in the United States: 1970-2013, just one of many reports from the Terrorist and Extremist Violence in the United States (TEVUS) Project at START, from its peak in the early 1970’s, both the frequency and fatality of terrorist acts have decreased dramatically. This graph is clear:
If you look at the actual statistics of terrorist acts by specific groups, during the period 2000-2013, “Unaffiliated Individuals” accounted for nearly a third, 31%, of all terrorist activity. This includes the September 11, 2001 attacks on New York and Washington. The next two groups on the list, The Earth Liberation Front (ALF) and Animal Liberation Front (ALF), account for just about half of all terrorist actions in the United States during those thirteen years. Al-Qaida is responsible for 4% while White Extremists account for 2% of the total.
While Al-Qaida is certainly responsible for more deaths during this time period, only the Ku Klux Klan was related to American fatalities during the period 2001-2011:
Even if you include the 9/11 attacks on New York and Washington, the actual rate of terrorist attacks in the United States continues to be quite small.
Another measure of social and economic health is the percentage of Americans who live below the poverty rate. According to a report from the Bureau of the Census (.pdf), in 2008 13.2 percent of all American households lived below the poverty rate. According to the same report, in 2008, 15.4 % of Americans had no health insurance. In 2015, the percentage of American families below the poverty line was 13.5%. The uninsured, however, had fallen to 10.4%.
By many metrics, including the most important ones, Barack Obama had a successful Presidency. Hardly perfect, but far better than one might guess if one’s only source of information is social media.
Not too shabby, Mr. President. Not too shabby at all.
N.B.: This is a slightly edited repost from one of my other sites from last year. It’s one of two that give an indication of what it was like to be part of my large, wonderful, sometimes slightly unbalanced family during the period from the late-70’s to mid-80’s. Thanksgiving was my Mom’s day to shine, and since so many of these memories have to do with holidays, I thought it a good idea to hoist it out of my archives. Have a great Thanksgiving, and enjoy your post-meal snoozes, everyone!
Moriah asked me something about growing up. God knows what led me down one particular path. I think it was after Thanksgiving last year, and I told the story – again I was reminded – about the time the chair in which I sat gave way beneath me. I looked up and my sister’s then-boyfriend looked down at me and said, “What are you doing on the floor?” That moment probably would have been less embarrassing if I hadn’t been 16 and there weren’t . . . let me count to make sure . . . twelve people sitting around the table.
It wasn’t just that we were a big family, at least by the standards of most of my friends. It wasn’t just that my siblings were a good deal older than I. It was the age difference, the bigness, and the appearance of friends and boyfriends and of course local extended family and my parents’ friends . . . and for a short season, the world was a lively, interesting , beguiling place. If anyone’s to blame, it’s my oldest sister and her husband. Gregarious and friendly not quite to a fault, their home was open to some of the most interesting, funniest, and just-plain-nicest people you’d want to meet. When my youngest sister was living with them, that circle expanded and cross-pollinated, with my youngest sister dating some of their friends, my oldest sister’s family’s friends becoming friendly with my youngest sister, then getting to know us as we’d visit on occasion. Looking back, I’ve never quite been sure when that very brief wild season began. I know it ended before I was old enough really to get the most out of it.
Best as I can remember, it was a Friday afternoon of my Junior year in high school I came home and there were four people in our house. My youngest sister, her boyfriend, and two other women, friends of my sister. It was something of a rule, I think, that to really associate with our family you had to have a sense of humor. So there was so much laughter. My sister was twenty, her friends probably close to the same age, her boyfriend a few years older. To me, at that time, mid-20’s seemed impossibly grown up. The thing is, though, when they asked what was going on and I told them a home high school football game and that I was in the marching band, they said they’d go.
That was the first time a friend of one of my adult siblings had acknowledged something I was doing and agreed to go. That was the moment I felt like I had moved from being that youngest kid who tags along until given something to do to being a part of that circle of my older siblings. It was huge. The fact that my sister always had the coolest people around her certainly helped.
And then there was that Thanksgiving. All those people. It was absolutely insane in some ways. At the time I don’t remember it feeling overwhelming. At the time, however, I was deep in the throes of . . . what? Trying to figure out how I felt about this girl I kissed? Yeah, that’ll do nicely for an explanation. Like most teens, my emotional world was about whatever happened to blow by at any particular moment. I do remember having a phone conversation with this young woman after school on the last day before Thanksgiving, and my oldest sister’s husband was getting his ass kicked in backgammon by my youngest sister’s boyfriend. I remember her asking why someone was yelling “fuck” a lot in the background. My time with this young woman was brief; the larger setting in which our conversation took place, though . . . that’s forever.
Like I said, my oldest sister and her husband had a large group of friends. All about their age, so mid-to-late 20’s. Impossibly old and so mature. They all worked hard. They loved their kids who are now far older than their parents were 34, 35 years ago. They also enjoyed themselves. This was true of my family no less than any of the others. When they started sharing stories of some of their parties, or just their goings-on, I had the impression that there probably wasn’t anything better in the world than being a part of my sister’s circle of friends. In fact, I was sure of it. To me, this is what “growing up” would be like.
Which is why I still wonder why I blew my first offered opportunity to smoke marijuana. In retrospect, probably the best decision I could have made given the context: Thanksgiving Day, 1981. It was my brother and my youngest sister’s boyfriend. The guy always had good weed, that I knew. Just the three of us were sitting in my parents’ living room. My sister’s boyfriend asked my brother if he wanted to “go for a drive”. My brother said yes. Then, in what was probably the biggest compliment I would receive for a long time, he asked me. I wondered what they were talking about. My brother leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Smoke some pot, stupid.”
I froze. I knew I wanted to experience that . . . some day. It was something that, in that large circle of friends, people did. It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t believe all the scary crap people still get spoon-fed about marijuana. All the same, all I could think is that Mom and Dad would surely know something was wrong with me* so my best answer was “No”. For the sake of future generations I went with that “No” and the two others left without me. They returned, I don’t know, 20 minutes later, eyes bloodshot, plopping back down in the chairs they’d vacated earlier. They stared at nothing. They were quiet at dinner, except when my chair collapsed.
I titled this post “The Wild Years” because, well, compared to how I’ve lived in the years following, these were wild times. So full of people and laughter and drinks and the occasional toke and of course more laughter. Sitting and shooting the breeze. Sitting and solving the problems of the world. It was during this time my oldest sister’s husband gave me a phrase I have used, slightly edited, twice in my life: “I’m X fucking years old! If I want to go out after work and buy my wife a TV, I will!” So, thanks, Larry. That’s come in handy.
There was something special about those times. They were young. We all were. My oldest sister’s house, and by extension our family home, was occasionally filled to capacity with beautiful, wonderful, funny, smart, people who, because they were young, got the most out of life. You couldn’t help but get caught up in all that. I certainly have no regrets for any of my meager participation (well OK yeah, that one time I drove Pete and Larry to distraction after we’d finished a bottle of Tequila at Pete’s house; sorry about that).
At the same time, I don’t miss any of that. That’s who we all were then. It was a bit wild but God knows we all need a season in our lives to go a bit wild. If I became overly serious later in life, forgot all that or at least tried to deny its importance, well that I’m ashamed of. It was a great, brief, shining moment when it was OK to be young and wild and foolish. Nearing fifty, one daughter in high school, another in college, getting ready to start a lifetime of anti-cholesterol meds, trying to read this through my bifocals . . . I couldn’t go back to that if I wanted to.
I’m so glad I went through it, though. And I’m especially glad I went through it with my siblings. You guys have always been the best.
The studies, about Daily Show viewers and better-sized amygdalae, are knowing. It is the smug style’s first premise: a politics defined by a command of the Correct Facts and signaled by an allegiance to the Correct Culture. A politics that is just the politics of smart people in command of Good Facts. A politics that insists it has no ideology at all, only facts. No moral convictions, only charts, the kind that keep them from “imposing their morals” like the bad guys do.
Knowing is the shibboleth into the smug style’s culture, a cultural that celebrates hip commitments and valorizes hip taste, that loves nothing more than hate-reading anyone who doesn’t get them. A culture that has come to replace politics itself. – Emmett, Rensin, “The Smug Style In American Liberalism,” Vox.com, April 21, 2016
You may not be able to change the minds of these “anxious” people with facts. Truths like “Your plastic orange president-elect reflexively spits out lies like some kind of remarkably duplicitous Pez dispenser” will get you nowhere. Pleas to their sense of compassion, and duty to the larger community, will likely be met with an overcompressed JPEG plastered with a conspiracy theory and some invented statistics; you will make no headway with logic or science with Trump supporters. – Tabatha Southey, “Trigger warning, Trump fans: This column calls racists ‘racists’”, Toronto Globe and Mail, Nov. 11, 2016
There is no doubt that the most powerful motive – which weighs upon us like an interdict, the motive which prevents us from questioning the elements of this civilization, and from starting on the road leading to the necessary revolution – is our respect for facts. It is well known that in other civilizations men did not respect facts to the same extent, nor did they conceive facts in the same way. At the present time the fact – whatever it is – the established fact, is the final reason, the criterion of truth. All that is a fact is justified, because it is a fact. People think that they have no right to judge a fact – all they have to do is to accept it.
Thus from the moment that technics, the State, or production, are facts, we must worship them as facts, and we must try to adapt ourselves to them. This is the very heart of modern religion, the religion of the established fact, the religion on which depend the lesser religions of the dollar, race, or the proletariat, which are only expressions of the great modern divinity, the Moloch of fact. – Jacques Ellul, The Presence of the Kingdom, p.27
I remember the mid-term elections of 2006 very well indeed. As summer moved to fall, it was becoming clear the Republicans were going to be defeated. When the story of Florida Republican Rep. Mark Foley broke, with the news that senior Republican leadership knew of Foley’s preferences for teenage male pages and did nothing (we have since learned that may well have been because then-House Speaker Dennis Hastert had similar dark shadows in his past), there was very little chance, it seemed, for the Republicans led by historically unpopular Pres. George W. Bush, could do much else but look on as the Democratic Party took over both the House and Senate.
A popular mantra that year was, “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. No one is entitled to their own facts.” I remember that mantra well. I remember being more than a little troubled by it. After all, of course people are entitled to their own facts, What are “facts” anyway? Is there something inherent in an event, a statistic, a study, a photograph, whatever it might be, that makes its existence unquestionable? How would it ever be possible to get most, let alone all, people to accept any particularly claimed moment as “factual”? If things like history, psychology, sociology, even physics and astronomy, tell us anything, they tell us that “facts” are the most labile things in the world. One person’s indisputable fact is another person bald-faced lie, non-event, irrelevant factoid. We laughed at Karl Rove’s statement that the US, being an empire, can create its own reality. We forgot the radical critique of imperialism that takes this as a given.
It isn’t fancy, nonsensical, irrational post-modernists who declare the reality that there are no more metanarratives determining our collective lives. They weren’t making this up to justify some hip new idea. The statement that we no longer live in a world dominated by a single, or several, metanarratives – call them “religion”, “science”, “rationality”, or “patriotism” – that set the parameters for what is and is not proper discourse, truth, knowledge, and goodness. It was stating the reality that we had long ago reached the end of the power of any over-arching narrative to determine our individual and collective lives. A whole lot of people, liberals and conservatives, reactionaries and revolutionaries, refuse to accept this observation, usually because these are people whose lives are dedicated to a particular metanarrative. Being told those commitments are figments of their imaginations certainly is no way to get them to pay attention.
This does not void the reality that, no, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus. This is neither irrationalism as many might claim nor some kind of weird notion that reality is little more than a mental construct of each individual mind (Bishop Berkeley was a big proponent of this idea in the 17th century). Rather, it is just the observation that human communities revolve around particular narratives, narratives that tell us who we are as opposed to “them” who tell a different story about “themselves”. These stories sometimes overlap, sometimes conflict, sometimes ignore one another, but in their difference do not cancel one another out. Philosophers like Richard Rorty, committed to a kind of post-modern liberalism without any need for metaphysical justification, offered us possibilities for telling different stories about ourselves, stories in which we human beings strove to live and be together without any felt need for God or Natural Law or Science or anything else to determine whether or not those stories are in some way or another “true” or not.
Having come through an election in which it became very evident two large groups of Americans told very different stories about “their” country, “their” history, “their” current predicament, we should at the very least have the humility to accept that, like it or not, people really do tell very different stories about themselves. Even people who may well share much in common, who may live close to one another, whose stories may well overlap far more than they separate, may well have differences that are large enough to make those different stories determinant of how they live their lives and vote.
Earlier this summer, I wrote something on Facebook about Hillary Clinton, about how a study showed that despite a sense among voters that she was dishonest Hillary Clinton was in fact the “most honest” candidate. A FB friend wrote something, the opening lines of which I still remember clearly: “I don’t care what anyone says . . .” At the time, I was shocked – shocked! – that someone would be so cavalier with a fact! Humbled now in the aftermath of the election, I am reminded what I had forgotten: Facts are little more than those things we decide to be factual. Thus, perhaps Hillary Clinton did indeed report certain statistics correctly, her role in particular events in the US Senate and the first Obama Administration, and other such things. That did not make her honest in the minds of those already committed to a story in which Hillary Clinton is inherently dishonest. Two very different stories take the same “facts” and come to the opposite conclusion. Who’s right?
It seems, for the moment, those who refused to accept Mrs. Clinton’s honesty are right. We who believe otherwise can never and will never make those folks change their minds. Not because they’re stupid or backward or racist or uneducated. Rather, they already have a story determining a set of commitments that preclude Hillary Clinton’s honesty. It is a hard reality to face that we are not so much engaged in an apocalyptic fight of absolutes warring against one another so much as different folks whose stories contradict, and that the determination of which story is right has no independent judge to which any group may appeal.
We may yet surrender our worship of that Moloch, fact. We may yet rid ourselves of the hubris that we have a monopoly on facts, on “truth”, are members of “the reality-based community”. We can stip ourselves of these prejudices, prejudices that always seem to preclude our willingness to listen to the stories of those we determine to be “racist”, “misogynist”, “uneducated”, on and on. We may not like the election results. We may fear for the future of the American experiment, for ourselves or loved ones who no longer represent “real” America to those in power. That does not absolve us of the need to listen to voices we have refused to hear, to stories we have discounted as irrelevant, and perhaps add a few sentences from their stories to the one we tell about ourselves so that we may yet be able to cross the divides that keep us from understanding one another.