Democracy In America: It Was Nice While It Lasted

Democracy in the United States of America is now finished. Done. Kaput.

The radical right Thursday succeeded in their ultimate goal: Destroying the America in which I grew up, the America that I proudly served and loved. They did so through the beyond-merely-conservative judicial nominations of the last thirty years, in the person of the Supreme Court's decision concerning Citizens United v. FEC.

Activist Justices Roberts, Alito, Scalia, Thomas and Kennedy have broken entirely with precedent in unleashing the full capacity of corporations, be they American or not, be they criminal or not, to spend their general funds upon influencing elections within this country.

The clerical error of the 1886 Santa Clara County v. Southern Pacific Railroad decision -- the SCOTUS decision that is claimed to have granted corporations personhood -- has been taken to its illogical conclusion, and in so doing the High Court has effectively diminished the rights of actual persons to the point that they may as well no longer exist.

In the end, the radical right believes that the costs of government should be borne by the working class while its benefits should accrue only to the wealthy. With this decision, that twisted "dream" is one very large step closer to sad reality.

The effects of this ruling may not be apparent to us immediately, perhaps, but they will eventually erode away the fabric of true democracy. Despite the natural tendency of America's electorate to resist concentrated power (either political or monetary), this new class of Supercitizens can count upon the pusillanimous and self-serving nature of the American political class.

Think about the prospective corporate attack apparatus that will face any incumbent in a potentially vulnerable seat that resists falling into line with the desired agenda, the threat to his or her reelection. The change in our political process will be much more about intimidation -- the threat of action -- than outright, overt action. This revolution will not be televised, if the powerful have their way, and we will be none the wiser until it is far too late.

And that's it. Goodbye America. Game over. Fritos, man.

Maybe It's Time To Give Up

Are we a serious people?

That question has repeatedly been posed by Bill Maher on Real Time in the past year; I think it's a good one. And I fear that the answer is a resounding, "No."

We are a people who believes that we can get something for nothing. We believe that we can simultaneously have both increased government services and lower taxes. We decry government "pork-barrel" spending, yet ferociously defend any program, agency or policy that directly benefits us individually. We shed crocodile tears about the burdens our current policies will place upon future generations, yet refuse to do anything to change those policies.

The politics of our day is a stunning exercise in self-delusion and cognitive dissonance. I encounter many liberals, people who supported Barack Obama's Presidential bid, who are in many cases absolutely enraged that the President is enacting exactly the policies that he promulgated during the campaign. And conservatives who nodded heartily in agreement when Vice President Cheney intoned, "Deficits don't matter," who cheered as the Bush Administration went about the business of squandering the budget surpluses left them by the Clinton Administration, now unselfconsciously clothe themselves in the ill-fitting robe of fiscal responsibility.

Today's political parties, to a greater degree than since the Gilded Age, serve narrowly-defined constituencies; the corrosive influence of special-interest monies has eaten away at the notion of a "public good." Good policy no longer matters, only the exigencies of the permanent election cycle. And, most disturbing, we actually embrace this notion of politics-as-gladiatorial-theater; we root for our chosen "leaders" and their insincere, insubstantial, bought-and-paid-for ideologies as though they were players for our favorite sports team.

This can be seen even in America's pop culture. A new class of celebrity has emerged: people who are famous just for being famous. Lack of talent, ability or intelligence is no longer an issue, as long as one is determined enough to force one's way into the popular consciousness. We have Paris, Jon, Kate, OctoMom, Balloon Boy, and the list goes on, and on, and on.

This is not the manner in which a serious people behaves. It is the behavior, rather, of an empire in decline. One can't help but think that we have reached the point as a nation where we are essentially ungovernable; we have lost the self-discipline and perspective to forestall our eventual, inevitable collapse as a society.

And so I sadly say: Perhaps it is time for the serious-minded among us to give simply up and join in America's death-throe party. Though we may be well-meaning, the pearls we cast before swine just don't matter.

Why Sports Matter To Us

A couple weeks ago, Sports Illustrated reported that perennial baseball all-star Alex Rodriguez had used steroids earlier in this decade. Since then, the sports reporting establishment (especially the ESPN Hype Machine) has been going nuts, examining the story and every tiresomely conceivable repercussion of it, ad nauseum.

Why so much teeth-gnashing and garment-rending when most people take the availability and use of performance-enhancing drugs to be a matter of fact in the entertainment industry known as sports? I think that it has everything to do with how we Americans see sports in relation to ourselves and our own lives.

We are all familiar with the great American myth: Work hard, be honest, have a better idea (or realize an old idea in a better way), keep trying and everything will work out for you. The level playing field of America's marketplace will see that you rise to the top.

But, of course, that myth is nonsense, pure hokum. We have all seen cheaters prosper, have seen well-connected incompetents rewarded, have seen capable people discounted or discarded because they are from the wrong side of the tracks, are from the wrong family, are the wrong sex, or race, or age, or sexual orientation. That supposed "level playing field" is easily distorted by social prejudices and by the power that great accumulated wealth wields.

In harsh truth, you can strive all you want. Whether or not you succeed is, to a great degree, completely out of your hands.

But, in sport, we Americans like to believe that the great American myth still survives as an actuality. We want to believe that if you have done the hard work that enables you to hit a pitched ball consistently well, to adeptly shoot a basketball through a hoop, to throw a football with pinpoint accuracy, then your utility as a player will be obvious and you will be rewarded.

At its best, sport is an idealized version of America, in which the rules are the same for everyone once they step onto the playing field -- just as they are supposed to be (but never are) in our everyday lives.

And so when players (or coaches or officials) cheat, conspire with gamblers, take illicit performance-enhancing drugs, they are not merely breaking the rules of the game or the laws of the nation; they are betraying our own finely-constructed fantasy version of the nation. They are destroying our house-of-cards view of the United States of America.

Nothing can be so jolting as coming face-to-face with reality. No wonder we react so badly.

Longing For A Cuba That Wasn't

Now that the presidential general election has arrived (in a de facto sense, at least), American eyes again turn toward that mightiest of swing states, Florida. And the saber-rattling toward Castro's Cuba is sure to ratchet upward.

For many South Floridians of Cuban descent, this is a sacred political cow. And understandably so; those who were pushed from their privileged status by Fidel Castro's revolution, as well as their progeny, can reasonably be expected to harbor animosity toward the current Cuban regime.

But why must this parochial concern be a fulcrum of U.S. presidential politics? Because of the vagaries of our electoral process, of course, in which small constituencies in key states often take on far greater significance than they otherwise would (or should) be accorded. And because conservatives in this country have seized upon this narrow issue (along with the four Gs*) as part of their divide-and-conquer strategy.

(*The four Gs, if you're wondering, are: God, Gays, Guns and Gynecology.)

So we get conservative pundits and politicians talking about the good old days in Cuba, and about how those days must be returned. About the necessity of maintaining our Cuban embargo as long as a Castro is in charge. (And this despite our current engagement with such characters as Pervez Musharraf, Hosni Mubarak, Hu Jintao, King Abdullah, and the list goes on...)

All of this in the name of a lie.

See, if you're not familiar with Cuban life under Fulgencio Batista, Castro's predecessor, then do a little research; it was not a pretty thing. In Batista's Cuba, poverty and illiteracy were rampant, especially among the nonwhite population. Health care was of third-world quality. The disparity of wealth distribution was obscene. Violent political repression was commonplace. The island was a haven for Mafia kingpins and drug runners. And it was all done with the active support of the U.S. government and American corporations. (Gosh, why would Castro have any hostility toward us?)

And so, the next time some Republican scumbag tries to lecture you about the impossibility of engagement with Castro's Cuba, just remember: They are selling you a vision of a Cuba that never was.

"All Men Are Created Equal," Wrote A Slave Owner

There was an interesting discussion Wednesday on NPR's Talk Of The Nation, looking at the African-American experience and its effects upon black views of patriotism. This conversation was spurred by Michelle Obama's comments earlier this year concerning her feelings about her country, and the negative (and often over-the-top and oblivious) reaction to those comments.

In the end, of course, this is about the great elephant in the American living room: Our inability, even now, to reasonably reconcile the nation's racial history with what we'd like to believe about ourselves. An awfully large number of the white folk that I know want nothing more than to believe that it's all in the past, that the page has turned and we have entered into a "post-racial" era. That that was then, this is now, and nothing more need be said.

But pretending that there is no problem is not the same thing as finding some solution to the problem -- and there clearly is still a problem, judging by black poverty and incarceration statistics, among many other things.

And so Wednesday I found myself driving across Northeastern Iowa, listening to this thoughtful discussion, thinking very soberly about race in America, and occasionally wiping tears from the corners of my eyes. And, most of all, wondering what I can do. In the end, after all, I'm just an ordinary guy, without power or position.

Compounding my feeling of helplessness is my own family history. My father's family, according to my wife's genealogical efforts, appears to have lived in the antebellum South (though it's unclear whether it was in any way connected to slave ownership or trade), and I am told that my paternal grandfather was a member of the Ku Klux Klan. How does one even begin to make up for such a background?

I decided, trite though it may seem, that one can merely do what one can do. I cannot change the past. But I can change my own reality here in the present, in the hope that it will positively impact the future. I can work to improve myself, to recognize and eradicate the small prejudices that I might still harbor. I can continue trying to raise my children to see persons for who they are, not what they are. I can have the courage speak up when I see injustice, and to confront those who are unenlightened or cynical enough to use race divisively. I can support policies and politicians that work toward a more just society.

And, perhaps most importantly (and most difficult in these times), I can keep my faith. I can believe that we, as a nation, will continue to move forward, toward the society that we want to be. That I want us to be. That we can be, if we dare.