If one were inclined to rewrite holy writ for political advantage, perhaps the first thing one might pen is “Be anxious for everything.” No doubt this revision will offend certain Christians comforted by St. Paul’s exhortation to “be anxious for nothing,” but such Christians, generally, do not run for President of the United States. In fact, such a candidacy would be impossible: it simply is not possible to win votes without exploiting anxiety and fear. “Trust in God” will impress few voters as a campaign slogan, but “Fear Everything” has a chance at winning the White House.
Readers may scoff; I invite them to jeer and sneer. But the facts are evident: electoral politics is about fear – and nothing but fear. Yes, we all know the “playing the politics of fear” canard so well it has become a mere cliché, appropriate to the bumper sticker-set rather than the more reflective wing of the body politic. Ironically, nowhere is that cliché more popular than in Democratic Party condemnations of all things Republican, and – more specifically – all things Bush. Bush scared Americans into war, into torturing and incarcerating a quasi-mythic threat; into Gitmo and surveillance and civil rights erosions, solely because he was so effective at selling fear. The irony is in the telling fact that Democrats, if they do anything, at least exploit the fear of fear. And yet they do far more than that.
In Tuesday night’s Democratic debate in Nevada telecast on MSNBC (see YouTube clip here [00:25 min.]), Barack Obama perfectly executed the Democratic fear play:
“There is no doubt we’ve been dominated by a politics of fear since 9/11… But I have to say that when Sen. Clinton uses the specter of a terrorist attack … during a campaign, I think that it is part and parcel with what we have seen, the use of the fear of terrorism in scoring political points, and I think that’s a mistake. Now, I don’t want to perpetuate that. I think that’s part of why we ended up going into Iraq and made a big strategic error that has made us less safe. Resources that could have been spent on homeland security have been spent in Baghdad. Resources that could have been spent hunting down bin Laden, have been diverted to Iraq, and that’s what happens when your judgment is clouded, and what I intend to do as President of the United States is to be honest and straightforward with the American people about how I am going to implement all the 9/11 Commission Report findings, make sure that we are hunting down bin Laden, getting out of Iraq so we can re-focus our attention on building the networks and alliances that are required to reduce terrorism around the world. That’s going to be my priority and that’s part of the reason I am running for President of the United States.” [Emphasis added]
That Mr. Obama’s contradiction – I will not perpetuate fear but we are less safe than ever -- will be overlooked by his charmed supporters is unarguable; that his position is nearly identical with everyone else in his party is equally unassailable. His entire statement could be reasonably construed as a reformation – at least in spirit – of the “Bush lied, people died” mantra.
But I am not here to quibble about the genesis of the war, especially with those who find the roots of war in Genesis. My complaint is that Mr. Obama and his party are also peddling fear; Mr. Obama – and Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Edwards – are fear-mongers. “We are less safe” is hardly the only dire warning Democrats voice. There is a whole litany of warnings issued by Democrats at every turn. And hardly a soul challenges those party-faithful who serve as prophets of doom. Below is a short list of examples (not direct quotes) that capture the essence of Democratic fear-baiting.
On economics:
“We are in recession. People are insecure.”
“The gap between rich and poor is growing.”
“There have never been so many foreclosures.”
"We must rebuild the middle class."
On international relations:
“America’s reputation in the world has never been so tarnished.”
“We must restore our image in the sight of the Europeans.”
“Neo-conservatives have pushed America into colonial expansionism.”
On domestic issues:
“Republicans want to rob women of the right to choose, and due access to health care.”
“Republicans don’t care about those of you without proper health care. We need universal care now.”
“The Republican Party has no qualms denying to all -- regardless of gender identity -- the right to marry. ”
On energy:
“We MUST free ourselves of our dependence on foreign oil.”
“The profits of BIG OIL are unfair!”
“We must work to end global warming today, before it is too late!”
On the war:
“The war on terror is a failure.”
“Iraq was a mistake.”
“We must reallocate our resources and redeploy our troops so we can capture Osama bin Laden. He’s still out there!”
On EVERYTHING:
“Republicans are playing the fear card!”
Of course, I admit that Republicans do play the fear card; I also admit that I am not really singling out Mr. Obama. All candidates exploit fear. Candidates even issue warnings about other candidates. But Mr. Obama himself has opened the door to my criticism largely for his sophistry quoted above. Even the title of his book, The Audacity of Hope, is rooted in fear: we are doomed without audacious hope in the face of our problems. (Is he the Deliverer we MUST have to lead us out of our many difficulties?)
As I said, there is irony to be found when Democrats refer to right-wing fear-mongering. I don’t know if the irony is in that they don’t know they themselves are also peddling fear; perhaps they do. But if they do, there is something really disconcerting about it all.
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Friday, December 07, 2007
Blahs, Blues and Barack
Friday. A blogger's nadir, the Death Valley of the week. How is it that folks stop visiting on this day of all days? Is Friday 'dress down day' at the office, when everybody takes off for an early and long lunch? Is Friday 'home office day,' where countless workers huddle around laptops -- coffee, spouse and kids nearby -- with Saturday scratching at the door and blogs tossed into the garbage bin?
THOUGHTS ON THE FLY, SEATED IN A CAFÉ
The group of elderly folks seated at the tables nearby gathers at this little café every morning of the week, except Sundays. Each is a widow or widower; each lives in this tiny New Hampshire town (population 1,200; Nov. 21). And this morning they are quieter than usual. And one fewer (population 1,199).
Pat H., the jolly old ringleader of this coffee klatsch, died on Thanksgiving Day. She just disappeared, though she was seemingly too alive to ever pass away. But she did, and though the conversation next to me is subdued, it has not stopped. Words keep us going.
Yesterday I luncheoned in this same little café with a man wracked with grief in the wake of the death of his 15-year-old daughter 8 weeks ago. She, too, simply disappeared, though her death was expected for far too long: she died of an inoperable tumor that consumed her brain. Several times during our lunch together tears flowed; I was overcome when he told me that his daughter's last breath was used to say these three words: "I love you."
Words keep us going.
SPEAKING OF WORDS
I can't possibly express my surprise at the lengthy discussion that ensued after I posted my essay, "For Fun: The Speed of Light, Existence, Faith and Atheism." I am awed, impressed, overwhelmed. And tired. I pray no readers were alienated or put off by the debate. I found it remarkably good fun.
ON BARACK OBAMA
On Wednesday, I attended a Barack Obama event in my hometown. Michelle Obama spoke; it was a fine and interesting event. I even willingly put an Obama sticker on my sweater. Why not? He and I probably disagree on everything; I've been critical here that he's been presented as a savior. But the fact remains that he is a decent fellow, a child of God, and a fellow sojourner. There is much that commends him. Above all, I love that he aims to take the high road; his hope is to help restore civility and kindness -- not just in Washington -- but in America's streets. He intends not to engage in the crass demonizing typical of politics; he promises not to engage in 'us' versus 'them', you know, the 'We're-good-and-they're-evil' game which is standard fare everywhere in America. That nasty game is America's real national pastime, if you ask me, and it's called America's Plague.
My one fear is that Mr. Obama and his wife are too good for the White House. How can they maintain the high moral ground when Mrs. William Clinton is going to throw mud at them at every turn? Can they really keep their noses clean in the scrum which is presidential campaign politics?
Really, I have no problem supporting a man who wants to be decent. Barack Obama does not hold views I disagree with because he believes those views are evil and that evil is what America needs. He merely hears the same questions I hear, and answers them a different way. He believes his answers are good, morally good. I can't help but love him, really. Besides, he and I are both 46 years old.
You'll love this, though: When I entered the Obama event, you have to understand that I knew many if not most of the people there, and they knew me. The small 'disturbance in the force' I sensed as I walked through the crowd wearing my Obama sticker was palpable. I knew that I might be ruining the self-image of more than a few: If Bill Gnade likes Obama, well, I can't possibly like him, too! All of us have felt this in our own lives. We like the team we're on, or the one we cheer for, in part because it distinguishes us from the people we know but do not like or do not want to BE like. When you and your best buddies like NASCAR's Jeff Gordon, it is easy enough; but when your worst enemy proclaims a new fealty to the same driver, things turn difficult, and you find yourself tempted to start cheering for Tony Stewart. You get the idea, and it is not far-fetched: there is an elusive psychology that frames those things in which we find our identities. Our favorite political candidates are not outside our psychological need to distinguish ourselves from others. (I wonder if this means that Mr. Obama's goals are impossible: humans cannot rally around a candidate who attracts people so very different one to another.)
But when Michelle Obama finished her speech (I applauded, by the way), a wealthy local woman, at least 10 years my senior, immediately approached me. I know her pretty well; I know she sees herself as progressive. She is what I call a Brand Name: everybody knows her as a shaker and a mover. And what were the first words this person said to me?
"Hi, Bill Gnade. What did you think?" Then, looking at my sweater, she asked, "Did you put that sticker on yourself?"
I chuckled lightly. Yes, yes I did, I calmly replied.
The incredulity was obvious. The doubt was evident: It could not be.
So much for building bridges between us and them.
I would be stopped 6 more harmless and delightful times before I got into my car and drove away.
The Obama sticker is now on my driver's side door -- you know, the left side of my car.
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.
THOUGHTS ON THE FLY, SEATED IN A CAFÉ
The group of elderly folks seated at the tables nearby gathers at this little café every morning of the week, except Sundays. Each is a widow or widower; each lives in this tiny New Hampshire town (population 1,200; Nov. 21). And this morning they are quieter than usual. And one fewer (population 1,199).
Pat H., the jolly old ringleader of this coffee klatsch, died on Thanksgiving Day. She just disappeared, though she was seemingly too alive to ever pass away. But she did, and though the conversation next to me is subdued, it has not stopped. Words keep us going.
Yesterday I luncheoned in this same little café with a man wracked with grief in the wake of the death of his 15-year-old daughter 8 weeks ago. She, too, simply disappeared, though her death was expected for far too long: she died of an inoperable tumor that consumed her brain. Several times during our lunch together tears flowed; I was overcome when he told me that his daughter's last breath was used to say these three words: "I love you."
Words keep us going.
SPEAKING OF WORDS
I can't possibly express my surprise at the lengthy discussion that ensued after I posted my essay, "For Fun: The Speed of Light, Existence, Faith and Atheism." I am awed, impressed, overwhelmed. And tired. I pray no readers were alienated or put off by the debate. I found it remarkably good fun.
ON BARACK OBAMA
On Wednesday, I attended a Barack Obama event in my hometown. Michelle Obama spoke; it was a fine and interesting event. I even willingly put an Obama sticker on my sweater. Why not? He and I probably disagree on everything; I've been critical here that he's been presented as a savior. But the fact remains that he is a decent fellow, a child of God, and a fellow sojourner. There is much that commends him. Above all, I love that he aims to take the high road; his hope is to help restore civility and kindness -- not just in Washington -- but in America's streets. He intends not to engage in the crass demonizing typical of politics; he promises not to engage in 'us' versus 'them', you know, the 'We're-good-and-they're-evil' game which is standard fare everywhere in America. That nasty game is America's real national pastime, if you ask me, and it's called America's Plague.
My one fear is that Mr. Obama and his wife are too good for the White House. How can they maintain the high moral ground when Mrs. William Clinton is going to throw mud at them at every turn? Can they really keep their noses clean in the scrum which is presidential campaign politics?
Really, I have no problem supporting a man who wants to be decent. Barack Obama does not hold views I disagree with because he believes those views are evil and that evil is what America needs. He merely hears the same questions I hear, and answers them a different way. He believes his answers are good, morally good. I can't help but love him, really. Besides, he and I are both 46 years old.
You'll love this, though: When I entered the Obama event, you have to understand that I knew many if not most of the people there, and they knew me. The small 'disturbance in the force' I sensed as I walked through the crowd wearing my Obama sticker was palpable. I knew that I might be ruining the self-image of more than a few: If Bill Gnade likes Obama, well, I can't possibly like him, too! All of us have felt this in our own lives. We like the team we're on, or the one we cheer for, in part because it distinguishes us from the people we know but do not like or do not want to BE like. When you and your best buddies like NASCAR's Jeff Gordon, it is easy enough; but when your worst enemy proclaims a new fealty to the same driver, things turn difficult, and you find yourself tempted to start cheering for Tony Stewart. You get the idea, and it is not far-fetched: there is an elusive psychology that frames those things in which we find our identities. Our favorite political candidates are not outside our psychological need to distinguish ourselves from others. (I wonder if this means that Mr. Obama's goals are impossible: humans cannot rally around a candidate who attracts people so very different one to another.)
But when Michelle Obama finished her speech (I applauded, by the way), a wealthy local woman, at least 10 years my senior, immediately approached me. I know her pretty well; I know she sees herself as progressive. She is what I call a Brand Name: everybody knows her as a shaker and a mover. And what were the first words this person said to me?
"Hi, Bill Gnade. What did you think?" Then, looking at my sweater, she asked, "Did you put that sticker on yourself?"
I chuckled lightly. Yes, yes I did, I calmly replied.
The incredulity was obvious. The doubt was evident: It could not be.
So much for building bridges between us and them.
I would be stopped 6 more harmless and delightful times before I got into my car and drove away.
The Obama sticker is now on my driver's side door -- you know, the left side of my car.
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.
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