This Way Isn’t Working

I turned 60 years old a few months ago and—like everything else in life—it’s got an upside and a downside. One of the significant benefits is the interesting perspective it brings. It’s like reaching the top of a peak from which you can look back and see a long arc of events over a relatively long period of time. It’s easier to see how things have changed over time (and, sometimes, how they haven’t).

From this vantage point, I’ve noticed one trend that’s played out over the last couple of decades in particularly harmful ways. It’s not unique in our history—we’ve lived through periods like this before—but up until about 25 years ago, we’d mostly moved on. What I’m seeing is a paradigm shift in the way we conduct politics. We’ve moved from an emphasis on getting things done to an emphasis on beating the other party at all costs.

I thought about this while I was listening to an audio clip of Chris Christie announcing his presidential candidacy. Christie is probably not a guy I could ever support but he said something today that made a lot of sense. It struck me as something that we would all do well to remember:

“If Washington and Adams and Jefferson believed that compromise was a dirty word, we’d still be under the crown of England.”

Governor-Chris-Christie12-630x408There was a time not too long ago when this would have been the least controversial statement imaginable. Politics was understood to be “the art of compromise” and it was this widely shared attitude that facilitated one of the nation’s most dynamic eras. It was an era in which we undertook great projects and programs together. We built the Hoover Dam and the Interstate system of highways. We moved to advance civil rights and to solidify voting rights. We went to the moon and built a social safety net that was designed to protect the most vulnerable of our citizens. The common denominator among all of these was that members of both parties were committed to getting something done and were willing to make practical compromises in the service of a greater good.

But thirty years after Ronald Reagan demonstrated the value of compromise, we’ve reached a point in our politics where it’s regarded as a dirty word and politicians who are willing to entertain the idea are often punished at the polls. Consider, for example, what occurred in Ames, IA during a debate in 2011 among Republican presidential candidates. Moderator Byron York asked, “Is there any ratio of cuts to taxes that you would accept? Three to one? Four to one? Or even 10 to one?” Not one of the candidates was willing to entertain the idea of compromising, even in a way that heavily favored GOP orthodoxy.

One of the motivations behind this brand of dysfunctional rigidity is the notion that the other party is the enemy and must be defeated. Tragically, it’s a mindset that works well politically but it’s also one that’s completely incompatible with the ideals we as a nation profess and basically incompatible with our system of government.

George Washington understood the dangers of partisanship and presciently warned against them in his Farewell Address when he left office. He understood that partisan allegiance had the potential to be toxic in precisely the way that it is today. (It’s worth noting that our Constitution doesn’t reference political parties and makes no provision for their participation in government.)

A better, more functional model is to see each other as colleagues who disagree.

Imagine yourself at work, on a committee tasked with reviewing the company’s product line and recommending additions and deletions. Then, imagine that the committee is evenly divided between those who want to maximize profitability from existing products and those who believe that innovative new products are the company’s real future.

It’s not hard to predict that people on each side might dig in and defend their point of view energetically. It’s almost impossible, though, to imagine one side threatening to shut the company down if the committee didn’t go along with its plans. But that’s where we find ourselves today when it comes to our politics.

I’ve written before that even our most cherished beliefs ought to be held with a certain amount of circumspection. In politics no less than any other field of endeavor, intellectual rigidity seldom works in our favor. As one wag put it, “If you haven’t changed your mind about anything lately, how do you know if it’s working?”

I prefer to approach political adversaries with the assumption that they’re acting in good faith and trying to do the right thing. That’s not always true, of course, but neither is it always true of those on my own side of the political divide. Still, it’s a better approach than reflexive opposition. It’s less stressful and who knows? As Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill demonstrated 30 years ago, it just might lead to something getting accomplished.

First the Verdict, Then the Trial.

As evidence of climate change continues to accumulate, the case against taking action becomes increasingly difficult to understand. Consider the fact that when we perceive ourselves to be threatened by foreign aggression—evening cases where the threat is not immediate or existential—we don’t hesitate to react swiftly and decisively. Why does a threat of environmental disaster not produce a similar resolve?

One answer is that the debate is being manipulated by corporations with an enormous financial interest in maintaining the profitability of the fossil fuel industry. Insofar as big oil is the most profitable industry in the history of the world, that explanation certainly satisfies the test of Occam’s Razor. While it’s clearly one of the factors that applies, it’s also clear that it’s not the only one. After all, there are plenty of loud voices opposing action on global warming that have no particular relationship to the oil industry.

Reagan_delivers_inaugural_address_1981I’d like to suggest a complimentary explanation, one that doesn’t get much attention from “serious” pundits even as it amplifies the oil industry’s arguments and simultaneously motivates opposition to action on the climate from people with no particular affinity with big oil. And it all starts with Ronald Reagan and his first inaugural address.

As he was preparing to take the reigns of the government of the United States, Reagan made a pronouncement that was stunning in its recklessness but nevertheless went on to become a rallying cry for America’s right wing:

Government is not the solution to our problem, government is the problem.

Reagan’s condemnation is broad and unequivocal. His formulation doesn’t condemn “intrusive” government or “overreaching” government or even just “big” government. Reagan’s speech condemned government, period. Over the years, the quote has been repeated so often that its familiarity tends to obscure how toxic and irrational the message is if we take it seriously.

Randian fantasies aside, it is only government that stands between us and chaos. It is only government that guarantees our freedoms and secures our rights. Government is the necessary predicate to civilization. And it is the essential foundation for building any sort of  broadly shared prosperity.

Can government overreach? Of course. Can it become corrupt? Obviously. Can it be unresponsive or even hostile to its citizens? No question about it. But it should be obvious that the answer to these problems is not to abandon the idea of government but to improve it.

I’ll come back to these points in future posts but, for now, let’s return to Ronald Reagan. As the focal point of modern conservative ideology, Reagan’s pronouncement became gospel for a generation of right wing pundits and politicians. Railing against the boogeyman of big government is a great deal easier than undertaking the hard and endless work of fixing it.

But what happens when you’re confronted with a problem that is so big and so critical that it requires a concerted effort from a big government in order to fix it? That is the question that clearly confronts us today when it comes to the environment. If the problem really exists as it’s currently perceived by scientists then it’s a problem that demands a big government solution.

But what happens when an ideology and the demands of an emergency are at odds? Well, that’s precisely where we find ourselves today and that, unfortunately, is the answer to the question posed at the beginning of this post. It is the aversion to government that Ronald Reagan articulated in January of 1981 that is paralyzing us today.

Said differently, today’s conservative movement has adopted a political stance that’s reminiscent of the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland: “First the verdict, then the trial.” If big government is axiomatically bad then any solution that involves big government must be categorically rejected.

Of course, that stance is a tough sell when the problem that’s approaching is potentially catastrophic. In such a case, a much more promising strategy is to pretend that the problem itself simply doesn’t exist. And that is what today’s right wing has chosen to do.

 

The Holy Grail of Voter Suppression in Florida

Following the 2010 elections, newly empowered Republican majorities in several states began enacting measures designed to suppress voting among demographic segments that were not likely to vote for the GOP. The requirement for a state-issued picture ID is one such measure but there were others. Still, if the objective of these measures was to stop certain groups of people from voting altogether then they weren’t as effective as their proponents probably hoped.

But GOP leaders might find a reason to be encouraged right here in the Sunshine State. In pursuit of its unabashedly partisan ends, Florida’s GOP-dominated legislature seems to be developing a secret plan for ultimate victory. In fact, it may be on its way to getting potential Democratic voters—across a wide swath of demographic segments—to stop coming to the polls not just for one or two elections but for a generation or more to come.

voter-idThe most recent clue to what’s going on is the erupting controversy about an amendment to the state constitution that was passed by voters last year. Seventy five percent of Florida voters voted for Amendment 1 as a mechanism to force the state to allocate funds for the acquisition and improvement of endangered land and water. (For comparison, pick whatever presidential landslide you’d like—Johnson vs. Goldwater, Nixon vs. McGovern, Reagan vs. Mondale. None is anywhere near 75 percent.) You’d think that such overwhelming support would be difficult to ignore, especially since it was expressed in the guise of a constitutional amendment. Game, set, match for conservationists, right?

Not exactly. I’ll let the Miami Herald tell the rest of the story:

Even though the measure created a $700 million pot of money (about $10 billion over 25 years) that taxpayers want to use for conservation and acquisition, legislators have made clear they are going to spend only a small fraction of that imminent windfall on buying land to protect. Proposals mentioned from the House and Senate this week amount to just $26 million and $57 million, respectively, to buy land.

In other words, the voters’ clear intent and overwhelming support is being ignored by a legislature that’s determined (as one friend put it) “to do everything possible to continue selling our natural heritage to the highest bidder.”

In civics class, such a scenario would be outrageous. In Florida, though, it’s just business as usual. Voters here have clearly expressed themselves over the years years on a variety of issues including education funding, class sizes, and fair districting. But in every instance, the Florida legislature has chosen to ignore the will of the voters, often expressed in numbers almost as overwhelming as the Amendment 1 vote.

So, Florida obviously suffers from bad government but how does that then become voter suppression? Through a psychological mechanism known as learned helplessness.

By definition, learned helplessness occurs when someone learns that he or she cannot control their situation and therefore stops taking action to avoid the negative negative consequences. Said differently, learned helplessness reflects a person’s conscious or unconscious decision to stop trying because they believe that trying doesn’t help. It’s what happens when you believe that you have no control or influence over your outcomes.

Returning, then, to the subject of voting in Florida, provides some important context for speculating on what effect it will have on progressive activism when one successful effort after another to mobilize voters—even stunningly successful ones like the Amendment 1 campaign—yield results that are indistinguishable from failures.

As the will of the voters on progressive initiatives gets blatantly and repeatedly ignored, the most likely scenario is troubling. The outcome that the GOP-majority legislature would clearly prefer is that progressive activists just stop trying to effect change and progressive voters would simply stop voting. And if that happens, it has the potential to reach a level of effectiveness that no previous voter suppression scheme ever hoped to approach.

If Florida legislators are allowed to bully voters into a state of learned helplessness then they’ll have achieved the Holy Grail of Voter Suppression. A deliberately cultivated case of learned helplessness could mean that potentially progressive votes might not be suppressed for just an election cycle or two. They could conceivably disappear for a generation or more. And if it works in Florida, the cynical technique would certainly get fast-tracked in other GOP-controlled states.

There’s a point at which partisan wrangling turns into something else, something more problematic. The Constitution says, “The United States shall guarantee to every state in this union a republican form of government…” When voters clearly and emphatically express their will and are then ignored, then those voters aren’t getting a republican form of government (though they are getting a Republican form of government). That’s bad for Florida and, if it’s allowed to stand, it will be bad for the country.

Right now, the political directionality of this issue points to an attack on progressivism but this is much bigger than simply a partisan issue. The credibility of our governance is at stake. Voters need to unmistakably see that their participation can make a difference. If we tolerate a system in which participants learn helplessness—that their efforts ultimately don’t matter—then the real problem isn’t that the GOP might win. The real problem is that ultimately we would all lose.

On the Inexhaustible Wonderfulness of Dogs

If you’re not a dog lover, please feel free to pass over this post.

If you are a dog lover, though, then check out this beautiful short film tribute that a man named Ben Moon created for his beloved dog, Denali. (Or, if you’re someplace where it wouldn’t be appropriate to weep out loud for ten minutes or so, then just bookmark it and watch later.)

I’m grateful for every single one of my days that has Max in it. (Thank you, Sunada Yuko Takagi, for finding this video and sharing it.)

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Random Thought (May 8, 2015)

Caitlyn JennerAs more and more of our social and cultural norms seem to get determined by what’s popular on so-called reality TV, I find myself wondering if that’s really the best place to find role models. I wish Caitlyn Jenner nothing but good things during her transition and beyond but, to tell you the truth, I’m not entirely comfortable watching her story as it unfolds according to some publicist’s careful script. It doesn’t feel like a genuine personal odyssey as much as a well-orchestrated run-up to what will no doubt be another blockbuster reality TV series.

I don’t know anything about what’s on Caitlyn Jenner’s mind as she navigates her journey so I’ve got no criticism to offer. In general, though, there are better places to look than reality TV if you want to find real heroes.

The Most Meta Tweet Ever?

This tweet from Chuck Woolery, self-described “Hollywood Conservative” and game show host extraordinaire, might be one of the most meta things I’ve ever seen.

Of course, it’s difficult to know exactly what someone means when they’re trying to talk philosophy in 140 characters or less so I don’t want to make any assumptions here. It’s possible that Chuck might have been referring to a classic Bertrand Russell quote (one that I coincidentally posted on Facebook yesterday):

One of the painful things about our time is that those who feel certainty are stupid, and those with any imagination and understanding are filled with doubt and indecision.

That’s a similar sentiment but not exactly the same as what Chuck tweeted. But given Russell’s political outlook, I’m guessing that he is probably not one of Chuck’s intellectual heroes. It’s not unreasonable, then, to consider other possible interpretations.

One plausible option is that Chuck was nodding to the Dunning-Kruger effect, a certain kind of cognitive bias that gets hijacked from time to time into online political discussions.

If that’s the case, then you don’t need any help from me in analyzing this. (though an appreciation of irony would certainly help). The tweet simply speaks for itself.

An Exercise in Musical Discernment

Joseph ColomboMy son Joseph Colombo writes classical music. (In his online bio, he describes himself as a “San Francisco-based composer and noise maker.” The bio also notes that “he’s written music for orchestras, chamber ensembles, electronics, stage, film, installations, and everything in between.”) He and I got into an interesting email exchange the other day when I sent him a note expressing my enthusiasm for the Chapman Stick, a string-based musical instrument that was developed in the 1970s. (I’m the first one to admit that my tastes are somewhat pedestrian. As always, he was patient.)

Joseph’s reply made it clear that he didn’t share my enthusiasm for the relatively new instrument and its capabilities. He made some specific points of criticism though I won’t try to explain them here because I’m not sure I could do them justice. (He can do so on his blog if he’s so inclined.) Apart from the conclusion about the Chapman Stick that he reached, though, it was the way he made his case that struck me.

Joseph teaches composition music theory at The Academy of Art University in San Francisco, a gig for which he’s well suited because, like many composers, he has the heart of a teacher. When he explained his points to me, he did so in a way that was so instructive that I thought I’d share it here. (And, to tell the truth, finding fodder for interesting blog posts can be difficult; it occurred to me that when someone just plops something worthwhile in my lap—and does all the attendant research!—I might as well take advantage of it.)

Basically, Joseph provided me with performances of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor (BWV 565) on four different instruments. The idea was to compare and contrast the instruments’ properties. The process of giving each performance a close listen and then comparing and contrasting the attributes of each instrument was more than a little interesting.

The first performance was by Bob Culverson and featured his outstanding work on the Chapman Stick:

Next up is a guitarist names George Sakellariou playing the same Bach piece on a 2013 Annette Stephany maple and spruce guitar:

The third rendition featured Amy Turk playing the piece on a traditional harp:

And, finally there’s organist Hans-André Stamm with the most traditional interpretation:

This “compare and contrast” gave me a context listening—really listening—to each version of the music at a deeper level and to think about the tradeoffs that are always present whenever an artist makes musical choices… which happens, of course, all the time.

What do you think? Which instrument works best for you? What are each instrument’s strengths and weaknesses? How do you think the musical selection interacts with the instrumental choices? And, of course, there’s the most important question of all: What do you think of the Chapman Stick?

Let This Be Our Last Battlefield

On January 10, 1969, in one of my favorite episodes, the original Star Trek TV series obliquely tackled the subject of racism. In the intervening forty six years, I’m not sure that anyone has nailed the arrogance and inherent irrationality of racial bias as clearly or as effectively.

Whenever I see someone like Charles Murray pontificating about race on television or when I read any of the vapid diatribes—dripping in thinly veiled racism (or, frequently, not so thinly veiled racism)—that appear regularly in conservative media, Frank Gorshin’s pitch perfect performance pops into my mind. His performance is over-the-top but, when you think about it, no more so than Louis Gomert or half the writers at National Review.