Why are Terrorists' Grievances More Palatable than Conservatives' Opinions?

(Disclosure, or Caveat: I don’t have hard evidence to back this up, and I presume many of my friends on the left side of the political aisle would deny it. This is supposition on my part, grounded in my own perceptions of news stories, Internet postings, and conversations. I suspect I could find some documentary evidence if pressed to do so.)

My question in this blog post stems from the vehemence with which the Tea Parties have been excoriated by left-leaning elements of the press and the populace. Interesting in the first place is that the groups took their name from a pivotal event in U.S. history, and were quickly branded with a homosexual slur that many on the left still seem not to recognize.* Perhaps it should not be surprising, since those leaning left consider themselves “progressive” and wish only and always to “move on” to something new and different (even if not demonstrably better), that they would disdain a movement that looked back to an example of revolutionary protest by Colonial patriots.


(U.S. Flag image by Elaron, via Flickr, under Creative Commons. Click to enlarge.)

But even more interesting and appalling is that the same people who went to great lengths after September 11 to ask why terrorists would attack us — who characterized the terrorists’ concerns as legitimate and presumably still believe them worthy of serious consideration by the very people they attacked — won’t spare even a moment to consider why their political opponents differ from them. They asked about the terrorists, “Why do they hate us?” Do they ask of those at a Tea Party rally, “Why do they disagree with us?” From what I have seen, they do not ask and would not be interested in the answer. In a life-and-death struggle with radicals who would prefer them (and the rest of us) dead if we refuse to convert, they want to meet around the table and listen to grievances; but in a political debate, they refuse to listen to differences of opinion.

People on the right and the left used to agree on one thing: that they would defend each other’s right to express their opinion, even when they disagreed. No more, it seems.

Pogo was right: “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”**

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*First pointed out by James Taranto of the Wall Street Journal. In effect, their use of vulgar slang in the pejorative sense equates to a slur in both directions, i.e., against the homosexuals as well as Tea Partiers.

**From a 1971 cartoon by Walt Kelly. A play on US Navy Captain Oliver Hazard Perry’s message to Major General William Henry Harrison after the Battle of Lake Erie (War of 1812), “We have met the enemy, and they are ours.”

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Vote for Gray! (The Anti-Candidate Lives)

After much soul-searching and “counting the cost,” I have decided NOT to file as a candidate for the 2010 election primary. (Today is the deadline.) Instead, I will continue making snide observations about the candidates and the process, and as the Anti-Candidate I remain available for any write-in votes you want to cast.

(East view of the U.S. Capitol. U.S. Government photo. Click to enlarge.)

I received a lot of encouragement from folks, and I appreciate everyone’s confidence and general enthusiasm. I especially appreciate the offers of office space and other support. Maybe next time….

I made the decision based on four practical considerations. First, I don’t have any spare time to devote to the actual work of campaigning, not while I’m working two jobs and spending most of my off hours on church matters. Second, I haven’t built an organization capable of running a campaign, spreading the word, and getting out the vote. Third, owing to the lack of an organization, I don’t have any campaign funds to pay for things like the campaign filing fee. And finally, there doesn’t seem to be any shortage of candidates already in position, each of whom has more time, more of an organization, and more money than I do. So, from a practical standpoint, it made sense to sit this one out.

Some folks really seem to want me to run for office, and maybe one day I will. In the meantime, if you want to get an idea of where I stand on the issues, I’ll let you know as soon as I figure that out. (Actually, I’ve posted some issue-related ramblings on the Anti-Campaign pages.)

And if you don’t like the choices set before you on election day (or primary day), and can’t decide which one(s) you should vote against, feel free to vote against all of them by writing in my name!

(I’m Gray Rinehart, and I approved this message.)

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If I Were My Own Representative, Part V: A Positive Message

This series has been fun for me, like the other fiction I try to write. But I feel that this fiction needs to have a message. So If I Were My Own Representative, I would carry a simple message wherever I went. Whether I got to speak to a Rotary Club or a school or a TV talk show, I would try to take the opportunity to remind people that the U.S.A. is still the greatest nation ever conceived by human beings.

(Image from Flickr, by Elaron, licensed under Creative Commons. Click to enlarge.)

We’re not perfect. We’re not likely to be. We have problems, and faults, and failures, and we’re unlikely to ever agree completely on how to correct them.

But in our ideals — “we hold these truths to be self-evident,” “bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” — in the freedoms we afford our people and are willing to help others achieve, and in our drive to improve, grow, and rise above the status quo, I believe we are the greatest hope for peace and prosperity in the world.

I understand that some people will disagree, and that’s okay. If you become your own Representative, you can bear any message you like.

Call me a patriot, call me a fool, I will remain positive and hopeful about these United States.

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If I Were My Own Representative, Part IV: My Touchstone for Voting

A lot of legislation is pitched on the basis of what it is intended to do, and often on the basis of whom it is intended to help. If I Were My Own Representative, my touchstone for voting would be quite the opposite: whom it was likely to hurt.

(U.S. Capitol dome, from the Architect of the Capitol. Click to enlarge.)

My initial position would be to vote “no” on any bill that had a provision that would hurt some of our citizens, even if it helped some others. I would have to be convinced that the help was worth the hurt; i.e., that the hurt was along the lines as the necessary pain of surgery to correct a life-threatening condition.

If it wasn’t clear what effects some given legislation would have, whether it would hurt some people while helping some others, I would at least ASK. If no one could tell me, again my initial thought would be to vote against it.

Note that I’ve qualified the “help/hurt” question in terms of our citizens, because they should be first priority. We may enact legislation that helps others — especially where our relative wealth can help those in dire need — but not necessarily at the expense of hurting our own people.

When it comes to legislation with the potential to hurt others, the question has an added dimension: whether those others are allies or enemies. It’s unrealistic to believe that we have no enemies, and I think the Romans 12:18 standard applies to international relations: if possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with all people. But we need to be pragmatic when it comes to potential conflict, and it would be irresponsible to fail to provide for organizing, training, and equipping the military forces that defend us.

Why is this a big deal? Maybe it’s not. But I don’t want my Representatives to pass legislation that hurts me or my friends, so I wouldn’t want to vote for legislation that would hurt people.

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If I Were My Own Representative, Part III: Hearings and Caucuses

I’ve been to a Congressional hearing, watched a few more on TV, and prepared testimony for several. Hearings, in general, are effective for Congress to gather information so it can evaluate alternatives and exercise its oversight. But some of the hearings seem trivial, either in their subject matter or their treatment, and become little more than media events for grandstanding by elected officials and witnesses.

If I Were My Own Representative, I could go to hearings on trivial subjects and ask, “Why are we having this hearing? Don’t we have better things to do?” Better things like debating big, substantive issues; reconciling or voting on bills; or even crafting our own legislation so lobbyists wouldn’t have to?

Not all hearings are on trivial subjects, of course, but they aren’t all on matters of great importance to the state, either. And even the ones I think are trivial are obviously important to somebody.* Why, I don’t know … hence, the question I’d like to ask.

Would it be rude to ask the question? Oh, yeah. And not exactly politically astute: I presume nobody questions whether a given hearing is trivial in order not to offend their fellows. If I did that, they might not want to attend my trivial hearings. As quid-pro-quo goes, that’s probably pretty harmless. But it’s not as fun.

As for caucuses — of which, like committees and hearings, there are probably more than necessary — I’d definitely join the Air Force Caucus. I don’t know if any other caucuses would have me!

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*For example: A subject I consider trivial, like steroids in sports, you might consider of paramount importance to the survival of our democratic republic. To each, his own.

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If I Were My Own Representative, Part II: Knowing What I'm Voting For

How about that State of the Union address? I’ll include my thoughts below, after I cover today’s installment.

If I Were My Own Representative, I would know what I was voting for, because I would READ THE BILL.

Now, I’m no speed reader; if I were, I’d be much more efficient with my slush reading for Baen Books. So it might take me awhile to get through a bill, especially since most legislation is written in terrifically dense prose. But can’t we wait to vote until we’ve all read it?

I’m not usually the smartest person in the room, either, and I’m not a lawyer, so I might have to take a little extra time and consult an expert or two to figure out what a bill REALLY says. And if the bill was written by some lobbyist, as so many bills appear to be these days, it might take a little extra time to figure out. Can’t we wait to vote until we understand it?

How should a Representative vote who hasn’t read and understood a bill? I think, “no.”

Last night the President contrasted saying “no” with showing leadership, a curious stance for someone whose entire campaign was a study in saying “no” to the previous administration’s policies (and, even more curiously, much of whose first year in office continued several of those very practices). But saying “yes” to something we don’t understand seems much worse.

So if I didn’t know what was in a piece of legislation, either because I didn’t have time to consider it thoroughly or because it was so arcane that my puny brain couldn’t comprehend it, I’d vote against it. I suppose I could abstain, or even vote “present,” but it would be much more satisfying to just vote “no” and move on.

[BREAK, BREAK]

Back to the SOTU. I had to watch the speech from home, of course, since I’m not my own Representative. As with many such speeches, it seemed too long, was made even longer by a lot of unnecessary obeisance and calculated exuberance on the part of the listeners, and had less substance than we might hope for. Especially toward the end, when so many little things were tossed in (gays in the military! equal pay!), it began to epitomize the speech about everything which turns out to be a speech about nothing.*

At the risk of being partisan, I’m not as impressed as others seem to be with our President’s oratorical skills — he seemed to stumble through many parts of the speech, to force humor, and often to grasp for applause and affirmation. I was pleased with one aspect of his delivery: I’ve noticed in other addresses that he sometimes appears to be looking down his nose, perhaps because of the angle of or glare on the teleprompters, but that was not a problem last night.

As for the content of the speech, I listened for a simple statement — “The state of our Union is [something].” What I heard was, “Despite our hardships, our Union is strong,” a line so equivocal that it didn’t deserve and indeed came and went without a scintilla of applause. Some of the speech’s content was surprising — support for nuclear power — and some, like his jab at the Supreme Court, was almost shocking. Some was not that surprising at all, given the trend in his oratory to date: I listened to hear more “we” than “I” — and didn’t. Make of that what you will.

Finally, I did not listen to all of the GOP response, because I find myself objecting to the idea that the minority party must mount a response when the words of the President’s address are so fresh. There is plenty of time later to object to the substance of the speech, but especially for the State of the Union, a gracious “thank you, Mr. President” at its conclusion would seem to be enough.

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*I don’t recall when I first heard the phrase, “a speech about everything is a speech about nothing.” Perhaps I only dreamed hearing it. But if everything is important, then “everything is not” (cf. Sara Groves, “Just One More Thing”) — a point I’ve made a tenet of my speechwriting.

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If I Were My Own Representative, Part I

For a long time I’ve thought — “known,” in the all-knowledge-is-only-probable sense — that I would do well as a Member of Congress: a Representative or even a Senator. I like to think things through, I try not to overreact, and I firmly believe in our government of, by, and for the people.

(West front of the U.S. Capitol. Image from www.aoc.gov. Click to enlarge.)

I also think that I am probably unelectable. I am not a fan of back-room dealings, have a tendency to speak my mind with some disregard for the consequences, and I really don’t like the idea of turning my life into an endless campaign.

(My aversion to fund-raising and the whole idea of campaigning, along with the fact that I thought the idea was funny, is what led me to start the Anti-Campaign. Truth to tell, I wouldn’t mind serving in just about any office … if you need a new Mayor or whatever, let me know … I just don’t want to run for office.)

All of which doesn’t stop me from thinking about what it would be like If I Were My Own Representative. Hence, this blog series — or what I think will be a series.

Since the President’s State of the Union speech is tonight, it seems appropriate to start with this: If I Were My Own Representative, I could get one of the best seats at the State of the Union or other Presidential addresses. I would fight the urge to heckle — I do have some sense of decorum — but if you’ve ever sat with me at an event you know that, unless the mood is particularly somber, I would surely nudge my neighbor and make snide comments from time to time. I might even laugh at inappropriate moments.

Why? Because even serious subjects can benefit from a little levity. Because sometimes we take things (and ourselves) too seriously. And because sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. But mostly because that’s the way I am all the time, and why be any different?

Besides, I’d just be happy to be there.

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Healthcare: Necessities and Luxuries

I’ve been mulling this over for a few days, and haven’t come to any conclusions: what part of healthcare (or health care, if you prefer) is necessity, and what part is luxury? Can any part be considered a luxury?

From the standpoint of the patient, if you need some particular medicine or procedure to recover fully, then by definition it would be a necessity.

But I wonder, how much of the price escalation in healthcare is because tests and treatments that once were extraordinary are now commonplace, i.e., once were luxuries but now are considered necessities?

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Trees or Forests? Metaphors for the Political Left and Right

Some recent blog posts and the opening of a new (local) political season brought my thoughts back to the speechifying and responding we enjoyed* during the last Presidential campaign. It occurred to me that some of our country’s left-right dichotomy has to do with which side can’t see the forest for the trees, and which one sees the forest but not the trees.

It all depends on perspective … and, to a degree, on what issue is being discussed.

Take the economy, for instance. Those on the left seem unable to see the forest as they focus on single trees in the form of individuals hurt by the recession. Those on the right seem unable to see the individual trees because they are looking at the entire economic forest and the larger forces affecting it (and affected by it). The former would say a forest can’t be healthy if the individual trees are damaged or diseased; the latter would say it makes no sense to focus on individual trees if by doing so you neglect or even hurt the rest of the forest.

We can also see that difference in perspective with respect to healthcare. Those on the left see the trees — individuals and families without health insurance and saddled with staggering bills — and seem willing to sacrifice much of the forest of insured and mostly satisfied healthcare consumers in order to attend to those individual needs. Those on the right see the forest — a vast but untamed landscape of providers, customers, and insurers — and seem willing to let a few trees wither rather than take drastic action that may end up tantamount to clear-cutting.

What about other issues? What about your own perspective? Do you see the forest, or the trees?

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*Or, if you prefer, “endured.”

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This message has been brought to you by the Anti-Campaign. “I’m the Anti-Candidate, and I approved this message.”

Image Credit: Jonathan Gill, from Flickr, under Creative Commons

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Lack of Security at the Department of Homeland Security

So the Secretary of Homeland Security announced that DHS would remove the “right-wing extremist” report from their web site.* The horse-and-barn-door metaphor seems appropriate, because it’s a meaningless gesture: the report’s been cached and will continue to be available on other sites (for example, the Anti-Secrecy Society … a.k.a. the Federation of American Scientists).

The real question is, why was it on-line in the first place?

I have a copy of the report, which I downloaded almost a month ago; I don’t remember whether I got if off the DHS site, but I don’t think so. Notwithstanding the other controversy surrounding its contents I was more disturbed by the fact that several of the paragraphs are not marked FOUO, but instead are marked LES. Most people can recognize FOUO as “For Official Use Only,” but LES may not be as familiar. LES means “Law Enforcement Sensitive.”

How sensitive? The paragraph in the report that describes the LES marking says,

This product contains Law Enforcement Sensitive (LES) information. No portion of the LES information should be released to the media, the general public, or over non-secure Internet servers. Release of this information could adversely affect or jeopardize investigative activities.

Let’s see that again: “No portion of the LES information should be released to the media, the general public, or over non-secure Internet servers.”

I got the report over non-secure Internet servers. Who put it there? A reprimand would seem to be in order.

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*According to this report.

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