Conducting a Civil Society

Fuck You! (Strong letter to follow…)
That was a telegram we sent once in the early 80’s when we wanted to bust somebody’s balls, back when I was a real estate developer in Colorado. Our sense was that, when you’ve got someone by the nuts, their heart and mind will surely follow. I was often accused of being an attorney as I personally prepared and executed the contracts, zoning documents, financing agreements and property descriptions needed to upgrade the land we’d optioned or (heaven forbid!) purchased.

In those days I wore expensive suits, red suspenders (we called them “braces”) and I always stood alone before the City Councils and County Commissioners, doing what most developers hire attorneys to do for them: Transform unzoned, worthless land into zoned properties with designated areas for commercial, apartment, industrial and single-family uses. It was modern alchemy: you walked into a municipal hearing owning a worthless option to buy a worthless field and you walked out with 120 acres worth $1 per square foot (x 43,560 sq. ft. per acre–you do the math). It was a heady experience and a galvanizing phase in my life.

I recall that time because I’ve had a lot of experience with lawyers and public officials and with people who use their corporate shield to do things they’d never do personally. And I want to embrace and extend an idea Jeff Jarvis came up with.

Yesterday, Jeff sounded a call for bloggers who are lawyers to defend those among us who do what we have a right to do and therefore attract the attention of humanoid ciphers, attorneys, working for corporate drones who perceive copyright as an excuse to rent the fabric of civilization as we know it–and as a civil society should be conducted:

The latest case: Jason Kottke did some great reporting and posted audio and then a transcript of Ken Jennings’ loss on Jeopardy, the worst kept secret in Hollywood this side of Michael Jackson’s weirdness. Sony lawyers contacted Jason, first telling him to take the audio down, then telling him to take the transcript down (even though the same details were reported in the Washington Post). Now Jason — a pioneer in this ‘sphere, a damned Davey Crockett of blogging — is thinking about giving up the blog. He’s feeling the chill.

You’ll all remember when Robert Cox felt a similar chill from The New York Times’ lawyers until (a) he got some help from pro bono lawyers from blogs and (b) saner souls prevailed at The Times and they came to a swift and civilized agreement. Nonetheless, we know that Robert, too, felt the chill. We all do when lawyers descend upon us. Civilians can’t afford the fight. And that’s just the point, of course.

How could that audio excerpt and transcript–free PR–constitute a jeopardy to the fat cats who happen to “own” the “rights” to the sounds uttered that night, for which everyone was paid obscene amounts of money? These intimidations are promoted by the inhouse and outhouse lawyers because it costs them nothing. Why not up the ante?

Jeff’s hope is to inspire a Blogger’s Legal Aid Society to defend bloggers, and it shouldn’t take more than six months if everyone works hard at it. I’m not as moderate as Jeff and I’m much less patient. I want to rip these drones a new asshole. Every cohort of our society is exercising power as never before and we–the bloggers who really have the power–have no response to litigation. Wake up bloggers! We hold all the cards. We buy our ink by the TeraByte!

Let’s do what bloggers do best. Out the fuckers! There’s a list of names hiding behind every one of these pissant actions brought against one of our own. All of their names are easily discoverable. There are corporate officers, listed in 10Q’s and 10K’s. There are attorneys and partners and judges of record ruling on all these foolish motions. They have work and home street addresses, club affiliations and, if we’re lucky, discoverable dalliances. There are a thousand bloggers for every one of these ciphers, a googleplex of data about most of them and more to be gained if someone bothers to hire a PI or dig into it, all of it public knowledge, but unavailable to the public record until we act.

That a lawyer’s call would quiet Jason Kottke’s voice is an affront to free speech and a violation of something far more powerful–our collective outrage. What do we bloggers do better than anybody? We know how to google and to describe and to crosslink and to hang on to facts like bulldogs. As the N’Yawkers shouted at the Green Goblin as they pelted him from the 59th Street Bridge:

YO! You attack one of us, you attack all of us!

Any action we resent deserves to be exposed. Is our overreaction fair? Of course not! Given the overwhelming weight of our collective attention, it’s incredibly unfair to those who, until now, have held all the cards. They have status to defend, reputations to uphold, power to secure.

Why do you care?

Fisk ’em!

These lawyers are paper tigers.

  • Who, specifically, contacted Jason?
  • What did the letter say and who signed it?
  • What’s the name of the law firm and who are its partners?
  • What other cases are they currently arguing?
  • Before which judges?
  • What actions have been brought against the firm and its people?
  • What have they been accused of, by whom?
  • What will we find when we follow their money?

File something with their bar association. We may not be big individually, but we are mighty in the aggregate. Jason can’t be everywhere but we already are.

Confronted by our awesome aggregated conversation, conjecture and conclusions, blackbirds wheeling on a whim, they will fold their briefs (perhaps soiling them) and retire, trembling, to the sidelines. My suggestions:

  1. If called by a lawyer, calm your mind and lower your pulse.
  2. Ask politely that they put it in writing.
  3. Take the letter to your city or county’s Public Recorder’s Office.
  4. File it for the public record for a small fee.
    (you may enter anything into the public record, even a movie stub).
  5. Scan the letter and post it online as a GIF and a PDF.
  6. List the official record number.
  7. Let us do the rest.

None of this is fair to the lawyers who do this because they’re only doing their job. Tough noogies. In every transition of power, force is projected by the rising elite against the old, and careers and reputations are lost and individuals are hurt. It is the way of nature. The question is, are we bloggers willing to discover and expose the words and identities of the individuals, having no fear of retribution, who threaten our friend Jason? We’re certainly willing to track down every other detail that interests us, why not when one of us is attacked?

The exercise of real power is never fair. In the last year there’s been a shift of power to citizen journalists who simply examine the public record and report what we’ve learned. We must
rise up now that they have come for Jason, for they will surely come for us next.

“Never give in — never, never, never, never in nothing great or small . . . Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.”
—Winston Churchill

12:29:34 PM    

Since you Asked, Frank…

Frank Paynter has asked why we blog and, like blackbirds wheeling together, bloggers are showing their respect for Frank by flocking to answer.

I started because Doc Searls and I were having marathon phone calls, enjoying our echo chamber. As Dave Winer had exhorted him, Doc pushed me into blogging, perhaps just to get us off the phone.

I have a genetic need to work out my thoughts, hopes and resentments on ‘paper’. So my blog does for me what legal pads once did.

I keep blogging because I’ve met so many great people like you through this medium. I’m amazed to be introduced to a blogger I’ve never met, and our conversation picks up where it left off.

Out of the threads of our now-shared thoughts, hopes and resentments, we’re making a quilt of our common sense of how things should work. Each individual piece of our quilt stands on its own, but collectively a better picture emerges than any tapestry one of us might weave alone.

But enough about me. Whadda you think of my latest post?

Thanks for asking this question, which seems to be blogger flypaper.

8:28:41 AM    

Kid Heaven


In 1954-56, shortly after they filmed Miracle on 34th Street, my father was the manager of the Fifth floor of Macy’s Herald Square. At that time, his floor, an entire New York city block, had only two departments: Toys and Sporting Goods. My Dad. I don’t recall making a big enough fuss over that with my friends.

The 5th Floor was where Santa Clauses listened. Not just The Santa Claus, because there had to be more than one to handle the crowds. So there was a maze which the kids wound through, subdivided into many queues. My dad hired the Macy’s Santa Clauses. 9 full time, 5 part time and 4 Saturday-only.

My dad was very high up in planning the Thanksgiving Day Parade. The first planning meeting was the Monday after Thanksgiving. It would have been the day after Thanksgiving, but that was their biggest day of the year. In 1955, I think it was, the union men who walked with the ropes that held down the big balloons threatened to walk off the job, without the balloons. My dad was one of the executives assigned to walk along with each teamster to avert disaster. Sitting in the VIP bleachers, I was proud of him, standing ready to spring into action to save Mighty Mouse from disposal by the irresponsible union men who would not be content with the fair terms that nice men like my dad arranged for them.

Macy’s looks much the same and it even has some of the funky old wooden escalators installed by Otis, probably in the 1920s. But toys aren’t as profitable as clothes and perfume, which they annoyingly spray in your face on the first floor. Macy’s has become a real estate deal, with many departments rented to the brands they sell.

But that’s not how it was in Kid Heaven. Happy Thanksgiving.

5:56:10 AM    

TCP/IP vs. NTSC


It’s Vint Cerf‘s fault.

Talk about the law of unintended consequences! In an attempt to secure our political hierarchy’s communications from the advances of their hierarchy, he co-developed the TCP/IP protocol in the 1970s, building on concepts developed in the 60s: J. R. Licklider‘s Galactic Network memos. The purpose was straightforward enough, to harden our nuclear command & control system against nuclear attack. But the architecture does something more profound. Essentially, it lets messages have their way with the network.

That’s heady stuff because it gently erodes the very thing it was built to protect, the underpinning of all human societies: Hierarchy. Practically speaking, that means patriarchy. Most of us know how a patriarchy works. The alpha male, no matter how absurd the hovel he rules, dictates what may or may not be discussed in the household. As long as everybody toes the line and tiptoes around the Barca Lounger, everything’s fine. But cross that invisible line and the snarl emerges, often with the hickory switch. We discover the line by observing our Alpha Thug’s reaction, not by an explicit set of rules he’s taught us so we can stay out of trouble. Indeed, sudden, terrible trouble is the operating protocol of domination:it keeps the vassals on their toes. (Every alpha male is in turn a vassal to some other male: turtles all the way up.)

So the hierarchy controls all messages constantly, explicitly and vehemently. I think that’s what’s going on right now. Patriarchs everywhere are stung by the growth of peer-to-peer messaging: wounded elephants, thrashing around breaking the pottery.

10:21:02 PM    

10 Things I liked about the Election

  1. The great people I met.
  2. Hanging with the kids in Burlington.
  3. It brought out the tiger in David Weinberger.
  4. Relieved from reading political blogs.
  5. Relieved from writing political blogs.
  6. November 2, 2004; 8 pm est.
  7. Remembering how courteous are middle class, “upstanding” citizens.
  8. Remembering how short-sighted are middle class, “upstanding” citizens.
  9. Remembering what crummy forecasters Jimmy and me are.
  10. Discovering the real reason the Republicans are breaking the bank*:
Givers & Takers

Following the Money

The blue bar graph lists each state’s per capita tax burden (left hand scale). The median lies between Oregon and Kansas, about $5,600 per person. 17 of the 25 states above the median (68%) voted for Kerry, while 23 of the 25 states below the median (92%) voted for Bush.

The red line is even more interesting. That’s the return on investment that each state enjoys due to federal taxes. Oregon seems to have it just about right on both scales. A 100% ROI (right hand scale) represents a perfect balance of paying taxes and receiving benefits. If we think of states as citizens, then the “good” citizens might be the ones who pay more than their share of taxes to support their less fortunate fellow citizens. Or, if you’re a Republican, you may think that those state-citizens are naive patsies who don’t stand up for themselves–losers according to the wisdom of the political marketplace, like someone who lets the tougher kids take their lunch money.

Of the 16 states that pay more taxes than they receive in benefits, 13 voted for Kerry (81%). Of the 33 states that receive more than they pay in, 27 voted for Bush (82%).

The data suggest that those pulling more than their share want to do more, while those doing less than their share want to do even less, and are happy to bankrupt a system that they apparently don’t feel responsible for.

A PDF of the graph is available here.

*
  These data (thanks, John Robb!)are based on calculations by the staff of the Northeast-Midwest Institute, based on U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, annual Consolidated Federal Funds Report, and The Tax Foundation, annual Special Report: Federal Tax Burdens and Expenditures by State.
  The Institute’s logo explains their interest in the data.

8:13:25 PM    

Jimmy and Me

Jimmy Breslin‘s good company to be in. Jimmy and me are the kind of people that *modern* people don’t have much truck with. Newsflash: Jimmy & me don’t give a shit. Here’s why. There’s a grand tradition of the independent curmudgeon in American thought, and it runs counter to stereotypes of acceptable discourse. We mimic Socrates, such a royal pain in the ass that the Athenian oligarchs’ only solution was to poison him. Or Diogenes’ unseemly performance art, wandering around Athens, lantern in hand, searching for an honest man.

We curmudgeons are burdened by our obligation to remember. When you add cultural memory to the many obligations of modern life, the going gets rough. Momentary Culture is the order of any day. Momentary Culture is like a single one of the thousands of two-dimensional images from an MRI scan – a paper-thin slice of a human. Each slice no more represents the human than page 326 represents an encyclopedia. But at any moment, the improbably attractive ex-class presidents imitating journalists on cable news offer a two-dimensional representation of a three-dimensional culture. Naturally, it’s better for them if you don’t remember the slice they showed you last week, or month, or year.

Why something in the public interest such as television news can be fought over, like a chain of hamburger stands, eludes me.
                                         — Jimmy Breslin

We curmudgeons feel obliged to image the body of our culture in three dimensions. It’s what Jimmy Breslin did late last night, in a Newsday column that he’s been putting out for so many years but which, he says, he’s done with. He’s going on to greener pastures, having called this election for Kerry half a year ago and, it seems, uninterested in the hullabaloo over what has seemed obvious to him all this time:

One day last May, I assigned the election to John Kerry. I said it early, and often. As I looked more, I saw that it shouldn’t even be close. I said that in this space more than once. Now I am so sure that I am not even going to bother to watch the results tonight. I am going to bed early, for I must rise in the darkness and pursue immediately an exciting, overdue project.

Besides, if I was up, so many people, upon seeing every word I said of this election coming true on television in front of them, would be kissing my hands and embarrassing me with outlandish praise. So I go to bed with total confidence. I will get up and stroll to other meadows. I invented this column form. I now leave, but will return here for cameo appearances. And I leave today as the only one in America who from the start was sure John Kerry would win by a wide margin.

Jimmy then goes on to explain his reasons. He cites the fact that Bush lost to Gore by 500,000 votes, and 537 in Florida, where Nader had 125,000 votes. He’s got a lot of other technical reasons, like the youth vote and Cell Phone Nation’s unpolled proletariat. (check ’em out), but they add up to the same message. Bush is toast, put a fork in him.

Not Quite the Only One in America…

All year, I’ve been telling anyone who would listen that Bush would lose to whoever the Democrats put up against him. My reasoning was that Bush wouldn’t earn more votes than he got last time and that his opposition is highly energized. Even Jimmy Breslin lists the analytics supporting his reasoning, something he must do to fill his column and support his position, but the conclusion has always seemed so obvious, I just stuck with the basics:

+ Kerry: highly energized base
– Bush: about the same number of votes
= Game Over.

Now this is thematic analysis, which you’d expect from an English Literature major. There are a few constant themes in life, and a uniquely American theme is that our Presidents better be smart, articulate, courageous and accountable. We Americans may form our impressions of those traits instinctively, not intellectually, but we’re clear about the requirements. Those requirements have driven lifelong conservative voters and newspapers to endorse Kerry.

Another of those requirements is sportsmanlike conduct and an aversion to bullies who’ll do anything to win. Consider this: Everyone, on both sides, accepts unquestioningly that the Rove/Ashcroft axis will punish people who speak out too stridently against Bush. Ponder that for a moment. Our passive acceptance of that fact is anathema to the American Experiment, right up there with the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798. We curmudgeons are obligated to remember things like that.

Smokers at the Gate

There’s a melancholy presence around most office building entrances: the smokers shunned by their peers banding together based through their single common denominator, a habit killing them faster than the rest of us.

The Director of Finance is out there chatting it up with a part-time stock boy with whom she has nothing else in common, their mutual awkwardness palpable. When you cling to an obsolescing fixation, you become, like politicians, strange bedfellows with other obsessives.

This was how liberals have felt for the last several years (some say decades). The ideologies of narrowly-educated suburbanites and plump retirees moved to the right even as conservatives offered the most lively debates, precipitating think tanks and a blizzard of white papers. Gradually shunted to the left of the shifting mainstream, those who once called themselves liberals became progressives and then, in 2002, became silent. Their notion that an energetic bureaucracy and restrained military could solve our ills had been totally discredited and its sizable base became political sleepwalkers.

Last Minute Fix

As I predicted again most recently, on September 30 (happily, just before the first debate, in Kerry’s darkest hour), many of the vested interests that profited from toeing the Republican line have shaken off their self-interested narrowness and now see our tiny, naked emperor for who he has always been, a small-minded poster boy for arrested development:

It begins tonight: a growing consensus by the press that George W.
Bush doesn’t deserve our support. Most people in the press are more sensible than ideological, and a tight race is in the interest of the media. So the instinct that caused them to remark on Dubya’s “unexpectedly” good debate performance 4 years ago inclines them to see a shift back toward John Kerry, regardless of their true opinion. So that’s what we’ll see.

My other prediction is that few major newspapers will endorse Bush. Wherever objective, informed people gather, it’s hard for them to see the combination of cosmetic security, management malpractice and fiscal impropriety as supportable.

During October, the press will “reluctantly” reconsider their past support for the president and discover more promise in Kerry’s record than in a man who has shown his ineptitude in every endeavor he’s attempted, now including this one.

The endorsements by responsible papers, from the Albuquerque Tribune to The “heavy-hearted” Economist, paint a picture of thoughtful, reasonable and, often, reluctant editors endorsing Kerry in October, often after carrying the Bush banner for four years. All the Missouri papers have endorsed Kerry, prominent among the 43 papers who’ve recanted their Bush endorsements in 2000. Hell, Kerry’s the first Dem that the Bangor Daily News has endorsed since the 1800s; for the Orlando Sentinel it’s been 40 years. At least they’re braver than the deafening silence of rabidly conservative papers: Bush is just the 3rd Republican in two centuries to not win an endorsement from the Detroit News, and the Tampa Tribune’s failure to endorse is its first since 1952.

This is stirring stuff: any striking departure from well-worn patterns are more indicative of honesty than any of us reinforcing our biases, backing and filling as we seek to support old divinations with new tea leaves. We should not be surprised. Like it or not, real conservatives are far more value-conscious than average Democrats, IMHO. They see the Democrats as pandering to the masses rather than sticking to the values that made this country great.

1980 wasn’t like 1984

Election Night, 1980 seems like yesterday. I was a real estate developer in Denver, wired into the booster club of developers, homebuilders, highway contractors and our suppliers, all believers that we were hobbled by the regulations that the city planners and environmentalists had thrown up to separate us from the hugely prosperous lives we were leading. I went to a party at a highway contractor’s home, a fellow who prided himself that his bids “included doing the work.” We watched a country weary of the liberal rhetoric throw out Jimmy Carter and throw in with Ronald Reagan hook, line & sinker (archaic term for, like, a lot).

It was an amazing, dramatic, peaceful and gentlemanly shift of power. We remarked how we lived in the only country that could shift governments and ideologies so drastically and so civilly. Tuesday night will be the Republicans’ chance to see if they can as graciously cede the reins to the new order. Few are optimistic, so most rational people are hoping for a lopsided victory. My guess all along has been that they won’t be disappointed, but I was surprised on Sunday morning to hear Tucker Carlson agree, guessing that it will be a two-point victory–for Kerry!

Losers

The big losers in this election will be both parties, for this is the sunset of broadcast politics, expensive pollsters and the two parties as we know them. Their unmitigated cynicism, reach, grasp and greed doom them and their most extreme supporters to the margins of the political scene, like the smokers shivering outside a New York club that once welcomed them.

I now can get back to my regular programming, which has to do with building communities via web services. The web service that interests me most is the one called Xpertweb, which had been my passion and avocation for over a decade. That hobby was interrupted 18 months ago when I came across the NeoCon train wreck that derailed our great nation, fueled by its passengers’ fears that evil non-Christians might strike again. I felt obligated to see if I might help.

The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave man dies but once. Our collective bravado-clad cowardice has caused us all a thousand deaths (over 1100 by the latest count), but history will prove again that you don’t change values in the middle of the stream, no matter how scared you are.

That’s why Kerry is the true conservative, and not the Bushies, who are radical by any measure. America’s core values matter more than the the threat of random violence to us or our peers, leveraged into corporate welfare by people who don’t know any better. I’d rather watch a 767 fly into my apartment window than congeal my core values so I can die in an ICU with a tube down my throat.

2:03:54 PM    

It’s the Amygdala, Stupid!

Last month I examined why we buy more goods from bad news cable than the goods we buy from good news cable:

The human neo cortex, in theory at least, calls on prior learning and objective processing to weigh options and make better decisions. Remember this the next time you get into a political discussion. The reason our fancy brain doesn’t work so well in political mode is its amazing lack of evidence, since the reptile brain pays more attention to office and bedroom politics and spun-for-TV sound bites than to news that matters and arcane issues of governance and human potential. Of course the cat brain is happy to provide all the emotion needed to get both parties lathered up over information they don’t have, since their respective brands of disinformation have been packaged and delivered so skillfully by the prosperous fear mongers on the nightly news.

It’s all the dragon’s fault. If something seems scary (suggested by tone of voice, excitement, stridency and sound track), our unblinking lizard brain pays close attention, while ignoring the more relevant news: green grass, skies of blue; people all around us, saying how d’ya do.

They’re just sayin’ I love you.

Arianna Huffington looked at the same issue recently in Appealing To Our Lizard Brains: Why Bush Is Still Standing. She had been wondering why people are so slow to reel in their bias for the Bushies’ War on Them. Her answer came from Dr. Daniel Siegel in his forthcoming book, Mindsight:

Dr. Siegel told me: “Voters are shrouded in a ‘fog of fear’ that is impacting the way our brains respond to the two candidates.”

Thanks to the Bush campaign’s unremitting fear-mongering, millions of voters are reacting not with their linear and logical left brain but with their lizard brain and their more emotional right brain.

What’s more, people in a fog of fear are more likely to respond to someone whose primary means of communication is in the nonverbal realm, neither logical nor language-based. (Sound like any presidential candidate you know?)
And that’s why Bush is still standing. It’s not about left wing vs. right wing; it’s about left brain vs. right brain.

Deep in the brain lies the amygdala, an almond-sized region that generates fear. When this fear state is activated, the amygdala springs into action. Before you are even consciously aware that you are afraid, your lizard brain responds by clicking into survival mode. No time to assess the situation, no time to look at the facts, just: fight, flight or freeze.

And, boy, have the Bushies been giving our collective amygdala a workout. Especially Dick Cheney, who has proven himself an unmatched master of the dark art of fear-mongering.

This fog of fear is the business end of the famous fog of war, the mass confusion that sets in about 3 minutes after you drop the starting flag on a flawless military strategy executed by the best-trained and equipped troops.

Any veteran will tell you that military training is mostly about overcoming your instinctive fears and doing the job you’re trained to do, regardless of the bullets flying or that you just watched your best friend’s face disappear. Here’s an example from combat.

Shut Up and Die Like an Aviator

In Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff, the essence of mental discipline in combat is revealed by an anecdote from the Korean war:

Combat had its own infinite series of tests, and one of the greatest sins was “chattering” or “jabbering” on the radio. The combat frequency was to be kept clear of all but strategically essential messages, and all unenlightening comments were regarded as evidence of funk, of the wrong stuff.

A Navy pilot (in legend, at any rate) began shouting, “I’ve got a MIG at zero! A MIG at zero!” – meaning that it had maneuvered in behind him and was locked in on his tail. An irritated voice cut in and said, “Shut up and die like an aviator.”

Now it’s time for We the People to control our fear and face the music.

If there is such a thing as right action, it places a demand on our resources whether or not our intellect or gut buys into it. That’s the essence of trusting our instruments rather than our inner ear. It also suggests that, when we must do things that seem threatening to our survival, it’s OK to keep our perspective.

In fact, it will improve the odds of survival.

The Grumman aircraft that scared pilot was flying was built before the hydro-mechanical fuel control, a kind of intelligent fuel injection for jet engines. In those days, the throttle was connected directly to a valve that dumped raw fuel into the engine, which was, essentially, a blowtorch. Dump too much fuel and the fire goes out.

Suddenly it’s quiet. Ruins your whole day.

Today, an F-18 pilot slams the throttle to max power and starts jiving. In those days, if you moved the throttle from cruise to afterburner faster than about 5 seconds, your fighter became an expensive glider.

Think about it: you’ve just been jumped by a faster, more agile MIG 15. Your job now is to tame your reptile brain and count slowly while advancing the throttle and jinking like a mothafucka (technical pilot talk for turning fast while under duress):

one thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three, one thousand and four, one thousand and five.

Such suppression of one’s reptile brain requires behavioral modification at an early age. Now we, the front line combatants in the politically powerful War on A Noun, without the benefit of such training, need to keep our heads on straight and learn to fear only Fear Itself.

“Big Clock, Small Cock”

That was a cynical Air Force description of the pilot who sported an improbably huge aviator’s chronometer. The thinking was that a guy who so needed to advertise his profession was more interested in the role than his craft.

I suggest there’s a similar inverse relation between generalized bellicosity and grace under fire; that people who cheer for war fought by other people’s children are talking but not walking. However, we’re now in a technical world, requiring more (dare I say it?) sensitive behavior. Smart guys win battles, not blowhards. I can tell you from experience that people react far too fast in emergencies, not too slowly. Reacting like a lizard, they invariably hurt themselves and those around them.

There are a lot of scared people in this country, puffing out their chests and saying we should blow away everybody who hates us. Their state of mind is a fool’s paradise, as irrational as the virgin-rich nirvana sought by suicide bombers or the angel-rich rapture sought by the crazy Christians who actually believe that the sooner we bring on Armageddon, the sooner they’ll be raptured to their reward.

My God Won’t Beat Up Your God

The opposite of militaristic egotism is something called Christianity. Vengeful and apocalyptic doesn’t describe the God I learned to worship at Christ Episcopal Church in Manhasset, L.I. Our New Testament God was reasonable, sophisticated and, well, entrepreneurial. I never thought about Him that way before, but that was the sense I had, surrounded by strong, well-educated adults, most of whom had sacrificed mightily in WWII and Korea. Those veterans of serious combat advocated a humanistic, liberal education, exposing their kids to a broad range of historic, artistic and scientific information. Our hero, Dwight D. Eisenhower, spoke for our community when he said,

Don’t join the book burners. Don’t think you’re going to conceal faults by concealing evidence that they never existed. Don’t be afraid to go in your library and read every book.

Manhasset in the early 1950’s was a heady environment and Christ Church was the center of our community. My father had a rich bass voice so he was a stalwart of a quite excellent choir. I was a choir boy and an acolyte, and a fixture in Church School, receiving little medals for my regular attendance, even during the summer. This led me to study theology in college, where we still attended chapel on Sunday evening and said grace before meals, even as Wesleyan was becoming aggressively agnostic. However, I clearly was not wired for disciplined religiosity, and I certainly could not conduct a meaningful conversation with Akma on the gist of any of those courses.

I suppose I assumed our God was entrepreneurial because so many of the senior churchmembers were. There was John M. Fox, the guy who developed frozen orange juice in WWII and went on to found Minute Maid. The broadcast Paleys were there, and so was a sweet lady named Jesse Hicks, the church organist. She always hostessed the Church Christmas Party at her home, which looked like the setting for Sabrina (either one). Mrs. (not “Ms.” Hicks) was the widow of the founder of Union Carbide, and one of the many stalls in the long garage sheltered a Packard 733 Sport Phaeton that her husband had won from Jim Packard in a poker game. It had never been driven.

I mention this to suggest there are alternatives to Crackpot Christianity. The tradition this country was founded on was single-mindedly secular, even while based on the presumption that a pervasive Almighty embraces all creatures (AKA ‘Deist’). So it’s refreshing to come across this belief statement signed by about 200 serious theologians, at a site called Sojourners – faith, politics, culture. I’m compelled to quote it in full, for the same reason that prayer flags and wheels make sense to me. I hope you’ll go take a look at the list of signatories.

In reading their words, I’m reminded that courage is never comfortable or recreational. The thrill in your gut as you smite thine enemies is a sure sign that you’re up to no good. But what would I know? I was never a real soldier; I was a shootee, not a shooter.

Confessing Christ in a World of Violence

Our world is wracked with violence and war. But Jesus said: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God” (Matt. 5:9). Innocent people, at home and abroad, are increasingly threatened by terrorist attacks. But Jesus said: “Love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:44). These words, which have never been easy, seem all the more difficult today.

Nevertheless, a time comes when silence is betrayal. How many churches have heard sermons on these texts since the terrorist atrocities of September 11? Where is the serious debate about what it means to confess Christ in a world of violence? Does Christian “realism” mean resigning ourselves to an endless future of “pre-emptive wars”? Does it mean turning a blind eye to torture and massive civilian casualties? Does it mean acting out of fear and resentment rather than intelligence and restraint?

Faithfully confessing Christ is the church’s task, and never more so than when its confession is co-opted by militarism and nationalism.

  • A “theology of war,” emanating from the highest circles of American government, is seeping into our churches as well.
  • The language of “righteous empire” is employed with growing frequency.
  • The roles of God, church, and nation are confused by talk of an American “mission” and “divine appointment” to “rid the world of evil.”

The security issues before our nation allow no easy solutions. No one has a monopoly on the truth. But a policy that rejects the wisdom of international consultation should not be baptized by religiosity. The danger today is political idolatry exacerbated by the politics of fear.
In this time of crisis, we need a new confession of Christ.

  1. Jesus Christ, as attested in Holy Scripture, knows no national boundaries. Those who confess his name are found throughout the earth. Our allegiance to Christ takes priority over national identity. Whenever Christianity compromises with empire, the gospel of Christ is discredited.We reject the false teaching that any nation-state can ever be described with the words, “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” These words, used in scripture, apply only to Christ. No political or religious leader has the right to twist them in the service of war.
  2. Christ commits Christians to a strong presumption against war. The wanton destructiveness of modern warfare strengthens this obligation. Standing in the shadow of the Cross, Christians have a responsibility to count the cost, speak out for the victims, and explore every alternative before a nation goes to war. We are committed to international cooperation rather than unilateral policies.We reject the false teaching that a war on terrorism takes precedence over ethical and legal norms. Some things ought never be done – torture, the deliberate bombing of civilians, the use of indiscriminate weapons of mass destruction – regardless of the consequences.
  3. Christ commands us to see not only the splinter in our adversary’s eye, but also the beam in our own. The distinction between good and evil does not run between one nation and another, or one group and another. It runs straight through every human heart.We reject the false teaching that America is a “Christian nation,” representing only virtue, while its adversaries are nothing but vicious. We reject the belief that America has nothing to repent of, even as we reject that it represents most of the world’s evil. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Rom 3:23).
  4. Christ shows us that enemy-love is the heart of the gospel. While we were yet enemies, Christ died for us (Rom. 5:8, 10). We are to show love to our enemies even as we believe God in Christ has shown love to us and the whole world. Enemy-love does not mean capitulating to hostile agendas or domination. It does mean refusing to demonize any human being created in God’s image.We reject the false teaching that any human being can be defined as outside the law’s protection. We reject the demonization of perceived enemies, which only paves the way to abuse; and we reject the mistreatment of prisoners, regardless of supposed benefits to their captors.
  5. Christ teaches us that humility is the virtue befitting forgiven sinners. It tempers all political disagreements, and it allows that our own political perceptions, in a complex world, may be wrong.We reject the false teaching that those who are not for the United States politically are against it or that those who fundamentally question American policies must be with the “evil-doers.” Such crude distinctions, especially when used by Christians, are expressions of the Manichaean heresy, in which the world is divided into forces of absolute good and absolute evil.

The Lord Jesus Christ is either authoritative for Christians, or he is not. His Lordship cannot be set aside by any earthly power. His words may not be distorted for propagandistic purposes. No nation-state may usurp the place of God.

We believe that acknowledging these truths is indispensable for followers of Christ. We urge them to remember these principles in making their decisions as citizens. Peacemaking is central to our vocation in a troubled world where Christ is Lord.

Taming The Beast

Each generation must learn anew that real strength lies in mastering oneself, and not in applying force to one’s imputed enemies. Sometimes it’s everything we can do just to overcome our inner dragon.

1:52:03 AM    

Reel Courage

About an hour into the movie Going Upriver, a parade of disillusioned Vietnam Veterans Against the War walk up to a microphone, utter a few words, and throw their medals over a hastily constructed fence thrown up by Nixon’s people to keep them from walking to the Capitol. One of the men walks away from the mike and embraces another vet, a total stranger, both of them weeping.

The total stranger tells the interviewer why. Throwing his Silver Star over the fence was one of the hardest things he ever did, perhaps harder than winning it. “I had never accomplished anything before then. That Silver Star was the biggest thing that had ever happened in my life.”

I was recommended for 2 or 3 Silver Stars, though each one devolved to a Distinguished Flying Cross, so I know something about military awards. When a General pins such medals on your tunic, you get a kind of free pass. Never mind that you had been scared shitless, performing a series of recoveries from moments-earlier screwups and thinking only of your sorry ass. The award somehow ennobles your effort and gives you some cultural bragging rights.

To then feel so disillusioned by the campaign that brought you the award, to the extent that you throw it over the fence is a premeditated abdication that few of us are brave enough to manage. We risk our lives with far more abandon than we compromise our image.

(Don’t confuse my Wallace Beery version of gallantry with the real heroes who endured the unendurable in Vietnam and Iraq. I was a trash hauler, grinding around South Vietnam for 12 hours a day, repairing to a hot shower and a cold cocktail every night. If you want to see real heroes, go see the kids in Going Upriver.)

Going Back

The movie brought the memories back in a rush: rice paddies hard against the mountains, mist lying on the brown river, the country’s beauty and its horror, terrorized civilians doing whatever they saw as their best way forward from dead children and torched villages. I remembered one particular day, shuttling between Bao Loc and Song Be, evacuating a horde of refugees. Bao Loc was a tiny red dirt strip, 2600 feet long. As you braked hard at the end of the tiny runway, the C-130’s 4 big props in full reverse pulled a cloud of red dust around the cockpit, totally obscuring the rubber trees rushing to meet us. I learned later that it works the same with burning jet fuel.

You sit and wait for the refugees to board, in the heat and the dust and the forlornness. I got it at Bao Loc that day in 1967 that the Vietnamese had been hostage to colonialists for time out of mind. Chinese, Japanese, French and now the Americans. It was all the same to them: forces and violence they couldn’t understand, sweeping across their country following choices made far away for symbols they couldn’t understand. We knew we were carrying Viet Cong to their next staging area, and we knew this fucking war was a tragic blunder. Everybody knew it was stupid who still had a mind.

Sure, there were gung ho idiots who convinced themselves, even before middle age, that we were there to make the world safe for democracy but, like the jocks in the back of Econ class, no one paid any attention to those dangerous fucks. They were so clueless they would kill you and themselves and never know what hit them and their surroundings. There were hardly any pilots like that, certainly fewer in the unromantic world known as Airlift Ops. A dozen assault landings and takeoffs each day in places whose ownership was uncertain made you a paragon of empirical thought.

Hopeless Romantics

Romantic thinking. That was the delimiter that mattered. You could pay attention to bullets or illusions but not both.

By romantic thinking, I’m talking about the guys who couldn’t or wouldn’t put themselves in harm’s way without some grand religious or political symbolism. Their passion, so bolstered, seemed their only way to put up with what the rest of us considered a glorified form of defensive driving. They were the guys who couldn’t imagine fighting this unfathomable war for anything but God and country. Conversely, you had the ones whose terror wrapped them up so tightly they’d fly into a large mountain avoiding small bullets. Terror was their form of romanticism, a kind of grand gothic horror rationalizing the reality they found themselves in.

Fear- or hate-based romanticism is like a high school crush. It deceives your brain and clouds your judgment. Confronted with unimagined horror, our facile brain rushes to concoct a quick way out, and the nearest exit is often a romantic one. We seize on a reason where none is possible because our circumstance is, literally, unimaginable.

Middle Age Romantics

Many of those same people now remember it differently for reasons that are basically romantic. But make no mistake: the young men they used to be, the ones who did the fighting, knew the war was stupid and that peasants were killed on the chance they were hostile, not because they were hostile. About one and a half million of them. 1,500,000 people with families and history but without writing or mortgages.

Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either, but right through every human heart, and through all human hearts. This line shifts… Even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained; and in the best of hearts, there remains one small corner of evil.

Alexander Solzhenitzen, Gulag Archipelago

It’s hard to disregard the difficult and evil things we do, so I’m not surprised that so many vets think John Kerry betrayed them by speaking against the war in 1971. But many of them are alive today because of the pressure he exerted on the US Government, at the age of 27, to quit Vietnam, well respected by the kinds of Senators we can barely imagine today.

Here’s the hard part. In the midst of the shock and awe of September 2001, many of us untrained for combat were thrust into Hell. With our conceptual frame shattered, we yearned for a voice of assurance and seeming confidence. We sought comforting words in the same way that a troubling movie sets us up for reassurance in the final reel. Manipulators of image and atmospherics know how to scratch that itch. Movie producers make billions, first by tickling us and then scratching us there . . . no . . . up a little . . . yes! there!.

Media manipulators know how to scratch the itch even when terrorists nick us. It’s a cultural ritual and a form of romanticism. We think we’re tough on terror when we scratch that itch, but we’re really just being easy on ourselves. Is it possible that some of us, given a little distance from the event and the speaker of those words, might summon up a small fraction of the courage of the kid who, in the spring of 1971, threw away his Silver Star, the only impressive thing he’d ever done?

Might we let go of our illusions about what happened to us and what we should do about it?

On the Record

Going Upriver records soldiers’ memories of what John Kerry did in Vietnam and soon after, and says nothing about who he is now. Some believe that as the twig is bent, so the branch is inclined and it’s therefore useful to understand who John Kerry certainly was from childhood through the spring of 1971. I know those years shaped me profoundly, so I cannot ignore how they shaped him. I must assume that George Bush was similarly formed by the experiences he had and the choices he made during that period.

Going Up Your Own River

An uninformed electorate is a modern invention. From the signing of the Magna Carta by King John in 1215, electoral power slowly leaked away from an absolute monarch, through his barons and eventually to you and me and middle-aged romantics.

Our Founding Fathers enfranchised landed white males. In 1790, that usually meant you had a classical education (Homer through Adam Smith), were able to write a 20 page essay with flawless penmanship and grammar, had led others in combat and were probably a little arrogant for modern tastes.

At our nation’s birth, most voters were smarter, tougher, better informed and more patriotic than you and me.

There’s no such standard today. If I can sit on the receiving end of $500 million of advertising and find my way to a voting booth, I qualify. If you don’t watch the Presidential debates and Going Upriver, you’re choosing to be a cultural romantic, uninformed about this election.

If you do pay attention, you’ll conclude that John Kerry is smarter, tougher, better informed and more patriotic than you and me. And that George Bush is not.

Pick one.

3:17:50 AM    

 

 

Rush to Judgment

I spent most of 2003 trying to keep John Kerry out of the White House. I’m not a Democrat and I embrace the values of Dwight Eisenhower and, it turns out, his son.

But I’ve never felt that Bush has much of a hope of re-election, because, as long as the votes are fairly counted, he’s not likely to receive more votes than last time, and his opposition is highly energized. That has nothing to do with John Kerry and everything to do with the American dislike for hype, elective foreign wars, rich spoiled kids and big, intrusive gummint.

So I want to put out my forecast before the debate is rehashed, so my prescience can be noted.

And Now It Begins…

It begins tonight: a growing consensus by the press that George W. Bush doesn’t deserve our support. Most people in the press are more sensible than ideological, and a tight race is in the interest of the media. So the instinct that caused them to remark on Dubya’s “unexpectedly” good debate performance 4 years ago inclines them to see a shift back toward John Kerry, regardless of their true opinion. So that’s what we’ll see.

My other prediction is that few major newspapers will endorse Bush. Wherever objective, informed people gather, it’s hard for them to see the combination of cosmetic security, management malpractice and fiscal impropriety as supportable.

During October, the press will “reluctantly” reconsider their past support for the president and discover more promise in Kerry’s record than in a man who has shown his ineptitude in every endeavor he’s attempted, now including this one.

Unfortunately, his dad’s friends don’t have enough money to bail him out this time. That’s up to our kids, and theirs.

4:09:35 PM