Friday, June 12, 2009

I Mostly Avoid Politics, but...

I'd take it as axiomatic -- and if it weren't, the tsunami of empirical evidence would demolish all possible doubt -- that any position taken by "the previous administration" was not just evil, but so profoundly and Satanically evil as to beggar both the imaginations and the souls of most humans on the face of the Earth. And I'm not even sure that this captures the systematicity of the malignancy, or that it's expressible in human language, but it is the best I can do for the moment, and so I'll leave it at that... except to say that if anyone wanted to create Heaven on Earth, the very best approach I can imagine would be energetically to advance the diametrical antithesis of every single policy advocated and practiced by the demons who possessed us from 2001-2008.

It is in that context, even giving due deference to the hoary dictum that "politics is the art of the possible," and due acknowledgment to the virtual certainty that Obama would not now be our president had he not always profoundly understood that dictum, and even allowing for the ineluctable exigencies of some measure of pragmatism, I have to say that I am profoundly disappointed by Obama's ostensibly pragmatism- and bipartisanship-motivated execution of what looks like Voldebush redux in any number of domains. Most particularly, though, in his positions on Iraq and on the DOMA.

As for B&C's Excellent Adventure in insanely misdirected war-mongering, there is no excuse for one more American to die in that hideous debacle (nor, I readily concede, for one more Iraqi to die, but the latter is probably entirely beyond our control, even in principle, and the former is not). And as for DOMA, it's an act that is sick, hateful and exists for no other purpose than to make millions of Americans suffer, so that others can indulge their Schadenfreude. The first responsibility of an American president is to preserve and protect (and improve) American lives, liberty and happiness. Both of the aforementioned policy positions, looking almost indistinguishable (even if perhaps not in motivation) from those of the Voldebushies, flagrantly violate this fundamental geas.

And then there's the little matter of healthcare. Well, Obama's concern that some should actually exist is an immeasurable improvement over the "die and decrease the surplus population" ukase directed at all non-plutocrats by the preceding administration, but other than that, the best that can be said is that it's woefully insufficient. There is no moral excuse, no humane excuse, no constitutional excuse -- and since this blog has a theological bent, no Christian excuse -- for us not to have a single payer system as of yesterday. People are dying because we don't. That doesn't sound to me much like a "right to life" in the legitimate and original meaning of those words as enunciated by Jefferson, let alone "liberty" (to choose under which bridge to die?), or the "pursuit of happiness."

Don't get me wrong. I admire Obama almost beyond expression, and I think we are blessed by God to have such a person as a replacement for Voldebush. And he's caught in a web of cataclysms not of his own making. But, for the taste of this one Christian, at least, thinking of the Sermon on the Mount, he is simply not doing enough, and not doing enough of the right things, and none of it fast enough. Now, I well know that, in the cosmic scheme of things, the President of the United States is probably about the 5,000th most powerful person in the country, if even that, but he does have the nominal office, and he does have the bully pulpit, and he does have the obligation to make good on his promises. Now.

2 comments:

  1. I share your frustration, Peter. After 8 years of Nazi-vintage depravity (and I think there's no reason not to call it what it was), it's hard to have to endure the lingering funk of it all. It's a bad smell that's going to take a long time to get rid of in precisely the same way that, when a rat dies behind one of your walls, it can make living in the house pure hell until you either rip out the wall and dispose of it, or nature takes it course and the rat completely decomposes, taking the smell along with it.

    I'll leave you to figure out who the rats are in this scenario. I'll only say that there were a lot of them and that some are hidden behind not just one wall, but many walls--walls within walls within walls. I think you'd have to have someone with the resolve of a Simon Wiesenthal to feret out them all--and even then, one runs the risk of becoming evil himself in the act of hunting them.

    You alluded to Harry Potter in calling Bush Voldemort, and I think the comparison in apt in most respects, but that comparison also offers a kind of warning, because the truth is, only an innocent like Harry (who remains the child he was throughout the series, in spite of the harsh demands put upon him by destiny) CAN defeat a Voldemort. Anyone else would become evil in the process. Even Dumbledore seems to realize this. The prophecy is just window dressing for the story. The real reason Harry is able to defeat the ultimate evil is because he feels pity for it in the end. The pity he feels is what protects him from becoming the very thing he wishes to destroy.

    Anyway, that's one thought.

    The other takes a somewhat broader historical perspective. In one of his shorter letters, the 13th century Buddhist saint Nichiren writes:

    "GREAT events never have minor omens. When great evil occurs, great good follows. Since great slander already exists in our land, the great correct Law will spread without fail. What could any of you have to lament? Even if you are not the Venerable Mahakashyapa, you should all perform a dance. Even if you are not Shariputra, you should leap up and dance. When Bodhisattva Superior Practices emerged from the earth, did he not emerge dancing?"

    You don't have to know a lot about Buddhist literature to get the main point here. Nichiren is saying that great good is always preceded by great evil--that, in a sense, great evil makes way for great good.

    In Nichiren's view, corruption in government and religion are normally somewhat pedestrian (a kind of given considering the fact that both are purely human institutions that follow the dictates of the powerful). When great evil manifests itself in government or religion (or in both simultaneously, as we have seen in America in recent years), as awful as that may seem, it is nevertheless the harbinger of reform. Why? Simply because great evil strips government and religion of the very garments that they are used to hiding behind (think patriotism and piety), exposing them as they are. At such moments, reforms naturally begin.
    But they aren't always fast.

    Yet still we dance. The dancing is part of the reform.

    All the same, I can completely understand your desire to dance like the goddess Kali atop the piled up skulls of illusion (rather than like Nichiren's bodhisattvas, who dance amidst falling flowers). It's a very natural impulse to want to call things for what they are, and I for one don't have a problem with it. Either way, it's time to dance.

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  2. Hi, Clark.

    Thank you for your long, extraordinarily eloquent, and very reassuring reply. I'd be honored to have you post it on my blog. I don't what the glitch was, since you have a facebook account, and the post should have been allowed, but I've temporarily enabled anonymous posting as well, which ought to remove any remaining unsuspected impediments, so please do try again.

    Your response was most particularly resonant, for me, in enunciating what I feel to be a core moral imperative: not to allow yourself to become the evil that oppresses you (by reciprocating violence and hatred), and I've had just those same thoughts in respect of Harry Potter (Rowling is, I think, a very sagacious woman). It's why I self-identify as a pacifist, as well as a Christian (though I have some difficulty in understanding how the latter could fail logically to entail the former, given Jesus' teachings), and why I find myself drawn to Quaker perspectives in matters of theology.

    In your allusion to "walls within walls," too, you speak a deeply upsetting truth, frightening to contemplate, but it's one I, too, profoundly believe, and I do think it helps to explain the failure of this "lingering funk" to dissipate more expeditiously.

    I had heard of the Buddhist saint Nichiren, though I confess I'd never read any of his work, but the story you relate does comport a note of hopefulness at a time at which it's desperately needed.

    Thank you again for your very thoughtful and consoling reply to my "cri de coeur" (and expressions of apprehensiveness).

    Regards,
    Peter

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