I'm To Blame

(Author's Note: I began writing this on the morning after the 2012 Presidential election. Writer's block took over and I have not been able to find my voice until today, January 10, 2013. This is pieced together from two days that were only two months apart in time, but a world apart in mood and mindset.)

Over the years I've had many arguments about politics. It started at the dinner table, when I, an impressionable teen and my father, a close-minded  redneck (as I thought then) would come to blows over some new, radical idea I'd read, or heard about at school.

We would argue, and it often got unpleasant for the rest of the family, but I never thought it was wrong to argue about these matters. They seemed like important conversations, even though I usually left feeling young, stupid and thoroughly confused.

I remember reading an article in Reader's Digest in about 1977. It was about Ted Kennedy's son, who had his leg amputated because of cancer, I believe. The pictures showed a handsome teenage boy, a beautiful family, and told of young Edward's plucky courage and positive attitude. I came to the dinner table with the heartwarming story of this newest tragedy in the long list of family tragedies, and how Senator Kennedy seemed like such a good man. I was especially intrigued by his pet issue of socialized medicine.

All of my sisters probably remember that dinner and his reaction. It was explosive. My father ranted at my shallow, uninformed opinions and the abysmal state of education, when a reasonably bright girl could be fed a dose of pure Communism and not even be aware of it. I, knowing he was right about the shallow and uninformed part, continued to defend the principle of helping the poor and trying to prevent the future predicted by the senator, when people would be dying in the streets of treatable conditions, while doctors chose to only treat those with insurance.

I'm sure I had other heated discussions about politics and social issues in my youth, but this is the one that I remember best. I remember even better a few weeks later, at a larger family dinner at my grandmother's home, when I tried to broach the subject with my mother's parents and brothers present (I naively thought they would be sympathetic to my cause). I remember that my father wasn't present - another inducement to launch into my "new" idea.

I think I said something totally objective, as in: "I think the country's problems would be solved if we only had socialized medicine."

Was I in for a surprise when my beloved grandmother spoke first: "Michele, let's not discuss politics at the dinner table."

Pardon? If not at the dinner table, then when? I thought. Conversation moved on to other matters, like Auburn football and who had seen whom at church and other more important matters.

Dinner broke up, the women went into the kitchen and the men took over the dinner table. Eschewing the card games and dominoes on the living room floor, I boldly marched my 13 year-old self up to the table and started listening to my Uncle Howard telling a story about someone who left their truck gate open after filling the bed with watermelons. One of the most entertaining storytellers of all time, I waited until he was done, then jumped into the conversation.

"So, don't y'all think Ted Kennedy is right about socialized medicine?"

Another uncle, one of my mother's younger brothers, made a pained face and looked down at his hands. Yet another uncle, who had gone through a brief hippie phase and seemed at the time a potential ally, stared at me blankly. Uncle Howard cleared his throat and adjusted uncomfortably in his chair. And the first response to my question came from the unlikeliest person, my granddaddy. With me he was always kind and  encouraging, although I knew he had a bit of a temper. With no sign of irritation, however, he looked right at me and said, mildly:

"My-chele, it's considered rude to discuss politics and religion in company."

Being called "rude" in my grandmother's house was the stuff of nightmares. He didn't say I was rude, but he implied that my desire to discuss politics was, and the effect was the same. I was horribly ashamed and spent   the rest of the afternoon quietly (probably a first) pouting.

By the time I reached college I'd decided that the rule of polite society - the one that dictated that arguing about politics and religion was bad form - was just a bad rule. Debating with friend and classmates led to some of the most exciting and satisfying conversations of my early adulthood.

But in recent years, I've become reluctant to engage in those satisfying arguments with other adults. Too many times in the past few years, I've had friends and acquaintances react to my statements of opinion with derisive statements indicating that, since they disagreed, it would be rude for me to continue. In the interest of "live and let live" and "don't make waves," I saved my choicest statements for the captive audience at home - my children.

Many people are unable to tolerate opposing views being aired too close to their own safe space. I was given the cold-shoulder treatment at a neighborhood gathering by answering a direct question about who I was supporting in the presidential primaries. When I asked the man later why he drifted away, if he was uncomfortable discussing the election, he remarked something to the effect that politics had no place at happy hour. I defended myself by reminding him that I'd answered a question, not solicited his vote, but he said that it was all the same to him. Parties are supposed to be about fun, he said.

If that is true, then I hereby announce that I am not qualified to go to a party. If adults cannot listen to one another's opinions - on a wide range of matters, not just an election or a piece of legislation - then, in my book, they are not truly adults.I marvel that people who can have extensive, restrained discussion and disagreements about the relative strengths and weaknesses of their favorite or their least-favorite sports team, reject the idea that people can also have extensive, restrained discussions and disagreements about matters of policy or philosophy. But I digress, as usual.

Ultimately, in the name of getting along with a wide range of people, I have often bit my tongue rather than pick up the thread of a discussion and try to take it to the next level of analysis. Few people who know me well are unaware of my opinions and the thought processes I employ to arrive at them, but I don't always say what I'm thinking or try to convince another to think differently. This blog was, at one time, a place where I spoke freely, but even this platform was not safe from the slings and arrows and social consequences.

So keeping my mouth shut hasn't helped me, and it clearly didn't help advance my views in the last election. Like a coward, after being de-friended, literally and figuratively, I piped down for a while. Let the politicians, journalists and opinion-makers reach the confused masses and help Joe and Jan Q Public see what should be done to reverse the terrifying course sown which our government is taking our country. The politicians, journalists and opinion-makers are probably better insulated from the ill-will of their critics. I found I was too cowardly to become a true social pariah.

That was a mistake. My silence, my "keep your own counsel" attitude that so many others adopted as well, was one of many reasons why President Obama was re-elected. In my effort to protect my children from having a mother with enemies for neighbors set the worst kind of example for the very ones I thought to protect.

If all I cared about was social standing, this would already be a tragedy. But new friends appear, new books re-inspire, and children often tell you the truth about yourself when you least expect it.

The real tragedy is not fighting to save this country, my country and yours, for our children. I didn't campaign for or against issues that matter to me and will greatly impact their future. I didn't use my God-given talents or resources to try to reach others and perhaps give them something new to think about. I truly feel responsible for the outcome of the election. I have to answer to my children for my silence and passivity, while they look forward to a future that practically promises them a lifetime of uncertainty and insecurity.

The election amounted to nothing. We have the same president, committed to spending our way out of certain disaster, and a split congress intent on protecting their own hides while they dodge their responsibilities with more energy than they ever spend doing their jobs. As the "fiscal cliff" approached, leaders proposed turns and detours, but no meaningful, permanent changes of any sort that would help to avoid very bad economic policies from  bearing toxic fruit.

I may suffer, you may suffer, but we voted for this. Or by not voting, we let it happen
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But it is our kids will pay. They will pay when our federal debt becomes unserviceable. They will pay when the safety net programs, like Social Security and Medicare, go broke, and their generation has to support a huge, aging population by some means we can't even guess at now. They will pay with lost opportunities, as America continues to lose it's hold on global economic leadership. They will pay by never knowing the value of the capitalist principles that once made us a great nation of creators who were also workers, and workers who were encouraged to be more. The will pay by coming of age in a world where their capabilities are never tested, because government has told them that they will take care of them; government will educate them, give them a computer and a cell phone, underwrite their housing, pay for their health care, and if they still fail, government will give them more aid, and foot the bill for their inevitable mistakes. No need to learn how to work hard or take care of themselves - that's a useless, old-school way of thinking.

They will pay by never knowing the meaning of American exceptionalism. The concept has been deemed offensive, not taking into account the feelings of people who didn't succeed. They will pay because the social justice activists succeeded in appealing to our Christian charity and sense of right and wrong, and declared that the innovators and builders and creators and risk-takers were evil and just as dependent on the government as the welfare recipient.

Our kids will pay by growing up in an America that is not about hard work, or achieving difficult goals, or defending individual liberty, or respect for privacy on personal matters, or working through tough times by changing the behavior that got you there, or honoring the Constitution as the best instrument of social justice ever created.

My kids will pay because I chose to be silent. I let a little social disapproval stop me from speaking from my brain and my heart. I have helped deliver them into a future that is very, very different from the one I would have chose for them. My desire not to offend friends or cross swords with people I care about has not served me well. No friendship is worth the sense of guilt I feel toward my children. Any argument, no matter how unpleasant, is better than the shame I feel today for not working harder to prevent this outcome.

I held my tongue and silenced my blog because I didn't think it mattered. I didn't think the country would vote to continue the policies and actions that have sent us speeding toward this social and financial precipice. I didn't think you needed me to tell you what is patently obvious about the state of the world - that the change we needed isn't the change we got. I figured everyone knew that, and would vote in accordance with that knowledge. It also hurt to be called a racist for opposing the president's policies. I don't think that opposing the bad policies of the president makes me racist. But being called one hurt me, showing how thin-skinned I really am. I know I'm not racist, but if I offend like one, then I'm better off just keeping quiet.
My fear was stronger than my commitment. The fear of being called a tea-bagger and a right-wing Christian extremist for my views on the second amendment and the sanctity of life were stronger than my commitment to those views. Even though I never took part in any tea party activities and don't deserve the title of Christian or extremist, the brush is very broad in the name-calling business, and I feared being labeled and having that label reflect badly on my kids.

Well, I'm still not sure if I am strong enough to handle the criticism, but I will blog again, and I'll blog honestly. That means that Polite Ravings will be about what I want it to be. If I want to write about housework and stupid dogs, I will. If I want to write about news and politics, I will. If I start out writing as the Domestic Diva and end up sounding like Chicken Little, it's my blog and I don't have to be the ditzy, disorganized housewife every time I take it in my head to write. If freeze-dried journalists and Kardashians can broadcast their opinions, so can ditzy housewives.

To the friends and family who don't like Polite Ravings with my strong opinions and critical judgments of current events, do yourself a favor and don't read me anymore. I won't be trying to spare your feelings or apologize for mine. I welcome your comments of disagreement, and would enjoy them even more in person, perhaps around a dinner table with a good bottle of wine at the ready. I don't mind being called wrong. Just don't tell me what to write, or not to put it on Facebook, or suggest that you would read my writing, if only I would just remain light and humorous all the time. Here's your PSA: I won't.

And to the children, mine and yours, who are inheriting this mess, and the future we gambled and lost with a check written on their future earnings, I can only say Mea culpa and I'm very, very sorry.

The Four Republicans: Bitter Opponents or a Useful Team?

I'm feeling a little schizo, now that I've committed myself to starting a new blog for my political, theological and philosophical opinions.  I've been working on so many ideas, I can't seem to stop and create the vehicle for these ideas. So I am once again inflicting my serious opinions on my humor-seeking Polite Ravings audience (hi to you two up in the balcony!)


But after watching the returns from the Republican primary in my home state of Alabama, I can hardly keep my thoughts on cute squirrels at the birdfeeder or the growing dog hair piles. I realize most people outside of the deep south weren't that tuned in to the voting in Alabama and Mississippi yesterday, but in this confusing race for the Republican nomination, I was pretty intrigued.


Rick Santorum, a former senator from Pennsylvania, came in as the unexpected winner in both states.  He beat Newt Gingrich, who formerly represented Georgia and was thought to have a homefield advantage, and Mitt Romney, who is as un-southern as they come, and was thought to have no clear advantage other than his war chest. Ron Paul spent no meaningful time or money in either state, and finished with about 5% of the vote in both states.


Lacking anything intelligent or helpful to say after Santorum's gleeful speech, the pundits immediately began discussing the various strategies for and against whittling this down to a one-candidate race. If you want to know the different plans suggested by these talking heads trying to fill airtime, you were probably tuned in, so I won't repeat them. Better analysis can be found at Real Clear Politics or Politico, if you need a dose of expertise.


While reading a few of the articles, one of my daughters (who are both home sick today) came downstairs to get medicine and a hot drink.  We began discussing the results and I got off on a tangent, which is the same thing as a lecture by my kids' standards, and I stumbled on a brilliant idea for the Republican strategy.


No one should drop out.


The very fact that no one candidate represents a majority of the Republican electorate could be construed as an strategic advantage for the GOP, for the remainder of the primary calendar. 


If a single, preordained candidate is shoved down the collective throats of the divided party, you could easily end up with a bunch of disaffected voters who decide to sit out this time around. No retired general making an impassioned speech at the convention will make it palatable to a dovish Ron Paul supporter to cast his vote for hawkish Rick Santorum. No GOP official can construct a party platform that will help Newt Gingrich's visionaries embrace Mitt Romney's plodding march to the center. None of the candidates have it within their power, influence or personality to unite the party.


Only one candidate can do that:  President Obama.


With only one rival to focus on, the president has a rather simple job. Spend his considerable financial and political assets attacking that one rival on their most vulnerable weaknesses. Depending on the opponent, that could be described as difficult and expensive, or cheap and easy.


Take Newt Gingrich, for example.  He has multiple marriages to exploit, and would give the USA it's first known First Lady with mistress credentials. Obama can counter Newt's claims of $2.50/gallon gasoline as pandering without proof.  Though he rose to power after the Republican revolution of the 1990s, he was later sanctioned by his collegues for ethical misconduct. These stories and others will make for excellent targets for President Obama's supporters and Super-PACs.


Mitt Romney doesn't have the dirty laundry of the former Speaker, but as the grandfather of Obamacare, we can expect lots of ads depicting the former governor of Massachusetts as a big-government Republican who actually approves of the president's signature legislation. His public gaffes that bring attention to his wealth and status (firing and laying off employees, owning multiple Cadillacs, having friends who own NASCAR teams) invite contrast with Obama's in-the-trenches days as a community organizer. And Mr. Romney has committed some very public flip-flops on hot-button issues, which the Democrats will have a field day capitalizing on. He is seen as an accommodating Republican governor in a very liberal state, and many of his accommodations lend themselves to scrutiny, if not lampooning.


Rick Santorum, with his penchant for going off-script, is a veritable candidate covered in targets. Because he talks like I do, without a final thought in mind that helps him stay on topic and out of trouble, he is truly a candidate wearing the matador's cape.  Name an issue and he's said something that can be edited and spun to make him sound insane. Birth control, educational choice, war with Iran, border fences and college snobs - he can make his own common sense sound like drivel if he is allowed to keep talking.  President Obama and his supporters can complete their opposition research in about 5 minutes - Santorum has left a trail of tittilating tidbits that will make for excellent fast-paced, cutaway-and-caption ads and crazy-sounding sound bytes.


Ron Paul probably can't get to the level of a one-on-one campaign against Obama, so imagining that battle and how the ad wizards and spin doctors would handle it is probably a true exercise in futility. Sen. Paul is so different from any candidate we've had in recent history, the options for opposing him are limitless. For sheer tenacity and consistency, he should be admired and given a hearing. Disagreeing with him is one thing - but mock him at your peril.


So there is not a Teflon candidate among these four. They all have flaws, weaknesses and tendencies to say more than necessary and talk when they should listen. Several columnists have attempted to assemble the perfect nominee from the best of each man's parts, but that only yields a non-existent Frankenstein.


Assuming the supreme Republican goal is to make Obama a one-term president, then I suggest that all the candidates stay in the race, if possible, until the convention.  As long as the Obama campaign and the PACs supporting it have multiple opponents on diverse fronts, their battle will be expensive, indirect and tiring.  With the convention 5 months away, the President and his supporters must expend capital and effort trying to cover all bases. They have to refute charges of candidates they will never face in the general election. (Sidebar:  They are already doing this, quite expensively, with an ad targeting Sarah Palin, who is not on the ticket or likely to be. Why go to the expense when the HBO movie reportedly discredits her sufficiently for his supporters' purposes? Truthfully, I don't have a clue.)


There is much speculation that this four-way race and the associated unpleasantries are bad for the GOP, and hurt the party in the eyes of independent voters. There are those who say that this is the nastiest primary season ever. But since they always seem to say that, and one never knows how different people measure nastiness at different times with different contributors, it's hard to credit that assertion.  


Others claim that it is preferable for the Republicans to vet each other, so that all of the potentially toxic stuff will be old news by the time the President begins campaigning in earnest. I don't know whether that point outweighs the idea that the party is tearing itself apart, which is just one of the inflammatory terms used to describe this long primary season. I'm inclined to believe that it will take more to hurt the GOP than this nasty nominating process, but for dissenting opinions, look no further than your nightly news. Or check out what our friendly neighbors in Canada think of the matter in this piece from CBC.ca:

Some speculate a continued battle among Republicans could weaken the party overall, as Democrats sit back, gird themselves for victory and watch the attack before a candidate is named - finally - at the GOP convention in Tampa, Fla., in August.

Or, in the words of David Axelrod, chief strategist for the President,  

“While they’re destroying each other, we’re building a campaign nationally.” (link to The Hill article here.)

I think about the words used to describe political contests: battleground, victory, campaign, fight, challenge. It would be difficult to write about the election without war analogies. (I have to say I haven't seen "gird" used in a while and I thank the Canadians for bringing it back.) I think these four candidates should have a look at one of those old movies where one lone guy has to fight against a coordinated team. The outnumbered guy has to be very careful, conserve his energy and only strike when he can be assured of landing a punch. The team can hang back, driving their opponent to make tactical mistakes due to confusion or exhaustion. Doesn't this sound like a good strategy?


Likewise, each GOP candidate can choose just one or two areas of the President's record to focus on for the remainder of the primary season.  Romney can pick apart the  ridiculous budget's wasteful spending and marginal job growth; Santorum can concentrate on policies that have disenchanted the Christian right and traditional values voters; let Newt work on energy independence and problems associated with implementing new energy technologies before they or the markets are ready; and let Ron Paul be in charge of showing how Obama's cabinet and regulatory authorities are crippling economic growth.


If they can all afford to stay in until August, imagine the wear-and-tear they can wreak on the President's campaign. Like the man who dies from a thousand paper cuts, four candidates needling away at the administration's many failures may do more damage than one fallible nominee stuck duking it out, mano-a-mano, in the permanent media spotlight.  


Even if the party and the candidates decide to shuffle, redeal and name a nominee before the convention, they can at least take heart in the other recent comment about the GOP primary by David Axelrod:  “I do think it’s easier to raise money when you have one opponent." So I ask:  why make it "easier?"


This is a very strange primary, where different candidates have bounced in and out of favor, attracting scrutiny and criticism as they rise, and as they sink, they are disdained or ignored. It's kind of like watching the arcade game called Whack-A-Mole, though not quite as fun.  But if these guys can just take a few more whacks over the next five months, they may wear their opposition down.


And this voter's advice to the Republicans candidates - if they are listening.