Note: Since this was published, as an Inside Column by the South County Gazette of Three Oaks, Michigan, on January 20, 2007, the area has been hit with much more snow! The "blanket" is easily two feet thick, with even deeper drifts. My editor has "blamed" this on my column.
I keep a list of column ideas--politics, health, environment--object lessons and observations I think could interest others, make them think, make them feel, remind them what life is about. But as I sat down to write this column, there was nothing on the list that could do any of that more than the view outside my window. At least six inches of snow coats tree branches, fence posts, lawns and rooftops. Small shrubs and utility lines sag under its weight, and the whole world looks light and bright--even without the sun.
Snow is often described in terms of “a blanket” of “sparkling crystals”--an apt description, yet somehow inadequate to capture its purity, its thoroughness and its egality, its way of covering absolutely everything, without discrimination, in thick dazzling white.
While we may complain about it, snow is important, especially to southwest Michigan. It is what allows the area to produce the wonderful fruit we relish in summer. Snow, and cold, kills bugs and diseases, and makes pesky raccoons hibernate. It is part of the great biological clock. Without it daffodils and cherry blossoms fall out of sync.
Snow refreshes and nourishes the environment, and as well, the soul. It is a great equalizer, making everyone have to get off their proverbial treadmills to dig out their mittens and scarves, shovel their their driveways and sweep their sidewalks. It makes people cooperate, as they help each other out of ditches, or drifts. For a brief time we are distracted from life’s pettinesses, and reminded of its importance.
All the machinations of man cannot stop snow from falling--that’s real power. It humbles “horsepower.”
Of course there are the lucky few who get to go out and play in the frosty fluff. Snow angels and snowmen spring up across the landscape. People head for the hills with sleds and skis. Snowmobiles race across the open spaces. This is as it should be--a hearty celebration of nature’s spontaneous gift.
Many years ago, living in southern California, I read an editorial written by a Chicagoan who found himself the manager of a local fast food restaurant. He incredulously proclaimed that “only in California!” would “surf’s up” be a legitimate excuse to not come to work. Dude! What surfers understand is that a good wave, like a good snow, only comes along once in a rare moment--and it should be respected, revered, appreciated and enjoyed. The burgers--and all the other “busy-ness” of human endeavor--can wait.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The Accidental President.
In the weeks since Gerald Ford died, I’ve learned a lot about him I did not know. Ford at ninety three was, until now, our oldest living president, and held degrees from the University of Michigan and Yale. He was an athlete and a congressman for 25 years. I think the thing that impresses me the most is that he declined professional football offers to attend Law School. He set aside something potentially gratifying for something truly important He spent his career in Congress working hard, getting things done, and making friends along the way, according to those who worked beside him and are speaking out about it now.
I was sixteen when Nixon resigned amid financial scandal, antiwar demonstrations, and Watergate. Children lack context--the framework, a title. And so, what I remember from my early years are events--the assassinations of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, his brother, Robert Fitzgerald Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. I remember Kent State; I remember Mi Lai. I remember the Black Panthers and the Hell’s Angels. Viet Nam surrounded and divided the nation, threatening to simultaneously suffocate and explode it.
Into this tinder box fell Gerald R. Ford, the “accidental” president who found himself appointed to replace vice president Spiro Agnew, and then became president when Nixon left the office. “Comfortable in his skin,” as someone described him, Ford took hold of the rudder and steered the nation clear of the rocks--and he made it look easy.
In responding to the former president’s death, the current president made note of Ford’s “integrity,” and called him “healing.” Others have spoken of his “openness.” He certainly doesn’t seem to have taken himself too seriously, and yet could get down to real serious business when necessary. He did the nation true service--and deserves to be commended for it.
As I watch the televised images of people streaming past the coffin of Gerald Ford, in California, in Washington, D.C., and in Grand Rapids, and as I read about what is happening in the world around me, in New Orleans, in Darfur, and in Iraq, I can’t help wondering if we couldn’t use another Gerald Rudolph Ford right about now. I'm wondering too just who that “accidental” president might be.
--a version of this essay was previously published in The South County Gazette.
I was sixteen when Nixon resigned amid financial scandal, antiwar demonstrations, and Watergate. Children lack context--the framework, a title. And so, what I remember from my early years are events--the assassinations of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, his brother, Robert Fitzgerald Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. I remember Kent State; I remember Mi Lai. I remember the Black Panthers and the Hell’s Angels. Viet Nam surrounded and divided the nation, threatening to simultaneously suffocate and explode it.
Into this tinder box fell Gerald R. Ford, the “accidental” president who found himself appointed to replace vice president Spiro Agnew, and then became president when Nixon left the office. “Comfortable in his skin,” as someone described him, Ford took hold of the rudder and steered the nation clear of the rocks--and he made it look easy.
In responding to the former president’s death, the current president made note of Ford’s “integrity,” and called him “healing.” Others have spoken of his “openness.” He certainly doesn’t seem to have taken himself too seriously, and yet could get down to real serious business when necessary. He did the nation true service--and deserves to be commended for it.
As I watch the televised images of people streaming past the coffin of Gerald Ford, in California, in Washington, D.C., and in Grand Rapids, and as I read about what is happening in the world around me, in New Orleans, in Darfur, and in Iraq, I can’t help wondering if we couldn’t use another Gerald Rudolph Ford right about now. I'm wondering too just who that “accidental” president might be.
--a version of this essay was previously published in The South County Gazette.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Let Them Eat Cake!
One of my most vivid childhood memories is of going Christmas shopping. Each December my parents and I made the nearly two hour trek from St. Helena (in northern California), down the Silverado Trail, to Macy’s, in San Francisco. I looked forward to the window displays, and the store Santa, of course, but was equally enchanted by the bell ringers that manned the red Salvation Army kettles on the sidewalks outside. I loved to add coins to their pots.
As a child, I’m sure the concept of charity was hazy at best, probably presented to me as “giving to the poor.” I just liked dropping coins through the slot, and all that bright, bright red!
But Christmas is a time of charity, a time of giving. One reads about mitten trees and Toys for Tots. One even encounters the occasional Salvation Army bell ringer, though companies have increasingly removed them from the marketplace. I guess it’s bad for business to remind shoppers of those less fortunate. And lest they seem Scrooge-ish, these same businesses make big donations themselves.
Unfortunately, much of charity is of the “let them eat cake” variety. The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy defines this as “a saying that shows insensitivity to, or incomprehension of, the realities of life for the unfortunate.” The quote is supposedly made by a princess who, after being told her people had no food, replied, “Let them eat cake.” Sweet treats have little value to someone who, in reality, needs meat and potatoes--nay, a living, in fact.
And yet, charitable giving often consists of such short-termed reprieves, parties, dinners, events that allow those less fortunate to be “normal” for a few hours--before they return to their heating bills, and growing children and true needs. A lot of charity is also of a secondhand variety, goods no longer “good enough” given to churches and community thrift stores who cater to a sector for whom something is better than nothing. There's nothing wrong with that really. It's good to "recycle," afterall, and one man's trash is another's treasure. It just seems a bit demeaning, rubs noses in the idea that not everyone is worth brand new merchandise.
I can’t help wondering if some of these gestures aren’t more for those giving them than for those receiving them--to assuage guilt at having so much, to show others how to be like “them,” or to gain personal recognition. The parable of the widow and her two mites actually condemns the latter, showboat giving. The widow's two mites were deemed more valuable, because they came of pure motive, than the great riches the Pharisees bestowed with self-interested motive.
True charity is about assisting others in achieving their objectives, their goals, their dreams--for their gain.
A calendar I saw once carried the saying: “True charity is giving your brother a dime when you need it yourself.” This implies that true charity involves personal investment and sacrifice--not superficial overtures and leftovers. True charity comes from listening and hearing, and from giving away something truly valuable--love and good will.
As a child, I’m sure the concept of charity was hazy at best, probably presented to me as “giving to the poor.” I just liked dropping coins through the slot, and all that bright, bright red!
But Christmas is a time of charity, a time of giving. One reads about mitten trees and Toys for Tots. One even encounters the occasional Salvation Army bell ringer, though companies have increasingly removed them from the marketplace. I guess it’s bad for business to remind shoppers of those less fortunate. And lest they seem Scrooge-ish, these same businesses make big donations themselves.
Unfortunately, much of charity is of the “let them eat cake” variety. The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy defines this as “a saying that shows insensitivity to, or incomprehension of, the realities of life for the unfortunate.” The quote is supposedly made by a princess who, after being told her people had no food, replied, “Let them eat cake.” Sweet treats have little value to someone who, in reality, needs meat and potatoes--nay, a living, in fact.
And yet, charitable giving often consists of such short-termed reprieves, parties, dinners, events that allow those less fortunate to be “normal” for a few hours--before they return to their heating bills, and growing children and true needs. A lot of charity is also of a secondhand variety, goods no longer “good enough” given to churches and community thrift stores who cater to a sector for whom something is better than nothing. There's nothing wrong with that really. It's good to "recycle," afterall, and one man's trash is another's treasure. It just seems a bit demeaning, rubs noses in the idea that not everyone is worth brand new merchandise.
I can’t help wondering if some of these gestures aren’t more for those giving them than for those receiving them--to assuage guilt at having so much, to show others how to be like “them,” or to gain personal recognition. The parable of the widow and her two mites actually condemns the latter, showboat giving. The widow's two mites were deemed more valuable, because they came of pure motive, than the great riches the Pharisees bestowed with self-interested motive.
True charity is about assisting others in achieving their objectives, their goals, their dreams--for their gain.
A calendar I saw once carried the saying: “True charity is giving your brother a dime when you need it yourself.” This implies that true charity involves personal investment and sacrifice--not superficial overtures and leftovers. True charity comes from listening and hearing, and from giving away something truly valuable--love and good will.
Monday, November 06, 2006
In the Moment--for a Moment.
People not a part of the world of writers may not realize how “out of time” we live. We always have to be ahead of time. Since publications take time to put together and go to press, the editors and writers have to be thinking about their topics well in advance of actual publishing dates. Often this lead time is six months, sometimes more.
In May, when peonies are popping, and iris’ raise their noble heads, writers are working on The Scariest Jack O’ Lanterns and Mince Meat Tarts and Corn Mazes.
In July when most people are under beach umbrellas, sipping mai tais, we writers are thinking cool, frosty, thoughts--of icicles, wool sweaters, hot chocolate. While people barbecue around us and watch fireworks--red, white, blue, we’re putting ourselves into Santa’s Sleigh and Making Snowmen and Decorating the Home for the Holidays. We’re conjuring up Ten Tips for Handling a Hangover, or for Avoiding the Flu or Hosting the Company Party.
In November, when people are baking pumpkin pies and roasting turkeys and getting out the woolens for real, writers are thinking Red Roses Tell That Special Someone You Love Them. We’re thinking lingerie and chocolates and heart-shaped jacuzzis: Show Him/Her You Really Care.
In December, when the rest of the world is opening gifts around the tree and snuggling under the mistletoe, writers must Think Spring! Planting Pansies for an Early Splash of Color! Ten New Ways to Color Eggs for Easter! The Family that Spring Cleans Together Gleans Together!
But every now and then a day comes along that just can’t be ignored--that quintessential “seasonal” day that even we writers can’t ignore, that makes us take notice, makes us stop for a moment and live in real time. The blazing hot day of summer that draws us away from our keyboards and down to the beach, the blustery day of winter that demands cozying by the fire--the first days of autumn, cool and crisp, turning toasty as the sun gains control. Those days where clear blue skies with cottonball clouds call us to our senses, or those rare evenings when the rising Harvest Moon humbles us. And just for a moment, even we writers must succumb to living in the moment.
In May, when peonies are popping, and iris’ raise their noble heads, writers are working on The Scariest Jack O’ Lanterns and Mince Meat Tarts and Corn Mazes.
In July when most people are under beach umbrellas, sipping mai tais, we writers are thinking cool, frosty, thoughts--of icicles, wool sweaters, hot chocolate. While people barbecue around us and watch fireworks--red, white, blue, we’re putting ourselves into Santa’s Sleigh and Making Snowmen and Decorating the Home for the Holidays. We’re conjuring up Ten Tips for Handling a Hangover, or for Avoiding the Flu or Hosting the Company Party.
In November, when people are baking pumpkin pies and roasting turkeys and getting out the woolens for real, writers are thinking Red Roses Tell That Special Someone You Love Them. We’re thinking lingerie and chocolates and heart-shaped jacuzzis: Show Him/Her You Really Care.
In December, when the rest of the world is opening gifts around the tree and snuggling under the mistletoe, writers must Think Spring! Planting Pansies for an Early Splash of Color! Ten New Ways to Color Eggs for Easter! The Family that Spring Cleans Together Gleans Together!
But every now and then a day comes along that just can’t be ignored--that quintessential “seasonal” day that even we writers can’t ignore, that makes us take notice, makes us stop for a moment and live in real time. The blazing hot day of summer that draws us away from our keyboards and down to the beach, the blustery day of winter that demands cozying by the fire--the first days of autumn, cool and crisp, turning toasty as the sun gains control. Those days where clear blue skies with cottonball clouds call us to our senses, or those rare evenings when the rising Harvest Moon humbles us. And just for a moment, even we writers must succumb to living in the moment.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Southwest Michigan: a Splendid Place to Live!
I love southwest Michigan. This has been one of those slow-growing, creeping affections, not a love-at-first-sight passion.
I transplanted to the area in 1985, from the beaches, and mountains and deserts of California. By comparison, Michigan seemed dull--flat, mono-colored. Not ugly, just bland.
But slowly, surely, the place grew on me.
Lake Michigan was a draw of course, the sunsets assuaged my homesickness.
In the fall, the smell of ripening grapes lured me into the gentle hills surrounding the towns where I lived and worked. I began to notice the subtle differences in geography,learned to identify the native flora and fauna.
I watched the trees change color and drop their leaves.
Then came winter’s snow blanket, and later the wildflowers of spring. With each cycle I grew fonder of the area.
I love Michigan’s beaches for their fresh water (you need inhale salt water only one time to understand that!) and soft sands. I like its changeability. Ocean tides are regular, Lake Michigan’s movement is much more complex, unpredictable.
The high dunes and blue, blue skies have captured me.
But I think my favorite thing about southwest Michigan is the availability of fresh, ripe, high-quality produce to choose from during the growing season.
I’ve learned to pick raspberries in July, and blueberries. I’ve found farmers who grow asparagus and rhubarb and apricots, peaches and apples.
I know people who produce honey and maple syrup.
I love that I can actually know the people behind the food I eat, the wine I drink and the plants I grow.
I love the act of driving out to the farms to procure each one’s specialty.
I roam the farmers’ markets buying fresh baked goods, canned fruits and vegetables for winter, and homegrown bouquets. People offer herbs: basil for pesto, dill for pickles. There’re organic catnip toys for the puss and lavender soaps and potpourri.
Nurseries display their shrubs and flowers.
As summer gives way to fall, pumpkins and decorative corn will fill the stalls.
Apples will come on, good for eating and canning sauces and butters, and of course for pies!
Southwest Michigan isn’t just rich in good food, clean air and nice scenery, it is also rich with human ingenuity, imagination and industry.
If I could offer advice to anyone finding themselves in southwest Michigan, it would be: get out and enjoy it!
This essay previously appeared in the South County Gazette, Three Oaks, MI.
I transplanted to the area in 1985, from the beaches, and mountains and deserts of California. By comparison, Michigan seemed dull--flat, mono-colored. Not ugly, just bland.
But slowly, surely, the place grew on me.
Lake Michigan was a draw of course, the sunsets assuaged my homesickness.
In the fall, the smell of ripening grapes lured me into the gentle hills surrounding the towns where I lived and worked. I began to notice the subtle differences in geography,learned to identify the native flora and fauna.
I watched the trees change color and drop their leaves.
Then came winter’s snow blanket, and later the wildflowers of spring. With each cycle I grew fonder of the area.
I love Michigan’s beaches for their fresh water (you need inhale salt water only one time to understand that!) and soft sands. I like its changeability. Ocean tides are regular, Lake Michigan’s movement is much more complex, unpredictable.
The high dunes and blue, blue skies have captured me.
But I think my favorite thing about southwest Michigan is the availability of fresh, ripe, high-quality produce to choose from during the growing season.
I’ve learned to pick raspberries in July, and blueberries. I’ve found farmers who grow asparagus and rhubarb and apricots, peaches and apples.
I know people who produce honey and maple syrup.
I love that I can actually know the people behind the food I eat, the wine I drink and the plants I grow.
I love the act of driving out to the farms to procure each one’s specialty.
I roam the farmers’ markets buying fresh baked goods, canned fruits and vegetables for winter, and homegrown bouquets. People offer herbs: basil for pesto, dill for pickles. There’re organic catnip toys for the puss and lavender soaps and potpourri.
Nurseries display their shrubs and flowers.
As summer gives way to fall, pumpkins and decorative corn will fill the stalls.
Apples will come on, good for eating and canning sauces and butters, and of course for pies!
Southwest Michigan isn’t just rich in good food, clean air and nice scenery, it is also rich with human ingenuity, imagination and industry.
If I could offer advice to anyone finding themselves in southwest Michigan, it would be: get out and enjoy it!
This essay previously appeared in the South County Gazette, Three Oaks, MI.
Friday, June 02, 2006
DuPont’s Teflon, and Nonstick Politicians.
Recently, the mega-company DuPont agreed to pay fines levied by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) for “allegedly” hiding research regarding the toxicity of Teflon--that ubiquitous nonstick, stain-resistant substance coating your cookware, your carpeting, your upholstery, your car’s upholstery, as well as candy wrappers, microwave popcorn bags and even small appliances--Foreman grills, waffle makers and clothes irons.
Apparently, Teflon’s main ingredient, perfluorooctanoic acid (PFOA), has been found in umbilical cord fluid, the water supply and even the polar bears of the North Pole. The EPA has upgraded it to being a “likely” carcinogen. It takes years to leave the human body and never breaks down--ever.
Now I believe in letting the market control things--get squeamish about government regulation--like to believe people should be responsible for themselves, and that they know best what's best for them. But where does my buyer-beware responsibility end and corporate responsibility start? This is a hot issue--just look at the Great Tobacco and McDonald's Spilt Coffee lawsuits.
It's one thing to unknowingly sell something dangerous--and another to sell something knowing it is dangerous. Innocent wrongdoing demands ceasing and desisting when knowledge exposes the wrongdoing, knowingly selling something dangerous should come with penalties severe and swift enough to cause ceasing and desisting.
A January 18, 2005 Chicago Tribune article asserts DuPont scientists were warning company execs as early as 1961 of problems--and the company hid the facts. They hid the birth defects of plant workers, and argued that while PFOA caused cancer, birth defects and liver damage in rats, there was no evidence it was harmful to people. In short, they lied.
They lie still. DuPont continues to market Teflon--aggressively. It is now a “new” ingredient in toilet bowl cleaner, and has been added to car wax to supposedly repel dirt.
In my opinion, there are (at least) two wrongs here: the deception of DuPont, and the complicity of our own government. DuPont put a product on the market, lied about its safety, breaking the law, and our government, rightly, fined them. An old episode of Andy Griffith shows Andy and Barney checking out a travelling salesman whose tonic consists mostly of liquor. When the truth is confirmed, Andy puts a stop to the man's enterprise. But the fines our govenment imposed on DuPont were a pittance of their profit, certainly not enough to force them to remove Teflon from the market. If the government agencies involved were doing their jobs, Teflon would be recalled and DuPont would be made to clean up its mess, the same way Mayberry's salesman was made to relinquish his permit and refund everyone's money.
If the government is not willing to enforce its own laws, and persists in levelling such impotent fines, they are, in fact, rewarding bad behavior. If they are not part of the solution, they become part of the problem. If my government is part of the problem, then I shouldn't be paying their saleries and rewarding their bad behavior. Now there’s a free market control I'd like to see!
Apparently, Teflon’s main ingredient, perfluorooctanoic acid (PFOA), has been found in umbilical cord fluid, the water supply and even the polar bears of the North Pole. The EPA has upgraded it to being a “likely” carcinogen. It takes years to leave the human body and never breaks down--ever.
Now I believe in letting the market control things--get squeamish about government regulation--like to believe people should be responsible for themselves, and that they know best what's best for them. But where does my buyer-beware responsibility end and corporate responsibility start? This is a hot issue--just look at the Great Tobacco and McDonald's Spilt Coffee lawsuits.
It's one thing to unknowingly sell something dangerous--and another to sell something knowing it is dangerous. Innocent wrongdoing demands ceasing and desisting when knowledge exposes the wrongdoing, knowingly selling something dangerous should come with penalties severe and swift enough to cause ceasing and desisting.
A January 18, 2005 Chicago Tribune article asserts DuPont scientists were warning company execs as early as 1961 of problems--and the company hid the facts. They hid the birth defects of plant workers, and argued that while PFOA caused cancer, birth defects and liver damage in rats, there was no evidence it was harmful to people. In short, they lied.
They lie still. DuPont continues to market Teflon--aggressively. It is now a “new” ingredient in toilet bowl cleaner, and has been added to car wax to supposedly repel dirt.
In my opinion, there are (at least) two wrongs here: the deception of DuPont, and the complicity of our own government. DuPont put a product on the market, lied about its safety, breaking the law, and our government, rightly, fined them. An old episode of Andy Griffith shows Andy and Barney checking out a travelling salesman whose tonic consists mostly of liquor. When the truth is confirmed, Andy puts a stop to the man's enterprise. But the fines our govenment imposed on DuPont were a pittance of their profit, certainly not enough to force them to remove Teflon from the market. If the government agencies involved were doing their jobs, Teflon would be recalled and DuPont would be made to clean up its mess, the same way Mayberry's salesman was made to relinquish his permit and refund everyone's money.
If the government is not willing to enforce its own laws, and persists in levelling such impotent fines, they are, in fact, rewarding bad behavior. If they are not part of the solution, they become part of the problem. If my government is part of the problem, then I shouldn't be paying their saleries and rewarding their bad behavior. Now there’s a free market control I'd like to see!
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Is Our Democracy Dying?
I’m disappointed with the current state of politics in the United States of America. Not because the candidates I've voted for have won or lost. Not because policies have, or have not, gone the way I think they should. I’m disappointed because, it seems to me, running the country has become a power game, and elections more a sport than a time to come together and decide the business of our government.
The very language used--horse race, winning team, point spread--turns them to game. The candidates come out “boasting” of their feats, and deriding the opponents’, posturing reminiscent of the mudslinging that precedes wrestling matches.
Commanding our government is not a wrestling match. In his letters, Thomas Jefferson states, "The equal rights of man, and the happiness of every individual, are now acknowledged to be the only legitimate objects of government." Since we, as the people, are the government, our job becomes to promote and ensure the liberty and opportunity of everyone--not ourselves, not the few, not even the majority, but all.
According to Jefferson, again, this is done, not through wrangling, but through honest pursuit of truth. He further contends that it is the expression of differing opinions that uncovers truth. "Difference of opinion leads to enquiry, and enquiry truth,” he wrote to P. H. Wendover, in 1815. Uncovering truth means honest debate and honest discussion.
I do not hear that taking place. I hear a lot of positioning, I hear a lot of rhetoric, I hear a lot of buzzwords and sound bites. True discussion would have each person truly hearing and understanding others’ positions. True discussion would clarify the rhetoric and define the buzzwords. True debate would tell not just what, but how something could be accomplished. I believe true debate would bring us, not to a 51-49 split, but to general agreement.
Dr. Phil often asks people on his show: “Are you fighting to be right, or are you trying to resolve the issues?” I think, as a nation, we should ask ourselves the same question.
Our job is not to decide a winner, or even to choose the person who presents the best ideas. Our job is to figure out how best to safeguard the liberty and happiness of our citizenry. When we have done that, we send the person to the capital whom we deem best able to carry out our wishes.
In 1787, a Scottish history professor at The University of Edinburgh, Alexander Tyler made the statement: "A democracy is always temporary in nature . . . . A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse due to loose fiscal policy, which is always followed by a dictatorship."
Tyler saw that each of the great civilizations of history followed a pattern “from bondage to spiritual faith; from spiritual faith to great courage; from courage to liberty; from liberty to abundance; from abundance to complacency; from complacency to apathy; from apathy to dependence; [and] from dependence back into bondage."
Our founding fathers thought Tyler was wrong. They had great faith in the human desire for justice, and in the human ability to reason. "If ever the earth has beheld a system of administration conducted with a single and steadfast eye to the general interest and happiness of those committed to it, one which, protected by truth, can never know reproach, it is that to which our lives have been devoted," wrote Jefferson to James Madison, in 1826.
It would be a shame to lay their work to waste, and to return to the bondage against which they revolted.
--an earlier version of this essay was published in the South County Gazette, Three Oaks, Michigan.
The very language used--horse race, winning team, point spread--turns them to game. The candidates come out “boasting” of their feats, and deriding the opponents’, posturing reminiscent of the mudslinging that precedes wrestling matches.
Commanding our government is not a wrestling match. In his letters, Thomas Jefferson states, "The equal rights of man, and the happiness of every individual, are now acknowledged to be the only legitimate objects of government." Since we, as the people, are the government, our job becomes to promote and ensure the liberty and opportunity of everyone--not ourselves, not the few, not even the majority, but all.
According to Jefferson, again, this is done, not through wrangling, but through honest pursuit of truth. He further contends that it is the expression of differing opinions that uncovers truth. "Difference of opinion leads to enquiry, and enquiry truth,” he wrote to P. H. Wendover, in 1815. Uncovering truth means honest debate and honest discussion.
I do not hear that taking place. I hear a lot of positioning, I hear a lot of rhetoric, I hear a lot of buzzwords and sound bites. True discussion would have each person truly hearing and understanding others’ positions. True discussion would clarify the rhetoric and define the buzzwords. True debate would tell not just what, but how something could be accomplished. I believe true debate would bring us, not to a 51-49 split, but to general agreement.
Dr. Phil often asks people on his show: “Are you fighting to be right, or are you trying to resolve the issues?” I think, as a nation, we should ask ourselves the same question.
Our job is not to decide a winner, or even to choose the person who presents the best ideas. Our job is to figure out how best to safeguard the liberty and happiness of our citizenry. When we have done that, we send the person to the capital whom we deem best able to carry out our wishes.
In 1787, a Scottish history professor at The University of Edinburgh, Alexander Tyler made the statement: "A democracy is always temporary in nature . . . . A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse due to loose fiscal policy, which is always followed by a dictatorship."
Tyler saw that each of the great civilizations of history followed a pattern “from bondage to spiritual faith; from spiritual faith to great courage; from courage to liberty; from liberty to abundance; from abundance to complacency; from complacency to apathy; from apathy to dependence; [and] from dependence back into bondage."
Our founding fathers thought Tyler was wrong. They had great faith in the human desire for justice, and in the human ability to reason. "If ever the earth has beheld a system of administration conducted with a single and steadfast eye to the general interest and happiness of those committed to it, one which, protected by truth, can never know reproach, it is that to which our lives have been devoted," wrote Jefferson to James Madison, in 1826.
It would be a shame to lay their work to waste, and to return to the bondage against which they revolted.
--an earlier version of this essay was published in the South County Gazette, Three Oaks, Michigan.
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