The casualties of partisan politics

The casualties of partisan politics

By GAIL BANGERT

July 15, 2009 6:00 AM

The problem with our polarized political culture is not that people disagree. It's that truth disappears. Partisans, using words designed to elicit predictable responses, tap into and solidify divisions between groups so that each group stays together, bound by disdain for people who don't agree.

Well-reasoned exchanges of ideas are scarce because they don't suit this strategy. They allow for the possibility that people will find common ground and fraternize with the enemy. The result of this distortion of issues for partisan purposes is that we become accustomed to hearing and repeating things that aren't true, that don't make sense or that don't even agree with what we really believe.

One phrase used by partisan pitchmen is identity politics. The term was invented to describe political thinking and activity that focuses on the concerns of a particular group, often a group whose members share a history of suffering injustices connected to their identity as part of the group. Today, people speak derogatively of identity politics, implying that to advocate for the interests of one group you must negate the rights of others.

Not surprisingly, people use the phrase in reference to opponents, not themselves. This usage is revealing. Rather than acknowledge what we know to be true — that life is a juggling act in which we continually weigh our own interests against the interests of others — we pretend that only others think of themselves. In real world choices between selflessness and selfishness, we each fall somewhere on the spectrum between Mother Theresa and a psychopath. But in politics, we act as though there is no middle. We toss around the words "freedom" and "justice" as though it were a snap to do whatever you please and be fair to others at the same time. In reality, interests collide and injustices abound.

When opponents of the appointment of Judge Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court took one sentence from a speech that she had delivered and announced to the world that she is a racist, they tapped into white fears of preferential treatment for minority groups. Exploiting existing resentments, they did nothing to open a helpful discussion of the emotionally charged undercurrents surrounding identity politics.

Sotomayor's comment was taken from a speech in which she addressed the challenge all judges face, aspiring to be impartial, but inevitably affected to some degree by their experiences. Her nomination could prompt a reasonable national conversation about such questions. Congress will certainly try to determine her capacity for fairness.

No issue is more central to our lives than how fairly we act toward one another. One of the stated goals of our Constitution is to establish justice, and all major religions have variations of the golden rule. But making justice a reality can be complicated. When one group has suffered injustice and negative characterization, it is not a simple matter to repair the damage done. Those who have been oppressed may be burdened with anger. People who have been degraded may assert feelings of pride that others find threatening or unappealing. Members of historically favored groups may agree with the principle of equality but balk at the idea of giving anything up to make things right.

Annoyed or uncomfortable, people don't talk about these things. Some white people even believe racial bias is no longer a problem. Its easy to be blind to privileges we enjoy and barriers that don't exist because we're white. Pride in our own accomplishments might be threatened by knowing we've received unfair advantages. We judge others or we ignore them, but we don't broach the awkward conversations that could reveal the real truth. If we had the courage to talk to each other, we might learn that an African-American man, having achieved success and public recognition, can still be stopped by the police while walking along the bike path, his dark skin the only cause for suspicion. We would not assert that equal opportunity already exists if we were aware of how much more effort people have to give if they are perceived as different from the norm. Judging others unfairly is not just a missed opportunity for understanding. Everyday insults create an atmosphere that grants permission to extremists to commit hate crimes.

Our refusal to grapple with bias perpetuates contradictions. We take pride in our nations ethnic diversity, but ask each other to be blind to race and color. We can't seem to move beyond equating difference with inferiority, so we think the only way to avoid discrimination is to deny that differences exist. But pride in ones own heritage does not preclude respect for others.

Establishing the justice envisioned in our Constitution requires us to see beyond our own interests, to recognize unconscious biases, to seek fair balances and at times to relinquish privileges. It requires us to address problems honestly and to listen to views that differ from our own. Rights are not exclusive to any one group. Respect must extend to all.

These principles are not new, but they are unpopular with those who view freedom narrowly, as an individual experience never to be restrained. During periods when this perspective is in vogue, proponents make a virtue of selfishness, value success above cooperation, and condemn efforts aimed at the common good. Questions of justice, a nuisance to the self-absorbed, fall out of favor.

I believe we are emerging from such a time, as people from across the political spectrum ask policy makers to make reasonable, not ideological, choices. Plenty of ill will remains, but can appear foolish in contrast with the spirit of working together for good. Recently, I saw an anti-Obama bumper sticker that read q"Don't drink the Kool-Aid." The unintentional irony of the message was remarkable. Detractors ridicule enthusiasm for the new president as an irrational phenomenon. I believe the opposite as true. What stirs so many is the beautiful sound of the voice of reason.

Gail Bangert is a Harwich resident.

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Can You Do Me A Favor?

by Gail Bangert

http://capecodtimebank.blogspot.com

http://capecodtimebank.org

How can transform our Community

The Cape Cod Time Bank has been launched, and it’s getting people’s attention. The idea is simple: members give an hour of service to someone else and are entitled to receive an hour of service from another member in return. If you’re new to the concept, you might be wondering, “What’s the big deal? Countless organizations already enlist volunteers or even pay people to do the right thing.”

The difference between time banking and many other ways of helping people is subtle, but profound. Time banking works because everyone involved is valued. Consider for a moment the way we usually think about giving. “It’s better to give than to receive,” our simple mantra for teaching compassion, inadvertently sums up how demeaning it can be to need help. Whether the receiver is a senior citizen asking for help with home repairs or a poor person in need of free professional services, when only one person has the opportunity to give, the other feels useless or less valued. People want to give back.

This is the insight that Edgar Cahn, creator of time banking, gained lying in a coronary care unit. In his book, No More Throw-Away People, he explains that before the heart attack that landed him in the hospital in 1980, he had proudly spent his life helping others by fighting for justice.

Cahn worked with Robert Kennedy at the Justice Department and Sargent Shriver in the War on Poverty. He challenged the Bureau of Indian Affairs and the hunger and injustice faced by Native Americans. With his wife, he created the Antioch School of Law with a unique teaching law firm that represented thousands of poor people. Cahn realized in his hospital bed that being a person who could do things that other people needed was central to his self-worth, and he didn’t like feeling useless.

Cahn’s other key insight was about money. Perhaps you’re content in the knowledge that you have the means to buy the services that you need, that the economic market values your contribution, and that you can value others by paying them in turn.

The catch is that in the economic realm, not only commodities but also human abilities are valued based on their scarcity. Scarce items have a high value. Abundant items have a low value. When judged against this standard, the most common human capacities, like caring for each other, are devalued.

In the economic marketplace, values are assigned in a hierarchy, and everyone is well aware of how high or low they fall on the ladder. In a time bank, an hour of service given by one person is equal to an hour of service given by any other person. The hierarchy is gone.

For me, the truly fascinating element of time banking is this reshuffling of the social deck. We trudge or glide through our days, the heaviness of our steps determined to some degree by our status and the amount of money in our pockets. Our assigned rankings inevitably color our interactions, in spite of egalitarian myths.

That a time bank member, perhaps previously unknown to another, can step into that other person’s life and be judged by a single act of kindness (and maybe how the recipient’s garden looks without weeds) seems to me an amazing gift of fresh perspective.

When my husband, John Bangert, first shared the time banking concept with me, and announced his determination to start a time bank on Cape Cod, I found the idea immediately appealing. This is a remarkable statement for me to make after living with a community organizer for thirty four years.

John and I share deeply held values, but he’s the one with the zeal for outreach, always out front with a new idea. I listen, steer, edit, sort, and carry boxes. I have been known to try to stifle his irrepressible urge to act, if only to dig out the office from the last adventure. Our home is strewn with flyers, contact lists, and life-sized candidate cutouts, and there is always a project afoot.

I work 75 hours a week at my paid job and come home to a buzzing community headquarters. I’m not even sure how I’ll find hours to give. And yet I’m excited and energized by this simple idea. I should be balking at the prospect of more to do, but time banking sounds more rewarding than burdensome.

An amazing thing happens when people fill out the membership form. As they begin to list services they want to offer, there’s often a wonderful moment when they realize how capable they really are and how much they have to contribute.

Looking outward, members have the chance to see others with new eyes. A quiet woman you’ve seen around town turns out to be a retired physical therapist and personal trainer. The IT person that you plague with computer questions at work is also a banjo teacher. There are actually people who love to weed!

Photo-Chris Gray, John Bangert, & Edgar Cahn in Madison Wisconsin

The financial cost of living on Cape Cod is high, and it requires many of us to work more hours than we wish, leaving too little time to focus on our families and friends. But the price we pay is not just time. The real cost, says Edgar Cahn in his book No More Throw Away People, “is the hold that money has on our sense of what is possible, the prison it builds for our imagination.”

The vision of Cape Cod Time Bank is to help people break free of this yoke and weave a new kind of community. The “free market” may say that you can’t afford a gardener. Time banking says you can. The recession threatens to close the door to home ownership, higher education, and other pieces of the American dream to a growing segment of our population. Maybe the America dream just needs a new definition.

Gail Bangert is a community activist and member of the Cape Cod Time Bank. She lives with her husband in Harwich.

My View - Cape Cod Times - Gail Bangert

MY VIEW
By GAIL BANGERT

The way we think and talk about war leaves us unable to evolve beyond it. Like a hypnotic suggestion, the language of war subdues the conscious mind and makes us embrace unthinkable ideas.

With reverent words to acknowledge suffering, stirring words to honor courage, and persuasive words to rally the troops, attitudes and the phrases that express them have become hard-wired into our cultural consciousness. We utter them without needing to think. Reason gives way to habit and emotion. We don't seem to notice that over time the resignation connected with grief has morphed into acceptance of the unacceptable. We seem blind to the exploitation of our gratitude by the powerful, who send people to war, then silence opponents by equating opposition to policy with disloyalty to those who serve.

After centuries of fighting, not only do we accept war, we applaud and honor it. When it comes to war, we seem willing to shut down our brains and surrender to the emotional tide of popular sentiment.
''There are some things worth fighting for,'' we say, though the phrase offers no evidence for its assertion that violence is an effective strategy for protecting things we hold dear. We say ''freedom isn't free'' to express gratitude to veterans, but confuse promoting freedom with protecting our safety. Any use of force denies the freedom of another. A military victory may provide a measure of safety to the victors, but usually only a lull in a balance of terror, while the defeated bide their time.

Fear and the desire for revenge lurk at the heart of the most powerful attitudes about war. These emotions know no cultural boundaries, and I am not surprised that they exist, but I am amazed that we don't object to their continuing to govern our behavior in the 21st century. Respected nations still speak of ''bringing their opponents to their knees,'' and fearful populations rally in support of leaders who act tough. Seeking revenge should not be confused with problem solving. An enemy subdued is often an enemy lying in wait.

The Bush administration used fear to win initial support for the war in Iraq, and won re-election with the same appeal. To be sure, there is plenty to fear, but using fear to elicit support is more appropriate to tyranny than to democracy. At the core of our democratic ideals is the belief that government derives its power from the consent of the governed. That consent should be given after careful reflection, not taken by emotional manipulation.

Emotional thinking creates a gap between reality and what we choose to believe. The planners of the war failed to take into account the possible consequences of their actions. In a moment of hubris, they convinced themselves that they could wish a democratic ally into existence. They didn't trust democracy enough, however, to listen to voices from the region they planned to liberate, who correctly warned that attacking Iraq would inspire a million bin Ladens. Our invasion was a bonanza for terrorist recruitment, and our removal of Saddam Hussein without an effective strategy for maintaining order was an invitation to every outlaw and power seeker to take advantage of the chaos that ensued.

Experts on terrorism tell us that humiliation is one of its causes. It was certainly not logic, then, that possessed the administration to use a campaign of ''shock and awe'' to send a message to the Middle East. Our power is exactly what angers and motivates terrorists to defy us. Vast numbers of the world's people live in our shadow, and we have yet to come to terms with their resentment. Agents of our country have overthrown democratically elected governments and made behind-the-scenes deals that benefit us at the expense of others. Like frustrated players who upset the game board because they can't win, more and more angry people have decided not to play by our rules. They've empowered themselves to hurt us using methods that armies cannot easily combat. The benefits of any military action must be weighed against its value to terrorists as evidence that we deserve to be hated.

President Bush has inadvertently demonstrated just how vital democracy is to civilization. When a few people act with arrogant disregard for the opinions of others, they erode the glue of consent that holds civilization together. That is true whether plans are hatched in a cave in Afghanistan or in an office in Washington, D.C.

With violent conflicts spiraling out of control, we must think clearly about war. As some begin to call for military strikes in Iran, we need the combined wisdom of every mind capable of reason to choose strategies that make sense, not rash actions that suit our emotions.

The world will not forgive and may not survive another disastrous mistake. We would be wise to act with an eye to the rights and safety of those who have not yet joined the terrorists. Otherwise, we will continue to create enemies faster than we can kill them.

Gail Bangert
(Published: October 10, 2006)

Self Reliance Falls Short

The faces of those stranded by Hurricane Katrina sadden and haunt us, and we are scrambling for someone to blame for their plight. We ask why the abandoned are poor and black. One conclusion is unavoidable. America exalts individual freedom at the expense of community. With the marketplace in charge, we a’re supreme within our own spheres. In the current political climate, even basic government services and regulations are challenged as coercive interference with our private pursuits. The claim is that anyone can succeed, so we a’re impatient with those who do no’t, dismissing the hurdles they face. When disasters threaten, we warn individuals to evacuate, but neighbors and communities are not prepared to effectively act together.

It i’s telling that the United Nations has called Cuba a model in hurricane risk management, while America must rescue thousands from chaos. Cuba has a carefully educated and prepared network of volunteers, disaster responders, and public officials who all work together. It i’s a system based on people helping people. We may scoff that Cubans are forced into these networks, but we would do well to learn something about community from them. When disaster strikes, we should be prepared to help poor people evacuate, not leave them behind.

LOVE NOTE TO NEW ORLEANS

By Andrei Codrescu

It’s heart-breaking watching my beautiful city sink, but I’m at a safe distance 90 miles away and my heartbreak is nothing compared to the suffering of people still in the city. New Orleans will be rebuilt, but it will never again be the city I knew and loved. I often compared it to Venice because of its beauty and tenuousness, its love of music, art, and carnival. The problem of engineering the survival of Venice has preoccupied the world for centuries, but very little thought has gone into saving New Orleans in the same way. New Orleans was, and it may be yet, a thriving commercial city crucial to controlling the mouth of the Mississippi River, vital to American industry and access to the Gulf of Mexico. Jean de Bienville founded the city here in 1718, ignoring his engineers’ warning about settling a patch of swampland between the Mississippi River, the Gulf of Mexico and a massive lake to the North. The needs of the American republic continued to compound Bienville’s original sin, requiring more and more engineering to correct nature at one of its grandest meeting points. The wetlands that once served to tame the savagery of the winds are gone, victims of big oil and global warming. The seas are hotter, people, and this is the result! Pay attention, global-warming deniers, this is the real thing! The saving grace of New Orleans was its music, its food, its festivals and its poor. This was the most brutal slave market in America and the northernemost point of the Caribbean trade in guns, rum, and human beings. The slaves and subsequent refugees, immigrants, pirates, and quick-buck artists brought culture with them from Africa and places they ran from. New Orleans music traveled upriver and became America’s music. We’ve been a generator of human and cultural energy for centuries, but all this bounty brought the city no careful engineering, no thought for its future, no world-wide cry of help for its inevitable demise. The Army Corps of Engineers saved the city heroically at least once during the floods of 1927, but it was then as now a response to crisis, no forethought, no concern for the future. So here we are, sinking into the water around us, drowning in our own waste, poverty, incompetence, and the greed of those who came before us. This is the time for straight reporting, of heartbreaking stories, of heroic rescues and superhuman efforts by good-hearted individuals and the weary but always-ready charities. It’s not a time for anger, but I can’t help wondering: what is going to survive of our culture? We already know who’s going to pay for all this: the poor. They always do. The whole country’s garbage flows down the Mississippi to them. Until now, they turned all that waste into song, they took the sins of America unto themselves. But this blues now is just too big.