The Last Thing to Go

Meanwhile, we’ve been watching the riveting final season of a program called “Democracy” that starts with a violent attack on the Capitol and ends with a Supreme Court that goes on a rampage abolishing human rights, and even overturning key environmental protections—prayer is apparently a sufficient means of averting catastrophe, and anyway, why delay the Rapture? The plot seems to involve corrupting democratic institutions, eliminating personal liberties, and pushing the nation into radical right religious rule. In a bizarre twist, it turns out one of the judges is married to someone active in the insurrection. And the figurehead inspiring their devotion is a megalomaniac huckster who throws plates against the wall, toddler-style, when frustrated, and in one scene attempts to choke his chauffeur. It’s far-fetched but addictive.

I was laughing through tears when I typed that in a text to friends, but it’s frighteningly true. My Bestie, V, a perceptive teacher and community activist, observed that a huge swath of the population is gullible, poorly educated, and unable to discern the difference between performative TV and social media versus reality. “It makes a lot of sense that Americans would embrace this reality show [mentality]. Like our own personalities, our greatest strengths (Internet, connectivity) are our greatest weaknesses. We know too much/we know nothing…and most of these gullible drones proudly received a high school diploma.” (V is a long-time advocate for public school reform and for teaching that fosters critical thinking, but that’s another subject, though a crucial one.)

I thought her comment about reality television was very perceptive. I fear that many Americans do view this whole nightmare as an entertainment spectacle, "good" television, not anything unfolding in the real world that impacts them, or over which they have agency. The press and media are particularly at fault, framing presentations in ways that they hope will entertain, excite, and draw viewers and readers, and offering “both sides” with a straight face even when one side is nonsense or dangerous lies. This is how we got stuck with the bizarre idea of trump as president in the first place. Millions of gullible people watched The Apprentice and saw him as a good businessman and a strong, decisive leader. They were completely blinded by their inability to perceive the difference between fiction and reality, and they were conned. Yes, the far reach of connection is our strength or our downfall.

Monte thinks it’s even more insidious than that. It was an opportunity, he says, for the white racists to rise again. Feeling disempowered by the Obama presidency and threatened by progress made that perhaps eroded their sense of privilege or demanded growth and change, they were happy to upset the apple cart. Fear and insecurity ignited hatred. It was okay to say the ugly things again. A cult was born, and a frightening slide towards an extremist, racist, theocratic movement went from being hidden to completely open. These folks see their version of America as being under threat; they feel they are fighting for existential reasons.

This horrifying trend gained huge clout and momentum with the infestation of the Supreme Court. Commentator Dave Pell summarized it succinctly after the repeal of Roe v. Wade: “We've witnessed a dramatic judicial shift to the right powered by Mitch McConnell's shady Supreme Court pick maneuvering. [We knew the decision was coming] and yet, its arrival still lands like an epochal punch to gut. That's how it feels when a slow-motion plot carried about by the minority takes the country in a direction the majority doesn't want to go.”

I’m still bent over by that punch to the gut, and I’ve been watching the January 6 hearings with a mounting sense of horror, feelings that hover between heartbreak and fury. I keep saying that we cannot give up, but it’s hard to know what tangible actions we can take.

My other Bestie, C, a brilliant academic originally from Germany, chimed into the exchange, generally agreeing with our comments, but offering some musings from another perspective: “I do feel a difference in how you two perceive the depressing latest political developments as a loss of sorts, whereas I — all the while loving the U.S. and much of its culture—never had much trust in the political institutions. (Come on, what kind of a “democracy” is this, where the popular vote counts for zilch?) It always seemed so outdated, put into place by white landowners in the 18th century. And now we have to rely on the ‘decency’ of those in power instead of being able to rely on a political system of checks and balances that would protect us from autocratic rulers and their fancies. I think the difference might originate in how we grew up: you in the knowledge (or belief) that you lived in the greatest (and most democratic) country in the world (of which you now mourn the loss); me born into the broken pieces of a shameful shit pile of a country where history was no loss to be mourned.”

As (characteristically) blunt as they were, I had to concede that C’s reflections were valid and understandable. I asked myself what exactly is this sense of loss I am feeling, anyway? Our country was deeply flawed from the beginning, with grave injustices stitched into the very fabric of the Constitution. We need to look, clear-eyed, at who we are before we can better ourselves. Self-delusion is not useful; American “exceptionalism” is fatuous and hollow. Honing in on my feelings, I saw that when I talk in terms of loss, I am referring to the loss of the hope, the loss of possibility, the loss of the shining ideal.

I do understand the origins (and even to some extent the logic) of the idea of the bicameral legislature, of having one house based on population representation and the other based on each state having the same number of senate-representatives. Initially, the latter was a way of enticing the slave-owning Southern states into joining the union, so that's pretty cynical in its onset, but pragmatic. But over time, as population has grown beyond imagining, with so many people concentrated in urban areas, the overrepresentation of small and rural states in the Senate has become absolutely bizarre. (I read somewhere that at the current rate, soon 2/3 of the population will be represented by only 30% of the Senate, and we know already that the minority is ruling.) It’s gotten worse and worse due to partisan gerrymandering, weakened voting rights, and abuse of the filibuster. Also, those in power have become more entrenched, unscrupulous, and brazen, while our side, unfortunately, has a tendency to get snagged on nuance and disputes with each other. The system of checks and balances is broken. And what we are seeing now was set in motion a long time ago.

Maybe my core characteristic, whether virtue or folly, is my refusal to relinquish that hope of what still could be, the notion I still possess of our country as something organic, striving toward betterment, backsliding sometimes, but gradually progressing. I know this is becoming a slippery illusion to cling to, and maybe I’m naïve.

But what alternatives do we have, anyway? What is the solution? Do we just withdraw and give up? I see scary shifts toward the right across Europe too. If this American experiment fails, the repercussions across the globe (and particularly Western Europe) will be staggering. So, bad history or not, we are confronted with this situation and we need to double down, maintain strength and persistence and overcome the attempts to perpetuate the minority rule. It’s a long game. And I hope we’re up for it.

The conversation continued, and in the end, I think we are all in agreement. My Besties are living good lives, contributing to their own communities, using whatever gifts and resources they might have. Teaching, farming, writing, communicating, treating others with decency, generosity, and kindness, trying to tread gently on our fragile earth...what the hell else can we do? We're all tired. So tired.

But we can’t succumb to tiredness. And I’m ready to fight. I just don't know how. That's something I need to learn. I could lay my old body down on the steps of the Supreme Court, but I probably wouldn't get past the guard rails, and I reckon I'd just be stepped on if I did. I'm hoping to find some sage advice from people more politically savvy than me. I do know we need to set aside some of the secondary issues and take the gloves off.

In the meantime I am so grateful for intelligent friends who are willing to discuss this history we are living through. C had one more insight: “You just spelled it out for me––that is what is specifically American, and what — sadly for me—is lacking––it’s the idea of hope! Maybe that’s what makes this country tick, in spite itself.”

That could be the ultimate truth––a distinctly American kind of hope. Maybe that’s last thing to go, and we’re still clinging to it.

Now the trick is to turn that hope into strategy and action.