Who We Are
A pair of baby elephant seals were brought over from the marine rescue center to be released into the ocean, and I was there to see it. Their broad whiskered faces peered from their cages through large, round, dewy eyes, and there was something endearing about them. They were a male and a female, about six months old, and their only names were numbers: 92 and 95. “We don’t want to get too attached to them,” explained one of the volunteers.
The crates were loaded onto a cart with great care and wheeled to the beach to be opened. I expected a swift, jubilant escape into the sea, but the animals exhibited hesitation and bewilderment, and several helpers had wisely carried wooden boards to urge them along. 95 wriggled out first and turned back to the humans, in the direction opposite the water, then reversed course and haltingly moved ahead, looking back now and then like a child with abandonment fears. Eventually his snout met the surf, instinct kicked in, and off he went. We could see him bobbing about, not very far, watching the land, and wondering perhaps about 92, who still loitered near her crate with trepidation. She too gradually made her way to wetness, but the spectacle was all very understated and tentative.
In fact, the only conspicuous exhilaration I witnessed was among the humans, who were touchingly committed to these animals. And that’s the part that inspired me: not merely the magnificent manifestation of inter-species tenderness, but the willingness to work hard in selfless service, to invest time and energy into saving two random creatures in a world so big and so in need of rescue.
It reminded me of the parable of the starfish thrower who walked the shore flinging stranded starfish back into the sea––and there were so many of them!
“It’s useless,” someone scoffed. “How can you possibly make a difference?”
“It makes a difference to this one,” said the starfish thrower, as he tossed one more starfish back into the ocean.
That’s what I was feeling. No single action for good is wasted or insignificant. This is such a hard time for our country and our planet. Maybe it would seem a small thing to some, tending to a pair of baby elephant seals and releasing them back into the sea, but in fact it is symbolic and significant. Each of us must do whatever we can do and never stop trying.
While I was watching the elephant seals, a bill was being discussed, maneuvered, and shoved through Congress. It made it through the House with all but two Republican ayes, and not a single Dem. There are many things to abhor about this thousand-page assault on America, but please read a summary if you don’t believe me, and choose a reliable source, because the lies about it are rampant, and much of the misinformation comes from official-looking entities. But perhaps what is most troubling about it, apart from adding an estimated $3.2 trillion to the deficit––which seems abstract now but will have big consequences––is what this bill says about what we value and who we are as a people.
The slashing of programs that provide assistance for the less fortunate among us, for example, reflects a callousness that is so ugly, it makes my heart hurt. It feels selfish and ironically un-Christian not to care about others with greater needs just because you happen to be okay. Wait a minute. Please. This cannot be who we are.
Let’s take a moment to reflect upon the purpose of government. It is not something external to us. It is us. Government is the manifestation of human beings doing for one another what needs to be done but could not be achieved in isolation, working collectively for the common good. Coordinated effort was the key to the advance of homo sapiens across the millennia. Over time, people developed the ability to learn from each other and cooperate in their endeavors, creating the possibility of cumulative, cultural advances. A functional government is essential to civilization.
Furthermore, we understand that we have responsibilities for others, and it is a logical role of government to help implement these. Beyond the building and maintenance of public roads and other necessary infrastructure shared and used by all, government is crucial to administering our collective duty to, for example, protect citizens from hunger and ensure that they have health care. The “survival of the fittest” mentality implicit to the budget bill is contrary to the most basic principles of humanity.
This will not be a linear discussion, nor is it intended to be a comprehensive analysis of this bill, which was signed into law on our nation’s birthday, or of the cruel and misguided policies of the current regime. But I cannot neglect to mention the terrifying measures intended to “supercharge” the assault on immigrants. The irrational hatred and malice that fuels this is beyond my comprehension.
My own immigrant grandfather was a stocky southern Italian who came to this country in 1905 not knowing a word of English. He worked hard and made a life here. And this is the awareness with which I travel through my own life. It fosters gratitude, humility, and compassion. As in these lyrics by Paul Simon, “I've been given all I wanted, Only three generations off the boat. I've harvested and I've planted. I'm wearing my father's old coat.”
I respect the courage of others who come to our shores with similar aspirations, many forced from their homelands by unbearable conditions. I cannot understand the default assumption that these are bad people deserving of terrible punishment. I was a teacher for a segment of my life. If I overheard a middle school kid gleefully imagining human beings being ripped apart by alligators or making the kind of cruel and irresponsible comments in which Trump and his cronies regularly engage, I would be genuinely concerned that there was a budding sociopath in our midst. I would probably contact a parent and suggest counseling. But apparently our government believes that a detention center dubbed Alligator Alcatraz is something to joke about, and an annual operating budget of $450 million for it is a high priority .
And the word “priority” is important in this context, because what is a budget if not a statement of priorities? And what is a statement of priorities if not a declaration of who we are?
My friend Tom Scarborough, a former history teacher, wrote the following 4th of July statement on his Facebook page, and it is such an eloquent and thorough summary of what so many of us are feeling, I will paste it here in its entirety:
Today is July 4th, and today I honor my flag. I honor the America that this flag has represented for two and a half centuries. I honor MY America.
My America welcomed to its shores those who had little else but a dream. It didn't build concentration camps for them.
My America fought the Fascists and, alongside its allies, defeated them. It didn't elect them.
My America helped the nations of Europe to rebuild in the aftermath of the most destructive war in history.
My America led the alliance that held Soviet totalitarianism in check. It didn't sell out its allies to serve a Russian dictator.
My America squarely confronted its legacy of racism and passed legislation to guarantee equality before the law to all races and ethnicities. It didn't try to whitewash history, nor undo civil rights protections.
My America at one time had the best system of public education in the world, the leading universities, and was always on the cutting edge of science and medical research. It didn't ban books or defund public schools.
My America wasn't perfect, but it tried to be that "city on the hill" that would inspire others around the world to embrace freedom and equality. It didn't build walls. It tore them down.
That was my America. It is the America for which I fly my flag today. I am not celebrating this other nativist, racist, xenophobic, cruel America. I do not know this America. It is not my America. Happy Birthday, my America.
I thought about all of this last night as I half-heartedly watched a fireworks display in town. I had spent much of the day in a space of quiet rumination––maybe it was a form of mourning, but not really, because mourning would imply the end, that it was too late, and it is emphatically not too late. In fact, we can weaponize their ugly actions by making sure the perpetrators are held accountable for the pain and damage they will have caused. Our job is to stay informed, to educate others, to protest loudly, and above all, to win midterm elections everywhere. So this 4th of July was not one for celebration, but for reflection and renewed resolve.
“We have responsibilities for others,” wrote the late historian and essayist Tony Judt, “not just across space but across time. We have responsibilities to people who came before us. They left us a world of institutions, ideas, and possibilities for which we, in turn owe them something. One of the things we owe them is not to squander them.”
Let’s not squander the gifts we were given. We will get our America back on track. I know we can do it, because my immigrant grandfather bequeathed to me his values and his hopes, and my father and uncle were soldiers in a war, and I have lived a life of blessings and learned it’s not okay to ignore the suffering of others.
And I know we can do it because I see the decency and compassion in my fellow humans every day. I have witnessed breathtaking generosity, monumental courage, and the ripple effects of even the tiniest gestures. I saw two baby elephant seals returned to the sea…and oh so many starfish.