American Ideals and Islamic Terrorism

Every time America has strayed from the principle of equality under the law for all people, we end up viewing it as a black mark on our history.

Every time Americans compromise their ideals (such as those codified in the Bill of Rights) in response to anti-American terrorism, the terrorists score a victory.

Every time Americans equate radical, Islamic zealots with all Muslims, Osama bin Laden comes closer to his stated goal of instigating a war between the West and the Islamic world.

Every time Americans justify repressive policy on our part by pointing to repressive policy in another country, we erode our claim to moral superiority.

Fear and Loathing in America

In President John F. Kennedy's oft-quoted inaugural address, he challenged America to "ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country."  In 2009, that remark would have branded him a socialist, what with its overtones of a "common good" with nary an individual profit motive in sight.  (One wonders how the Preamble to the Constitution would fare in this current climate, with its "promote the general welfare" verbiage.)  President Barack Obama certainly came under conservative fire in the days leading up to today's address to the nation's school children.  The key objection was to the assignment that was initially to accompany the address: students would be asked to write a letter to themselves to discuss what they could do to help the president.

This scared the bajeezus out of conservative parents, who envisioned this man, for whom they didn't vote, indoctrinating their children into the sinister ethos of giving up some of what they had, to help those less fortunate.  (One wonders how Jesus Christ -- another notorious socialist -- would fare in this current climate.)  A suburban Colorado mom was quoted on CNN saying "Thinking about my kids in school having to listen to that just really upsets me.  I'm an American. They are Americans, and I don't feel that's OK. I feel very scared to be in this country with our leadership right now."  It was sentiments like this that created another of many modern absurdities: a presidential message for students to take school seriously being labeled "controversial."

Of course, this "controversy," like so many in an age when ignorant voices get amplified by 24-hour "news" coverage, turned out to be a whole lot of nothing.  The message was as unassailable as a call to honor the service of our fallen troops:

So today, I want to ask you, what’s your contribution going to be? What problems are you going to solve? What discoveries will you make? What will a president who comes here in twenty or fifty or one hundred years say about what all of you did for this country?  Your families, your teachers, and I are doing everything we can to make sure you have the education you need to answer these questions. ... But you’ve got to do your part too. So I expect you to get serious this year. I expect you to put your best effort into everything you do. I expect great things from each of you. So don’t let us down – don’t let your family or your country or yourself down. Make us all proud. I know you can do it.

So much agonizing over such a simple, worthy message.  And yet the rhetoric over the President's every comment is the most polarized since... Well, since the last President, actually, when people like me were sneering at President George W. Bush, labeling him an idiot and an autocrat.  It occurs to me that there's a deep and abiding fear on both sides of the partisan rift.  Liberals feared what the world was becoming in the wake of Bush's foreign policy; conservatives fear what the nation is becoming under Obama's domestic efforts at reform.  Both sides can offer cynical theories about why the other side's fear grows more stark, but that's precisely the rhetoric that deepens the divide.

I've given myself an assignment: try to understand conservative fear of what they're calling a slippery slope to socialism.  For a while, I'm going to suspend my own dogma that this is a product of political spin to protect corporate interests and prevent Obama from chalking up any policy successes.  I'm going to do some reading and listening to see the picture of the future that conservatives fear.  Because in the end, fear is not dispelled by belittling it.  It's dispelled by understanding, and casting a bright light upon its source.  I'll update if I find any revelations.

"Only the wealthy should live, and the sick ought to be punished financially."

On Facebook today, many of my friends' status updates read the same:

"No one should die because they cannot afford health care, and no one should go broke because they get sick. If you agree, please post this as your status for the rest of the day."

Seeing it the first time (without the second sentence), I commented, agreeing, and saw the posts of various other like-minded people.  Over the course of the day, I saw more and more such status updates.  In the context of the current health care reform debate, it's a fair statement to make.  It tries to do what Bill Moyers (on Real Time with Bill Maher) so eloquently argued President Obama must do regarding public coverage: frame the debate as the moral issue it is.

I didn't change my own status, despite my agreement.  Among my circle of friends, I would be preaching to the choir with regards to policy, and for those few in my network who take issue with semi-nationalized health care, this assertion is hardly an argument.  Honestly, who's going to rebut, "only the wealthy should live, and the sick ought to be punished financially"?  I question whether anyone's mind has ever been changed by a picket sign, bumper sticker or status update.  Opponents, at least the sane ones who speak in public, attack issues of policy, and cite the relative inefficiency of publicly-run programs in comparison to privately-run ones, or the effects of government interference on health care quality and availability.  In a pinch, they'll make up policy points to attack, like the infamous and fraudulent "death panels."  But most of the objections are things that ought to be addressed, and are amenable to serious debate.  Debatable points invite discussion; attacks on straw men create ideological silos.

My old friend Andy offered me a different interpretation of the status update.  "I believe in solidarity as solace more than solidarity as change agent.  Knowing there are many like you is a great comfort in trying times."  It's a fair point, with an undeniable emotional resonance.  But on this issue, I feel that solidarity, manifesting as partisanship, has done a great deal to stymie real progress on this issue.  Using these new technologies, I hope that copy/paste activism among like-minded folk isn't mistaken for real engagement.  That's not to say that social media can't be used to argue a point.  My wife circulated the Bill Moyers clip on Facebook, which -- though preaching to the choir of Bill Maher viewers -- offers an articulate declaration of the moral basis to the policy that ought to be proposed.  Moyers stated the value proposition, gave its historical context, and made a call to action.

But perhaps I'm committing the same sin I'm criticizing by attacking the sound bite, out of context of the message.  My wife, experienced in social activism, pointed out that political change requires a rallying cry, dissemination of information, and action.  It requires an engagement with your allies as well as your opponents.  If this shared Facebook update is the opening salvo to getting our message straight on this very important issue, then my criticism is misplaced.  I'd go so far as to say, I "Like" this.

Brown Like Me

After his Republican response to President Obama's Congressional address, I declared that I was embarrassed, on behalf of Indian-Americans, about Bobby Jindal.

I do realize that statement was bold-to-ridiculous. Jindal, an honors biology graduate from Brown and a Rhodes Scholar with a Master's degree in political science from Oxford, is the youngest of the current state governors and the first Indian-American elected to that office. Jindal's speech may have been clumsy, and I might take issue with his logic, but "embarrassment" seems presumptuous. I was challenged, however, not on comparative credentials, but on my speaking on behalf of Indian-Americans. Said one friend-of-a-friend, "that would be like me being embarrassed of Timothy Geithner on behalf of Caucasians...sounds silly doesn't it?"

This is the point when dialogue shuts down. At this point, the brown person tells the white person he doesn't understand what it is to be a minority, and the white person asks how we can make progress if we don't "move beyond race." Bobby Jindal certainly seems eager to move beyond his race. In high school, he converted from his parents' Hinduism to Catholicism, and he even changed his given name, "Piyush," to the slice of Americana with which he best identified: Bobby Brady, of "The Brady Bunch." He speaks with a folksy drawl, and has named his youngest son "Slade." In an interview on "60 Minutes," Bobby and his wife Supriya said that their Indian heritage doesn't really factor into their daily lives. They were raised American. No doubt this makes Bobby Jindal more palletable to a constituency that elected a former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan to Congress.

I was also raised American. Growing up in Omaha, Nebraska, there were only about one hundred Indian-American families in town. My circulation within that small community was limited to being dragged to weekend parties, where I spent evenings with the other kids in someone's basement, watching TV, while our parents upstairs spoke, ate and dressed "Indian." Most of my friends were not Indian, and with those few who were, our ethnic bond felt incidental, an artifact of our parents more than ourselves. And yet, whenever I'd see an unknown South Asian face on the sidewalk or in a store, something curious would happen. One or both of us would catch the other's eye, smile, and nod. Sometimes those smiles would become small-talk. Sometimes the small-talk would try to become conversation, though I shied away from it. This was not something that would happen with passers-by of any other ethnicity. It continued when I moved to Chicago, where Indian faces were by no means rare. It continued wherever I would travel to where Indians were a minority. My brown face gave me an automatic kinship, welcome or not, with other brown faces. I didn't think much about it -- it's part of who I am.

Indian cuisine, music and cinema has seen a surge of popularity in the United States. It doesn't make sense for me to feel validated by that, any more than it does to feel kinship with a stranger because of our skin. But from having seen many Indian-Americans high-fiving at "Slumdog Millionaire's" eight-Oscar victory, I can tell I'm not alone. I suppose it's a little like rooting for the home team; you may not be on the field yourself, but somehow, their pride in victory is yours, as is their humiliation in defeat. Maybe I'm wrong to look at Bobby Jindal's brown face and believe that he represents "my kind" in the public forum. It's obvious from his beliefs that he doesn't. And if his success was abetted by his renunciation of his heritage and name, well, who am I to judge? But when I hear him using Hurricane Katrina as an argument against Federal funding, or advocating the teaching of Intelligent Design despite holding an Ivy League biology degree, I wish that, in the eyes of this country, he looked a little less like me.

Inauguration From the Office

We ducked out of our meetings to watch Obama's inauguration from our big "tech talk" videoconference room. We're a predominantly liberal lot, and the one guy who clapped when Obama thanked Bush for his service was briefly the focus of some sixty stares. Ironic, then, that the big screen was tuned to FOX news. I wasn't as moved as the people we saw on TV, even some in the room. I did vote for Obama, and I recognize the history unfolding, but some of the catharsis I see worries me. This is no "mission accomplished;" this is the beginning of a hard, long road. I'm happy we have a smart man in the White House, but even so, progress will be hard-won. I'm hoping that the emotion I saw was not the joy over a supposed savior, but a hopeful rededication of purpose on behalf of all citizens. We'll see.

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