One Part Reflection, One Part Rant, One Part Resolution

I cannot recall a time when I was unaware of the power of words.  Living with my mother and brother in her parents' home, with a young uncle, an aunt and an aunt by marriage, at the end of World War II, offered a primer in the use of language to convey hurt, worry, anger, resentment and fear.  A primer in the use of language to cajole, ingratiate, belittle, manipulate, and, conversely and thankfully, occasionally to soothe, comfort, console, and reassure.  Unfortunately, too much of the former, too little of the latter.  

Every male of fighting age in our extended family was enlisted and many engaged in combat duty.  Most of the families in Milwaukee's blue collar neighborhoods, probably throughout the country, were in the same boat, coping with the same stress levels, with the same insufficient training and experience to deal with it.

So I learned quickly to pay attention to tone of voice, to sense when emotions were high and arguments were likely to escalate.  I came to recognize the words and phrases that could trigger a volley of insults and accusations, name-calling and laying blame..you never, you always, you need to, why can't you...etc., etc.  I waited for apologies that never came.   I remember the clenching of my jaw, the twisting in my stomach, the tears I struggled to hide. I remember wondering how someone could be so sure of what someone else really meant. But most of all, I remember the bewilderment I felt when people whom I believed loved each other and needed each other's protection could be so deliberately hurtful.   I remember feeling very unsafe.

Those years were the impetus for my lifelong interest in communication - what constitutes effective communication?  What forces impede communication?  What limits our ability to discuss differences?  How much responsibility do I own for how you hear me?  How much responsibility do you own for how I hear you? Each answer leading to more questions.

I now look back on those early years with some understanding and compassion.  People were so fearful, so unprepared.  We lived in isolated neighborhoods, with limited information trickling in via newspapers, news reels, the radio.  We didn't know what we didn't know.  Our perceptions were shaped by rigid cultural norms, strong religious influences and carefully crafted political propaganda.  Our behaviors by history and habit.  Yet, somehow we managed, eventually, to move forward, certainly with some scars, but together.

These past months, however, I find myself grinding my teeth at night, frequently feeling my stomach in knots, fighting back tears of frustration, cursing at the TV, shaking my head in disbelief at what I see and hear in the news, in threads of conversations and shares on Facebook.  Language to convey hurt, worry, outrage, resentment and fear.  Language to cajole, ingratiate, humiliate, threaten, belittle, manipulate.  Language designed to distort, distract, deny.   Perceptions shaped by rigid cultural norms, strong religious influences and carefully crafted political propaganda.  Our behaviors defended by history and habit.  Emotion and belief superseding thinking and reason.  Negotiation and compromise becoming dirty words. And the result - more divisiveness, a rise in bullying and hate crimes, cynicism and distrust.  Lying called fake news.  Threats called bluffing.  All exacerbated by our sheer numbers, the speed with which information - true, false or mixed - can be spread to a population too often unable or unwilling to sort it out.  

What's a person to do?  Well, this is what this person is doing, for what it's worth.  Because I have no idea if we, as a country, will weather this toxicity, but I suspect I won't unless I -

• limit my time on Facebook and with the news,
• confine my energy and attention to a few FB sites I trust, preferably those with moderators who help to insure a modicum of civility,
• subscribe to Snopes daily debrief to help sort the wheat from the chaff,
• insert a question or comment where I think it might make a difference, but only where it might,
• call and write my Congressmen to voice my opinions and concerns,
• monitor my own language, particularly when I'm angry or afraid,
• make sure I find a way to laugh in the morning and record gratitudes before I go to bed,
• spend some enjoyable time with John and connect with a friend every day,
• learn more about how to discuss issues more effectively across the chasms of religious and political differences, and
• populate my world with others who want to help bridge these chasms rather than widen them.

For, what else is a person to do? 

Soul Searching

"I didn't do enough."

~ Oskar Schindler, "Schindler's List"

The more I do to voice my displeasure and dismay with this political regime, the more I realize that I didn't do enough to help prevent it in the first place. 

I had thought I'd done enough.  I voted, as I have every presidential election since I cast my first vote for JFK.  I consider voting a privilege as well as a responsibility.  I am, relatively speaking, informed.   I've read the Constitution, not only in high school, but as recently as two years ago.  I continue to read a variety of material across a wide spectrum of political belief.  I've never been reluctant to talk about politics nor unwilling to listen to others' points of view.  

But I left the heavy lifting to others, even when I sensed, as early as a year ago, that he could win.  Even though, I believed he would do exactly what he is trying to do.  Even though I called him narcissistic and unwell from the get go.  I know I could excuse my sitting on the sidelines with "what can one person do" or "my vote won't count anyway as I live in a red state" or "John needs me more."  I could fall back on believing what the media was predicting (I didn't).  I could blame everyone else, and heaven knows, there's plenty of folks to blame.

I don't excuse myself.  However, I also do not mean to chastise myself, but rather to let this awareness fuel taking action.  I am beyond feeling guilty, but am committed to look for ways to encourage others to take action and to support those who do.  I've been calling my (theoretical) representatives, almost daily. I've e-mailed and continue to engage with staff as long as they stay open to alternative points of view. I've signed so many petitions that I suspect I've signed some more than once.  I've spent hours on FB, probably too many, but strive to interject a call to action wherever I can.  I take time to acknowledge the efforts of others who are marching, deciding to run for public office, moderating groups (what a job!), offering new ideas, standing up in their own party, etc.  

And, yet, I continue to ask myself, "What else can I do? Tonight, I'll read the next chapter in Don't Think of an Elephant by George Lakoff and keep recommending it. Tomorrow, I'll send another check to ACLU - they have the lawyers, they have the grit.  Next week, show up to the nearby coffee shop to help write postcards of appreciation as well as postcards of protest.  I'll post this.  What else? What works?  What could work?

If, as you read this, especially to those of you in France who are learning from our mistakes, you have other ideas for effective resistance and change, I would be delighted and ever so grateful to receive them.  I will pass them on wherever I can.  I will do whatever I can. 

If I Ruled the World...

"If I ruled the world,

Every man would be as free as a bird

Every voice would be a voice to be heard..."

~ Cyril Ornadel, Leslie Bricusse  

This has been a tough week.  I have watched with dismay as this President signs executive order after executive order that I disagree with.  I have serious concerns about his mental health and the agenda of many of the people he surrounds himself with.  I can't believe that the interference of a foreign government, let alone Russia, hasn't raised more of an outcry nationwide. I have watched demonstrations that remind me of the divisiveness of the 60's that tore apart our families and communities.  I fear our very democracy is being eroded before my eyes, fed by the beliefs of a small segment of our population with little regard for the needs or values of the larger whole, even blatant disregard.

I want to think "we are better than this."  But that belief is being tested almost everywhere I look.  When lies are called alternative facts and people brag about posting false stories, when basic Constitutional rights (freedom of speech, freedom of the press and freedom of assembly) are threatened, when I see resistance that looks as ugly as that which is being resisted, when I see and hear behavior I would have chastised a 10 year old for, I am at best stunned, at worst saddened and afraid.  So....

If I had my way -

• we'd challenge our generalizations - not all Republicans support this president and his policies; not all Muslims are terrorists; not all Christians are Evangelical; not all Democrats are Progressives; not all Pro-Choice supporters advocate abortion; not all voters who didn't vote for him voted for her; not all who voted for him are racist, etc., etc.
• we'd "seek to understand, then be understood" - whether in personal conversation or on social media, we'd ask more questions for clarity; consider at least a point, if not the entire perspective, that is being made; provide feedback for understanding (even if not in total agreement) before countering with our own points of view.  
• we'd move beyond blame, especially overarching blame of a single group of people - there are many factors that contributed to the outcome of this election, many groups that can be pointed to for the roles they played or didn't play; we'd do well to remember that blame elicits more defensiveness than ownership.
• we'd tamp down the flames of hatred rather than fan them -  name-calling, profanity, insult, ridicule and rudeness are running rampant; hatred is being justified by anger; respect is being demanded without being given; "argument turns too easily into animosity; disagreement escalates into dehumanization." (George W. Bush) 
• we'd be as aware of our own biases, as much as we are the biases of others - President Bush said it beautifully in Dallas, "too often we judge other groups by their worst examples, but judge ourselves by our best intentions."  I also would add that too often we justify with single anecdotes rather than patterns of behavior, belief rather than fact.
• we'd do our homework - we'd learn from history - ours and that of other countries, understand how easily populism morphs into Fascism, what trade wars can do to an economy, how easily the fabric of a society is torn apart and how long it takes to sew it back together again.  We would demand more than platitudes and slogans, proof and plans, not mere promises; personal character would be as much a criteria for success as wealth is.
• we would be engaged citizens - we'd understand how our government is supposed to operate; we'd understand something about basic economic theory; have some knowledge about the rest of the world; at least we would vote...and rid ourselves of the gerrymandering that has contributed to the belief - and in many cases, the reality - that our vote doesn't matter.

But most of all, we'd look for ways to pull together, rather than divide further - we'd seek compromise, solutions that work for the largest segments of our population, not just a single segment or group.  Next month I will be 76.  Although I am concerned for my own future should this regime impact Medicare and Social Security and health care as they promise to, I am not going to be here in 15 to 20 years, maybe less than that.  But my nieces and nephews, my grand-nieces and grand-nephews will be.  If I had my way, they will enjoy the opportunities I did.  They will live in an environment of clean air and clean water.  They will feel safe to express their political views, to practice the religion of their choice, or no religion at all. 

I know I will never rule the world.  But at least, I can still hope "this is not who we are."