A Plague on Both Your Houses

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When I was a small boy, my mother told me that a few things were true about the United States and the people who live here and those things always would be true, no matter which political party was in control of things.

And I still believe what she told me even though it is more difficult with each passing day.

Americans, she said to me, always tolerate more than one opinion. Americans are respectful of each other, she said, even when they disagree.

And Americans are fair.

She told me these things when there was a lot of polarization in America. Americans were polarized by race, by gender, by religion, by age. There were riots in the streets of every major city. America in 2013 is a day at the beach compared to that.

Mom was a Democrat. Until recently, I considered myself a Democrat, too, but I have come to realize that, if Democrats ever really were what Mom believed they were, they ain't that anymore.

I've never been an advocate of federal government shutdowns as a tactic, and I've seen quite a few in my life. They have occurred during Republican administrations and Democrat administrations alike. They have been engineered by both parties in Congress. Neither side is guiltless.

And, as far as I can tell, all that shutdowns do is impose unnecessary pain and suffering on average Americans while politicians in both parties use them as pawns.

In a way, shutdowns are like filibusters — desperate measures that are doomed to fail. A shutdown is more of a strongarm measure than a filibuster, though. It has more of a thuggish feeling to it whereas a filibuster is often idealized as a lone man — or woman — taking a stand against an unbeatable foe.

In Hollywood — "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," for instance — filibusters can alter outcomes. In real life, they seldom do.

I suppose the same is true of shutdowns. I don't recall any movies about shutdowns — unless you want to count something like the general strike in "Gandhi," which, in reality, was a "day of prayer and fasting" during which no work was done and really only represents a few paragraphs, not even a whole chapter, in his life's story.

Perhaps someday — maybe even someday soon — there will be a "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" kind of movie that idealizes — even romanticizes — a shutdown and its objectives. Perhaps it will be presented as a noble, selfless, last–ditch effort to right a terrible wrong.

But I digress.

I'm not a supporter of Obamacare for many reasons, but, at this point, I'm just about resigned to the fact that it will be implemented regardless of how I feel. I've decided not to enroll, to just go ahead and pay the fine and see how it works out for others in the first year. I have a pretty good idea what is going to happen, but I'm not going to tell anyone else whether or not to enroll.

I wrote here the other day that I thought Ted Cruz's filibuster was a lost cause — and I did think that and I still do — but I admire him for taking that stand, anyway, ostensibly on behalf of those who have no voice in Washington — even though most of it probably was political posturing.

(Everyone claims to know what a politician will do, but, in my experience, that is seldom true. Some thought Hillary Clinton would run for president in 2008, and she did. Others thought Sarah Palin would run in 2012, and she did not. Likewise, there are those who think Cruz is setting himself up for a presidential run. I don't know if he is or not. Time will tell.)

Anyway, in the last few days, I have been contributing my thoughts to a thread posted on Facebook by a local minister with whom I am acquainted. I guess that was a mistake.

I found out pretty quickly that the contributors to the thread — Democrats all, apparently — had no interest in hearing dissenting opinions on Obamacare. They would only tolerate those who agreed with them, and when they found out that I didn't, they turned on me like a pack of savage, snarling dogs.

I was accused of racism (even though I never mentioned race until it was used against me) and I was actually accused of denying health care to millions of Americans.

(For the record, that is something else I never said.)

Imagine that! I haven't been giving myself nearly enough credit for the influence I wield.

I thought I was an underpaid adjunct professor in the local community college system — but apparently, my belief that a one–year extension should be available to anyone who wants it is enough to bring the whole Obamacare house of cards tumbling down.

It didn't matter to them that their accusations were false. When I pointed out what I really said and, at times, tried to explain myself more clearly, not only did no one apologize for making the original false accusation, they repeated it over and over.

As Hitler said, if you repeat a lie often enough, it will be accepted as the truth. The more outrageous the lie, the more people will believe it. Hey, I have a bachelor's and a master's in journalism. I know about propaganda techniques.

Democrats wanted people to believe they had learned from their many years in the legislative wilderness when they recaptured control of Congress in 2006. But all they really learned from the Republicans was how to slander those with whom they disagree.

Yes, I know about propaganda. I also know my Shakespeare.

There are no good guys or bad guys in this impasse. There is no compassion or tolerance on either side.

In Shakespeare's words, a plague on both your houses.

Tilting at Windmills

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"There's not the least thing can be said or done, but people will talk and find fault."

Miguel de Cervantes
Don Quixote de la Mancha

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I'm not privy to the conversations that take place in the halls of power in Washington so I have no idea what motivated Sen. Ted Cruz of Texas to launch his filibuster against funding Obamacare.

I've heard a lot of smug and snide comments today about Cruz's use of Dr. Seuss and Star Wars in his filibuster. And I'll admit that I don't know everything that he said in his speech. I've seen video clips, and I've read articles about it, but I didn't sit and watch the whole thing — which ended after about 21 hours.

But, as long as he was quoting things, he should have quoted Miguel de Cervantes' "Don Quixote de la Mancha," which is, of course, about a retired nobleman who set out on a quest to revive chivalry.

Then, as now, I guess that's a lost cause, and I couldn't help thinking, as I watched him speak — for I did watch some parts of it as it was happening — that he must have known this was a lost cause, too. Even those who supported him seemed to know it. How could he not know it?

And that, in turn, made me think of something Jimmy Stewart said in "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" when he was delivering his own filibuster. It was about lost causes and how they were the only causes worth fighting for, worth dying for.

When a person is motivated by principle, everything else is secondary.

Don Quixote was known for tilting at windmills — admittedly a futile gesture. In his own way, I guess Cruz was tilting against a system he didn't like — and perhaps serving notice that this fight isn't finished yet — but he acknowledged defeat in this particular battle, voting for cloture when it was clear no one in the Senate would side with him.

Predictably, the New York Times said Cruz was an "embarrassment." GQ called him a "Wacko Bird." He was greeted with scorn and derision from others in the media who, just a few months ago, were praising the filibuster of another Texan, Wendy Davis, in the state legislature.

(To the credit of the Times, I must point out that what it published was clearly labeled opinion. And GQ doesn't pretend to be a legitimate deliverer of news. But, like The Daily Show and the Colbert Report, GQ and other publications that are not news deliverers are mistaken for such by the uninformed.)

The difference between the two filibusters was the fact that the media liked Davis' politics and didn't like Cruz's — and because news writing these days means opinion to too many writers and does not mean objective reporting to enough.

A free press means a free nation — but a press that panders to power is no longer free, and neither is the nation it pretends to serve.

When I was starting out as a reporter, I remember conducting an interview with a local political candidate who made some statements that sounded pretty farfetched to me. Upon returning to the newsroom, I asked the managing editor about those statements. How should I write about them? I asked.

"I think they speak for themselves," he replied. "You should be like a fly on the wall. The reader shouldn't even know you're there."

That has been my yardstick as a writer throughout my professional life.

I understand the roles that opinion and news writing play in journalism, and it distresses me that far too many journalists — and I see this in my journalism students, too — cannot or will not differentiate between the two.

When I write my blogs, they are largely my opinion. I don't pretend to be writing news stories. Mostly, I comment on the news.

But there is an obvious bias in far too much of what is labeled news these days. It is evident in the media's different responses to the two filibusters.

I don't know. Maybe, like Cruz, I am tilting at windmills when I seek change in the news culture. Maybe it is a lost cause.

Like the implementation of Obamacare. Whether one thinks it will be a great thing or a disaster, it was passed by Congress and signed into law. One may have issues with how it was passed and signed. One may have issues with whether the money charged for non–compliance is really a tax or a fine. One may or may not believe the law will deliver what was promised.

Most of those who oppose it now seem resigned to waiting and seeing what happens. But a few are not content to do that.

A few insist on fighting for the lost cause.

On tilting at windmills.

It's Complicated

There's a movie called "It's Complicated" that is currently getting a lot of Oscar ink.

It's a comedy, but the title sounds like it would be good for a subject that isn't a comedy — like, say, for example, the U.S. economy.

I've been reading Paul Krugman's column in today's New York Times. His subject is the second–year second–guessing of the Barack Obama administration, specifically the suggestion that Obama tried to do too much by taking on health care reform in his first year instead of focusing on the economy.

Krugman takes exception. "The Obama administration's troubles are the result not of excessive ambition, but of policy and political misjudgments," he writes. "The stimulus was too small; policy toward the banks wasn't tough enough; and Mr. Obama didn't do what Ronald Reagan, who also faced a poor economy early in his administration, did — namely, shelter himself from criticism with a narrative that placed the blame on previous administrations."

As Krugman explains, the stimulus has helped, but it wasn't big enough. Likewise, not taking a harder line on the banks "further entrenched the power of the very institutions that caused the crisis, even as it failed to revive lending."

That brings us to the Reagan example. Reagan, like Obama, inherited a bad economy, but unemployment, as Krugman puts it, "soared" when the 1981 tax cuts were enacted. "Reagan, however, had a ready answer for critics," Krugman writes, "everything going wrong was the result of the failed policies of the past. In effect, Reagan spent his first few years in office continuing to run against Jimmy Carter."

Well, Obama may not have been personally blaming Bush every time he opened his mouth in the last 12 months, but many of his supporters have permitted few opportunities to blame the previous administration get away. Most of the time, they can't wait to indulge in some finger pointing.

Why hasn't Obama been more vocal in his criticism of the Bush administration? "Maybe he still dreams of bridging the partisan divide," Krugman suggests, "maybe he fears the ire of pundits who consider blaming your predecessor for current problems uncouth — if you're a Democrat. (It's O.K. if you're a Republican.)"

Seems to me that last bit about Democrats and Republicans very conveniently ignores the fact that, depending on which party was in power, both Democrats and Republicans have played that game, and both have been criticized for it. It's like the argument some Democrats (and some publications, too, like the New York Times) have been making about how anti–democratic the filibuster is. They were both singing a different song when Democrats were in the minority.

To use a line that the adults seemed to be fond of repeating when I was growing up, it all depends on whose ox is being gored.

Well, the argument over whether it was wise to devote so much time and energy to health care reform may be moot in another 36 hours, when we know who Massachusetts' voters have elected as Ted Kennedy's successor in the Senate. Currently, the momentum appears to be with the Republican candidate, and, if he wins, the Democrats will no longer have 60 votes to block Republican filibusters.

That would leave Obama without the signature legislation he sought — and with an unemployment rate that could remain in double digits indefinitely. It would seem to be much better for Obama and the Democrats — from a purely political perspective — if they could enact health care legislation before a Republican can take Kennedy's seat — if the Republican is going to win. That, of course, remains hypothetical until such time as it becomes a reality.

"Passing such a bill won't be [Democrats'] political salvation," says Krugman, "but not passing a bill would surely be their political doom."

If the Democrat wins in Massachusetts tomorrow, that may buy some time for Obama and the Democrats. But they still need to act quickly if that legislation is going to be of any benefit to embattled Democrats seeking re–election. Most observers agree that Democrats will lose seats in Congress this year, and the loss of only one Senate seat will mean they can no longer block Republican filibusters.

If that is ultimately going to be the Democrats' fate, obviously they would prefer to wait until the end of the year before facing it instead of having to do so right now. But they may not have that luxury.

It's complicated.

Maybe THAT Is Where It Began

I guess it has been obvious in the things I have written this year that I get frustrated with Democrats who point the finger at George W. Bush when I ask them what is being done about job creation.

Now, I know only too well that some people exist in a world — nay, a universe — all their own, and they might not have realized that America and the world endured a horrifying economic collapse in the fall of 2008.

But, in my experience, most voters are more engaged than that so I have believed that, acting as individuals, the voters made a group decision to give Democrats both the White House and greater advantages in both houses of Congress. They were saying that the majority trusted the Democrats more than the Republicans to repair the economy.

Consequently, I have been frustrated when Democrats have seemed to feel compelled to remind us of one of the primary reasons many of them now hold the offices they sought last year.

But now I have to wonder: Is it possible that it isn't their fault that their initial response always seems to be about who is to blame for the economic meltdown?

I'm not indulging in denial here. And I'm not letting the Democrats off the hook, either. I do not believe the Democrats have done nearly enough to encourage job creation.

And a big part of the reason for that is, as I say, every time I have asked what is being done about job creation, I get the same response — about how the bad economy is Bush's fault.

I have tended to brush that off as not answering the question. I guess I still do.

But today I saw an interesting item in the Los Angeles Times' "Top of the Ticket" blog. The Times' bloggers, Andrew Malcolm and Johanna Neuman, inform readers that they are re–publishing their favorite and/or most popular items from 2009 as they wind down the year. And today's item, apparently from mid–March, is about former Vice President Dick Cheney's insistence that Bush was not to blame, that it was "a global financial problem."

Now, perhaps I wasn't paying attention as closely as I should have, but, when Cheney made those remarks (more than a month after the passage of the stimulus package, by the way — which was touted by Democrats as being not the pork–laden package it is but a panacea for joblessness), was that the first time a Republican felt obliged to protest that Bush was blameless?

If it was, that seems to render the Democrats' constant assertion little more than self–serving grumbling — a smokescreen intended to divert attention from their failure to adequately address the most critical issue on their agenda.

But if it wasn't the first time — if the Republicans have been muttering that the economy wasn't Bush's fault ever since John McCain's concession speech — then perhaps the Democrats have been justified in reminding us why they are where they are.

But only as a prelude to answering the real question — and, in case they need to be reminded, that question is "What is being done to encourage job creation?"

Perhaps the subject of responsibility is one of those what–came–first–the–chicken–or–the–egg kind of questions.

Yes, the Republicans controlled Congress from 1995-2007, but even their greatest majorities paled in comparison to the ones the Democrats have enjoyed in both the House and Senate this year.

And that 60–seat filibuster–proof majority the Democrats coveted last year — and finally pieced together — is something Republicans never came close to achieving. You have to go back a century, to the days of Teddy Roosevelt, to find the last time the GOP held that many Senate seats.

So, if we're going to talk about blame, it seems to me the Democrats should be required to answer why they abdicated their responsibility when they were in the minority. Why did they permit costly measures to be voted on instead of filibustering them? Why did they allow an ill–conceived war plan to get the green light instead of filibustering it? They could have slammed the door on legislative debate on anything whenever they wanted. Why didn't they?

At the height of the Republicans' power right after Bush was re–elected, the GOP held only 55 seats in the Senate. Most of the time during the Bush years, the GOP held about half of the Senate seats. What prevented the Democrats from blocking anything that worried them when it reached the Senate floor?

It's too easy, too convenient to blame someone else for your own shortcomings.

And, as much as I loathe Cheney, I have to give him credit for hitting the nail on the head with an answer he gave CNN in the interview that was cited by the Times blog last March:

"So I think the notion that you can just sort of throw it off on the prior administration, that's interesting rhetoric but I don't think anybody really cares a lot about that. What they care about is what is going to work and how we are going to get out of these difficulties."