My State of the Union Hangover

Ah, the State of the Union: a parade of those elected hand-shakers and back-patters who dress for the cameras and clap reflexively until they recall their partisan stance.  Then they mug as appropriate to satisfy their national party.  So inorganic.  So American.

This year, the elected folks paired up in a bipartisan buddy system and sat together at the event to show the American people how comfortable they can be with members of another party, like how mom used to say that she had a "homosexual friend" and thus she could never qualify as a bigot.  A lovely effort, in any case, at least visually, as it limited the stark contrast created by the ovations of a single side of the chamber in support of the party's President and the grumpy seat warmers across the aisle.

If there's one thing I can say with absolute passion: Obama is one classy President.  If the hand-grabbing and back-patting has to happen, then I'm happy it's Obama cruising the circuit.  The man can work a crowd and bring an honest smile to the face of the most partisan objector to his presence in the White House.  I like him.  In my heart.  I do.  Obama makes inspirational calls for improvement and tells us how it can all be done.  And we get excited because we like that kind of optimism.  We love all that hope and potential.  Yes, we can!

Over the last two years, unfortunately, he's been met by the perilous downside of a vocal but undereducated electorate amplified by a profit-driven media machine.  You've heard the Mencken quote: "Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard."  Ah, well.  Yes, we can unless it requires that we educate our children and pay taxes and perform stem-cell research and ensure universal access to health care.

The morning after an Obama speech is like waking up to an empty bed with a bilious hangover.  We remember that we didn't actually go home with the life of the party but actually some loser who bought us a drink and then took twenty bucks from our wallet to play darts.  The folks hired by the people to put the beautiful words into action are the dart-playing frat dudes and mean girls who would much rather make sure they get invited to the cool parties on campus than see to the kids working in the cafeteria.  Bummer.  All that eloquence is so quickly fouled by the general nincompoopery of the Congress.

I remember the old Bush days when the inability to articulate words in the English language at least matched Congressional incompetence.  Does this indicate progress or does the fact that so many people voted in so many under-qualified Republicans in the last election indicate a preference for the inarticulate?  Hmm.  I'm not going to answer that but I am going to give two thumbs up to Obama for delivering a good speech that should at least remind Americans that there are words in the English language other than bailout, job-killing and mama grizzly.

I can ride my bike to this place in New Zealand.  Yep.

One final note: the President said, "... as contentious and frustrating and messy as our democracy can sometimes be, I know there isn't a person here who would trade places with any other nation on Earth." Well, while not actually there in the chamber with him, I guess I'd like to raise my hand anyway to let the President know that he might be wrong on that point.  Because, personally, I think New Zealand is an awfully nice place to live.  And geez, has he not seen the rankings compiled by the United Nation Development Programme in 2010? In its report, the Real Wealth of Nations: Pathways to Human Development, the UNDP reviews criteria including life expectancy, literacy rates, school enrollment and the economy to rank the most livable nations in the world.  Looks like Norway and Australia are decent alternatives as well.  Just putting it out there.

Okay, now get out there and start hoping that even half of Obama's proposals for the year see the light of day!

Legal Cow Pie

Of course, I clicked to read this NY Times article, titled "Is Law School a Losing Game?", immediately when it first appeared on January 8.  Of course, in the seconds before the page loaded, I answered the question with a sad laugh, "Nope."

But maybe I was too quick to make the fun, cynical joke which I've made often at my own (largely financial) expense.  Law school was not hell.  It was a solid education into the history and structure of the U.S. government, as well as the interconnection of state and international laws, treaties and jurisdictional bodies that all seek, in various ways, to balance equally various concepts of justice, liberty and human rights.  However complex the reading, obtuse the lectures, or occasionally immature the student body, the experience can't help but enlighten.  Honestly, it was not a bad way to spend three years.  I'd do it again, if I could do it for free.

Unfortunately, the education ends and the professional legal world I entered was not half as thoughtful as the training I got for it.  That's not to say that I didn't come across great colleagues and amazing clients in desperately sad situations which demanded rigorous research and intellectual creativity, but as a non-profit attorney helping people struggling to secure even the most basic of needs, I wasn't going to lead a fight to the courthouse if I could obtain a more efficient result without it.  And shit, when I did have to go to court, who would handle all my clients while I prepared?  Yeah, no one.  And who would help me with the copious procedural issues once I was there?  Hmph.  We were all too swamped with our clients' crises to luxuriate in long debates about conflict of laws or creative constitutional arguments.

Nope, for me, lawyering was social working with a heavy hand.  And my legal education?  It made my heavy hand more formidable, I suppose, and certainly gave me credibility among my clients when I would let them know, "the government really has never liked poor people" and "the system is not geared for our side to win."  I would apologize often, on behalf of the system, until I remembered that the system's flaws were ingrained and purposeful and I'd had nothing to do with its design.  Law school helped me with that realization too.

Ah, so jaded.  But, fortunately, my legal education also made me pragmatic enough to know when it was time for me to get the hell out.  The bummer part is that my loans won't run away from me the way that I ditched the profession.

This week, I sent in my request for inactive status with the California Bar.  When I graduated from the very fine UC Davis, King Hall School of Law in 2003, I confessed to one of my favorite professors that I really didn't think I wanted to become a lawyer but I appreciated everything he'd taught me.  He offered one final lesson: "You don't have a choice until you pass the Bar.  Then, when you have earned the right to be a lawyer, you earn the right to turn your back on us."

In the NY Times article, there's a quote that I found somewhat funny and pretty darn editorial: "law school is a pie eating contest where the first prize is more pie."  (Apparently, it's a cliche though I've never heard it.)  I don't think this is quite true.  I think first prize is a pie in the face.  But, with some humility I can admit, I really like peach pie.

Language matters...

I got an email from a friend, who wrote about her frustration with thoughtless comments being made in the media and others privileged with a soapbox.  She covets the First Amendment's guarantee to free speech and the calls for limiting offensive language rankled her.  I responded, probably skirting the issue a bit, but hoping to point out that language matters.  And even if we have the right to expression, it doesn't mean that we are obliged to use it to the extreme, with intentions to offend.  In fact, the U.S. Supreme Court has had cause to consider various uses of speech in society, and to carve exceptions and limitations to the First Amendment's guarantee.  This is not to assert that further limitations or exceptions are required, but only that we, as a society, have acknowledged that not all speech is sacred and it's appropriate to educate ourselves about the effects our incessant chatter may cause.  


Aiming to point out that the recent dodgeball game being played out in the media and among politicians isn't giving any of us a chance to truly reflect on the loss the country has suffered due to the tragedy in Arizona, I answered as follows.  


(FYI: I decided to put this up because I've been shocked to read a recent spate of facebook posts by thoughtful friends who seem to be reluctant or unsure as to the role of the stark divisiveness in American politics in the sad event.  For whatever it's worth, from whatever side of the Congressional aisle you would choose to sit, I believe the bitter toxicity in American politics played a role.)


From this distance, all of America looks mighty insane.  Of course, I felt mostly the same when I was there though I probably didn't see quite as many of the errors of the left as those on the right.  "To a worm in horseradish, the world is horseradish."  What I see now, from here, is a country that is listening to the media more than it's listening to its own heart.  That may sound lame, but I believe it's true.  I think people need to shut out the noise and hear their heartbeats for a little bit.  

Here's how I see it: NO ONE, or no sane person, is celebrating the attempted assassination of the Congresswoman from Tuscon or the death of the federal judge or the kid or any of the others murdered or wounded.  Unfortunately, the U.S. has plummeted into an era of dysfunctional communication that is both dependent on and caused by the 24-hour news cycle and the broad reach of the internet.  Stick with me here.  I'm not saying that the language of politics has always been fueled by earnest and respectful dialogue because it hasn't.  But now, the more repugnant elements of political discourse are being broadcast, repeated and integrated into the dialogues of the people.  And that's not entirely new now but it's much more exaggerated than anything in the past.  The distribution is better; the repetition is memorable.  Bill Clinton called it an "echo chamber."  Precisely.  

From here, it seems like people are having trouble discerning whether the assassination attempt of Giffords was political.  I hear talking heads saying that the crazy dude with the gun was just an anti-social stoner or maybe he read Marx or he was mentally ill.  All of that may be true.  But it's his act, not just his condition, that we need to see.  

There should be no question as to its political nature.  Giffords is a representative elected to the U.S. House.  She's a politician.  It's political.  Whatever was going on in Loughner's head when he bought the gun and hired a taxi to Safeway is irrelevant.  An attack on a politician is political.  When Hinckley shot Reagan, he did it for Jodie Foster.  When Sirhan Sirhan killed RFK, it had little to do with his feelings about his victim and mostly to do with mental illness, anti-semitism and a suffocating anger about issues in the Middle East.  Regardless of the motivations of the killers, they launched their victims (and the country) into discussions about assassinations and the political climates of their day.  When JFK was shot in Dallas, there was a backlash against the people of the more conservative, Nixon-supporting city, as though the city had somehow propelled Oswald (or whomever) on his path.

So, if we understand that the shooting was political, it's appropriate to look at the state of politics, whether we do it to reflect on the gaping deficiency the tragedy bores into our society or whether we do it to seek answers for the madness.  This requires some sort of reflection, some sort of introspection.  Unfortunately, neither the media nor the politicians on either side are seizing this opportunity to acknowledge that perhaps the best way to treat others is as we would wish to be treated; the best way to discuss issues is probably with less vehemence and scorn; a decent way forward may in fact be to educate ourselves more thoroughly about issues rather than talking points.  In my opinion, the reason that the soapboxers are declining a more moderate message is because moderation no longer serves their interests.  And that's the saddest thing I've written all day.

Instead, the politicians and the media and others who have power will point fingers, declaim responsibility for or contribution to or even influence on the tragedy, and seek to further the divides that certainly have a place in the stinking heap of issues that prompted the acts of the bald freakazoid shooter.  Because like it or not, those divides exists, severe and untreated mental illness sometimes gravitates toward these kinds of situations, and people are dead.  We can think about it or we can fuel more anger that will send out a beacon to more volatile, paranoid, under-supported and unstable folks who will always be around, no matter what.

What people should be discussing is that words do matter, and vitriol does matter, and these things do influence the way we think and act with each other.  But that's not the end of the discussion.  It's just the beginning.  Because, you're right that the First Amendment guarantees our rights to speech, but the guarantee doesn't demand toxicity.  

You may want to look at this paper I pulled up from the Congressional Research Service on exceptions to the First Amendment.  Over the years, there have been many exceptions (including obscenity, child porn, and speech that incites illegal or violent acts) and limitations (including defamation and commercial speech but there are many others) that the U.S. Supreme Court has carved from its guarantee.   One of my favorite Sup. Ct. justices, Oliver Wendell Holmes, wrote the decision that uses the example of shouting fire: "The most stringent protection of free speech would not protect a man in falsely shouting fire in a theater and causing a panic.... The question in every case is whether the words used ...create a clear and present danger."  Although the U.S. is pretty decent in its protection of free speech, it is not always so good in its implementation of our core principles.  And that, really, is a whole other topic.  

I mentioned compassion to you earlier.  I like the idea.  I think it's worthwhile to think about compassion, described as "moral imagination" by Karen Armstrong, the thoughtful mind behind the Charter for Compassion.  It's in that imagination that we can begin to picture the world where we would prefer to live, that we would wish for ourselves and others.  And, if we can start to see this world more clearly, without the static of the inane, always bitter, debate that ignites fires in the dry field of misunderstanding, then we can start to work toward it.  Now, if only the politicians would believe that modeling compassion would secure their re-election, promise them campaign contributions, loosen the revolving door to kickass jobs and fortune.  Well, okay, they'd be fools to believe that.  Maybe if they would just realize that all of that really doesn't matter.  That would be so much better.

Oh, and here's a picture of East Cape in New Zealand.  It's nice here.

How about a little compassion?

It's 2011.  Happy New Year!  Who's ready to call it a year?

In the last twelve days, the world has seen hoards of dead animals wash ashore or fall from the sky, massive floods in the Australian state of Queensland and the attempted assassination of U.S. Representative from Tuscon, Gabrielle Giffords, the murder of her staffmember,  a federal judge, and a nine-year old born on September 11, 2001 who wanted to attend the Congresswoman's event to learn more about democracy in action.  In the aftermath of the tragedy in Arizona, the media has attempted to reflect on the vitriolic tone of political rhetoric and the politicians who usually assume that tone have sidestepped the ripe opportunity for self-reflection by denying the power of their inflammatory words to actually inflame anyone.

Nice.  As devastating as the recent events might be, however, they each offer a good chance to notice just how good the year ahead can be.  Because, whether the media reports on it or not, whether the politicians comment on it or not, we humans are really pretty decent at responding to devastating events with support, care and compassion when the need arises.

So, here's what I'm selling today: the Charter for Compassion.  Yesterday, I heard the Charter's original innovator, Karen Armstrong on NPR's Talk of the Nation.  Go listen to her!  Now!  She's the best thing to make it on the radio since David Sedaris, although she's not quite so funny.  A couple years ago, she won the Ted Prize and voiced her wish to create and distribute a Charter that would promote compassionate thought and action in the world.  She's a former nun and a religious historian, and in her studies, she's noted that religions that breed hate and intolerance have failed in their own fundamental purpose.  She celebrates the Golden Rule and is asking for all of us to remind ourselves of the simplest guiding principle for a kinder humanity: do to others as you would have done to yourself.  Or, maybe even better, the inverse: don't do to others what you wouldn't like done to you.  Or both.

I like the way the Charter's website says it best:

"The Golden Rule requires that we use empathy -- moral imagination -- to put ourselves in others' shoes. We should act toward them as we would want them to act toward us. We should refuse, under any circumstance, to carry out actions which would cause them harm."

Let's follow that rule together.  All of us.  Because we don't advance as a society if we consistently fail to recognize the similarities that bind us.  None of us belong in the crosshairs.  All of us, even those of differing opinion, deserve respect.  And when crap happens, we'll know that we are, all of us, in it together.