Jim Deitz and his polka dot house. AP Photo/Grand Forks Herald/Eric Hylden, Photographer

I recently came across this news article about Jim Deitz and his neighbor’s complaints about painting his two-story rental complex with colorful polka dots. It’s not that unusual of a story. A homeowner gets creative, vengeful, or even desperate and an uproar ensues. Such homes are generally thought to be eyesores, ruining the aesthetic of an otherwise orderly neighborhood and threatening property values.

There’s a lesson in this that goes beyond hues of paint, or personal rights versus collective ones, and into the much beleaguered realm of tolerance. As an ideal “tolerance” is an easily up-ended concept. As part of a political ideology, it’s an ineffective argument. Too often, it’s a word thrown into the debate ring naked, expected to defend itself only with the nobility of its own lofty goal.

However, it takes almost no effort to expose the low endurance of cultural tolerance, no matter how well-meaning.

Tolerance: I want a world in which everyone is accepted for who they are and all belief systems are embraced in the name of diversity.

Some Extremist. Somewhere: I hate fags. I believe dark-skinned people are inferior and all Jews are going to hell. My religion says I have the right to take a rod to my children and my wife should be submissive to me. I believe a rapist shouldn’t be punished as long as he’s willing to marry the girl he raped and girls should be circumcised so that they don’t go astray. 

Tolerance: Those are terrible, hateful, ignorant beliefs! 

Extremist: Well now, you’re not very tolerant of differences after all, are you? 

It doesn’t matter whether the extremist is right-wing or left-wing, religious or secular. The example above might also be about a militant vegan, a socialist, or an anarchist. The fact is that as both a sociopolitical ideology and personal ideal, tolerance often proves to have very short reins and more than a chance of being outed as hypocritical.

Tolerance — “the ability or willingness to tolerate something, in particular the existence of opinions or behavior that one does not necessarily agree with” —  is not easily separated from personal values, ideas of what’s morally right and wrong, or even from purely aesthetic likes and dislikes. Who among us would really be willing to live next door to a polka-dotted house or one festooned with stuffed animals and graffiti? Who among us is willing to hold their offense at having neighbors whose values, habits, beliefs and tastes might drastically differ from our own?

In America, we often talk about peace between Israel and Palestine as if we — in our still segregated neighborhoods — have all the answers. Yet, everyday in America there are disputes, debates and court cases over issues that are minor in comparison to the cultural, philosophical and religious differences that divide Palestinians and Israelis.

In California and New York recently, there have been lawsuits against neighbors who smoke cigarettes or cigars in their own yards, homes or apartments. There have been outcries against homeless shelters, halfway houses and drug treatment clinics opening in certain neighborhoods all across the land. The building of a mosque in Tennessee and a synagogue in Connecticut were hotly debated. There’s a glut of NIMBY (not in my backyard) realities that fly in the face of inclusive ideals. We may feel compassion for the homeless, but we don’t want to live near a tent city. We may not want the mentally ill to suffer on the streets, but don’t necessarily want them housed in our neighborhood.

Even religious tolerance, which is an longstanding ideal many Americans agree with, only extends only so far. Would you appreciate the diversity of having a Michael Pearl adherent, one who believes that even infants should be smacked, living next door? What about a polygamist family? Members of a religious cult? The head of the Westboro Baptsist church? No one I personally know would and neither would I — which is why the argument for “tolerance” rings hollow for me both socially and politically.

Most often, when we speak of tolerance we leave off the disclaimer of  ”within my comfort level,” which is what most of us really mean if we’re being honest. However, when we try to define the collective values behind what’s tolerable and what’s not, we often find ourselves in never-ending, circular disagreements. It’s one thing when the matter at hand is the rare polka dot house, but it’s quite another when the talk is about more pressing, universal problems such as equality, liberty, justice, and individual rights.

There’s also this: As a person subject to several possibly exclusionary labels — gay, for example — the idea of being “tolerated” as if I were a public nuisance of some sort is offensive to me. I don’t oppress anyone with my sexuality. I don’t harm anyone else by being attracted to other gay women. I didn’t insist that my children be gay because I am, nor did I raise them to resent their own heterosexuality or that of others. My “lifestyle” isn’t violent, hateful, or outrageous. What’s to be tolerated? What I do in my bedroom? Occasionally holding hands with another woman in public? I can think of hundreds of things more appropriate to the word tolerance — children having public meltdowns, barking dogs, people who wear too much cologne — but love? Between happy, consenting adults? My values say that love should be accepted, even celebrated, not just tolerated.

That is, of course, my ideal and not everyone agrees. There will always be disagreement in a society of individuals with varying beliefs. Even when America was almost exclusively a Christian society, there were divisions. Predominately Islamic countries remain embroiled in war and strife. Religion is hardly the unifying force that many people — particularly politicians who use it as bait and religious figures who use it for political gain — believe it to be.

However, there are ways to become more unified — not by religious or political sameness, not by the weak gospel of tolerance — but by education and the promotion of humanist values that can be shared. We’ve seen this lately in the campaign against bullying. What was once taken as a somewhat normal, if unfortunate, part of growing up is now being seen in a new light. Collectively, we’re making bullying less socially acceptable. We’ve called for new policies and prevention programs and we’ve gotten them. The problem is not solved, but at least most of us now agree that there is a problem that needs to be addressed.

We’ve come far in gay rights with the same human-centered promotion of values. When I was growing up, it was inconceivable that any gay people be out of the closet unless they were so rich or famous that they could insulate themselves from the consequences. Yesterday, in conservative Tucson, I saw two young women walking hand in hand at a dog park and no one gave them more than a nod and a smile. If there were people who objected, they kept it to themselves.

Human-centered values don’t necessarily exclude spiritual beliefs, but also don’t seek the approval or appeasement of organized religion . Historically, religion has evolved around human progress, not the other way around. There are many things we don’t do anymore — burn witches at the stake, enslave other people, deny voting rights to women, or put children to work as soon as they can walk — that were once justified by common religious interpretation. As people, (including the religious), gained new knowledge and perspectives, the interpretations of religion changed. Society created laws to ensure that the human values that were most shared would be upheld, and kept safe from any dogmatic creed that might threaten them.

This is where the “tolerance” school of thought fails, and abysmally. Without the backbone of stated values and discussion about what might actually, realistically be tolerable (and not) within those values, it comes across as a feeble and naive call to wear blinders when it comes to even heinous offenses against humanity. I see this often in both progressive and conservative political circles. Progressives too often espouse tolerance and make excuses for human abuses — especially abroad — in the name of cultural or religious differences, while conservatives  too often pat themselves on the back for tolerating those they see as American outsiders, like immigrants, the irreligious, gays, minorities, Union workers, and the poor.

Unfortunately, the American discussion on values was tainted by the religious right when it was used as a battering ram against gays. “Family values” became an unpleasant, divisive, and ultimately laughable (Tinky Winky is gay! Feminism causes women to kill children and become lesbians!) catch phrase. Obviously, “family values” wasn’t a human-centered campaign, nor was it about values shared by the majority, religious or not — but it was a fringe movement that scared many people off and made “values” a frightening word in the area of debate.

I believe we have to move beyond our fear of discussing values because, even with disagreement, this is where we find the most fertile common ground. This is where we “tolerance” matures into actionable ideology and choices to embrace, accept, or reject certain social mores. By defining and then promoting the secular human values we might share, as opposed to promoting a religious or political agenda, we can change the tone and depth of discussion. For instance, I don’t personally know anyone on the right who is so anti-abortion that they would rather have a rape victim give birth or a mother die — and I know a lot of people. I also don’t know anyone on the left who thinks welfare should be a free-for-all without any restrictions. How many people do you know who are extremists on either side? My guess is not many. Yet these are the types of conversations that dominate politics and the media today . They take away from the truth and heart of human matters, while fanning flames of antagonism and disunity. In the media, it’s not the calm, sensible voices that have often pulled in the biggest audiences, but the most hyperbolic and divisive. Do we value that? Should we? If we don’t, how do we change it?

That’s the kind of value discussion we should have. That I think we need to have if even our most commonly shared ideals are to kept whole, alive, and growing. (I mean, come on, who doesn’t believe in the American Dream, in liberty and justice for all, in a land of opportunity?)

Right now, the country feels stagnant to me. Politics seems to be running somewhere between the rails of apathy and enmity. People are scared for their futures and fear tends to bring out the worst in humanity. When people don’t feel like they might not have much to look forward to tomorrow, they get greedier, more self-preserving, less likely to give others a break or the benefit of the doubt, or to care about problems they may not personally have a stake in (women’s reproductive rights, lack of health insurance, homelessness). I believe it’s gotten to this point for several reasons, but that a major one is that we, as a society, let go. Somewhere between the afterglow of the idealistic 60s and the infusion of extremist religion into the Reagan White House, we gave up searching for and promoting shared, human values. We became entranced by dogma and dividing lines — by how far away, rather than how close we could stand. Our perspective seemed to shift from “family of man” to “dog eat dog”.

In an atmosphere like this, it’s not “tolerance” we need, but a renaissance of critical thinking and thoughtful debate. Who do we want to be as individuals and as a nation? Where do we want to be in terms of tradition or progress? What do we want our futures to look like? What values are most important to us and to a majority of others? What values might we share and then move ahead with together? When we can speak as openly and easily about those things as we do about a polka dotted house, I believe the manufacturing of political and doctrinaire divisions will slow down, allowing us all to catch our breath, rediscover our commonalities, and move toward a more productive, hopeful, prosperous and conscientious time.

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When I was 17, I worked in a factory where a young woman was targeted for harassment. Racist notes were left on her car windshield and break room locker. Management seemed blase about the threats, even after the girl’s tires were slashed. Eventually, I joined two other workers (out of a couple of hundred) who demanded action. Two days later, the victim was gone. She was fired, management said, because she wrote the notes herself. I knew that wasn’t true because she was a friend of mine and I hardly left her side after the notes started coming. I met her in the parking lot in the morning, took breaks with her, and left the building with her in the evening. I found several of the notes and the slashed tires with her. I saw her shaking and teary-eyed.

I abruptly quit the job, leaving the President a three-page letter which I copied to the local newspaper. Neither of them ever responded and several of my friends pointed out that I was an idiot for quitting a job on principle, with no back-up plan and no way to pay my rent. My leaving didn’t change anything at the factory, it didn’t change anybody’s mind, and it didn’t do anything to help my now jobless friend. All of that was true, but it felt good — it felt absolutely right — to walk out the door in protest.

Actually, it felt more than right. It felt necessary. At 17, everything that I idealized seemed to be at stake. All the social values that I learned from men and women greater than myself, and that I clung to out of hopes for my own future, informed me that it was better to live on Saltines and water than to be complacent about injustices. The idealists of my generation, having been too young for the protests of the 60s, were supposed to carry the torches of equality and justice forward. It was up to us not to let all those marches and speeches go to waste. We owed our own and possibly brighter futures to those who were doused by fire hoses and taunted on their way to school. We owed a debt of conscience and respect to Martin Luther King, Jr. and John F. Kennedy, not to mention those who were strung up by trees and lynched, or driven out of their homes by mobs with burning crosses.

As young women, we needed to continue the fight for equal rights. To advance the cause of feminism until our sex was constitutionally as well as socially equal. It was up to us to end a culture of second-classdom and the systemic degradation of our minds, bodies, and abilities. As mothers and potential mothers, it was up to us to fulfill our own potential so that our children could fulfill theirs.

Later, as a single mother and a gay woman (first in denial, then in the closet, and finally out) I knew without a doubt that the civil rights of others were tied to my own and my children’s. When one underclass or minority is denied just treatment, opportunity and equality, it becomes easier to deny others based on the same exclusionary thinking that creates a privileged class with immense power and an underprivileged class with virtually none.

So I fought back when men in the casinos thought my skirt was an invitation to cop a feel. I fought back when I was in radio and earning $10,000 a year less than my male counterparts. I fought as best I could against a system that let my ex-husband get away with paying no child support and then penalized me for being one of the working poor. I fought against discrimination, racism, sexism, rape, child abuse, social injustice, sexual harassment, inadequate systems, and inferior schools. When I heard hate speech, I called the speaker out, often times biting back my fear of getting fired or being perceived as a troublemaker.

And then one day, I’m not sure exactly when — maybe it was when celebrities started talking about their own child abuse in droves, or Don Henley wrote “Get Over It“, or maybe it was after Rodney King and the L.A. riots — and maybe it was because a worn society felt a need for some respite after a glut of painful stories — but suddenly people seemed quick to will real problems into virtual nonexistence or turn them into a joke. Stories of injustice became a card to be pulled, an act to be played, or a way to get rich quick. Those who stepped up to point out issues of racism were pulling the race card. Survivors of child abuse and rape were accused of “playing the victim” when telling their stories. Women who complained about unequal treatment or sexual harassment were just out to exploit their employers and make a quick buck. Talking about any sort of social disparity or injustice brought about charges of whining or having an undue sense of entitlement.

Very few people remember the name Stella Lieback, but everyone remembers the story of the 79 year old woman who sued McDonalds for the 3rd degree burns she suffered as a result of their overheated coffee. Almost everyone I’ve ever talked to about the case believes it’s ridiculous — who wouldn’t know that coffee is hot? What kind of idiot sues for that? Can you believe she actually won? Well, yes, I can. I actually followed the story and knew how serious Lieback’s injuries were and how many surgeries she needed. When the documentary Hot Coffee  finally came out in 2011, I thought Lieback (as well as several others featured) would be redeemed from their  place in “frivolous lawsuit” history, but of course the documentary wasn’t cause for the type of sensational media coverage that the lawsuit was.

The backlash against the generations that fought for civil rights has been brutal. The left/right political divide has,unfortunately, become a hunting field rife with fear and hatred. Certainly, not all Republicans are racist, sexist, or homophobic, but no one can logically deny that the right wing has become a convenient place for those who are. The historical event of America’s first minority president alternately confirmed and defied the often adamant conviction that we were living in a post-racial society, where minorities — if only they’d quit complaining and expecting the world to be handed to them on a platter — were really no different or differently treated than anyone else. Barack Obama was a Black man who was voted into the highest office in the land, but he was also a target in a way no white man, let alone the President, could be.

The ugliness of racism hit America like a particularly cold and hard rain after a near-drought thick with labored and uneasy silence. Of course, racism was always there, but an Obama presidency seemed to trigger a more public display of what was, for the most part, being carefully kept behind closed doors or diligently swept under the rug.

The recent murder of 17 year-old Trayvon Martin has unwittingly thrown another magnifying glass over problems that go deeper than the death of one Black teenager. While a few prominent Republicans have called for a full investigation, right wing news pundits seem to have conscientiously chosen to make George Zimmerman their prized dog in this fight, all while denying racism as a factor in Zimmerman’s actions or their own bias. Despite what the majority of the public sees as compelling pre-trial evidence against Zimmerman — at least enough to bring about his arrest — Zimmerman remains free and a significant number of people seem intent on finding ways to blame the victim. They point to the number of Black men in prison as just cause for Zimmerman’s suspicions. They blame Martin for wearing his hood up in the rain, for running, for possibly fighting back against the man who stalked and then chased after him. They’ve pointed to Martin’s suspension from school, his 6’3″ frame, and more in an effort to justify the teen’s death. One of the top news stories today was that of a white supremacist who supposedly hacked into Martin’s email and social media accounts in order to smear the dead youth. “Where did all the liberals go,” the racist hacker taunted. “Did they run off because they can’t handle the facts?”

Undoubtedly, (and perhaps to the chagrin of moderate Republicans, although we rarely hear from them anymore), the right wing has become a harbor for those who are racist, sexist and regressive, often in the name of religion. (In 2011 alone, Republican politicians across the country introduced almost 1000 bills to restrict women’s reproductive rights.)

While I could go on (and on and on) about the radicalism of the “new Republicans” there are questions I find more pressing: Will this deep divide bring about a renaissance of ideals that strive to move our country to move forward instead of backwards?

Will the Left and center recover from the battle fatigue of the 60s, and move past the imposed denials and near-silence of more recent decades, in order to usher in a new era of civil rights? Will we finally make real the promises of democracy that Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke so eloquently on:

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy.

Will we push back against those who would make a card, a joke, or a lie out of real social issues? Will we demand, finally, that the checks of justice, equality and liberty be made good?

Will the idealists rise from their slumber in order to fight what is sure to be a protracted battle? Will the mothers and fathers of a new generation rise up to fight for the rights of all children? Will new architects of justice come down from their ivory towers to help restore our crumbling social structures?

I don’t know. But I am standing on the mountainside, ready to ring the bell.

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1976, Clayton Junior High. The jocks against the hoods. Me and others somewhere in the middle or maybe on the outside — nerds, bookworms, artists-in-waiting, ROTC members, goody two-shoes. We were too uncoordinated to excel in sports, too scared of getting in trouble to be really bad, and too much (or too little) of something to be wildly popular. So we muddled through, one foot in childhood, the other wanting to sprint through our teens until we reached the magical age where it didn’t matter what jacket we wore, or whom we chose to be friends with. I remember the divisiveness of those days. There were separate lunch tables and sweeping judgments. Kids who had been friends since grade school ended up in different groups, studiously avoiding each other for fear of being found uncool by their new friends.

Lately, I have been feeling that same kind of uncomfortable, seemingly ready-made divisiveness online, except this time it’s not about sports or the ability to decipher Beowulf, but about politics.

No one has ever accused me of being a Pollyanna, and I’m realistic enough to know that sometimes there’s not really a light at the end of every tunnel, but I do know that most of us have more in common than we have differences. Most of us, regardless of how we check our ballots, want healthy kids, good opportunities, decent jobs, and safe communities — we want more of the good things in life and less of the bad.

I was speaking with a new friend on the phone today, and the discussion briefly turned to Twitter and politics. I don’t know whether she’s a Republican, a Democrat, or something else, but it doesn’t matter. The thing that was bothering both of us equally was how divisive and hostile political speech has become.

The social media that draws us together to converse and share has become something of a battleground for left/right politics. Sometimes, these arguments are intriguing. Sometimes — okay, a lot of the time — they are not arguments at all, but angry rants that leave little room for real discussion.

Later in the day, I made the comment on Twitter that I wish we could have a one-day moratorium on angry, hostile speech. I know that probably means little or nothing to those who engage in such language as a habit, but it seemed to strike a chord among those who would like to see people come together as people first, political party members second.

There’s nothing weak or politically apathetic about wanting a nation less divided. There are probably more of us near the middle of the political spectrum than not, or at least desirous of finding some middle ground. Most of us are feeling the effects of a down economy and sharing the same worries and hopes. I doubt there are many people out there, regardless of party affiliation, who don’t want things to get better. We may have different views about how to go about improving our world — we may not even agree on what “better” entails — but at the heart of every political matter being discussed aren’t just ideas or beliefs, but people. Not just Democrats, not just Republicans, or Libertarians, or Green Party members, but all of us.

Along with several other Twitterers, I wondered if we could have one day where we don’t sit at separate tables and toss spitballs at each other. Maybe it’s a bit idealistic, but perhaps those of us who are interested can just pledge one day where we don’t engage in or respond to the vitriol, but instead concentrate on what we have in common, what we are grateful for, and what we appreciate.

The twitter hashtag is #1Day0Hate. The day to come together is October 6th. If you’d like to make this happen, please start using the tag and promoting it on Twitter and your own blogs. Corina Fiore at Down to Earth Mama even made this badge/avatar you can use on Twitter or on your site! Feel free to steal the picture from here, or grab the code from her post.

Thank you to everyone who expressed support for this idea and suggested I kick it off. I’m looking forward to a day of renewed and new friendships!

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Radio Flyer is a small 1992 film about two brothers, Mike and Bobby, who invent a flying machine out of a little red wagon so that Bobby can escape the brutal abuse he regularly suffers at the hands of his drunken stepfather.

The end of the film never baffled me. It seemed clear that Bobby’s escape down the side of a mountain failed, and that in order to ease the pain of his brother’s death, Mike invented an alternate reality that had Bobby sending him postcards from all over the world. As a grown man, Mike tells his children the story and says:

“Do you guys understand what I meant about history being in the mind of the teller?”
“I think so.” “Yeah.”
“Good. Good, because that’s the way I remember it.”

I wasn’t aware until recently that there was a controversy about the movie’s end.  Some people, it seems, are adamant that the little red wagon sailed off into the sky and that Bobby spent the rest of his life happy and traveling. This fantastical possibility was offered by the film’s somewhat cryptic ending and many fans decided that, despite the grim reality of the rest of the story, a fantasy ending was somehow fitting. The director, Richard Donner, seemed to want that, too, but he couldn’t sink the weight of writer David Evans’s final few lines.

Even as a writer and a creative person, it has always surprised me that some people are so willing to suspend reality in favor of even the most obvious fantasies — like karma and its accompanying bromides like “what comes around goes around” or “there are no accidents”.  Bad things happen to good people every day. Some ignorant or bad people are greatly rewarded. Sixteen year old girls blow lottery fortunes on fake boobs and cocaine,  while people who’ve worked hard for 30 or 40 years lose their jobs and homes. Talent and persistence don’t always win out — sometimes luck, nepotism, or family connections matter more.

And the chances are that if you see a baby being thrown against a wall, or a woman getting raped, or a gay man being beaten by a bunch of thugs, you’re not going to think it’s karma, or the mythical fates at work – you’re not going to think “there are no accidents” – instead you’re going to think that such events are wretched, horrible, often preventable, and totally unacceptable.

I believe that people buy into the karma myth because it comes with blinders attached. If people can delude themselves into believing that there’s some higher reason for unacceptable acts or circumstances, and that the world runs as it is supposed to, then they’re essentially letting themselves off the hook from having to consider the realities of the world they live in and, consequently, their place and role in those realities. If they believe that “there are no accidents”, then they don’t have to put forth much effort in righting the wrongs, or even acknowledging them, because wrongs simply don’t exist — and if they do, well, karma — not effort — will take care of them.

Many otherwise smart and liberal-minded people I know have fallen under the spell of karmical thinking. They are so enamored with idealized concepts of peace, fairness, inclusiveness, and supporting the underdog that they have become intellectually lazy.  They may be willing to lend their names to the progressive cause du jour of the day — Palestine, free elections in Iran, health care reform — but their understanding of the issues may be extremely narrow, often on purpose and adamantly so, because they refuse to see anything beyond their magical blinders.

While some liberals may be bent on mystical, karmic thinking, even more pervasive, particularly when it comes to politics and religion, is the dogmatic adherence being exhibited by many conservatives.  Here, people have ceased to think critically, as independent beings, and have instead subscribed to a rigid, and often fantastical, set of beliefs as proffered by their religion’s or party’s most prominent spokespeople.

Paradise in exchange for murder and suicide; heavenly forgiveness for even the most brutal and intentional of acts; forced marriages of young girls to older men; oppression and brutality heaped upon women, children, minorities, and the underclass — there are those, in America and abroad, who insist that God is a co-perpetrator of these and other savage and systematic abuses of humanity, and that man is only carrying out God’s will when he bombs an abortion clinic, forces a thirteen year old Texas girl into a polygamous marriage, or stones a Sudanese rape victim to death.

The horrors of oppressive religion become entwined with culture. In Afghanistan, a ten year old girl beaten with wires by her two older brothers for visiting a skateboard park says, “I’m not upset with my brothers for beating me, they have the right.” In Canada as well as the U.S., women and teenage girls defend a lifestyle in which it is common for 14 and 15 year old girls, most of whom have never experienced life outside of their isolated communities, to marry and bear children.

And while American conservatives have leaned on the gospel of Christianity a great deal, almost none of their social responses are merciful, e.g. Christian, in nature. They buck against the idea of society helping the poor or uninsured. They seek the harshest of punishments against even non-violent offenders. They bring guns to town hall meetings. They favor the deregulation of corporations and a mitigation of corporate responsibilities. They fight against increases in the minimum wage. They either don’t believe in global warming, or don’t think measures to curb it are fair to industry. They think the Constitution and Bill of Rights should bend to their whim — making things like The Patriot Act morally acceptable, but a secular, inclusive government evil.

Under the umbrella of Christianity, the Republicans have stood against equality for women. They have sought to undo affirmative action. They do not believe gay people should have equal rights to the benefits of marriage. They believe that hate crime legislation imposes on their religious freedom.  They continue to fight against The United Nations Bill of Rights for Children, which seeks to make children less the chattel of their parents and give them protections as autonomous but dependent beings. 193 countries have signed the bill over the past decade. America and Somalia are two who have not.

In the fantastical world of fundamentalist religiopolitics, it is acceptable for Glenn Beck to call Obama a racist, but not acceptable to question the racial motives behind the continuous, frivolous, and often frighteningly ignorant attacks on President Obama. It was acceptable when a Republican President put the country into trillions of dollars of debt, lied to the American people, advocated torture, kept prisoners without due process, and allowed companies like Halliburton and Blackwater to fill their coffers with tax money — but it is unacceptable that Obama works towards health care reform, and speaks to school children about working hard and not giving up. It was unpatriotic to criticize war and torture under Bush, but it’s perfectly patriotic to bring a gun to a protest against health care.

Ever since Obama became a contender, I have watched the dogmatic branch of the right-wing slip into a state of near hysteria. While there was just something sad and pathetic about watching religious Republican mouthpieces like Jerry Falwell debate the sexuality of Tinky Winky or blaming gays, feminists and pagans for the attack of 9/11, what’s happening now is steeped in a vicious and hateful brew that makes yesterday’s spewed ignorance seem almost innocuous.  From conspiracy theories about the President’s birth certificate, to ongoing accusations that Obama is a Muslim, socialist, Marxist, thug — even Satan incarnate — these attacks step way outside the realm of political disagreement or religious differences, and seek to illigitimize and demonize a President who hasn’t even been in office for a full year; who hasn’t yet significantly changed the political or social landscape of America; and who, coincidentally, happens to be America’s most powerful and popular minority figure.

Of course, the possibility that racism is behind much of the expressed hatred is met with staunch denial.  Then again, as long as they don’t mention blackness, but instead insist that Obama is an A-rab and play on the fears of their most ignorant followers, then that’s not racist but somehow proper and worthy of consideration.

If a parallel between the Radio Flyer movie and today’s political climate were to be drawn, the mystical thinkers in the liberal party would be the blinders-on idealists who really believe that their little red wagon can effortlessly defy the laws of physics and reality, and fly happily into the sunset to live happily-ever-after in some future made of dreams and wishes.  They actually do little to accomplish their imagined flight because that would involve having to fight and possibly alienate the people that don’t want them to take off in the first place. Instead, the mystical thinkers seek to build consensus even among the most inhospitable people, compromising themselves right into a steady holding pattern where little gets done but hey — the intentions were good and in the end isn’t that what’s most important?

Conservatives, on the other hand, may be helping the Republican party commit suicide with their outlandish escapades & maniacal speech but they’re playing it off as if they, too, were taking flight — into a future that glorifies and seeks to replicate the past — when uppity black and poor people, women, and children knew their places; labor laws and unions didn’t interfere with business; war was glorified; prayer was considered more fruitful than knowledge; and non-white, non-Christians were viewed as less than equal or heretical.

In between the two extremes, there are those who seek neither fanciful flight nor destruction of progress. We wonder why it’s not possible to effect a rescue before the wagon goes careening down the mountainside in the first place.

The ending that wasn’t offered by the movie Radio Flyer also seems absent in politics.  The question is, between the inaction of the karmic thinkers and the screaming of the backward dogmatists, will the country be able to save itself  from the kind of cryptic politics that leaves the future precariously hanging from the side of a cliff?

This article also appears on The Huffington Post if you’d like to comment.

9/11, correction to director’s name.

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When I was nine years old, I was very excited about ordering the Jumping Spider toy that Bazooka Bubble Gum was offering for .25 cents and a few wrappers. After I sent off my envelope, I waited for the mailman every day like some kids wait for Santa Claus. The summer ended, school began, winter came, and still the Jumping Spider didn’t arrive. It never did. I was so mad that I went on full Bazooka strike, refusing to buy any more hard squares of pink gum, and warning all my friends not to send them money.

A year or so later, it occurred to me that sending a bulky envelope full of change through the mail system probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do. The envelope could have easily ripped, and may have gotten shredded in the USPS’s letter sorting machines. I ended my Bazooka strike then, realizing that the Bazooka people might not be the heartless, dream-stealing, penny-thieving, child haters I once thought they were.

However, at least I had a tangible reason for feeling the way I did. A real thing was actually lost — not just a philosophical thing, or a principle, or an argument. And while I was upset with Bazooka, I never once thought, “Hey, I’ll show them how mad I am and bring a gun to their next event.” Not only because that would be a really sick way to think, and an ignorant thing to do, but because the chances are that the folks at Bazooka would have just found me scary and, well, kind of repugnant.

Watching the rage-filled Republicans (as opposed to the more sensible ones) at the town hall meetings on health care reform, I don’t see reasonable debate and sincere questions. I see a mob out for blood where no crime has been committed, and conservatives who refuse to take any responsibility for how the actions of their party have affected the country and other citizens. I see a rage that is totally out of proportion to the issues being discussed.

So far, taxes are the same as they were under Bush. The unemployment and foreclosure rate has not changed drastically. The cost of living now is no higher than it was eight months ago. So far, the very real and tangible things that directly impact our daily lives have not changed — but some Republican protesters are behaving as if they’ve been personally robbed by the health care debate. They’re charging into town screaming and angry, some with loaded guns, and with a lynch mob mentality that smacks of constrained racism.

The fury of mobs is often stoked by convoluted stories that spread like wildfire, and that increase in animus with every telling. During the election, the angry Republican mob insisted that Obama was a Muslim and hoped that would scare people. They claimed he lied about his schooling, his work background, and even the origin of his name. Now that he’s President, they claim that he has a fake birth certificate and that his health care reforms will kill Grandma via “death panels”.

Members of the mob have insisted that their bloated anger is not about race or hate, but about “conservatism” versus liberalism. However, their level of rage is out of line with any tangible, or even foreseeable, deficit in the quality of their personal lives. It exceeds the boundaries of heated political differences. I believe the backstory, and the motivation for such raucous displays, is found in the presence of guns.

Guns were not displayed for President Carter, who was far more liberal than Obama, and who led this country during a time of double-digit inflation, high interest rates, and oil shortages. Nor were they brought out for President Clinton, even while the right-wing was working very hard to have him impeached. And even when the majority of the country disagreed with the war in Iraq, no one brought guns to the protests. So I have to ask why now, why with Obama?

I am not a knee-jerk reactionary when it comes to issues of culture and race, but the arguments made by the mobs in defense of their atrocious behavior simply don’t wash. They seem to be using the issue of health care reform to express an anger that goes deeper than mere politics or philosophy, and there is a maliciousness to their public gun toting that goes far beyond debate and protest.

I don’t think that any die-hard Republican, much less one who joins or encourages the mobs, will ever come to the understanding that their party is largely responsible for the economic disaster we are in today. I don’t think they’re likely to pry themselves from the dogmatic notion that government programs (and regulations) are like Satan in the angelic world of a free market society, where competition is believed to weed out the gluttons and thieves — even when competition is scarce due to huge conglomerates and monopolies.

I disagree with many core Republican philosophies, but I realize that a multi-party system is fundamental to a thriving democracy. I am deeply disappointed that moderate Republicans have not stepped up the plate in any substantial number to condemn the mob mentality, ignorant speech, and underlying racism that has become front and center of their party.

Racism, no matter how overt or guised, should not be tolerated, much less encouraged by any political party. Racism is not just a belief, but an act of fear, cowardice, and regression – it has nothing to do with patriotism, “freedom”, the Second Amendment, or any other political cloak the mob has used to swaddle their hatred and sense of racial entitlement.

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I was a 16 year-old wanna-be love child in a lace shirt, faded jeans, and moccasin boots. Bill was a real 30-something hippie, who had camped out at Woodstock and demonstrated at Berkeley. He drove an old Volkswagon Bug the color of chewed-up Wrigley’s gum, and was fond of quoting both Carlos Castaneda and Ayn Rand, sometimes in the same sentence. In Bill’s mind, there was no real span of difference between a Peruvian mystic and a Capitalist philosopher-novelist. “A million fucking ideas, that’s all the world is. The ideas stop, we stop. We turn back into bacteria, or protoplasm, or fucking zucchini.”

“Zucchini?”

“Yeah man, vegetables. Look around, half the world is there. They’re planted in their shit gardens, sucking in whatever nutrients they need to survive, but they’re not living, man. They’ve ceased to have ideas bigger than the vine they’re clinging to, whether it’s religion, academics, the rat-race, or something else. Whatever else you do, beware of that. Don’t become a fuckin’ zucchini.”

Most of the people I’ve met aren’t remembered, at least not vividly. Although I only knew him for a couple of years, Bill stuck with me. I’ve spent thirty years with the zucchini analogy branded in my brain, and have done my best to avoid becoming a clinging, myopic vegetable – which wasn’t nearly as easy as I thought it would be. There’s something about being hurt, struggling, overwhelmed, or frustrated that seems to stop life on a macro level. The world of ideas becomes less important than the need for a Band-Aid, a break, or an immediate solution – even if the solution is temporary, or detrimental in the long-run.

I’ve managed to keep myself out of the shit garden for the most part, if only because I love the idea of potential. I love knowing that, barring death or a cruel disease of the mind, the human brain can keep on learning, thinking, and creating up until the last of its neurons are fired and its gray matter grows cold. I get a special thrill out of stories about 70 year-olds graduating college or middle-aged artists having their first art show. Stories like that stoke hope, no matter how slim, that it really never is too late – not for a degree, for talent, for love, for dreams – not for anything.

I wonder, though, if it’s not too late to change America back to the innovative, thriving power it once was. I can’t be the only Democrat who believes that the bank bailout, and now the $900B(+) Economic Stimulus Plan, is like the governmental version of a shit garden. After browsing through the 1071 page document, I’m convinced that we are fertilizing soil for the benefit of the vegetables among us.

Bureaucracy is often a self-perpetuating monster, and the collective greed of big corporations has been well-documented. These are the major beneficiaries of spending in the bailout and stimulus packages, and for decades into the future, taxpayers will have the noose of this debt wrapped around their collective necks.

This stimulus package is just one humongous gambling marker, and the ideas within it seem to have sprung from the same kind of mentality that compels chronic gamblers to throw good money after bad, hoping that if they spend enough, Lady Luck will grace them with a winning streak. It’s irrational, it has no grounding in reality, but even otherwise smart people will rub their lucky pennies, throw a pinch of salt over their shoulder, or appeal to the fates when they’re losing.

The ideas contained in the bailout and stimulus plans cater to the chronic spenders and vegetables in our midst – there’s not an original thought or innovative, long-term approach within either package.

America didn’t become a superpower due to its government bailouts. We got there with revolutionary inventions – by the creation and manufacturing of goods no other country had, or could produce as well as we did. We got there by being innovative, competitive, and tireless in our search for ways to improve life for people here and around the globe. We got there by opening doors of opportunity, paying decent wages, making housing affordable, and being willing to challenge traditions and social policies that impeded human potential.

Greed and avarice overtook America during the Bush years, particularly in the corporate and banking sectors. It seems to me that the way back to greatness isn’t going to be found in borrowed money, mass bailouts, or by reviving sagging bureaucracies, but in a new vision that incorporates and rewards innovation, attempts new strategies, and insists on ethics.

Instead, we’ve just tilled a massive shit garden, and I think many working class Americans understand that, even if they don’t have a degree in economics. Most of us are aware that if someone stood out on the street tomorrow handing out $10 bills, people would take them, regardless of need. Free money is free money. There’s no innovation there, and no incentive to spend it wisely, or with the long-range interests of the country in mind. The zucchinis will plant themselves quickly enough, sucking up everything they can until the garden is dry.

My friend Bill was right. We are a world built on ideas, and the finest ideas aren’t contained in any one school of thought. Beyond every other consideration, our humanity, and our common desire for better circumstances, binds us.

“Does this path have a heart? If it does, then the path is good. If it doesn’t, it is of no use.” – Carlos Castaneda

“Whatever their future, at the dawn of their lives, men seek a noble vision of man’s nature and of life’s potential.” – Ayn Rand

I’m not sure what any one person can do at this point to avoid shit garden economics, but as a nation of newly invigorated citizens I hope we demand accountability from all of those who seek to plant themselves there, and insist that those who show signs of wasting their handouts be plucked from the program.

And, of course, we have do whatever it takes to keep new ideas from flowing out of the hemisphere and into the vacuum of apathy.

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