Marcus' World

Political Dialogue in 2006

For several months now, my friend Todd and I have agreed not to talk about the war in Iraq.  Todd and I have known each other for almost twenty years now, and our major bond growing up was arguing over politics.  But this disagreement cut too close to the bone, and an uneasy detente has ensued.

Todd and I are not alone.  Many Americans are not talking about politics this year, or are only talking with people who already agree with them.  While we have always been a polarized country, for the last several decades that polarization was reflected in political posturing at the national level.  Next door neighbors could always agree to disagree with each other , or perhaps even to debate with civility and good cheer.  Those days are gone, but hopefully they will reappear soon.

By this point in the Bush era, even stalwart conservatives are beginning to abandon him.  Something is rotten in the District of Columbia, and everyone knows it.  If the Democrats claim one or both houses of Congress, two years of gridlock and Congressional investigations await us.  Investigations--for example, of Halliburton's contracts in Iraq,  or of Vice President Cheney's secretly developed energy policy early in the first administration--are long overdue.  But even if these inquiries establish important facts for the record, public policy development will be at a standstill.

So real progress isn't possible until 2008.  Whether a Republican or Democrat wins, hopefully all sides will refrain from petty bickering.  That may be too much to wish for in national candidates, but I hope it's not too much to ask of next door neighbors.

Elling

This week Helen and I watched the delightful Norwegian comedy Elling (2001).  Why this week? No real reason, except that we have a periodic habit of raiding the international films section of our local Blockbuster.

The film tells the story of two close friends in Oslo who live together in state-supported and -monitored housing,  because they cannot fully care for themselves.  It's a classic odd couple arrangement.  Elling is a fussy, budding poet.  Kjell Bjarne is a bearish handyman who eventually strikes up a romance with a single woman who lives in their building.

As the film progresses, the two gain independence.  Although still the closest of friends, by the end Elling and Kjell Bjarne have built lives of their own.  It's a bittersweet thing to watch, and--as some critics claim--somewhat heavy-handed.  But I was in no mood to quibble.  The tender natures of the two friends give Elling a sweetness that I was not expecting but was happy to see.

Tony Judt Update

A few weeks ago I wrote about the efforts of the American Jewish Committee and Anti-Defamation League to silence NYU professor Tony Judt.  The Jewish Judt offers a critical perspective on Israel and the pro-Israel lobby in the United States, and this is deeply distressing in some quarters.  But whether you agree or disagree with him, a little thing called the First Amendment protects his right to speak. 

The New York Review of Books has now posted an open letter that defends Yudt's right to speak, signed by scholars of various interests and political affiliations.  It is worth reading in full. Here is my favorite part:  "In a democracy, there is only one appropriate response to a lecture, article, or book one does not agree with. It is to give another lecture, write another article, or publish another book."

This is such an obvious point, really.  But the "Judt dust-up" shows that we still need to hear it.

Not Staying the Course in Iraq

Today President Bush claimed to George Stephanopoulos that the US has never been "stay the course" in Iraq.  Think Progress soon posted a handy rebuttal, including transcripts and video of the President claiming, over several years, that we must stay the course. In other words, the President argued that we should keep pursuing a failed policy without any modifications at all. 

The political context has shifted recently, and with it the President's pronouncements.  Growing numbers of Republicans, sensing political doom, are demanding that we no longer stay the course. An independent advisory council chaired by former Secretary of State James Baker, will soon issue a report that seeks an actual policy rather than empty rhetoric.  Meanwhile, the Bush White House has begun to set timetables for the Iraqi government to show progress; perhaps even they have put to rest the ridiculous argument that timetables will encourage terrorists.  Based on the daily death tolls, the insurgents already have all the motivation they need.

So, with the earth sinking beneath him, President Bush wants to re-write history.  He wants us to believe that post-war planning was always nimble and flexible, rather than obtuse and unyielding.  But as they say down South and over in west Texas, that dog won't hunt.

Suddenly I'm a Baseball Fan

My fair weather fan tendencies always assert themselves during the playoffs.  I pay no attention to the regular seasons  in football, baseball, or basketball, and then become very excited when something is finally on the line.  The one exception to this rule is college football; the Northwestern Wildcats aren't so good this year, but I still hope that they will win every Saturday.

This year might have seen a "subway series" between the Yankees and Mets, just like in 2000.  I was hoping for this because it would have been fun to be in New York for such an event.  And of course I would have rooted for the Mets.  One of my Dad's strongest influences on my childhood was disdain for the unfair advantages of the Yankees.  It didn't matter that our hometown Columbus Clippers was a Yankees farm team; they were still no good.

But the Bronx Bombers fell flat this year.  Fortunately the Miracle Mets are still in the running (although they will probably lose to Detroit if they make it to the World Series).  So I find myself  glued to the tube, both enjoying myself and being thankful that such distractions don't come along more often.

"Sticky" Health Sciences Librarians

Tonight I am in Hartford, CT, attending the fall meeting of the New York-New Jersey and North Atlantic Health Sciences Libraries Associations of the Medical Library Association.  I've been looking forward to this meeting for months, more for the chance to see people than for the formal conference presentations.

Perhaps the first JMLA editorial I read by Scott was about the inherent "stickiness" among health sciences librarians.  It is a small professional community, and thus we stick closely together.   Scott's piece focuses on the value of continuing to meet in person, even as  options for "virtual" meetings continue to proliferate.  I agree with this completely, which is why I'm here in Hartford.  But I also find comfort in knowing that "remote stickiness" is possible.  Just this past week, I've experienced this flavor of stickiness twice.

I'm the Chair-Elect of the International Cooperation Section of MLA this year, and so my main responsibility is to coordinate the section's programming at the MLA conference in 2007.  We are planning an invited panel.  Out of the blue on Friday, Stacey Arnesen of the National Library of Medicine sent me an email offering to help find panelists.  Stacey was on the interviewing team when I sought the position of NLM Associate Fellow in 2002, but of course I am no longer there.  By this point we generally only talk at conferences once or twice a year.  So her email was a very welcome surprise.

The same day--and also out of the blue--I heard from the Dean of my library school, Prudence Dalrymple.  Another project of mine this year has been to help design a new research award for the Public Health/Health Administration Section.  I sent an email to the section about this award on Friday, and Pru wrote me to say it was a great idea.  Today she agreed to be on the awards committee.

I often wonder whether librarianship is a good fit for me, and have no idea what the future holds.  But whatever happens, I am happy to be among such a sticky group in the meantime.

How Not to Read a Book

Alex Beam offers great advice in a recent Boston Globe column, about how not to read a book.

I fancy myself a voracious reader, but the truth is that I let many books pile up and gather dust.  So it's good to know how to handle situations in which everyone else seems to have read a book you've merely intended to complete.

The best book not to read right now is Bob Woodward's State of Denial, which treats as news the well-known fact that the war in Iraq is a disaster.  Last week a member of my book club had that book on her lap (it wasn't what we read as a group).  This stimulated the latent conservative tendencies of a book club member, leading to an amusing scene.

I will never read State of Denial, however, and thanks to Beam I know I don't have to. 

Here's how not to read a book:

1. Read excerpts in newspapers and magazines
2. Watch news coverage (when applicable)
3. Read reviews (of course)
4. Listen attentively during conversations about prominent books, and filch the best lines for your next conversation
5. Spend hours reading without buying in bookstores.  Beam considers bookstores to be "glorified libraries."  And these libraries serve good coffee and offer delicious snacks.

All good advice, particularly about paying attention during conversations.  I just wonder how often everyone in a group converses about something that nobody has read. After all, who would know?

Christopher Hitchens and Tony Judt

With the fall travel season picking up, I've had less time to write  than normal.  The travel is not just for conferences, but also for weddings.  Last weekend we returned to Washington DC for a wedding, and we'll be back there again for another wedding in just a few weeks.  Helen and I were married so young that's it's not surprising that our friends are just now getting around to it.

But I digress.  To the matter at hand--This week two interesting pieces about courageous writers came out, which commanded my attention even in the midst of a busy period.

First up was  a long piece about Christopher Hitchens in the latest  New Yorker   (which is not online).  Then an article in the New York Observer about the sudden cancellation of two speeches by NYU professor Tony Judt.

Hitchens was a long-time darling of the left, who has lost favor in liberal circles by supporting the war in Iraq.  Judt is a Jewish critic of Israel, which has earned him the enmity of many of Israel's supporters.  He senses a heavy hand behind the cancellations of two of his speeches in the same week--namely, the "Israel Lobby" that responded so stridently to an article about its influence on American foreign policy six months ago.  Leading Jewish groups such as the American Jewish Committee (AJC) and Anti-Defamation League (ADL) have claimed that they were pleased by the cancellations, but that they had nothing to do with them.

Judt is a fierce critic of the war in Iraq, and thus in some ways he has little in common with Hitchens.  Or perhaps they do share a strong sense of self-importance, as noted by Ezra Klein regarding Hitchens. 

The most important similarity, however, is that they are both fearless defenders of their views.  Hitchens drives me mad with his blind support of this ridiculous war.  But I have to admire someone with such strong convictions that he is willing to sever ties of many years to defend them.  And Judt deserves great admiration for walking straight into the buzz saw of the normally unapproachable topic of Israel and Palestine.   Whatever you think of his positions, he performs an essential service of demonstrating that criticism of Israel is not the same as anti-Semitism.

How to Grieve

I was surprised and touched by Amitai Etzioni's column today, "Good Grief."  It's not the type of thing you normally see in opinion pages.

Etzioni is the esteemed spokesman for communitarianism, a philosophy that seeks to preserve some individual autonomy while stimulating greater attention to the ties that bind us all together.  He has written widely about this abstract and challenging topic.

But today, he just wants to be allowed to grieve. A few months ago his son died in his sleep, leaving behind a wife, baby, and expected second child.  Twenty-one years ago, his wife died in a car accident.  With the death of his son, that older wound (which never completely healed) has re-opened.

Etzioni chastises psychologists who seek to shuttle people logically through the well-known five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.  And he blames God willfully, and endures a philosopher friend who tells him that assigning such blame isn't logical. 

Yes, it is not logical. But that is not the point. Etzioni wants to grieve how he wants, when he wants, for as long as he wants, and not to have to explain himself. I say, more power to him. 

The five stages of grief are a useful abstract model of how people cope with loss.  But they shouldn't be used as a cudgel to force people to grieve the "right" way.  And philosophy isn't the best tool for comforting a grieving friend. Just listening without judgment--no matter what might go through your head--is much more helpful.

One disadvantage of a good education (and certainly the advantages are more plentiful) is that it can decrease the ability to cope with raw emotions. There is always an analytical puzzle to be solved, some overarching framework to be deconstructed in pursuit of a larger truth. 

Save those games for the ivory tower, because sometimes the truth is plain as day: Life hurts. Etzioni speaks for everyone who just wants the freedom to grieve.

So Goes the Nation

My native state of Ohio is a perfect microcosm of the United States, perhaps more so than any other.  It has major cities, but no titans; suburbia bleeding into exurbia; farming and industrial jobs (although less of both every year); rolling hills in the southeast, a Great Lake in the northeast, and Midwestern flatness everywhere else.  There's a reason that the TV show Family Ties was set in Columbus, Ohio (my hometown). It represents that mystical concept, "America."

Whoever wins the Buckeye State is virtually guaranteed to be the next President.  Last night I watched a new documentary entitled "So Goes the Nation",  which contrasts the Republican and Democratic "get out the vote" efforts in 2004.  Helen and I went to Columbus to campaign for John Kerry the weekend before the election, and several scenes featured his headquarters on the South Side. It brought back bittersweet memories of how close we came, and offers useful lessons about how Democrats can win the next election.

"So Goes the Nation" is not a liberal screed about the theft of Ohio in 2004.  There are scenes of very long waits in polling places in African-American sections of cities; this did happen, but whether it was concerted disenfranchisement is still up for debate. 

Several people from the Bush campaign speak about their strategy in 2004, and they come off much better than their counterparts in the Kerry camp.  Mark McKinnon was the Bush media strategist, and he is very candid about the way they painted Kerry as an arrogant, elitist flip-flopper.  In the Kerry corner, Tad Devine and Mary Beth Cahill still can't acknowledge their role in forming a flawed campaign strategy.  Most egregious was not responding immediately and strongly to the slanders of Kerry's Vietnam war record by the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth.   

McKinnon argues that Howard Dean would have been a tougher opponent than John Kerry. Why? Because Dean knows what he thinks and sticks with it, no matter what happens.  President Bush has the same attribute, and this is the secret of his success.  Kerry's ponderousness is attractive to me, although it is a political liability; he  knows that the world is complex, and refuses to speak in sound bites.  The bottom line is that most people value directness and passion, which is the main thing that President Bush has to offer.

At the grass roots level, the Bush get out the vote volunteers are much more disciplined and on message than their Democratic counterparts (including, as I look back on it, myself).  This is because they actually live in the neighborhoods where they are canvassing, and aren't uppity New Yorkers doing the good deed of delivering the truth to the heartland.  Democrats could learn a great deal from the grass roots strategy of the Republicans. 

There are some great progressives in the film; don't get me wrong. I like Miles Gerety, a middle aged public defender from Connecticut who travels to Columbus because "this is the most important election since 1968."  And the best person of all is Evan Wilkinson, a young activist from New York who grew up somewhere else.  He cautions that most progressive rhetoric comes across as "hating most Americans."  I love living in New York, but there is no doubt that Wilkinson is correct.  Hopefully his wisdom will prevail in 2008, and Democrats will find a way to connect with most Americans. Although the great Republican implosion of 2006 bodes well for '08, we still have lessons to learn from the last time around.