BraceLand

Reading my favorite blogger today, Ta-Nehisi Coates, I came across one of his trademark posts.  That is, a completely articulate and self-aware (yet always humble) evaluation of himself in the context of society.  This time it was about his racial identity.  He’s been reading a lot about the Civil War and Reconstruction, which happens to be one of my three favorite periods in American history (along with the Revolution and World War II).  Anyway, today he articulated better than I ever could what fascinates me so much about that era:

“I read those passages and got that old, stupid thrill again–Negroes with guns, Negroes fighting back. But more legitimately, I was, as I have been throughout all of this reading, simply stunned by the preservation of humanity–no, by the repeated assertions of humanity made by people who lived under a system specifically structured to destroy it.”

I haven’t ever really considered myself “African-American” mostly because I think there’s something very distinct about the development of racial identity when you’re half white.  But there is something about unfolding the utter tragedy of Reconstruction (which, you could argue, was much more tragic than slavery itself), then registering the breathtaking resilience of an entire group of people–your own ancestors–in the face of something close to attempted genocide, that inspires great pride.

A couple days ago, I found myself listening to an interview with Michelle Rhee, Chancellor of DC public schools, on the Diane Rehm Show. The interview was recorded in December (I’m a little backed up with my podcasts) just about the same time President Obama was naming Arne Duncan as his education secretary.

Michelle Rhee has been quite a controversial figure in education circles lately. She came to her current position after a bit of a power play by DC’s mayor, Adrian Fenty (who’s been compared to Obama), to move authority for the city’s public schools into the mayor’s office and away from the city council. Around the same time, Fenty appointed Rhee and gave her a pretty strong mandate to clean up the schools. In the process, she’s been championing some pretty unconventional solutions, including taking on the teachers’ union by seeking to abolish tenure, revising student disciplinary policies, and supporting school choice. One of her most noteworthy proposals is to offer teachers either a) the opportunity for tenure with a small raise in pay, or b) no opportunity for tenure with an almost 100% raise. Unsurprisingly, I suppose, the unions are balking.

As I listened to Rhee discuss all this and take questions, I was struck by how traditionally conservative these policies seemed, and even more struck by how much support the policies were receiving from liberal quarters. Where was this outpouring of support when Newt Gingrich was the one touting reform? Why is it that it’s taking a group of young, liberal politicians and public figures to enact these traditionally conservative policies?

I think the question has a two-part answer.

First, and most obviously, Newt Gingrich and his ilk don’t exactly have the most credibility when it comes to promoting what’s best for poor minorities in the inner city. Folks can be forgiven for being skeptical that the prosperous, white male crew running the GOP had their best interests at heart.

My second reaction, and what I find more interesting, is how willing young liberals have been to embrace conservative principles and incorporate those principles into policy. Abolishing tenure and offering merit pay seem like obvious good solutions to try for people for people of my generation, but if you followed politics for the last 40 years you know it’s not that obvious to most on the polarized left and right.  I remember it being so refreshing to see Obama on Meet the Press right near the start of his run for presidency (sorry, can’t find the link) saying that he wasn’t concerned about where an idea came from as long as it was a good one, that he was most concerned about solving problems (whether through the public or private sector), and that liberals of all people should be the most up in arms about government waste because that means money is not being directed to the very programs they hold up and revere.  It goes hand in hand with his co-optation of small “c” conservative principles outlined in my Michael Pollan post a couple weeks back.  Two years later, that approach to public policy, through people like Rhee, Fenty, and Newark’s Mayor Cory Booker, is starting to take shape into its own sort of political ideology.  I’m thinking of calling it progressive pragmatism. (Damn, looks like someone’s already coined that term).  Well anyway, you see what I’m getting at.  It’ll be interesting to see how this conservative, results-oriented point of view meshes with progressive liberal concerns and whether we (the Obama generation) can turn it into an enduring paradigm through which we try and solve the great policy problems we’ll have to tackle.

“This is really all we’ve got, this increase, this matter of life loving itself; everything else we have has to come from this.”

Somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean this Memorial Day, Ian McEwan cemented himself as my favorite novelist. The Child in Time was the sort of novel that opens you up and makes you feel the human experience in a way that is completely unpleasant yet somehow comforting.

The unpleasantness on this occasion stemmed partly from me trying to clear the lump from my throat and blink back tears while the flight attendant pushed the duty-free cart down the aisle. But it’s also because that sort of openness to human experience makes you recognize vulnerabilities that are hard to confront. This feeling, at least for me, is completely uncomfortable. (Tangent: I also just finished reading this month’s fascinating Atlantic cover story on that longitudinal happiness study which made the point that happiness was often a harder emotion to bear than sadness because it makes you drop your defenses, opening yourself up for injury).

The comfort came from McEwan’s demonstration (showcased in several of his novels) of the ability of inanely normal people to suffer traumatic, life-changing events and come out on the other side with a lucid, utterly poignant but ultimately completely hopeful perspective on human suffering. I am reassured by his faith in humans to make sense and then begin to heal after what could have been decimating experiences. In Saturday it was a home invasion, in Atonement it was the accusation of rape. The Child in Time centers around Stephen, an accidentally successful children’s book author whose 3-year old daughter is kidnapped from him at the grocery store. Over the next two years, Stephen deals with his grief which is compounded by a separation from his wife.

Until the last ten pages, I was content with reading the book as an exploration of the meaning of childhood and parenthood, going along for the ride since I don’t have kids (and I haven’t been one for a pretty long time). As I should have expected, McEwan had different ideas. I was completely taken aback by the ending of the book. I won’t give it away, but there’s a transposition of pain to joy that gives Stephen the insight I quoted above and it’s utterly stunning.

I’ve never lost a child or been accused of rape, but there are certain things we all experience that give us a sense of this despair. I guess the trick is realizing that this is all part of it and figuring out how to plumb the pain for the little nugget that’s always in there looking to be found. Somewhere along the way in my Catholic education, someone told me that prayer is not about asking God for things or to change circumstances. It’s about asking God to help you find the strength you’ll need to face what you’re up against and to find the increase that Stephen discovered.

I’m not sure I’ve been very good at following this advice or appreciating this connection to human experience (I REALLY hate being exposed), but I’m trying to be better which is one reason I started blogging again. What really helps is reading books like this, such good reminders of why I should bother.

Exactly seven years ago, I was sitting on the field in Boston College’s Alumni Stadium listening to Nicholas Burns (at the time, he was Ambassador to NATO) tell us how we had to grab life by the horns, live without regrets, etc and so on. No offense to Amb. Burns, but it was quite possibly the most miserable day of my life. Aside from the massive withdrawal symptoms I was feeling coming off what can only be described as a week-long bender, I had less than zero clue what I wanted to do with my life. My class of graduates had the good timing of being seniors during the 9/11 attacks, so many of us didn’t have jobs as of 5/23/02; I was one of them. I also felt like just when I was starting to feel comfortable in my own skin and in charge of my life, everything that was stable and that I had control over was yanked out from under me. I didn’t have a place to live; my social life was gutted because all my friends were scattering to the four winds; I didn’t know how I was going to pay rent let alone cover health insurance; and I had to pick a direction. Those eight or so months after graduation were probably the darkest of my entire life.

I eventually found a job, got an apartment, made new friends and settled in to a routine. It’s only now, seven years later, that I can recognize how important those dark times were in putting me where I am, allowing me the perspective I have now, the ability to see that the most good often comes from what seems to be the worst times. I’m starting to fully recognize how important that education was, almost as important as the four years that preceded it.  I even think I might be making progress on that whole picking-a-direction thing.
I’m not sure why this year has me reflecting more than the past six Mays. Some sort of seven-year itch or something. But today I’m finding myself really thinking about those kids waiting for their name to be called so they can walk across that stage, head back to their rooms to pack up the last bits of their stuff, say goodbye to their closest friends, and head out into the numbing terror of the absolute unknown.  I really don’t have any advice for them that’s not going to sound like it’s cliche commencement speech crap that I’m sure they’ve heard 5000 times in the last few months.  Besides, I’m not sure there’s anything anyone could tell them that would make them understand the combination of pain, fear, depression, joy, excitement and hope they’re going to feel over the next few months.  So hard, but so worth it.

Jon Stewart was great last night, proving that he can be as hard on Obama as he was on Bush.

A couple days ago, I tried to make the case for conservatism (in the traditional sense of the word) as an important element to a responsible political sphere. Specifically, I admire the instinct to question authority, not take things at face value, recognize our humility, maintain a healthy level of doubt about the world around us, look for pragmatic (non-ideological) solutions to problems, etc. I especially admire this quality as it’s embodied in President Obama.

But there’s a reason I don’t think I could ever label myself a conservative. Leave aside the social issues for a moment. The ideology of pragmatism and doubt that I think plays such an important role in keeping us honest can also prevent us from standing up for absolutes. If everything is up for debate, it’s easy to lose sight of the fundamental things that we aren’t willing to compromise and that we’re always willing to fight for. That absolutist (for lack of a better word?) streak and our commitment to core values–basically the bill of rights–are probably the only reason we haven’t broken into factions headed by warlords in this country (yet).

So when Obama went back on his word yesterday to release the torture pictures requested by the ACLU, I was more than a little disappointed. I’ve had this nagging feeling about him that when push comes to shove I’m not sure he’ll do the hard thing and stand up for what’s right, even though it might cost him political points. I breathed a sigh of relief when the torture memos were released in (almost) full, so it’s hard for me to understand why he’s compromising on the pictures. His given reason is “it’ll endanger the troops” which is frighteningly close to what Bush and Cheney hid behind for eight years.

Then there’s Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. In the Obama administration, the military is still discharging gay service people for being open about their sexual orientation. And to top it off, in case these soldiers want to be patronized on top of being fired, he sends them notes promising that he’ll get to overturning that pesky DADT just as soon as he can.

I understand the political expedience argument. I know that dealing with DADT right now is not a priority, that bringing up stupid cultural issues risks derailing larger priorities. And maybe releasing the torture pictures does piss some generals off and lowers morale. But there are consequences to always taking the pragmatic approach and leaving everything up for debate. As Ta-Nehisi says, this stuff is never going to be easy. And as Andrew says, people are suffering while Obama waits for the right political moment. It takes moral courage to do what’s right, because it’s the right thing to do. What ever happened to the fierce urgency of now?

DISCLAIMER: Obama has proved me wrong every single time I’ve doubted him, so, if he does this time, I reserve the right to take back everything I just wrote.

UPDATE: Looks like Andrew and I are on the same page WRT my disclaimer….

I have a few different groups of friends coming to Boston over the course of the summer, and since I won’t always be around to give them the guided VIP tour, I thought I’d throw some suggestions up on the blog (why not, right?) so that I can refer back to it as needed. I’m lazy like that. The nice thing about Boston is that it’s such a walkable city; if it’s nice (BIG if) all this stuff is potentially within walking distance if you map it right. And there’s always the T, which is cheaper than public transportation in most big cities.

Anyway, these suggestions are purely based on my idiosyncratic preferences; sorry if you think they suck!

*Take a Duck Tour: This is quite possibly the cheesiest, corniest, most touristy thing you can do it Boston, but I think Duck Tours are SO FUN and you get a really really good overview of the city in just 90 minutes. I’ve been on about four of these and never found them to be dull. Can’t say the same for my companions….

*Walk the Freedom Trail: I enjoy this more than most, probably because I’m a history nerd. But Boston is famous for really only one reason and that’s its role in the revolutionary war. So you’d be doing yourself a disservice to come to Boston and not check it out. You don’t have to do the whole thing (especially if it’s a hot day), but there are lots of pubs you can pop into along the way which makes it exponentially more exciting. It also takes you through Boston’s North End (were you can get amazing Italian food and get a sense of the city’s ethnic background) so you kill two birds with one stone. Near the end of the Trail you’ll find the USS Constitution at the Navy Yard in Charlestown. Again, I might have enjoyed this more than most because I’m a history nerd, but take the time to take a tour of the boat–it’s pretty cool. And it’s a real, live Navy yard with real, live sailors!

*Hang Out on the Esplanade: The Esplanade is a gorgeous stretch of park along the banks of the Charles River. If you’re active, this is a fantastic place to run, walk or bike. If you just feel like relaxing, take a book and a blanket. It’s never disgustingly crowded (unless it’s the 4th of July) and is easy walking distance from downtown.

*Check out Cambridge: OK, I’m biased, but I prefer Cambridge to Boston. It’s funkier and more interesting, plus you don’t need to care what people think of you because everyone’s either a) crazy in their own right, or b) too lost in the clouds to be paying attention to you. My personal favorite area of Cambridge is Inman Square. Since it’s not right on the T, it’s not as overrun as Harvard or Central Squares, but still has some great little pubs/restaurants/shops, and it’s only a very short walk from the Central Square T stop. I especially recommend Ole for some damn good Mexican food and Christina’s for an awesome ice cream dessert. The Druid is a fun spot for a pint when you’re all done. On your way back to the T in Central Square, swing by Green Street Grill (amazing cocktail menu at very reasonable prices) or River Gods (funky spot with good DJs) for a nightcap at two of my favorite neighborhood joints (I live right around the corner!). You might also check the schedule at the Middle East to see if there are any good shows on the calendar while you’re here.

*Walk Washington and Tremont Streets in the South End: It’s the hip section of Boston (read: where all the gay people/gentrification is) and I always mean to spend more time down here but….I’m lazy. The Beehive is a great, sophisticated (read: no sloppy college kids) nightspot. I won’t even get into all the good places to eat here–Masa, Toro, Myers + Chang, Hamersley’s–trying to pick my fave wouldn’t be fair.

*Fenway Park: if you’re into that stuff, it’s fun. If it’s not baseball season, taking a tour of the park is actually really cool (plus you avoid the crowds).

*Newbury Street: great spot for people-watching and shopping (REALLY good shopping), but I avoid it (unless I’m getting my hair done), mostly because I can’t afford it, and it’s always busy. However, one massive exception is the Trident Cafe, which has solid, cheap food, a local (ie: not touristy or snotty) crowd, and shares space with a bookstore!

*Shepard Fairey Exhibit at the ICA: I almost forgot!  This was a really, really cool show with some interesting interactive stuff as well.  As a bonus, you can walk to this place, Drink, for a VERY good cocktail when you’re done.  Ask for the Aviation.  Yummmmm.

Those are the highlights. Wow, now I want to go explore.

I lovelovelove Michael Pollan. Botany of Desire was such a unique book, and Omnivore’s Dilemma might as well be my bible. In Defense of Food doesn’t live up to his other works–it reads more like an appendix to Omnivore’s Dilemma–but it was an engaging little philosophy of how to eat. As Pollan sums it up: Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants. He goes on to explain each of those sentences in the last third of the book and spends the first two-thirds delving into what he calls nutritionism and why it’s so bad for us eaters.

It all seems very straightforward, and it was, but one thing I was surprised to find here, in this manifesto from a Berkeley professor who’s friends with Alice Waters and shops at Berkeley Bowl, was a tone that struck me as deeply (politically) conservative:

One of the hallmarks of a traditional diet is its essential conservatism. Traditions in food ways reflect long experience and often embody a nutritional logic that we shouldn’t heedlessly overturn. So consider this subclause to the rule about eating a healthy diet: regard non-traditional foods with skepticism. Innovation is interesting but when it comes to something like food, it pays to approach novelties with caution.

Replace “food” and “nutrition” with “government” and “politics” and you’ve got something that could have come straight from William F. Buckley.

There’s been a lot made the last few months (years?) about the conservative movement needing to get back to principles. As a Cambridge-living, Obama-supporting, Whole Foods-shopping elitist, you might be surprised to know that I heartily support a resurgent conservative movement, mostly for the same reasons Pollan supports it when it comes to food: I think we should be a little bit more skeptical about innovation; there are things worth preserving in tradition, and we shouldn’t be pushing for change simply for the sake of change; and we should all be a little bit more skeptical and questioning of authority. If a conservative, Republican candidate ran with that platform (and was able to do it while eschewing the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Focus on the Family), he might have my vote and convince other “liberals” of my generation (the less ideological, more pragmatic stripe) to swing right as well. There are some candidates who just might be that guy: Charlie Crist, Jon Huntsman, I would have said John McCain before his disgraceful showing last fall. Ironically, the politician who most reflects those values might just be the guy in the White House right now.

Today, Maine’s governor signed gay marriage into law, which now leaves New Hampshire and Rhode Island as the only two New England states that haven’t legalized gay marriage. New Hampshire’s legislature is close to passing such a bill, and Rhode Island, while lagging behind, is at least debating the topic in their legislature.

I don’t have any original commentary to add here. It is astounding to watch our system work on the side of what’s right as opposed to on the side of what’s bigoted–and you’ll never be able to convince me that the argument against gay marriage is rooted in anything other than bigotry.

It’s been raining for the last couple days here, but the sun came out a couple hours ago and we might salvage a nice spring day yet–something that, in New England, is harder to come by than a gay married couple.

This was a question posed to today’s Berkman Tuesday Luncheon Series speaker, Liz Losh during her talk on the Obama administration’s use of social media and its pitfalls (video will be posted in the next day or two at cyber.law.harvard.edu).  This particular question was a little off topic (she was speaking mostly about the challenges of governments using these tools from the perspective of archiving civic discourse), but it made me perk up nonetheless.

My first reaction was that it seems we all have very short memories.  In 2004, the Berkman Center hosted a conference following the presidential elections at which we spent about a day and a half talking about how the Bush/Cheney campaign absolutely demolished Kerry/Edwards in the online organizing arena.  And have we forgotten Howard Dean’s demise? I’ve been in the presence of many Internet/campaign/politics conversations over the last four years, and I find we have a tendency to forget one very important element in the success of such campaigns: the candidate.  I feel very strongly that had Obama not had the force of personality or the biography or the ideas, then he could never have organized such a level of support, online or offline.  People signed up for his email list, or organized canvassing trips, not because the tools made it easy to do but because they felt compelled by the candidate, the issues, the context to get involved.  Obama’s message just happened to hit home especially hard with those most likely to be familiar with these tools in the first place: young people, innovators, intellectuals, hipsters, etc.  If John Kerry had had these tools at his disposal in 2004, I’m not sure it would have made any difference.

So I guess my answer to the original questions is no, Republicans aren’t inherently bad at social media.  Democrats have the ability to be just as sucky (doesn’t anyone remember that Obama had some primary opponents who didn’t have the best web 2.0 strategies themselves?), and there are some Republicans who did really well online in 2008 (well, maybe just one–Ron Paul–but it’s because he actually had some ideas to rally around).  The point is, Republicans can have as many of their members in congress tweeting as they want, until they have some ideas to communicate, it’s not going to matter.