Learning Acceptance

The Willards invited us and a couple of other neighbors over for a barbecue on their giant new gas grill.  Ann greeted us at the door, and after we thanked her for inviting us, Patty asked, “By the way, is it some special occasion?”

We’ve known the Willards for years.  Ann flushed, hesitated, and then said, “I suppose it’s okay to talk about it.  Dean has been having some... anxiety for a while, and I finally persuaded him to see a psychiatrist.  It took some intensive therapy and some medication, but they finally got him adjusted.  Dean had a hard time adapting to the new ‘normal.’  But he’s made the breakthrough.”  She gave a little smile of relief.  “He’s fine now.  So we felt like having a quiet celebration with our friends.”

I couldn’t restrain myself.  Despite a warning glance from Patty and a sharp kick to my shin, I asked, “Uh, what’s this ‘new normal’ he’s come to accept?  What’s that about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing earthshaking,” she said dismissively.  “Just learning to accept the world the way it is.”

“Like what, for instance?”  

“Ordinary things,” she said.  “You know.  Kidnapping people and shipping them to CIA black sites overseas to be tortured.  Jailing people in Guantanamo while denying them lawyers and visits by family members and holding them for years without charging them with a crime.  And then finding them innocent but continuing to hold them for more years.”

“Heck, that kind of thing is old hat now,” I said.  “First Bush, and now Obama.  Dean always seemed like a sensible guy.  I would have expected him to learn to go with the flow, like most people have.”

“I don’t want to make him sound fanatical,” she said, a little defensively.  “He probably could have handled it if that was all it was.  But then that SEAL force assassinated Osama bin Laden when he was unarmed, and killed a defenseless woman in the process, and that really bothered him.  He felt as if the man should have been captured and brought back to stand trial.  He said that’s the way a government operating under the rule of law would have done it.”

I patted her on the shoulder.  “I can see what a burden you’ve been carrying.  I haven’t thought about bin Laden in years.  That’s not just yesterday’s news; that’s history.”

Ann gave me a weak smile of gratitude.  “I think he might have gotten over that, but then these drone attacks kept escalating.  When he learned that 90% of the people killed by the drones are innocent women and children, somehow he couldn’t let go.  It just kept gnawing on him.  He lost his appetite and had trouble getting to sleep at night.  He began carrying a copy of the Constitution around in his pocket, and he’d pull it out and read it over and over, at the most inappropriate times.”

“He must have been desperate, grasping for anything to give him a hold on reality,” I said.  “ But you say he’s recovered now?”

“I think so,” she said, nodding.  “We couldn’t let his depression keep on like that, so we reached out for help.”

“I can certainly understand that,” I said.  “Some things you can’t just let ride.  You have to do something about them.”

“I’m glad you understand,” she said.  “We were starting to feel so isolated, with people all around us just going about their lives, while he was stuck on brooding constantly about our government’s--I don’t know what you would call them.  Imperfections?  I mean, that’s just the way things are, right?  Nobody’s perfect.”

“Sure,” I agreed.  “And that was all that was bothering him?”

“Well, no,” she admitted.  “He had a laundry list of things that haunted him.  It seemed to prey on his mind that Medicare and Medicaid and Social Security are all on the chopping block.  That states are shredding contracts with state workers and denying them the right to strike.  That we have the worst unemployment since the Great Depression, and the response is budget cuts that will create more unemployment.  That CEOs are making astronomical sums at the same time they’re cutting the pay of hourly workers.  That corporations are hiding billions in profits offshore and paying no income tax.  That we’re all being spied on by our own government.  He just didn’t think those things were fair.  He’s always been a little old-fashioned, you know.  He still thinks we should look out for each other and treat each other decently.”

“He’s lucky to have a wife who pays attention,” said Patty sympathetically.  “It sounds as if you have a really good understanding of his problem.”

“I had to listen to him often enough,” Ann sighed.  “At first I just took it as Dean’s blowing off steam.  But he wouldn’t let things roll off his back like a normal person.  You’d think it was his money funding war and murder by executive order, his family’s safety net that was being threatened, his community’s environment being polluted.  He took it all so personally.”

“Mental health issues can be frightening,” I told her.  “I’m glad it’s all worked out for the two of you.  Which way’s the beer?” 

© Tony Russell, 2013

Why Are You Whispering?

“Say, did you happen to make it to that Veteran’s Day ceremony downtown?”  I asked my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Dichter.  

“What’s that?” she asked.  “You have to remember to face me when you’re talking, or your voice wanders off in another direction.”

“The Veteran’s Day ceremony downtown,” I said, facing her and yelling.  “Did you go?”

“No need to shout,” she said.  “I’m not deaf, you know.  But it’s no use my going to speeches.  Or plays or movies, for that matter.  They all mumble so much I can’t make out what they’re talking about.”

“The speaker said that freedom isn’t free.  It has a price, and we’re still paying the price because we’re still at war.”

She snorted.  “I wouldn’t have needed to go downtown to hear that.  There must have been thousands of speeches around the country that day with the exact same theme.  I heard people say it dozens of times myself when I was younger.  It’s quite a cliche now.  It’s been said so often by now that a lot of people believe it’s true.”

I looked at her, shocked.  “What are you saying?” I asked.  “You don’t think it’s true?  You don’t think freedom has a price?”

“Of course not,” she said.  “It just sounds so right because of this society’s assumption that everything has a price.  Freedom is free.  Anytime, anywhere, you can act and speak freely.  You could say anything you wanted, right now.  I wish more people felt free enough to do that in this country.”

“But there are consequences for saying some things.”

“Of course.  Everything has consequences.  Have you taken a look at the consequences of  ‘paying the price’ these speakers are urging on us?  They’re pretty ugly.  It also so happens that the same people telling you freedom isn’t free are the ones who will administer those consequences.  And they’re making the consequences more drastic all the time.”  

“But how can you just ignore that our soldiers are bleeding and dying right now to preserve our freedom.”

She looked sad.  “Ace,” she said, “I’m not ignoring it.  I’m appalled by it.  It enrages me that our young people are being duped into ‘paying the price’ by people who will reap the profits.  Our kids in uniform aren’t fighting for our freedom; they’re simply being used.  They may not be able to see it, but they’re fighting for empire, for oil profits, for market share.” 

I was shocked.  It’s surprising how little we know our neighbors sometimes.  “Mrs. Dichter, how did you get to be so cynical?”

“I’m not a cynic, Ace,” she said.  “I’m an idealist through and through.  The cynics are those who deliberately use the language of liberty and love of country to betray good-hearted, well-meaning people.”  

“I gather you don’t think people feel free to act and speak in this country?”

“People who don’t pose a challenge to the status quo probably feel free, because none of the weight of the state is brought to bear on them.  But it’s a different story for people who actually do something that the folks at the top don’t like.”

“Like who?”

“Like people actually fighting for human rights, civil rights, economic justice, or peace and environmental issues.  Look, you’re a journalist of sorts.  Did you read the results of the survey that PEN America did of 520 American writers, checking on the impact of NSA surveillance?”

I ignored the “of sorts.”  “Uh, no,” I said.  “I must have missed that.”

“I can understand how you would,” she said tartly.  “It wasn’t on the sports page.”

“Okay, you got me,” I said.  “What about the survey?”

“Well, 1 in 6 writers admitted they haven’t written or spoken about some topic because of concern about NSA surveillance, and another 1 in 6 admitted to seriously considering squelching their thoughts.”

“So a few writers got the jitters.  We’re a paranoid bunch.”

“Nice to see you defend your own profession so eloquently.   Tell me this, then.  Do you think the Occupy Movement, which was spreading like wildfire, just magically disappeared on its own, in a matter of weeks, in towns and cities across the country?”

“Uh, to tell the truth, I hadn’t thought about it much.”

“You might turn off your TV and take a look at how that came about.  It’s amazing how easily the Obama administration, working with banks and universities and local police, dismantled the Occupy Movement.”  

“I wouldn’t have thought someone your age would be so sympathetic to a bunch of young people camping on public property.”

“Ace,” she said,  exasperated.  “Just look around you!  Look at the harsh prosecutions and sentences being meted out to environmental protestors like that nice young man, Tim DeChristopher.  To animal abuse protesters who try to improve conditions at slaughterhouses and poultry processing plants.  And have you noticed that honorable whistleblowers who reveal fraud or waste or illegal government surveillance have the book thrown at them, but the frauds and crooks and incompetents they exposed go unscathed?”

By now she was making me really uncomfortable.  “You know, Mrs. Dichter,” I told her, “I don’t think we should be having this conversation.”

“Pardon me?  I didn’t hear what you said.  Why are you whispering?”  

© Tony Russell, 2013

My Conscience Would Be Beating Me Like a Drum

Our kitchen sink was stopped up, so I headed out to our local big box store to buy a snake to run down the drain.  I was wandering around trying to find the plumbing section when I spotted the clerk I’d bought some paint from on my last visit.  “Hey, Don,” I said, “can you point me toward the snakes?”

He jerked a thumb toward the north.  “I expect you could find some along the river there,” he said.  “We don’t have any cottonmouths in this part of the state, but the copperheads like swampy places and rock outcrops.”

“I didn’t come in here looking for reptiles, Don,” I said.

“Well, one of the managers is a snake,” he said.  “And another is a weasel.  You can find them in the office back there.  Careful.  They both bite.”

Everybody is a comedian in hard times.  “I’ve got a drain stopped up,” I explained patiently, “and the plunger wouldn’t do the trick.  I need one of those coiled wire snakes. “

“Ah,” he said.  “In the trade we call those handheld augers.  Come on, I’ll show you where they’re at.”  

As we walked, I said, “You’re not in the paint section any more?”

“Nope,” he said.  “I’ve moved on.  I was temporary part time there.  I bid on a permanent part time job in the electrical section, and got it.”

“You’re retired and working part time to supplement your income?”

He snorted and gave me a look.  “I’m an engineer, and my company cut its work force twenty percent two years ago.  I’d been with them for twenty-four years, had great evaluations, but that didn’t mean jack.  I spent a year and a half trying to find an engineering job, with no luck, and now I’m working two part time jobs to try to hold on to our house.”

“Why don’t you work full time?”

“Did you see those jobs posted on the white board as you entered the store?”

“Yeah,” I said, “I didn’t pay too much attention to them, but there must have been five or six.  All part time.”

“That’s the way it works,” he explained.  “They hire you temporary part time.  You’re completely disposable, and you don’t get any benefits.  You can bid on jobs as they come available, which is how I moved up to permanent part time.”

I frowned.  “What about full time jobs?” I asked.  “Aren’t there any full time jobs?”

“A few,” he said.  “I don’t know what the percentage would be.  Most of the jobs here are part time.  We bid on the few full time jobs that come up, but everybody wants those.  Odds of getting one are pretty slim.  They like keeping people part time.  That way they don’t have to pay any benefits.  In fact I’ve got a second part time job at Walmart, so now I’m working sixty hours a week at two jobs with no benefits.”

“Ouch,” I said.  “That’s terrible.”

“Get used to it,” he said, glancing at me, “that’s the new American economy.  It’s the Walmart model, and it’s spreading everywhere.”

“I read that a Walmart store in Ohio organized a food drive, setting up plastic bins with a sign saying, ‘Please donate food items here so our Associates in Need can enjoy Thanksgiving Dinner’.”

“I saw that too.  Pretty thoughtful of them, wasn’t it?” he said.  “Of course another approach would be to pay people a living wage and allow them to work full time.  But that might cut into the Walton family’s living standard.”

“They could probably still manage to live comfortably,” I suggested.

“I don’t see how,” he said.  

“Why not?” I asked, puzzled.

“The Waltons have a net worth of over $144 billion dollars--more than the combined worth of 40 percent of the entire population of the U.S.  Think of that for a minute.  Could you live comfortably, knowing that your employees didn’t have money for health care, for Thanksgiving dinner, for a decent place to live, for school clothes for their kids, while you roll in a level of luxury an emperor would envy?  I couldn’t.  My conscience would be beating me like a drum.”

© Tony Russell, 2013

We’d Prefer You Not Use the Term ‘Lizard’

“Welcome to another broadcast of ‘Encounters With the Unspeakable.’  I’m your host, Chuck Anthony, and we have an exciting guest for you this evening.  Lloyd Blankluch is the CEO of one of our major multinational investment banking firms.  He has been involved in a pioneering effort to tap into the unrealized potential of men buried in our overburdened criminal justice system.  Lloyd, welcome to the program.  Can you give us an overview of Project Chameleon?”

“Glad to, Chuck.  And thanks for having me.  In a nutshell, Project Chameleon is a job training program created by a group of Wall Street’s leading investment firms.  We identify promising men who are currently part of the huge prison population in this country.  Then we take the cream of the crop and provide them with sophisticated training that prepares them to enter jobs in the financial sector once they are released.”

“Are you talking janitorial positions here, Lloyd?  Elevator operators?  Doormen?”

[Laughing]  “Hardly, Chuck.  These men move immediately into entry-level managerial  positions once they exit the graybar hotel.”

“So the significance of your project’s name is....?”

“These guys will trade their orange jumpsuits for half a dozen business suits in navy, black, pinstripes, and various shades of gray as soon as they walk out the prison gates.  With their suits and values, they’ll blend in perfectly in their new environment.”

“Knowing the way  the financial sector works, Lloyd, I suspect this isn’t an entirely altruistic venture on your part.”

“Lord no!  This is a win-win situation for everyone.  So many of these men are trapped in a revolving door that returns them again and again to prison.  They get a chance to escape the recidivism cycle, and the financial sector gets a highly motivated work force with the aptitudes and temperament to re-energize our entire industry.”

“What are those qualities you’re looking for, Lloyd?  Are they key in the screening process?”

“They’re the core not only of the screening process, Chuck, but of the whole program.  They’re that important.”

“So you’re looking for...?”

“We’ve identified five traits that characterize the upper management of Wall Street firms.  Greed.  Energy.  Decisiveness.  Numerical literacy.  Ruthlessness.  And Amorality.”

“Uh, I counted six items there, Lloyd.”

“We don’t require a high degree of numerical literacy, Chuck.  That’s what accountants are for.”

“Of course.  Pardon me.  I have to say though, Lloyd, some of those sound a little rough!”

“Investment banking and securities isn’t for the tender-hearted, Chuck.  It’s a big-boys game.  You have to be willing to destroy communities, ruin lives, devastate the landscape, impoverish millions, even turn the planet into a giant toaster oven in order to turn a short-term profit.”

“I would think that would be a ... difficult ... set of criteria to use when selling the program.”

“I was using the informal version, Chuck.  We generally rephrase them for public consumption.”

“So you recast ‘greed’ as ....?”

“Ambition.”

“‘Ruthlessness’?”

“Willingness to make the tough decisions.”

“‘Amorality’?”

“Flexibility.”

“‘Destruction’?”

“Development.”

“And ‘impoverish millions’?”

“Job creation.”

“Ah, I see.  Gotcha.  I’m just thinking out loud here, but the idea of a chameleon is that only its outer appearance changes.  The inner lizard remains the same.”

“That’s correct, Chuck.  But we’d prefer you not use the term ‘lizard’.”

“No problem.  But if these same criminal qualities are at work in both the underworld and the corporate world, wouldn’t we expect to see some chameleons reverting to their old colors, trading their drab business suits for bright orange prison jumpsuits?”

“That’s the beauty of the financial sector, Chuck, and what makes our program so attractive to inmates.  We tell them, ‘Say farewell to prison.  Either we’ve legalized every crime we commit, or we’re too big to be held accountable.  A broker’s license is quite literally a license to steal.’” 

“I guess that isn’t a hard sell, to somebody doing time.”

“You’d be surprised!  These guys are skeptics to begin with.  It’s counterintuitive, you know, that the more you steal the lower the risk.”

“So what convinces them?”

“Data.  Hard facts.  ‘Don’t take our word for it,’ we tell them.  ‘Check things out on the Internet.’  Look up SAC Capital Advisors, for instance--maybe the most profitable hedge fund in history.  They bet on corporate securities with the advantage of insider secrets they obtained illegally.  Just this past week they pled guilty to security and wire fraud and are anteing up $1.2 billion as part of the settlement.  But here’s the sweet part. Nobody is going to jail.  Not a single soul!  And the company will still turn a profit!  And Steve Cohen, who owns and manages it, will still be worth more than $8 billion after he pays his fine!  I mean ‘Hello!  Have I got a deal for you!’  Financial crime pays really, really well nowadays, with near-zero risk of jail time.  If you’re somebody serving five to ten years for stealing a few hundred dollars, and then you’re offered an opportunity to steal billions without doing a day behind bars, wouldn’t you jump at the chance?”

© Tony Russell, 2013

Is This Really the Way Democracy Is Supposed to Work?

“Hey, Ace, what’s up?  I notice you don’t have a sign on your lawn for the governor’s race.  That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to say it, Ralph, but I think I’m gonna sit that race out.  I notice you don’t have a sign in your yard either.”

He looked a little down.  “To tell the truth, Ace,” he said, “I’ve been the dutiful citizen and held my nose while I pulled the lever one too many times.  I’ve finally had enough.  I just can’t find it in me to vote for either one of these guys.”  

“Huh.  That’s funny, that’s about where I am too.  When it came right down to it, I couldn’t see putting a sign up for somebody I don’t respect, let alone have any reason to vote for.”

“That’s happening more and more.  When you find yourself  choosing the lesser of two evils time after time, you’re degrading the body politic almost every election cycle.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.  I’m not sure I want to.  It’s the reverse of the old ‘every-day-in-every-way-I’m-getting-better-and-better’ attitude.”

“Just answer me this, Ace,” he said.  “Do you find yourself wondering, ‘Is this really the way democracy is supposed to work?’  Seems to me that election after election, neither candidate will talk about the real issues.  It’s as if they drew up an agreement to stick major issues in the back of a giant ‘Ignore’ drawer.   And what do they campaign on?  Sex!”

“Sex?”

“Sex.  It’s all sex-related,” he said.  “Divorce.  Abortion.  Homosexuality.  I’m sure not saying those aren’t important in people’s lives. But the planet is heading toward a meltdown, the middle class is a threatened species, Wall Street owns Washington, and we go from one trillion dollar war to another like the national equivalent of a serial killer who just can’t stop.  The only arm of government listening to what the people say is the NSA.  Our schools are turning kids into right-answer machines, and those who graduate are getting priced out of college or saddled with lifelong debt.  And what actions do these candidates propose in response to such colossal problems?  Not a damned thing!  They spend 95% of their campaign tearing into the other guy’s views on hot-button sex topics.”

“Wow, you’re pretty worked up, Ralph.  But I have to agree on the negative campaigning.  I’ll bet I’ve received fifteen or twenty mailings from my party’s candidate, and all but one consisted of  nothing but an attack on your man.  I wasn’t supposed to vote for anybody; I was supposed to be scared into voting against someone.”

“I know what you mean, Ace, and I apologize for the rant.  Like I said, I don’t have a man in this race.  But I just don’t know what to do with politics anymore.  It feels as if our democracy has been driven to the end of a dead end street.  Some of the candidates for other state and local offices are people I can support.  But more and more the big races remind me of high school, where we only got to vote on things like class colors and the kids ‘most likely to succeed.’  It was a charade, you know, but we were supposed to be grateful for the chance to go through the motions of democracy in action.”

“I guess I understand where you’re coming from.  If the system is rigged so that lobbyists and corporate donations call the shots, the two major parties freeze others out of the process, only the rich or those who’ve sold their souls can afford to run for a major office, and voting districts are gerrymandered to give incumbents a 95% chance of success, it seems pointless to spend  much energy ‘working within the system.’  But what’s the alternative?”

“Well, I can tell you what the historical alternative has been.”

“What’s that?”

[Ralph pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolds it, and begins to read]  

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator  with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Live, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

“That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”

“Hold on there!  Don’t you think you’re overreacting, Ralph?  What about some intervening steps?  You aren’t really suggesting what it sounds like you’re suggesting--are you?  That’s un-American!”

© Tony Russell, 2013

Feeling Insecure About the National Security Agency

Kevin burst in the door.  “Dad!  Mom!” he shouted.  “Mrs. Eleutheria has been arrested!  We had a substitute for Civics this morning, and they don’t know when she’ll be back.”

“Arrested!?” said Patty.  “Mrs. Eleutheria?  What in the world is that about?”

“Her daughter Janis is in our class.  She said four FBI agents came to their house at 6:30 this morning and made her mom go off with them.  Mrs. Eleutheria hadn’t even had her cup of coffee yet.  They told her she had been under surveillance and was being ‘detained on suspicion of terrorist activities’.”

“We’re all under surveillance,” I said.  “But terrorism?  Mrs. Eleutheria?  I never would have suspected her.  She actually seemed like a nice lady.”

“She is a nice lady,” said Kevin, “and she’s a great teacher.  She makes her class exciting.  She doesn’t just make you read the book and then answer the questions at the end of the chapter, like some of the other teachers do.  She gets you working together on understanding issues, so you end of doing all kinds of research on your own and really dig into them.”

“Did she have a secret life?” I wondered.  “Is she an Arab involved in some plot to blow up the Statue of Liberty or something?”

Patsy gave me that look--the one that causes the hair on the back of your neck to curl as if it has just been singed by a flame.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Ace,” she said, “We’ve known Helena Eleutheria since Janis and Kevin were in kindergarten together.  She’s more patriotic than either one of us.  Furthermore, she’s Greek, not Arab.  Also, there’s nothing wrong with being an Arab.  Stereotyping Arabs as terrorists is as dumb as stereotyping Americans as ill-mannered, ignorant, overweight tourists.  And I shouldn’t have to remind you that Mrs. Eleutheria is presumed innocent.  By our legal system and by you and me.  Are we together on all that?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I said hastily.  “I just, uh ....”

“Good,” she said.  Then she turned to Kevin.  “Did Janis have any more information?”

“She told us the FBI agents weren’t saying much.  But her dad thinks it may have to do with our class.”

“Your class?  What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s this video that all the kids have been looking at on the Internet, where Russell Brand tells a BBC guy that the current political system is corrupt, lopsided, and serves the interests of the ruling class.  He says voting is a waste of time because it’s rigged to present lousy choices.  People keep voting for the lesser of two evils, and things just keep getting more evil.  He says there’s going to be a revolution, that he doesn’t have ‘a flicker of doubt’.”  [The video Kevin refers to can be seen at http://www.commondreams.org/headline/2013/10/24-6.]

“I don’t know who Russell Brand is,” I said, “but what did that have to do with your Civics class?”

“You sort of have to understand how Mrs. Eleutheria teaches, Dad.  She listened to what kids had to say about the video, and then she asked us whether the criticisms Russell Brand made were valid.  She asked how we could determine whether they were valid--what resources we could use.  She asked us whether we should pay any attention to what someone says when he admits he’s never voted in his life.  She asked if there were other options instead of revolution.  She asked us whether people had a right to revolt, and if so, under what conditions.  She asked about violent revolutions versus nonviolent revolutions.  She had us read the Declaration of Independence in the back of our books, and asked us why the revolution that established this country took place, and whether the reasoning given then still applies.  She asked people in the class to form groups and each pick a revolution that has taken place since the American Revolution, and see why it occurred, how it was justified, what its tactics were, and how successful it was in correcting the things that caused it in the first place.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” said Patty.  “She took something kids were already fired up about, linked it to our own history and world history, led you to wrestle with a fundamental document, had you think about source materials, caused you to do some serious thinking and analysis, and asked you to arrive at a justifiable conclusion.  That’s just great teaching!”

“We were learning a lot,” agreed Kevin.  “Some of the connections kids were making were really neat.  For instance, one girl in class pointed out that Pope Francis is saying some of the same things that Russell Brand was saying.  Francis called the current economy ‘a betrayal of the common good.’  And he’s talked about the need for ecological commitment, saying that ‘Work must be connected to the custody of creation.’  When Russell Brand shares some key ideas with the Pope, it makes you think he’s not just ‘a trivial man,’ which is what the interviewer called him at one point.”

“I must be missing something,” said Patty.  “What’s the harm?  We’re talking about a Civics class, and all of this discussion sounds like a wonderful way to get kids really thinking about our government and our current political situation.” 

“Yeah,” said Kevin, “but there was all this talk about revolution, and people were posting on Facebook about it and tweeting on Twitter about it and conducting searches on the Internet about it and having live chats about it.  And all of those things are being spied on by the National Security Agency.  Maybe the people running the government start getting antsy when they hear ordinary people talking about revolution.”

“Let’s not get paranoid, Kevin,” I laughed.  “Once the FBI actually sits down and talks with Mrs. Eleutheria, she’ll be back in the classroom by tomorrow.”

He looked a little doubtful.  “I’m not so sure,” he said.  “According to Janis, her father said that believing our government is some kind of benign force promoting freedom and democracy at home and abroad can be a dangerous delusion.”

“He what?!”

“He told her to look up what we did to democracy in Iran,  Guatemala, the Congo, and Chile.”

“Surely you don’t think...,” I began.

“I don’t know, Dad,” said Kevin.  “The kids in my class are really worried about her mother.  We feel pretty insecure about the National Security Agency.”

“Um, you weren’t posting anything about a revolution on Facebook were you, Kevin?” I asked nervously.  “Or tweeting about it?  Or researching revolutions on the Internet?”

“Just a minute, Dad, I think there’s somebody at the door,” he said.

“What!”

“Ha!” he said.  “Made you jump, didn’t I?”

“Kevin,” I said angrily, “this is no laughing matter.”

© Tony Russell, 2013

They're Only Scientists

Russian president Vladimir Putin made two closely linked announcements yesterday in his weekly television broadcast.  

The first was that Russia’s crude oil producer Rosneft has signed a blockbuster $85 billion deal to send an extra 100 million tons of crude oil to China over the next ten years.  The second was the launching of a vast development project to build a series of year-round luxury resorts on the White Sea, most of which lies just below the Arctic Circle.

“We are confident,” said Putin, “that this huge energy deal with China, coupled with Canada’s exploitation of its tar sands, massive industrialization in China and India, and successful efforts by Saudi Arabia and the United States to block international agreements to cut carbon emissions, will easily suffice to warm the planet twelve to fifteen degrees within the next thirty years.  That should make the White Sea region an attractive getaway spot for global tourism.”

  “Although the White Sea currently freezes from October or November until May or June,” he continued, “its four large bays and many islands offer hundreds and hundreds of miles of coastline waiting to be developed.  In thirty years it will be not too cold, not too hot, but just right.”  

“Billionaires and major corporate entities will have the opportunity to buy and name their own White Sea islands.  The general public can enjoy year-round swimming, sunbathing, sailing, surfboarding, snorkeling, and sport fishing all along the coast once the planet heats up,” Putin said.  “When that happens, we plan to have our docks, shops, and other facilities and infrastructure in place to take full advantage of it.”

“Your development proposals show drawings of palm trees swaying in sea breezes, with shimmering turquoise waters lapping at beautiful white sand beaches as the sun begins to set.  Is that really the scenario you’re envisioning?” asked a reporter.

“That may be a bit fanciful,” Putin admitted.  “It won’t quite be Bermuda in February.  But then Bermuda will no longer be Bermuda in February either.  After being roasted, boiled, and baked for eleven months, people from south of the Arctic will flock to our mild climate to get stewed and fried,”  he joked.

Putin added that a series of canal boats have been commissioned to serve as floating casinos, with weekend trips to the Baltic along the scenic White Sea Canal.

Not to be outdone, Finland, Norway, and Sweden immediately announced their intention to form a regional development commission to plan getaways in their own frigid northern parts.

Climate scientists were skeptical about the development plans.  

“He’s on the money with his warming projections,” said one leading expert, “but he doesn’t seem to be taking into account the rise in ocean waters that will result once the polar ice caps and Greenland ice sheet melt.  Those islands in the White Sea are likely to be submerged.  And the present-day coastline will vanish as the sea rises and moves inland.  How far back from today’s shoreline is he planning to build these resorts?”

Putin scoffed at such criticisms.  “What do they know about real estate ventures?” he asked rhetorically.  “They’re only scientists.”

Top financial analysts, however, seemed to have no doubt which way the wind was blowing.  “I’d put my money into gas and oil stocks,” said leading investor Warren Smorgasbord, “and pull the plug on seaside developments.”

© Tony Russell, 2013

Everyone Else Gets Priced Out of the Game

“I’m sorry to bother you, Congressman, but I thought you might like to know that Theresa has been in the waiting room for almost two hours now, hoping to see you.”

“Theresa?”

“She’s the new staffer in our Scottsville office.”

“Oh yes, I remember now.  But I thought she was, uh ....”

“Yes sir, she’s on furlough while the government is shut down.  But she’s here.  She wouldn’t say what she wants, but she’s been sitting there since the office opened this morning.”

“Probably needs to borrow some money.  Oh well, send her in, Sally.  But interrupt us after fifteen minutes.  [Glances at his watch]  I still have half a dozen more donors to call before lunchtime.”

“Yes, sir.”  [Exits and sends Theresa in]

[Congressman rising]  “Theresa, it’s good to see you!  Sorry to have kept you waiting.  What can I do for you.”

“Well, sir, since I’ve been on furlough....”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry about that, but, you know, that’s how the shutdown works, and my hands were tied.  Listen, if you need a little something to tide you over....”  [Starts to reach for his billfold]

[Flushed with excitement]  “Oh, no sir!  I didn’t come to borrow money!  I had all this time while I’ve been out of work, and I thought, well, no sense feeling sorry for yourself, Theresa, you might as well make good use of these days that’ve been freed up.  So I’ve just been trying to understand this debt problem that’s been bothering you and your friends in Congress.  And I was surprised.  It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.  I think I’ve figured out how to do the right thing, put all of us back to work, and solve the debt crisis!  Isn’t that great!  I had to run up here and share it with you!” 

[Wary of her fervor]  “Uh, that sounds ... interesting, Theresa.  I’d be happy to take a look at it.  Just leave a copy with Sally.”

“Super.  I know you’re extra busy, and the paper’s a little long, so I put together this summary page here.  Let me give you a quick breakdown of how it would work.  It’ll only take a few minutes.”

[Congressman glances at his watch again, decides to humor her]  “Okay, five minutes.  Then I have a lot of calls to make.”

[She hands him a printed page.  He sits at his desk to look at it, and she goes around behind him and bends over his shoulder to point out various items as she explains them.]

“This first item here, offshore tax havens.  See this.  (Points]  A quarter of a trillion dollars, maybe more, that rich Americans have tucked away offshore to avoid taxes!  I mean, that’s not fair, you know?  Why should elderly people who have worked hard all their lives have to give up some of their Medicare and Social Security benefits while extremely wealthy people avoid paying their fair share of taxes? 

[Points to second item]  “And here.  Underpayment of taxes.  That’s another $450 billion--almost half a trillion dollars--where people--again, mostly those in the higher brackets--avoid paying their fair share, and stick people who are less able to pay with the bills.

[Moves down to next point]  “And look at this!  Tax credits, capital gains, exclusions, and other tax loopholes that almost look as if they’re designed to benefit those who need help the least!  Together they add up to another $1.25 trillion of tax income drained out of the system!

[Turns and looks at him directly, her face flushed with enthusiasm]  “Do you see it, sir?  We don’t have to inflict more pain on people who are already hurting, or cut into programs that benefit everyone!  With some relatively simple corrections that actually make the system more just, we can solve this fiscal crisis!”

[They both appear dazed for a moment by a vision of what-could-be.  Then the Congressman gives a shake, like a dog emerging from water.  Now he is embarrassed, remembering when he was once this excited about public service]  

“Uh, that’s all very interesting, Theresa, and in theory it looks as if it might work, but there are some, uh, practical considerations that make the kind of ‘simple corrections’ you refer to extremely difficult to implement.”

[She looks at him, more than a little hurt]  “What kind of ‘practical considerations,’ sir?”

[Even more embarrassed]  “Theresa, the average winner for a seat in the House spent $1,567,379 in his or her last campaign.  I know that to the last digit because that’s the minimum amount I have to raise to stay competitive and keep my seat.  The cost keeps going up, and I have to raise that money every two-year cycle.  Together, I and my colleagues in the House spent close to $700 million to win our races in 2012.”

[Puzzled]  “I’m afraid I’m not following you, sir.”

[Holding up his own sheet, of donors and potential donors]  “While you’ve been working on your list, I’ve been working on mine.   I get the money to stay competitive by continually calling people and asking them to contribute to my campaign.  Wealthy people.  My colleagues in the House and Senate all have their own lists.  They’re making their own calls.  To wealthy people.  Asking for their support.  All of the items you listed that need ‘simple corrections’  benefit wealthy people.  You see the problem.” 

[Stunned]  “I’m not sure, sir.  [Hesitantly]  I hope I’m mistaken, but you seem to be implying that you and your colleagues won’t deal with the debt crisis by doing something that’s obvious and fair because keeping your job is dependent on keeping the system unfair.  You’re implying that your primary obligation is to protect and serve the interests of the wealthiest people in the country.  But that can’t be right, can it?”

[Not responding directly to her question]  “Theresa, have you heard of Citizens United?”

“It sounds familiar, sir.”

“Well, it needs to be very familiar.  It’s no coincidence that most of these wealthy people we political candidates call happen to be major shareholders in, or direct, or manage large corporations.  Citizens United was a ruling by the Supreme Court that any limitation on corporate contributions to political action groups is now unconstitutional.  You think the campaign costs I just talked about are huge?  You haven’t seen anything yet.  They’re going to become monstrous!  Obscene!  And the more expensive campaigns become, the more it works to the advantage of the people and corporations who have the lion’s share of the money.  Everyone else gets priced out of the game.  

[Worked up now, forgetting himself]  “I’m sure the $700 million House members spent to win their seats seems like a lot of money to you.  It does to me.  Add in the $337 million the winners in the Senate spent.  But to major corporations, that kind of money is nothing!  Chicken feed!  They can buy Congress with their spare change!  ExxonMobil alone had a profit of $45 billion last year!  They could buy the entire Congress and still be almost $44 billion to the good.  Apple made almost $42 billion!  And the Supreme Court says let them spend whatever they want to buy election influence?  It’s insane!”  

[To his own amazement, the congressman begins to weep, overwhelmed by an unexpected surge of emotions that includes anger, sadness, frustration, and woundedness.  Theresa begins to weep as well, and reaches over to comfort him, just as Sally opens the door.]  “Excuse me, Congressman, but you have a... well, excuse me!   [Misreads situation, turns quickly and leaves, closing door behind her]

© Tony Russell, 2013