Hot House

Obama's Speech in Cairo

2009-06-05T20:07:14Z

Obama's Speech in Cairo

I am honored to be in the timeless city of Cairo, and to be hosted by two remarkable institutions. For over a thousand years, Al-Azhar has stood as a beacon of Islamic learning, and for over a century, Cairo University has been a source of Egypt's advancement. Together, you represent the harmony between tradition and progress. I am grateful for your hospitality, and the hospitality of the people of Egypt. I am also proud to carry with me the goodwill of the American people, and a greeting of peace from Muslim communities in my country: assalaamu alaykum.

We meet at a time of tension between the United States and Muslims around the world - tension rooted in historical forces that go beyond any current policy debate. The relationship between Islam and the West includes centuries of co-existence and cooperation, but also conflict and religious wars. More recently, tension has been fed by colonialism that denied rights and opportunities to many Muslims, and a Cold War in which Muslim-majority countries were too often treated as proxies without regard to their own aspirations. Moreover, the sweeping change brought by modernity and globalization led many Muslims to view the West as hostile to the traditions of Islam.

Violent extremists have exploited these tensions in a small but potent minority of Muslims. The attacks of September 11th, 2001 and the continued efforts of these extremists to engage in violence against civilians has led some in my country to view Islam as inevitably hostile not only to America and Western countries, but also to human rights. This has bred more fear and mistrust.

So long as our relationship is defined by our differences, we will empower those who sow hatred rather than peace, and who promote conflict rather than the cooperation that can help all of our people achieve justice and prosperity. This cycle of suspicion and discord must end.

I have come here to seek a new beginning between the United States and Muslims around the world; one based upon mutual interest and mutual respect; and one based upon the truth that America and Islam are not exclusive, and need not be in competition. Instead, they overlap, and share common principles - principles of justice and progress; tolerance and the dignity of all human beings.

I do so recognizing that change cannot happen overnight. No single speech can eradicate years of mistrust, nor can I answer in the time that I have all the complex questions that brought us to this point. But I am convinced that in order to move forward, we must say openly the things we hold in our hearts, and that too often are said only behind closed doors. There must be a sustained effort to listen to each other; to learn from each other; to respect one another; and to seek common ground. As the Holy Koran tells us, "Be conscious of God and speak always the truth." That is what I will try to do - to speak the truth as best I can, humbled by the task before us, and firm in my belief that the interests we share as human beings are far more powerful than the forces that drive us apart.

Part of this conviction is rooted in my own experience. I am a Christian, but my father came from a Kenyan family that includes generations of Muslims. As a boy, I spent several years in Indonesia and heard the call of the azaan at the break of dawn and the fall of dusk. As a young man, I worked in Chicago communities where many found dignity and peace in their Muslim faith.

As a student of history, I also know civilization's debt to Islam. It was Islam -- at places like Al-Azhar -- that carried the light of learning through so many centuries, paving the way for Europe's Renaissance and Enlightenment. It was innovation in Muslim communities -- (applause) -- it was innovation in Muslim communities that developed the order of algebra; our magnetic compass and tools of navigation; our mastery of pens and printing; our understanding of how disease spreads and how it can be healed. Islamic culture has given us majestic arches and soaring spires; timeless poetry and cherished music; elegant calligraphy and places of peaceful contemplation. And throughout history, Islam has demonstrated through words and deeds the possibilities of religious tolerance and racial equality. (Applause.)

I also know that Islam has always been a part of America's story. The first nation to recognize my country was Morocco. In signing the Treaty of Tripoli in 1796, our second President, John Adams, wrote, "The United States has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion or tranquility of Muslims." And since our founding, American Muslims have enriched the United States. They have fought in our wars, they have served in our government, they have stood for civil rights, they have started businesses, they have taught at our universities, they've excelled in our sports arenas, they've won Nobel Prizes, built our tallest building, and lit the Olympic Torch. And when the first Muslim American was recently elected to Congress, he took the oath to defend our Constitution using the same Holy Koran that one of our Founding Fathers -- Thomas Jefferson -- kept in his personal library. (Applause.)

So I have known Islam on three continents before coming to the region where it was first revealed. That experience guides my conviction that partnership between America and Islam must be based on what Islam is, not what it isn't. And I consider it part of my responsibility as President of the United States to fight against negative stereotypes of Islam wherever they appear. (Applause.)

But that same principle must apply to Muslim perceptions of America. (Applause.) Just as Muslims do not fit a crude stereotype, America is not the crude stereotype of a self-interested empire. The United States has been one of the greatest sources of progress that the world has ever known. We were born out of revolution against an empire. We were founded upon the ideal that all are created equal, and we have shed blood and struggled for centuries to give meaning to those words -- within our borders, and around the world. We are shaped by every culture, drawn from every end of the Earth, and dedicated to a simple concept: E pluribus unum -- "Out of many, one."

Now, much has been made of the fact that an African American with the name Barack Hussein Obama could be elected President. (Applause.) But my personal story is not so unique. The dream of opportunity for all people has not come true for everyone in America, but its promise exists for all who come to our shores -- and that includes nearly 7 million American Muslims in our country today who, by the way, enjoy incomes and educational levels that are higher than the American average. (Applause.)

Moreover, freedom in America is indivisible from the freedom to practice one's religion. That is why there is a mosque in every state in our union, and over 1,200 mosques within our borders. That's why the United States government has gone to court to protect the right of women and girls to wear the hijab and to punish those who would deny it. (Applause.)

So let there be no doubt: Islam is a part of America. And I believe that America holds within her the truth that regardless of race, religion, or station in life, all of us share common aspirations -- to live in peace and security; to get an education and to work with dignity; to love our families, our communities, and our God. These things we share. This is the hope of all humanity.

Of course, recognizing our common humanity is only the beginning of our task. Words alone cannot meet the needs of our people. These needs will be met only if we act boldly in the years ahead; and if we understand that the challenges we face are shared, and our failure to meet them will hurt us all.

For we have learned from recent experience that when a financial system weakens in one country, prosperity is hurt everywhere. When a new flu infects one human being, all are at risk. When one nation pursues a nuclear weapon, the risk of nuclear attack rises for all nations. When violent extremists operate in one stretch of mountains, people are endangered across an ocean. When innocents in Bosnia and Darfur are slaughtered, that is a stain on our collective conscience. (Applause.) That is what it means to share this world in the 21st century. That is the responsibility we have to one another as human beings.

And this is a difficult responsibility to embrace. For human history has often been a record of nations and tribes -- and, yes, religions -- subjugating one another in pursuit of their own interests. Yet in this new age, such attitudes are self-defeating. Given our interdependence, any world order that elevates one nation or group of people over another will inevitably fail. So whatever we think of the past, we must not be prisoners to it. Our problems must be dealt with through partnership; our progress must be shared. (Applause.)

Now, that does not mean we should ignore sources of tension. Indeed, it suggests the opposite: We must face these tensions squarely. And so in that spirit, let me speak as clearly and as plainly as I can about some specific issues that I believe we must finally confront together.

The first issue that we have to confront is violent extremism in all of its forms.

In Ankara, I made clear that America is not -- and never will be -- at war with Islam. (Applause.) We will, however, relentlessly confront violent extremists who pose a grave threat to our security -- because we reject the same thing that people of all faiths reject: the killing of innocent men, women, and children. And it is my first duty as President to protect the American people.

The situation in Afghanistan demonstrates America's goals, and our need to work together. Over seven years ago, the United States pursued al Qaeda and the Taliban with broad international support. We did not go by choice; we went because of necessity. I'm aware that there's still some who would question or even justify the events of 9/11. But let us be clear: Al Qaeda killed nearly 3,000 people on that day. The victims were innocent men, women and children from America and many other nations who had done nothing to harm anybody. And yet al Qaeda chose to ruthlessly murder these people, claimed credit for the attack, and even now states their determination to kill on a massive scale. They have affiliates in many countries and are trying to expand their reach. These are not opinions to be debated; these are facts to be dealt with.

Now, make no mistake: We do not want to keep our troops in Afghanistan. We see no military -- we seek no military bases there. It is agonizing for America to lose our young men and women. It is costly and politically difficult to continue this conflict. We would gladly bring every single one of our troops home if we could be confident that there were not violent extremists in Afghanistan and now Pakistan determined to kill as many Americans as they possibly can. But that is not yet the case.

And that's why we're partnering with a coalition of 46 countries. And despite the costs involved, America's commitment will not weaken. Indeed, none of us should tolerate these extremists. They have killed in many countries. They have killed people of different faiths -- but more than any other, they have killed Muslims. Their actions are irreconcilable with the rights of human beings, the progress of nations, and with Islam. The Holy Koran teaches that whoever kills an innocent is as -- it is as if he has killed all mankind. (Applause.) And the Holy Koran also says whoever saves a person, it is as if he has saved all mankind. (Applause.) The enduring faith of over a billion people is so much bigger than the narrow hatred of a few. Islam is not part of the problem in combating violent extremism -- it is an important part of promoting peace.

Now, we also know that military power alone is not going to solve the problems in Afghanistan and Pakistan. That's why we plan to invest $1.5 billion each year over the next five years to partner with Pakistanis to build schools and hospitals, roads and businesses, and hundreds of millions to help those who've been displaced. That's why we are providing more than $2.8 billion to help Afghans develop their economy and deliver services that people depend on.

Let me also address the issue of Iraq. Unlike Afghanistan, Iraq was a war of choice that provoked strong differences in my country and around the world. Although I believe that the Iraqi people are ultimately better off without the tyranny of Saddam Hussein, I also believe that events in Iraq have reminded America of the need to use diplomacy and build international consensus to resolve our problems whenever possible. (Applause.) Indeed, we can recall the words of Thomas Jefferson, who said: "I hope that our wisdom will grow with our power, and teach us that the less we use our power the greater it will be."

Today, America has a dual responsibility: to help Iraq forge a better future -- and to leave Iraq to Iraqis. And I have made it clear to the Iraqi people -- (applause) -- I have made it clear to the Iraqi people that we pursue no bases, and no claim on their territory or resources. Iraq's sovereignty is its own. And that's why I ordered the removal of our combat brigades by next August. That is why we will honor our agreement with Iraq's democratically elected government to remove combat troops from Iraqi cities by July, and to remove all of our troops from Iraq by 2012. (Applause.) We will help Iraq train its security forces and develop its economy. But we will support a secure and united Iraq as a partner, and never as a patron.

And finally, just as America can never tolerate violence by extremists, we must never alter or forget our principles. Nine-eleven was an enormous trauma to our country. The fear and anger that it provoked was understandable, but in some cases, it led us to act contrary to our traditions and our ideals. We are taking concrete actions to change course. I have unequivocally prohibited the use of torture by the United States, and I have ordered the prison at Guantanamo Bay closed by early next year. (Applause.)

So America will defend itself, respectful of the sovereignty of nations and the rule of law. And we will do so in partnership with Muslim communities which are also threatened. The sooner the extremists are isolated and unwelcome in Muslim communities, the sooner we will all be safer.

The second major source of tension that we need to discuss is the situation between Israelis, Palestinians and the Arab world.

America's strong bonds with Israel are well known. This bond is unbreakable. It is based upon cultural and historical ties, and the recognition that the aspiration for a Jewish homeland is rooted in a tragic history that cannot be denied.

Around the world, the Jewish people were persecuted for centuries, and anti-Semitism in Europe culminated in an unprecedented Holocaust. Tomorrow, I will visit Buchenwald, which was part of a network of camps where Jews were enslaved, tortured, shot and gassed to death by the Third Reich. Six million Jews were killed -- more than the entire Jewish population of Israel today. Denying that fact is baseless, it is ignorant, and it is hateful. Threatening Israel with destruction -- or repeating vile stereotypes about Jews -- is deeply wrong, and only serves to evoke in the minds of Israelis this most painful of memories while preventing the peace that the people of this region deserve.

On the other hand, it is also undeniable that the Palestinian people -- Muslims and Christians -- have suffered in pursuit of a homeland. For more than 60 years they've endured the pain of dislocation. Many wait in refugee camps in the West Bank, Gaza, and neighboring lands for a life of peace and security that they have never been able to lead. They endure the daily humiliations -- large and small -- that come with occupation. So let there be no doubt: The situation for the Palestinian people is intolerable. And America will not turn our backs on the legitimate Palestinian aspiration for dignity, opportunity, and a state of their own. (Applause.)

For decades then, there has been a stalemate: two peoples with legitimate aspirations, each with a painful history that makes compromise elusive. It's easy to point fingers -- for Palestinians to point to the displacement brought about by Israel's founding, and for Israelis to point to the constant hostility and attacks throughout its history from within its borders as well as beyond. But if we see this conflict only from one side or the other, then we will be blind to the truth: The only resolution is for the aspirations of both sides to be met through two states, where Israelis and Palestinians each live in peace and security. (Applause.)

That is in Israel's interest, Palestine's interest, America's interest, and the world's interest. And that is why I intend to personally pursue this outcome with all the patience and dedication that the task requires. (Applause.) The obligations -- the obligations that the parties have agreed to under the road map are clear. For peace to come, it is time for them -- and all of us -- to live up to our responsibilities.

Palestinians must abandon violence. Resistance through violence and killing is wrong and it does not succeed. For centuries, black people in America suffered the lash of the whip as slaves and the humiliation of segregation. But it was not violence that won full and equal rights. It was a peaceful and determined insistence upon the ideals at the center of America's founding. This same story can be told by people from South Africa to South Asia; from Eastern Europe to Indonesia. It's a story with a simple truth: that violence is a dead end. It is a sign neither of courage nor power to shoot rockets at sleeping children, or to blow up old women on a bus. That's not how moral authority is claimed; that's how it is surrendered.

Now is the time for Palestinians to focus on what they can build. The Palestinian Authority must develop its capacity to govern, with institutions that serve the needs of its people. Hamas does have support among some Palestinians, but they also have to recognize they have responsibilities. To play a role in fulfilling Palestinian aspirations, to unify the Palestinian people, Hamas must put an end to violence, recognize past agreements, recognize Israel's right to exist.

At the same time, Israelis must acknowledge that just as Israel's right to exist cannot be denied, neither can Palestine's. The United States does not accept the legitimacy of continued Israeli settlements. (Applause.) This construction violates previous agreements and undermines efforts to achieve peace. It is time for these settlements to stop. (Applause.)

And Israel must also live up to its obligation to ensure that Palestinians can live and work and develop their society. Just as it devastates Palestinian families, the continuing humanitarian crisis in Gaza does not serve Israel's security; neither does the continuing lack of opportunity in the West Bank. Progress in the daily lives of the Palestinian people must be a critical part of a road to peace, and Israel must take concrete steps to enable such progress.

And finally, the Arab states must recognize that the Arab Peace Initiative was an important beginning, but not the end of their responsibilities. The Arab-Israeli conflict should no longer be used to distract the people of Arab nations from other problems. Instead, it must be a cause for action to help the Palestinian people develop the institutions that will sustain their state, to recognize Israel's legitimacy, and to choose progress over a self-defeating focus on the past.

America will align our policies with those who pursue peace, and we will say in public what we say in private to Israelis and Palestinians and Arabs. (Applause.) We cannot impose peace. But privately, many Muslims recognize that Israel will not go away. Likewise, many Israelis recognize the need for a Palestinian state. It is time for us to act on what everyone knows to be true.

Too many tears have been shed. Too much blood has been shed. All of us have a responsibility to work for the day when the mothers of Israelis and Palestinians can see their children grow up without fear; when the Holy Land of the three great faiths is the place of peace that God intended it to be; when Jerusalem is a secure and lasting home for Jews and Christians and Muslims, and a place for all of the children of Abraham to mingle peacefully together as in the story of Isra -- (applause) -- as in the story of Isra, when Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed, peace be upon them, joined in prayer. (Applause.)

The third source of tension is our shared interest in the rights and responsibilities of nations on nuclear weapons.

This issue has been a source of tension between the United States and the Islamic Republic of Iran. For many years, Iran has defined itself in part by its opposition to my country, and there is in fact a tumultuous history between us. In the middle of the Cold War, the United States played a role in the overthrow of a democratically elected Iranian government. Since the Islamic Revolution, Iran has played a role in acts of hostage-taking and violence against U.S. troops and civilians. This history is well known. Rather than remain trapped in the past, I've made it clear to Iran's leaders and people that my country is prepared to move forward. The question now is not what Iran is against, but rather what future it wants to build.

I recognize it will be hard to overcome decades of mistrust, but we will proceed with courage, rectitude, and resolve. There will be many issues to discuss between our two countries, and we are willing to move forward without preconditions on the basis of mutual respect. But it is clear to all concerned that when it comes to nuclear weapons, we have reached a decisive point. This is not simply about America's interests. It's about preventing a nuclear arms race in the Middle East that could lead this region and the world down a hugely dangerous path.

I understand those who protest that some countries have weapons that others do not. No single nation should pick and choose which nation holds nuclear weapons. And that's why I strongly reaffirmed America's commitment to seek a world in which no nations hold nuclear weapons. (Applause.) And any nation -- including Iran -- should have the right to access peaceful nuclear power if it complies with its responsibilities under the nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. That commitment is at the core of the treaty, and it must be kept for all who fully abide by it. And I'm hopeful that all countries in the region can share in this goal.

The fourth issue that I will address is democracy. (Applause.)

I know -- I know there has been controversy about the promotion of democracy in recent years, and much of this controversy is connected to the war in Iraq. So let me be clear: No system of government can or should be imposed by one nation by any other.

That does not lessen my commitment, however, to governments that reflect the will of the people. Each nation gives life to this principle in its own way, grounded in the traditions of its own people. America does not presume to know what is best for everyone, just as we would not presume to pick the outcome of a peaceful election. But I do have an unyielding belief that all people yearn for certain things: the ability to speak your mind and have a say in how you are governed; confidence in the rule of law and the equal administration of justice; government that is transparent and doesn't steal from the people; the freedom to live as you choose. These are not just American ideas; they are human rights. And that is why we will support them everywhere. (Applause.)

Now, there is no straight line to realize this promise. But this much is clear: Governments that protect these rights are ultimately more stable, successful and secure. Suppressing ideas never succeeds in making them go away. America respects the right of all peaceful and law-abiding voices to be heard around the world, even if we disagree with them. And we will welcome all elected, peaceful governments -- provided they govern with respect for all their people.

This last point is important because there are some who advocate for democracy only when they're out of power; once in power, they are ruthless in suppressing the rights of others. (Applause.) So no matter where it takes hold, government of the people and by the people sets a single standard for all who would hold power: You must maintain your power through consent, not coercion; you must respect the rights of minorities, and participate with a spirit of tolerance and compromise; you must place the interests of your people and the legitimate workings of the political process above your party. Without these ingredients, elections alone do not make true democracy.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Barack Obama, we love you!

PRESIDENT OBAMA: Thank you. (Applause.) The fifth issue that we must address together is religious freedom.

Islam has a proud tradition of tolerance. We see it in the history of Andalusia and Cordoba during the Inquisition. I saw it firsthand as a child in Indonesia, where devout Christians worshiped freely in an overwhelmingly Muslim country. That is the spirit we need today. People in every country should be free to choose and live their faith based upon the persuasion of the mind and the heart and the soul. This tolerance is essential for religion to thrive, but it's being challenged in many different ways.

Among some Muslims, there's a disturbing tendency to measure one's own faith by the rejection of somebody else's faith. The richness of religious diversity must be upheld -- whether it is for Maronites in Lebanon or the Copts in Egypt. (Applause.) And if we are being honest, fault lines must be closed among Muslims, as well, as the divisions between Sunni and Shia have led to tragic violence, particularly in Iraq.

Freedom of religion is central to the ability of peoples to live together. We must always examine the ways in which we protect it. For instance, in the United States, rules on charitable giving have made it harder for Muslims to fulfill their religious obligation. That's why I'm committed to working with American Muslims to ensure that they can fulfill zakat.

Likewise, it is important for Western countries to avoid impeding Muslim citizens from practicing religion as they see fit -- for instance, by dictating what clothes a Muslim woman should wear. We can't disguise hostility towards any religion behind the pretence of liberalism.

In fact, faith should bring us together. And that's why we're forging service projects in America to bring together Christians, Muslims, and Jews. That's why we welcome efforts like Saudi Arabian King Abdullah's interfaith dialogue and Turkey's leadership in the Alliance of Civilizations. Around the world, we can turn dialogue into interfaith service, so bridges between peoples lead to action -- whether it is combating malaria in Africa, or providing relief after a natural disaster.

The sixth issue -- the sixth issue that I want to address is women's rights. (Applause.) I know –- I know -- and you can tell from this audience, that there is a healthy debate about this issue. I reject the view of some in the West that a woman who chooses to cover her hair is somehow less equal, but I do believe that a woman who is denied an education is denied equality. (Applause.) And it is no coincidence that countries where women are well educated are far more likely to be prosperous.

Now, let me be clear: Issues of women's equality are by no means simply an issue for Islam. In Turkey, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Indonesia, we've seen Muslim-majority countries elect a woman to lead. Meanwhile, the struggle for women's equality continues in many aspects of American life, and in countries around the world.

I am convinced that our daughters can contribute just as much to society as our sons. (Applause.) Our common prosperity will be advanced by allowing all humanity -- men and women -- to reach their full potential. I do not believe that women must make the same choices as men in order to be equal, and I respect those women who choose to live their lives in traditional roles. But it should be their choice. And that is why the United States will partner with any Muslim-majority country to support expanded literacy for girls, and to help young women pursue employment through micro-financing that helps people live their dreams. (Applause.)

Finally, I want to discuss economic development and opportunity.

I know that for many, the face of globalization is contradictory. The Internet and television can bring knowledge and information, but also offensive sexuality and mindless violence into the home. Trade can bring new wealth and opportunities, but also huge disruptions and change in communities. In all nations -- including America -- this change can bring fear. Fear that because of modernity we lose control over our economic choices, our politics, and most importantly our identities -- those things we most cherish about our communities, our families, our traditions, and our faith.

But I also know that human progress cannot be denied. There need not be contradictions between development and tradition. Countries like Japan and South Korea grew their economies enormously while maintaining distinct cultures. The same is true for the astonishing progress within Muslim-majority countries from Kuala Lumpur to Dubai. In ancient times and in our times, Muslim communities have been at the forefront of innovation and education.

And this is important because no development strategy can be based only upon what comes out of the ground, nor can it be sustained while young people are out of work. Many Gulf states have enjoyed great wealth as a consequence of oil, and some are beginning to focus it on broader development. But all of us must recognize that education and innovation will be the currency of the 21st century -- (applause) -- and in too many Muslim communities, there remains underinvestment in these areas. I'm emphasizing such investment within my own country. And while America in the past has focused on oil and gas when it comes to this part of the world, we now seek a broader engagement.

On education, we will expand exchange programs, and increase scholarships, like the one that brought my father to America. (Applause.) At the same time, we will encourage more Americans to study in Muslim communities. And we will match promising Muslim students with internships in America; invest in online learning for teachers and children around the world; and create a new online network, so a young person in Kansas can communicate instantly with a young person in Cairo.

On economic development, we will create a new corps of business volunteers to partner with counterparts in Muslim-majority countries. And I will host a Summit on Entrepreneurship this year to identify how we can deepen ties between business leaders, foundations and social entrepreneurs in the United States and Muslim communities around the world.

On science and technology, we will launch a new fund to support technological development in Muslim-majority countries, and to help transfer ideas to the marketplace so they can create more jobs. We'll open centers of scientific excellence in Africa, the Middle East and Southeast Asia, and appoint new science envoys to collaborate on programs that develop new sources of energy, create green jobs, digitize records, clean water, grow new crops. Today I'm announcing a new global effort with the Organization of the Islamic Conference to eradicate polio. And we will also expand partnerships with Muslim communities to promote child and maternal health.

All these things must be done in partnership. Americans are ready to join with citizens and governments; community organizations, religious leaders, and businesses in Muslim communities around the world to help our people pursue a better life.

The issues that I have described will not be easy to address. But we have a responsibility to join together on behalf of the world that we seek -- a world where extremists no longer threaten our people, and American troops have come home; a world where Israelis and Palestinians are each secure in a state of their own, and nuclear energy is used for peaceful purposes; a world where governments serve their citizens, and the rights of all God's children are respected. Those are mutual interests. That is the world we seek. But we can only achieve it together.

I know there are many -- Muslim and non-Muslim -- who question whether we can forge this new beginning. Some are eager to stoke the flames of division, and to stand in the way of progress. Some suggest that it isn't worth the effort -- that we are fated to disagree, and civilizations are doomed to clash. Many more are simply skeptical that real change can occur. There's so much fear, so much mistrust that has built up over the years. But if we choose to be bound by the past, we will never move forward. And I want to particularly say this to young people of every faith, in every country -- you, more than anyone, have the ability to reimagine the world, to remake this world.

All of us share this world for but a brief moment in time. The question is whether we spend that time focused on what pushes us apart, or whether we commit ourselves to an effort -- a sustained effort -- to find common ground, to focus on the future we seek for our children, and to respect the dignity of all human beings.

It's easier to start wars than to end them. It's easier to blame others than to look inward. It's easier to see what is different about someone than to find the things we share. But we should choose the right path, not just the easy path. There's one rule that lies at the heart of every religion -- that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. (Applause.) This truth transcends nations and peoples -- a belief that isn't new; that isn't black or white or brown; that isn't Christian or Muslim or Jew. It's a belief that pulsed in the cradle of civilization, and that still beats in the hearts of billions around the world. It's a faith in other people, and it's what brought me here today.

We have the power to make the world we seek, but only if we have the courage to make a new beginning, keeping in mind what has been written.

The Holy Koran tells us: "O mankind! We have created you male and a female; and we have made you into nations and tribes so that you may know one another."

The Talmud tells us: "The whole of the Torah is for the purpose of promoting peace."

The Holy Bible tells us: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God." (Applause.)

The people of the world can live together in peace. We know that is God's vision. Now that must be our work here on Earth.

Thank you. And may God's peace be upon you. Thank you very much. Thank you.

A Vote Considered

2008-10-15T01:49:21Z

Vote for Obama

McCain lacks the character and temperament to be president. And Palin is simply a disgrace.

By Christopher Hitchens | Slate.com | Oct. 13, 2008

I used to nod wisely when people said: "Let's discuss issues rather than personalities." It seemed so obvious that in politics an issue was an issue and a personality was a personality, and that the more one could separate the two, the more serious one was. After all, in a debate on serious issues, any mention of the opponent's personality would be ad hominem at best and at worst would stoop as low as ad feminam.

At my old English boarding school, we had a sporting saying that one should "tackle the ball and not the man." I carried on echoing this sort of unexamined nonsense for quite some time—in fact, until the New Hampshire primary of 1992, when it hit me very forcibly that the "personality" of one of the candidates was itself an "issue." In later years, I had little cause to revise my view that Bill Clinton's abysmal character was such as to be a "game changer" in itself, at least as important as his claim to be a "new Democrat." To summarize what little I learned from all this: A candidate may well change his or her position on, say, universal health care or Bosnia. But he or she cannot change the fact—if it happens to be a fact—that he or she is a pathological liar, or a dimwit, or a proud ignoramus. And even in the short run, this must and will tell.

On "the issues" in these closing weeks, there really isn't a very sharp or highly noticeable distinction to be made between the two nominees, and their "debates" have been cramped and boring affairs as a result. But the difference in character and temperament has become plainer by the day, and there is no decent way of avoiding the fact. Last week's so-called town-hall event showed Sen. John McCain to be someone suffering from an increasingly obvious and embarrassing deficit, both cognitive and physical. And the only public events that have so far featured his absurd choice of running mate have shown her to be a deceiving and unscrupulous woman utterly unversed in any of the needful political discourses but easily trained to utter preposterous lies and to appeal to the basest element of her audience. McCain occasionally remembers to stress matters like honor and to disown innuendoes and slanders, but this only makes him look both more senile and more cynical, since it cannot (can it?) be other than his wish and design that he has engaged a deputy who does the innuendoes and slanders for him.

I suppose it could be said, as Michael Gerson has alleged, that the Obama campaign's choice of the word erratic to describe McCain is also an insinuation. But really, it's only a euphemism. Anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear had to feel sorry for the old lion on his last outing and wish that he could be taken somewhere soothing and restful before the night was out. The train-wreck sentences, the whistlings in the pipes, the alarming and bewildered handhold phrases—"My friends"—to get him through the next 10 seconds. I haven't felt such pity for anyone since the late Adm. James Stockdale humiliated himself as Ross Perot's running mate. And I am sorry to have to say it, but Stockdale had also distinguished himself in America's most disastrous and shameful war, and it didn't qualify him then and it doesn't qualify McCain now.

The most insulting thing that a politician can do is to compel you to ask yourself: "What does he take me for?" Precisely this question is provoked by the selection of Gov. Sarah Palin. I wrote not long ago that it was not right to condescend to her just because of her provincial roots or her piety, let alone her slight flirtatiousness, but really her conduct since then has been a national disgrace. It turns out that none of her early claims to political courage was founded in fact, and it further turns out that some of the untested rumors about her—her vindictiveness in local quarrels, her bizarre religious and political affiliations—were very well-founded, indeed. Moreover, given the nasty and lowly task of stirring up the whack-job fringe of the party's right wing and of recycling patent falsehoods about Obama's position on Afghanistan, she has drawn upon the only talent that she apparently possesses.

It therefore seems to me that the Republican Party has invited not just defeat but discredit this year, and that both its nominees for the highest offices in the land should be decisively repudiated, along with any senators, congressmen, and governors who endorse them.

I used to call myself a single-issue voter on the essential question of defending civilization against its terrorist enemies and their totalitarian protectors, and on that "issue" I hope I can continue to expose and oppose any ambiguity. Obama is greatly overrated in my opinion, but the Obama-Biden ticket is not a capitulationist one, even if it does accept the support of the surrender faction, and it does show some signs of being able and willing to profit from experience. With McCain, the "experience" is subject to sharply diminishing returns, as is the rest of him, and with Palin the very word itself is a sick joke. One only wishes that the election could be over now and a proper and dignified verdict rendered, so as to spare democracy and civility the degradation to which they look like being subjected in the remaining days of a low, dishonest campaign.

He Bore Us On His Back

2008-09-30T23:56:00Z

The Last Days of David Foster Wallace

The people who knew the brilliant writer best talk about the crippling anxiety and spiraling depression of his torturous final weeks.

By Robert Ito | Salon.com | Sept. 26, 2008

Following David Foster Wallace's suicide on Sept. 12, stunned fans, colleagues and friends paid tribute to the writer in countless articles and blog posts. They wrote of his imagination and breadth of knowledge, of the ways in which his books and essays inspired a generation of writers and forever altered the literary landscape. They used words like "virtuoso" and "genius." Many, like Jocelyn Zuckerman, the Gourmet editor who went to bat for Wallace's infamous and groundbreaking essay "Consider the Lobster," a masterwork that morphed from a scene piece about a festival in Maine into an essay about whether it's ethical to boil lobsters alive (short answer: no), now mourn the enormous talent the world has lost. "A lot of people," she says, "are really sad for all the books we're not going to get to read."

Those who knew him personally speak of his kindness: Longtime agent Bonnie Nadell recalls how he stood on line at FedEx the week before Christmas to mail an autographed book to a fan. "He would just do things like that because he was a really sweet person," she says. His students at Pomona College in Claremont, Calif., remember the committed, engaged teacher: Amanda Shapiro had taken writing classes with him the past three years, and recalls the copious comments she got back from him about her assignments. "He would write five pages of notes on a six-page story," she says, "and put so much care and thought into helping us as writers. He would type out the letters, and then annotate them, in pen, with little smiley faces and notes and corrections."

A common thread running through the many magazine and newspaper tributes, the online eulogies and recalled anecdotes, was shock. Wallace may have been a hugely influential and critically celebrated figure, the winner, in 1997, of a MacArthur Foundation "genius" grant, but he was also a very quiet one. He had given few interviews in recent years, and he found much of the fame that came with literary success, the adoration and spotlight that countless other writers would have killed for a taste of, embarrassing and uncomfortable. He taught creative writing at Pomona, wrote short stories and essays and attended the occasional book reading and conference. When news of his suicide began to spread, fans were left wondering: Why? Why had this gifted, funny, often disarmingly humble writer -- a man with seemingly so much to live for -- taken his own life?

Unbeknown to most, Wallace had suffered from clinical depression for the past two decades. Family and close friends knew of it, but few others did. Over those years, Wallace had taken powerful anti-depression medication that had allowed him to work and write, according to his father, James Donald Wallace. But recently the drugs had been having very serious side effects. In June of 2007, Wallace and his doctor decided that they would have to try another course of treatment.

"Going off the medication was just catastrophic," his father remembers. "Severe depression came back. They tried all kinds of things. He was hospitalized twice. Over the summer, he had a series of electro-convulsive therapy treatments, which just really left him very shaky and very fragile and unable to sleep."

Suffering from near-crippling anxiety, Wallace found himself unable to write. "I don't think he'd been able to write for more than a year," says his father. Wallace told the human resources department at Pomona College that he would be unable to teach there in the fall, and he was granted a medical leave for the fall semester.

"I knew this summer had been particularly bad," says Nadell. "My job was just to keep everyone and everything away from him."

On Aug. 18, Wallace's parents came to Claremont to stay with their son. Wallace's wife of four years, Karen Green, had been called away on an urgent family matter, and Wallace did not want to be left alone. He had canceled previous visits with his parents over the past year, telling them that he couldn't bear to have people in the house, even those he loved, so the invitation came as a welcome surprise to them.

When Mr. and Mrs. Wallace arrived, they found their son exhausted and gaunt. "He was very, very thin," says his mother. "He weighed about 140 pounds, so I immediately started to try to put 40 or 50 pounds on him, the way mothers will." She cooked and cleaned. Wallace couldn't eat, he told his sister later, but he liked the way the house smelled, and how clean everything was.

Mornings were spent walking Wallace's two dogs, Werner and Bella. Wallace and his parents strolled the streets of Claremont, talking of small things. In the afternoons, they spoke some more, and helped their son deal with the paperwork and insurance issues that had been piling up. "He was very glad we were there," says his mother. "And he was very emotional. He was just terrified of so much. We would just try to hold him." The memories bring tears. "He did tell me that he was glad I was his mom."

The time together, she says, was a gift. "We hadn't spent that much time with David since he was a small boy. Once they grow up and leave home you see them, of course, and you visit, but you don't spend hours and hours with them."

Toward the end of their visit, Wallace and his parents called his sister Amy. "I'm a public defender," she says, "and I had just lost a trial that I was really upset about. He was really in a lot of pain, but he said all the right big brother things, you know, like how lucky my client was to have me." She pauses. "That was the last time I spoke with him, and it was his last chance to be a big brother. I think it really made him feel better, at least for a few minutes. I know it made me feel better."

The respite, though, was brief. "He told me that he wasn't OK," she says. "He was trying really hard to be OK, but he wasn't."

His wife returned home shortly after, and, on Aug. 30, James and Sally flew back to their home in Urbana, Ill. It was the last time they would see their son. Two weeks later, Wallace hanged himself. He was 46.

News of Wallace's death shocked fans and colleagues worldwide, even those who knew firsthand of his struggles with depression. Longtime friends busied themselves with preparations for a memorial service in October, even though the very thought of speaking publicly of their friend filled them with dread. Jonathan Franzen, author of "The Corrections," who knew Wallace for two decades, found it nearly impossible to speak about him, noting that if the words barely came now, how, in a month, would he know what to say?

His sister Amy described emotions ranging from disbelief to sadness to acceptance, of a sort. "Inevitably our thought was, if only he could have held on a little bit longer," says sister Amy. "And then we realized, he did. How many extra weeks had he hung in there when he just couldn't bear it? So we're not angry at him. Not at all. We just miss him."

While friends and family recalled the anguish of Wallace's final weeks and days, they also wanted to talk about his sweetness, his unfailing politeness, his generosity of spirit. Amy spoke of the "magical uncle" who wasn't so big on kids, but adored his two nieces. "He took them to Disneyland a few years ago," she remembers, "and God, he hated stuff like that! Just all the people and the parking and the driving in L.A. But he absolutely delighted in being with them." His mother talked about him as a husband who had, in Karen, found his best friend and soul mate. A painter and mixed media artist with her own art gallery, Beautiful Crap, in Claremont, Karen had met Wallace through a mutual friend and married him on Dec. 27, 2004, in the Champaign County Courthouse in Urbana. "The happiest he had ever been in his life was being married to Karen," his mother says. "She was the one ideal person on the planet for him, and thank God he found her."

When David was 5, his mother recalls, he decided that he had two careers to look forward to. He would be a professional football player, for one. In the off-season, while the other players were recuperating or doing whatever it is that pro football players do when they're not running or passing or slamming their bodies into each other, he would be a neurosurgeon. His mother has no idea how, at 5, her son might have heard about neurosurgeons or what they were or did, but he had. The first day of his medical career, he promised his mom, he would take out all of her frayed nerves and fix them. "Somehow he knew about neurosurgeons," she says, "and he knew that my nerves needed fixing."

After Wallace's death, readers began revisiting his books and essays, searching for clues to his death, hints of suicide notes planted between the lines. There were, of course, plenty to be found. There were references to depression, death, paranoia and, yes, suicide -- more and more clues, the more one chose to look. But those who knew him hope that what we now know of the demons he struggled against won't forever color the way his books are read, or the way he is remembered.

"I understand that he was apparently depressed, but that wasn't the only important part of his life," says former student Amanda Shapiro. "And I don't think that's where his genius came from. I think his genius came more out of his passion, and the things that he thought were worth living for and writing about in the world."

"I hope he'll be remembered in the way that every writer hopes to be remembered," says Little, Brown publisher Michael Pietsch, who acquired and edited "Infinite Jest" in 1992 and had worked with Wallace ever since. "That people will continue to read his books. His mind is there on every page. 'Infinite Jest,' in particular, is one of the great works of a mind in our time."

Lingering Olympiad Moment

2008-08-23T18:39:11Z

Heavy on Emotion

By JOHN BRANCH | NYTimes.com | Aug. 20, 2008

BEIJING — After Matthias Steiner of Germany became the world’s strongest man, the most important thing he carried weighed nothing more than a few ounces.

It was a framed photograph of his smiling wife, Susann. After the medal ceremony for weight lifting’s super heavyweight division on Tuesday, Steiner posed for pictures. He held a bouquet of flowers and his gold medal in one hand and the photograph of Susann in the other.

She was killed in a car accident in July 2007, two years after they married.

“There was so much emotion that I cannot describe,” Steiner said. “It was, after a few weeks last year, a big motivation to fight for the gold medal. For her. For friends, for family.”

Steiner needed to clean-and-jerk 258 kilograms, about 569 pounds, on the last lift of the sport’s glamour division, involving immense barrel-chested men who weigh at least 231 pounds.

He did it, then collapsed in an emotional heap atop the barbell. A moment later, he was jumping up and down on the stage at the 6,000-seat Beijing University of Aeronautics and Astronautics Gymnasium. The successful lift gave him a combined total in the snatch and clean-and-jerk of 1,016 pounds, vaulting him past Evgeny Chigishev of Russia, who lifted 1,014 pounds and was left with the silver medal.

Viktors Scerbatihs of Latvia, the tournament favorite, who carried the added story line of being a member of Latvia’s 100-member parliament, finished with a disappointing bronze. It was Latvia’s first medal of the Games, but that was little consolation to Scerbatihs, aiming for just the second Olympic gold medal in Latvian history.

“I believe I lost,” he said. “If you ask me about my feelings, I lost.”

All medal hopes had been buoyed by the absence of the Iranian Hercules, Hossein Rezazadeh, who was the Olympic champion in 2000 and 2004 and remains the world-record holder. A hand injury kept Rezazadeh from competing, and he surprised his nation and his fellow competitors in July by announcing his retirement from the sport he long dominated.

“If he’s here, I have to fight against him,” Steiner said. “I don’t know how strong he would be. I think he would not be strong enough, so he didn’t come.”

Steiner, who will turn 26 on Aug. 25, was born in Vienna. He competed for Austria at the 2004 Athens Games, but a fallout with his country’s weight-lifting federation led him to apply for German citizenship in 2005. That decision, to trade countries and coaches, forced him out of international competition for three years.

German citizenship was granted this year. And the first thing Steiner did upon learning the news was visit his wife’s grave.

“She should be the first to know,” Steiner said at the time.

His victory on Tuesday was a mild surprise. Most expected the winner to be the 33-year-old Scerbatihs, who won the 2007 world championship when Rezazadeh sat out of the competition. He also won his fifth consecutive European championship this year, beating Steiner by a kilogram.

Scerbatihs was in position to take the lead this time until he could not handle 538 pounds on his second clean-and-jerk attempt. He attempted 567 pounds to move past Chigishev and try to put his total out of reach for Steiner. He lifted the bar over his head but could not gather his feet under him. The bar, and his hopes, crashed to the floor.

He hinted that his duties as a lifter and a politician had hurt his chances. He needed the permission of other government officials to be granted time to train. It was ultimately decided that Scerbatihs meant more as a potential gold-medal winner than as one of 100 parliamentary members.

But Latvia’s hopes for gold will be transferred elsewhere. The country’s only gold medal winner remains the gymnast Igor Vihrovs, who won the floor exercise at the 2000 Sydney Games and was awarded a Latvian stamp.

Steiner, 6 feet tall and weighing 321 pounds, with a wispy beard and a boyish face, admitted to being nervous before the event. When he lifted the last massive barbell over his head, he had a look of joyous disbelief.

After he bounced around the stage, Steiner knelt and kissed the weights. Then he went backstage and reached into his bag for a photograph he had taken with him.

There was someone else with whom he wanted to share the moment.

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

2008-07-24T14:30:09Z

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

By Jon Meacham | Newsweek.com |June 28, 2008

History has always been a tactile thing to me, and I like to think that I come by it honestly. I grew up on Missionary Ridge, a Civil War battlefield where you could still find Minié balls in the ground and in trees more than a century after Union troops broke the Confederate line in the autumn of 1863. As a boy, I played World War II, wearing my grandfather's old gunnery-officer Navy helmet from the Pacific. Years later, a secretary to Winston Churchill gave me one of the signed pictures of Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt that had been presented to members of the prime minister's party during the White House Christmas of 1941—a souvenir that reminded me of the old lyric "I danced with a man who's danced with a girl who's danced with the Prince of Wales."

It is true that living in the past—to be a kind of History Channel Miss Havisham—can be bad for the mind and the soul, preventing us from engaging in the battles and causes of our own time. But when we are at our best, history and heroes enable us to look ahead, not backward. We are the sum of the stories we tell ourselves, and those stories are necessarily rooted in our experience, and by how we choose to interpret the experiences of others. These mechanics of memory create a new, present reality that then determines the future. To understand where a leader might take us, or what a friend is really like, requires understanding what they look to, and what they make of it.

There are moments around the NEWSWEEK offices when the interest many of us have in the past provides others with plenty of ammunition. A few years ago, Jonathan Alter and I were standing outside a small kitchen here, intensely debating the comparative significance of Louis Howe and Harry Hopkins in FDR's life. A colleague who needed an answer to a question about the issue of the magazine we were working on came by, shook his head sadly and somewhat pleadingly said: "Can't we please talk about this century for a minute?"

We could, and did, but in fact all the centuries run together. It is tempting in a discussion like this to cite a Certified Great to make the case, from Shakespeare ("What's past is prologue") to Faulkner ("The past is never dead; it's not even past") to Churchill ("The future is unknowable, but the past should give us hope"). But we do not need an eloquent benediction to see an obvious truth: the future and the past and the present are all mixed up together.

What we choose to remember is critical, since the narratives that play in our heads shape everything. Churchill saw himself as another Marlborough or Nelson, defeating a Continental foe, and there was a happy ending. George W. Bush thought of himself as another Truman or Reagan, but the story would have turned out better if he had been willing to play the role of president more as his own father did.

This issue of stories and fathers seems particularly relevant at a time when we are about to choose between two presidential candidates who have thought deeply about history and family. It is interesting that both John McCain and Barack Obama are authors of books about their fathers; they clearly believe that, in Wordsworth's phrase, the child is father of the man.

Epigraphs from McCain's "Faith of My Fathers" and Obama's "Dreams From My Father" say much about their views of the world. McCain quotes the old hymn—a favorite of FDR's, the war president under whom McCain's father and grandfather served—from which he drew his title:

Faith of our fathers, living still
In spite of dungeon, fire and sword;
O how our hearts beat high with joy
Whenever we hear that glorious word!
Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death.

Obama cites a verse from I Chronicles. The passage is from a prayer of King David's at the end of his life: "For we are strangers before thee, and sojourners, as were all our fathers." Obama stops his quotation there, but the verse goes on: "our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding." Both the section Obama quoted and the one he did not speak to the same theme: life is transitory, incomplete—and incompletable.

The two men, then, have more in common than either might cheerfully acknowledge 17 weeks from Election Day. McCain's faith—in country, in his fellow prisoners, in himself—endured the dungeons of Hanoi, ultimately shaping a man with a wry, tragic sensibility. Some things work out, some things do not: the duty of the honorable man is to fight in the cause of the right, and perhaps the forces of light will edge out the forces of darkness.

Obama is just as pragmatic, and there is more tragedy in his view of the world than one might think. His rhetoric of hope is so powerful that the candidate's understanding of leadership as a fallible thing can go unnoticed.

The unsentimental passage from I Chronicles ("our days on the earth are as a shadow") "does speak to a certain sensibility that is part of my makeup, and that traces itself back to the circumstances of my birth and the absence of a father," Obama told me. "Growing up oftentimes means that imperfection and weakness and evil are all part of the human condition as much as joy and happiness and good are." The Obama narrative, like the McCain one, is grounded in the recognition that politics and life will never be perfect, but they can be better. "It's not pessimism," Obama said. "One of the things I am always trying to reject is a false choice between blind optimism and despair and cynicism. What I at least am always after is a hardheaded realism that does not extinguish hope."

Both nominees hear distant drumbeats. "I have a lot of role models and a lot of heroes, and I need them because I have been a flawed servant of my country," McCain told me. I asked him which presidents he bore in mind as inspirational figures. "On the obvious plus side, Lincoln, TR and Reagan are people who are in many respects my role models," McCain said. And who, I asked, do you think of and say, "I don't want to be him"? McCain replied: "One I was thinking about very recently because of this anti-free-trade, protectionism sentiment that understandably is being bred by our severe economic problems is Herbert Hoover. In 1930, he signed the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act and there were other actions that the administration and Congress took that sent us from a recession into a deep depression. And my study of history is that Herbert Hoover was at least acquiescent, if not very active, in taking all the wrong steps, which again not only didn't help the situation but exacerbated conditions which led to the most severe depression in the history of this nation."

Obama shares McCain's love of Lincoln. "When I think about presidents, I start with Lincoln, and not just because I'm from Illinois," Obama said. "I think he embodies those qualities that are the very best in America: upward mobility, an embrace of the future and an ability to stand fast on principle while acknowledging the other side of the debate." Washington's leaving office after two terms impresses Obama, too: "Our first president was someone who could step outside his own ambitions."

And the examples he wants to avoid? "You know, I have to admit that I don't spend a lot of time reading about failed presidents," he said, then went on: "There is a long list of presidents who did not rise to the times—Hoover, Buchanan, Andrew Johnson. Many of them are people who did not see, for example, the fault lines of slavery, or the dangers of depression."

McCain just finished a 1904 book of Theodore Roosevelt's about hunting, and is now reading Philip Bobbitt's "Terror and Consent." Robert Jordan, the protagonist of Hemingway's "For Whom the Bell Tolls," is a hero of McCain's. "He's everything I always wanted to be, and has always been larger than life," McCain says. "I reread it all the time, and cry when he says, 'Maria, we won't be going to Madrid'."

In the pages that follow, a collection of NEWSWEEK writers contribute essays on things they think are important—arguments, insights and facts that can form the raw material for all sorts and conditions of stories. From Lincoln vs. Darwin to war presidents to whether politicians should pander, the issues raised will take you on excursions into the past or to unexpected precincts in the present.

Lincoln was the commander in chief of the Union armies that triumphed at Chattanooga. Understanding that greatness and humility are not mutually exclusive, he was always essential but not central in the drama that played inside his own head. When a Northern minister visited the White House during the Civil War and told the president how glad he was that God was on the Union's side, Lincoln corrected him, saying: "Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side." He knew that pride goeth before a fall, and courage is not the same thing as hubris. That is a story worth telling ourselves often.

Dancing with Dementia

2008-07-23T20:18:59Z

Fittings

by Floyd Skloot

My wife Beverly and I arrive at the nursing home shortly after noon. We enter the access code for the Memory Impairment Unit and walk down the hall to my mother’s room. She is standing where she usually stands: in her bathroom, hands on the sink, gazing into the mirror, smiling at her image there.

She looks remarkable. Gone is the lacquered golden pouf, rouge and darkened eyelids that long defined her presentation to the world. Her hair is its natural gray. It’s clean and soft, and smells like human hair rather than a chemistry experiment. Instead of layers of gauzy fabric and elaborately swirled capes, she wears cotton lounging pants and an unpredictable mix of undershirts, tee shirts and sweaters. She is braless and sockless. Her feet, which have lost much of the swelling caused by a lifetime of elegant high heeled shoes, are encased in suede sandals held in place by velcro straps.

According to everyone involved in her care, my mother is a happy, jovial woman. No one has ever said that about her before. As transformed in spirit as in fashion, she’s cooperative and serene, provided someone can tell her exactly what she should do at every moment. Triggered by stray words, she routinely breaks into song. Say It’s a beautiful morning, Lillian and she will respond with a few lines of Rodgers and Hammerstein: Oh what a beautiful mornin’ oh what a beautiful day. Tell her there’s a full moon out and she’ll croon Fly me to the moon. Just don’t ask her where she comes from, or where she is, or what her two husbands’s names were, or what she had for lunch today.

Since she forgets our weekly visits the moment we leave, she’s aggrieved whenever we show up because we haven’t been there in months. Years. But joy in seeing us magically appears like a golden thread within the tapestry of her distress.

“Do you still write?” she asks. Then adds, “aren’t you the one who writes?”

“Yes, mother. I’m still at it.”

“Then it would be nice if I ever had one of your books.”

I pick up a few from her bedside table. “You’ve got them all.”

“Oh, so nice of you to bring them at last.”

I know that this little exchange is just another example of my mother’s inability to form memories. She’s not forgetting me or my books, she hasn’t been able to place or keep them in memory. They’re not there to be forgotten. Still, for all my knowing, it’s frustrating to feel that our visits and our gestures offer my mother no lasting sustenance. In the most literal sense, she is oblivious of them as soon as we leave.

There is a counterbalance to that frustration: I’m amazed to hear her let go of perceived offenses so readily, to see things in a positive light. Now that dementia has ravaged her memory, she no longer hoards and seasons her indignation. This has to be as good for her as it is for me. She lives in the moment–in the instant, really–and is more cheerful than I have ever known her to be. Except for rare bursts of anger or frustration, as when she knows she cannot remember something, she seems content.

As David Shenk says in his book The Forgetting, “When introspection begins to break down, so does willfulness.” This change in my mother is almost more than I can handle. No brooding, no defensiveness or moody tirades. Who is this woman? Where was she when I was young? I wonder if this might have been my mother’s “true self,” hidden all along under some combination of psychological forces that I will never discover. The happy little girl buried in a rubble of wrongs. The idea fills me with sadness for her. Or perhaps my mother has truly been transformed. Perhaps her memory and the gothic theater it always housed–she never seemed to remember joy--was the very thing that tormented her. Now that memory is gone, so is the torment. Her mind seems more at east.

And what is most on her mind now is marriage. Hers, mine, the aide’s, the social worker’s, the rabbi’s, the tv newscaster’s, the sons and daughters of her compatriots in the nursing home.

As she looks at herself in the mirror, she asks, “how old am I, dear?”

“You just turned ninety-one.”

She turns to look at me, to see if I’m joking. “Don’t say such a thing.” Returning her attention to the mirror, she says she hopes to find another husband soon. The men in this place don’t know what they’re missing. Then, as she always does when we show up, she asks, “when are you two going to get married?”

I hold up my hand and let the light sparkle off my wedding ring. “We are married.”

“Oh, yes.” She looks back into the mirror, trying to fit the pieces together, trying to connect that image with her sense of who she is, trying to figure out how Beverly and I belong in the picture that refuses to cohere. “I remember now.”

I was present when my mother, widowed five years, met the man who became her second husband. It was a New Year’s Eve party in the basement of her apartment building, as 1965 turned into 1966. I’d come home for the holidays during my freshman year of college, and been hired to work the party as a waiter. Minimal salary, but they said the tips would be great.

My mother’s escort was an old boyfriend named Teddy, the man she’d abandoned in 1938 to marry my father. Teddy had re-surfaced in her life after my father’s death, first showing up as a contestant on To Tell the Truth in its next-to-last season. Posing as a South Seas explorer, he’d stumped Peggy Cass and Tom Poston but not Orson Bean, and made my mother stand up at the kitchen table and scream: “He’s no explorer, he’s Teddy Serenata!” When a grinning Teddy told Bud Collyer that he lived in New York, my mother grunted, picked up the phone and dialed Information. She and Teddy started their second romance a week later.

By New Year’s Eve, they’d been dating for over a year. I remember liking Teddy the few times I met him, a dapper little man the same size as me and my father, given to wearing striped sport jackets and loose slacks in pastel shades, his graying hair slicked back. He reminded me of the old Yankees shortstop, Phil Rizzuto. My mother said he was good company, which meant that he still wasn’t husband material.

So it wasn’t a surprise when my mother left that New Year’s Eve party with someone else. Julius, recently widowed, was visiting his sister and brother-in-law for the holidays and had agreed to tag along with them. Fate sat them at my mother’s table. By the time I served their soup, I could see what was happening.

My mother and Julius danced. Teddy sat, smiling, nodding to me or to the occasional neighbor who recognized him, growing smaller as he nibbled on a roll. My mother and Julius danced some more. He was lean and handsome, six inches taller than my mother, correct in posture, serious in demeanor. At midnight, she kissed Julius first, then pecked at Teddy’s cheek and–quite publicly–the poor man was once again abandoned.

When the party broke up, Teddy left without saying goodbye, not even to me. My mother walked out arm-in-arm with her new beau, beaming. She forgot about rallying everyone to leave their waiter a tip, and I ended up with five dollars from the table for my night’s work. They were married in early March.

“Yes, I remember when you met,” my mother says now, walking over to us. “I was there. Some kind of party. Floyd, you came with somebody else, what’s-her-name, your old girlfriend, the Italian. Then you met beautiful Beverly. You forgot the Italian immediately and out you walked with this one. Very romantic.”

That is not, of course, how Beverly and I met. But such confabulations are typical of the way memory and identity and time have grown fluid for my mother now. Within the space of a moment–the time it takes for her to lift a cup of coffee to her lips–she might see me as her son, her late brother, her first husband and her last boyfriend. Oh Floyd, it’s so good to see you. How is your house on the lake? (this is addressed to her brother, whose house on Lake Mahopac in New York was a place she last visited about thirty years ago). I’m glad you stopped with the cigars (to my father). Let’s go up to my room later, and don’t forget to bring me a Pepsi (this is to Irv, her final boyfriend, whom she last saw in New York six months ago).

I’m trying to learn how to drift in time with her, to let go of my yearning for a genuine conversation or connection, for the things she says to make sense. If I can do that, it becomes possible to witness her rediscovery of things I’ve never known about. Suddenly, there’s a touch of warmth in these stray memories, and a veracity that convinces me they’re real. Passing a friendly Weimaraner and her owner as we approached a coffee shop, I expected her to recoil and curse the man for exposing her to potential filth. Instead, she said oh, what a nice doggie! and stopped, hands lifting from her walker, to add, we had a dog when I was a little girl. Its name was Wee-toy but Papa called it Pee-toy because it always wet the carpet. Huh? My mother had a dog? In a Bronx apartment? It peed and wasn’t immediately put to sleep?

Mostly, though, her memory fails utterly. When two students from Portland State University, as part of their course requirements, visited the nursing home on a strangely ironic mission to help residents compile “memory books,” they were unable to discover anything from my mother except that her parents sold furs in New York. She simply could not tell them anything about her life. The problem, in part, was that they asked directly. My mother can’t retrieve items from memory that way anymore; they have to surface of their own accord, driftwood on a sea of forgetfulness . And she certainly can’t present her few memories in any sort of coherent whole–she can’t tell a story now, can’t connect the few bits that remain into a narrative. So, when asked, she didn’t remember her marriages, her relatives, her experiences in art or theater, her childhood. She did think she had a son who was a writer. But he died. One of the students called me to schedule a visit here, to collect photographs and assemble a life story.

“Your mother is so sweet,” she said. “She didn’t remember anything, but she kept asking me if I was married and if my husband was kind to me.”

***

We’ve learned that our visits create agitation in my mother unless we take her on an outing. If we stay at the nursing home with her, if she feels that she must host us, things deteriorate quickly. Like a child welcoming adults to her room, she will show us her bed, the clothes in her closet, her bathroom. But it’s apparent that she doesn’t recognize much, and isn’t sure whose things she’s finding. Or she will grab a photograph off her bureau and get confused over the image. Though we’ve placed labels on the backs to identify people, she forgets that the labels are there. Once, we discovered that she’d rearranged the labels, so that the photograph of my daughter and her husband said Floyd (your son) and his wife Beverly. She will point to the armchair we bought when she moved to the nursing home and announce that it’s been in her family for years. Then she will come to a halt, look around her in alarm, race into the bathroom and, after a brief tinkle, stand in front of the mirror for a while. If we walk with her to the nursing home’s plush lobby or to the solarium at the end of her unit, places where “visits” happen, she gets tangled in loops of failed conversation and grows increasingly confused.

“Your girlfriend is gorgeous,” she will say. “You two should get married.”

“We are married.”

“You are? For how long?”

“Almost nine years.”

“Nine years? Was I at the wedding?”

“No. You were still living in New York then, and you felt it was too far for you to travel.”

“I lived in New York?”

“For ninety years.”

She will shake her head. “You two should get married already.”

Social interaction and conversation may wear my mother down, but trips in the car delight her. The various neighborhood Starbucks, where we take her for coffee and an assortment of cookies, she proclaims my favorite restaurant. Let’s come here for my birthday. People smile as she makes her way inside and stops to look around. Within the gate of her walker, she beams and waves like Harry Truman at a whistle stop, pleased with the welcome she’s receiving. Best of all are errands, when there’s something the resident care manager has suggested that we purchase for my mother. We spent an hour together in a drugstore trying to buy lipstick and eyebrow pencil. She loved looking at the red tubes, but wasn’t sure she needed anything special for her eyebrows since she’d started using a #2 pencil and had plenty of those. We spent two hours with her selecting those sandals she loves.

During a quarterly care meeting with the nursing home staff, we got a note saying that my mother needed bras. When she’d first arrived at the home in late winter, the nurses welcoming my mother told us she would be much happier without a bra. They gave us the old, tattered one she’d been wearing and said they couldn’t wait for the day when they could trash their own as well. Now, though, as she is helped to dress in the mornings, my mother apparently wonders where her bras went. She forgets about it once her shirt is on, but a recent rash under her breasts seems to have convinced everyone that she could use a bra after all.

Beverly, a hospice social worker, asked her colleagues where the best place was to take an elderly woman for a proper fitting. The advice was unanimous: Victoria’s Secret. So we took her to the mall.

We planned this outing to coincide with a visit from California by my late brother’s wife Elaine. Though my mother remembered neither Elaine nor my brother, she was elated to have an extra visitor, and we felt the need for an extra female helper. Elaine, who had been volunteering at a shop where breast cancer survivors were fitted for their bras, brought her special expertise to this project.

At Victoria’s Secret, a young woman greeted my mother warmly. “Hello! I’m Jenny and I’m here to help you!”

“Good,” my mother said, blinking at all the lights and colors. “I’ll take one of each.”

Jenny smiled and said “we can put you into anything you like. And in any style or any color. We could even do hot pink.”

“That’s very nice, dear. What’s hot pink?”

As we made our slow way to the back of the shop, my mother–probably in response to seeing all the lingerie--asked “How many husbands did I have?”

“Two, mother. There was my father Harry, and then there was Julius.”

She shakes her head, stops, leans her weight onto her walker, and I can see she’s trying to figure something out. She points toward Beverly and Elaine, who are working together within the racks, gathering a selection of bras. “I’m just trying to remember who those lovely women are. I’m going through the alphabet: A for Al, no: that was my brother; B for Beverly: that’s right, Beverly, the one on the right there, she’s your daughter; C for, for, Charles, I think I had a cousin named Charles. Where is he?” She looks around the shop, then adds, “Or maybe I was married to a Charles. I don’t know. D? E for everyone” and she stops, utterly lost. Elaine’s name doesn’t come up.

I lead her toward the fitting room. Beverly and Elaine have several bras ready for my mother, who looks at them, looks down and says “how did I get such a big bazoom?” Then she goes into the room with her two daughters-in-law and the door is shut. “Stay right there,” she calls to me, as though I were six and apt to get lost.

I take a seat in the small nook between changing rooms, holding my mother’s walker folded in my lap with my cane across the top to keep it in place. I look very small. Behind doors to my left, a woman is trying on panties, dropping the unsatisfactory ones in a small pile at her feet. I don’t know where to turn my eyes.

Amid the laughter and murmuring from inside my mother’s changing room, I can tell that things are not going well. Nothing fits, not even close. Elaine exits, returns in a moment with another armful. It’s like a skit from “I Love Lucy,” underwear in mounds all around. Jenny keeps bringing new models back to the changing room; she has a thong draped over her forearm and I’m relieved to see her hand it to the customer in the room to my left. Jenny is losing hope and interest. Apparently, Victoria’s Secret can’t offer its brand of support to anyone larger than a 38.

“Try the Lane Bryant shop at the other end of the mall,” she says and I race ahead to procure a wheelchair for my mother. This is going to take longer than we’d thought.

After a stop at the rest room, we’re all relieved to discover that Lane Bryant has what my mother needs. It takes about a half hour of trying on various models, but she is pleased.

“I’m so lucky to have my two daughters with me,” my mother says at one point. “But who is that man right outside the door, sitting in a wheelchair?”

We buy two bras, and she leaves the store wearing one. Within thirty seconds, as we move toward the rest rooms again, my mother is squirming in the chair, reaching around to adjust her bra and complaining about the fit.

“We’ll take them back after you go to the bathroom.”

“Stupid brassiere.”

Back at Lane Bryant, my mother has run out of patience. Nothing fits. Bras dangle over the top of the changing room door. Elaine, ever cheerful, has found something in every size, shape and style, but always the fit is wrong.

“That’s enough,” my mother finally says. “Just give me the bra I came in and take me to the hotel.”

Beverly comes flying out of the changing room. “Now we’re in trouble,” she says. In a flash, she’s returned with the perfect bra, larger where all the others were too small and smaller where they were too large.

“Is this the one I came in?”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course. That’s why I always wear it.”

After one more bathroom stop, we leave the mall. My mother is tired but smiling. As I drive, she takes a deep breath, looks out her window, and listens for a moment to the quiet discussion happening in the back seat. “Excuse me,” she says, “who are those nice women behind us?”

***

For more than twenty years, neurologists have recognized the phenomenon of retrogenesis at work in Alzheimer’s patients. The sequence of their functional losses reverses the sequence of functional gains in childhood development. They lose their capacities in precisely the opposite order in which they gained them–the ability to hold up our heads, to smile, crawl, walk, control our bowels, our urine, to dress ourselves–are removed in inverse order.

This harrowing pattern is obvious in my mother’s case. Although she hasn’t officially been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, her dementia has been progressing and capacities regressing in the classic manner. She sounds like my mother--her smoky contralto voice and New York accent are for me instantly resonant with memories–but she is essentially functioning as a seven year old child. She is not quite able to select proper clothing or put it all on without assistance, is unable to prepare a meal or handle simple finances, is still continent but not fully reliable when bathing alone. Her voice will suddenly alter, rising into an unfamiliar range when she whines or pleads, offering good behavior in return for a treat. It is a grim, frightening process to witness, and I am trying to see the situation for what it is: a gradual letting go. For me as well as for my mother, as she steadily releases hold on herself and her world.

She also exhibits some of the innocence of a seven year old. When we tell her we’re taking her for a ride, her eyes widen, her hands come up to the sides of her face and she says oh goodie! A ride. She is open to experience, at least in the moment it occurs; everything seems fresh to her and filled with wonder. There is little of the adult or even adolescent irony in the presence of simple goodness, so that when she sees a couple holding hands in Starbucks she is charmed. What nice looking people. I wonder if they’re married. In the past, their mixture of races and discrepancy in ages would have brought immediate censure. Her skepticism has diminished along with her cognitive hold; there are flickers of simple genuine joy that are astonishing to behold. She is trusting and she is elemental. She often feels relieved of great burdens, pleased not to worry about managing her hair or having her fancy clothes dry cleaned. I don’t have to do that anymore.

The things that she does worry about, such as when I will return or when I last visited, seem most often connected to my presence: I worry her. I am her chief source of agitation. But the form of her worry no longer is that of a mother for a son. Rather, she worries as a child worries about its father. When will I be there again, what have I brought for her, how long will I stay, when will I leave?

Still, for all her childlike qualities, my mother is quite obviously ninety-one. There is no ignoring her thin parchment skin, her limited vision, diminishing mobility, dementia. She is shrinking in body as well as consciousness, fading before our eyes. I try to think of her situation as a liberation, since her lifelong sense of disappointment caused her such misery and now she appears so content. But the idea of liberation keeps transforming into imprisonment; she is a child trapped in an old woman’s body and just at the point where she might finally feel free she is losing hold of herself. No wonder she is compelled to gaze at what remains in the mirror.

This time in our life is a labyrinth of role reversals and reorientations. I feel both protective and frustrated, the way I often felt as a young father. But there is also a long, dark shadow of history that comes with being in my mother’s presence, with being her sole surviving son, her only surviving connection to a past she no longer remembers and that I cannot forget.

As we leave her room, my mother stands in the hallway trying to make her impressions fit. She is perched between the rails of her walker, one hand raised to wave goodbye, the other stretched as though to stop us. Her tone alternates between pleasure and panic. This was the happiest day of my life! Wait, I have to go to the bathroom! You’re coming back in how many days? Bring one of your books already. Marry that girl.

More Developments in JonBenet Tragedy

2008-07-10T14:27:49Z

Prosecutor: DNA Clears JonBenet Ramsey's Family

By CATHERINE TSAI, Associated Press Writer

BOULDER, Colo. - Prosecutors cleared JonBenet Ramsey's parents and brother Wednesday in the 1996 killing of the 6-year-old beauty queen and told the family they were "deeply sorry" for putting the Ramseys under a cloud of suspicion for more than a decade. The district attorney said new DNA tests point to a mysterious outsider.

"To the extent that we may have contributed in any way to the public perception that you might have been involved in this crime, I am deeply sorry," Boulder County District Attorney Mary Lacy wrote in a letter to the little girl's father, John Ramsey. "No innocent person should have to endure such an extensive trial in the court of public opinion."

Lacy said new "touch DNA" tests on skin cells that were left behind on JonBenet's long underwear point to an "unexplained third party" and not a member of the family.

John Ramsey, a software entrepreneur who now lives in Michigan, said Wednesday he is hopeful the killer will be found based on the DNA evidence.

"I think the people that are in charge of the investigation are focused on that, and that gives me a lot of comfort," he told KUSA-TV in Denver. He added: "Certainly we are grateful that they acknowledged that we, based on that, certainly could not have been involved."

For years after the slaying, tabloids and crime shows went after the couple, and Lacy's predecessor as district attorney, Alex Hunter, said in 1997 that the parents were under an "umbrella of suspicion." News reports also cast suspicion on JonBenet's older brother, Burke, who was 9 when his sister was killed.

The suspicions outlived JonBenet's mother, Patsy, who died in June 2006 of ovarian cancer at age 49 in Atlanta, where the family moved after JonBenet's death.

"My first thought was obviously I wish Patsy Ramsey was here with us to be able to at least share vindication of her family," said L. Lin Wood, an attorney for the Ramsey family. "There are many people in this country, if not around the world, that also owe John and Patsy Ramsey and Burke Ramsey an apology."

Early in the investigation, police found male DNA in a drop of blood on JonBenet's underwear and determined it was not from anyone in her family. But Lacy said investigators were unable to say who it came from and whether that person was the killer.

Then, late last year, prosecutors turned over long underwear JonBenet was wearing to the Bode Technology Group near Washington, which looked for "touch DNA," or cells left behind where someone has touched something.

The laboratory found previously undiscovered genetic material on the sides of the girl's long underwear, where an attacker would have grasped the clothing to pull it down, authorities said. The DNA matched the genetic material found earlier.

Lacy said the presence of the same male DNA in three places on the girl's clothing convinced investigators it belonged to JonBenet's killer and had not been left accidentally by an innocent party.

"It is therefore the position of the Boulder District Attorney's Office that this profile belongs to the perpetrator of the homicide," she said in a statement. In her letter to the Ramseys, she said the DNA evidence "has vindicated your family."

She said investigators hope someday to find a DNA match in the ever-expanding national DNA databank.

Through a spokeswoman, Lacy declined to comment any further.

John Ramsey found his daughter's strangled and bludgeoned body in the basement of the family's home in Boulder on Dec. 26, 1996. Patsy Ramsey said she found a ransom note demanding $118,000 for her daughter.

Lacy had previously expressed doubts that the parents were involved. In 2003, a federal judge handling a defamation lawsuit in Atlanta involving the Ramseys said evidence in the case was more consistent with the theory that an intruder killed JonBenet, and Lacy said she agreed.

Less than two months after Patsy Ramsey died, the case appeared to blow wide open with the arrest in Thailand of John Mark Karr, a sometime teacher obsessed with the little girl's slaying. Karr made bizarre, detailed confessions to the killing, but authorities said DNA evidence showed he did not commit the crime.

Partiot Games

2008-07-10T14:26:07Z

Patriot Games

By Michael A. Cohen | NYTimes.com | July 8, 2008

Last week, Barack Obama traveled to Independence, Mo., to talk about patriotism, a perennial campaign topic that has taken on added relevance this year. Mr. Obama’s earlier refusal to wear a flag lapel pin, his failure to put a hand over his heart during the playing of the national anthem, his supposed Muslim lineage have all been seized upon by his opponents to make the case that Mr. Obama is somehow “not one of us.”

Unfortunately, in his remarks, Mr. Obama missed an opportunity to move beyond this nonsense. By focusing largely on his own personal definition of patriotism — as a means of inoculating himself from scurrilous rumors — Mr. Obama failed to make the more important argument of what he is prepared to ask of the American people.

Indeed, Mr. Obama should seize the opportunity to redefine patriotism, particularly as military service has become the primary means by which national devotion is defined in America today. For the millions of Americans who choose not to join the armed services, Mr. Obama must lay out what he believes are their patriotic responsibilities.

In his speech, Mr. Obama sought to straddle the divide that exists between what the July 7 Time magazine cover story calls the patriotism of affirmation, which appeals more to conservatives, and the patriotism of dissent, which is particularly cherished by liberals. On the one hand, he said: “For me, as for most Americans, patriotism starts as a gut instinct, a loyalty and love for country rooted in my earliest memories.” And on the other: “When our laws, our leaders or our government are out of alignment with our ideals, then the dissent of ordinary Americans may prove to be one of the truest expression of patriotism.”

But it’s not clear that embracing a little of the conservative and a little of the liberal definitions of patriotism will work. Conservative commentators like Jonah Goldberg continue to intimate that “at the end of the day the patriotic American believes that America is fundamentally good as it is.”

And even Time magazine’s Joe Klein complains of a “chronic disease among Democrats, who tend to talk more about what’s wrong with America than what’s right.” The debate over patriotism is still being waged on conservative turf. And one can be sure that John McCain, who seems to focus his greatest patriotic respect on those who have served in the military, will continue to trod this ground.

Instead, Mr. Obama should shift the patriotism conversation — much the way he did with his race speech in Philadelphia last April — by offering a redefinition of our civic duties as citizens. He should ask and answer the question: Short of taking up arms, how do citizens today demonstrate their devotion to America?

Mr. Obama offered a useful sermon on what America means to him, but he failed to spell out a more robust understanding of patriotism at a time when the country faces grave challenges that demand national sacrifice. Indeed, he only offered two paragraphs about the importance of national service in his speech. (Though he spoke at greater length on this issue later in the week, he offered more of a laundry list of items than a national call to arms.)

Mr. Obama must find a way to seamlessly merge patriotic devotion with national service and civic responsibility so the country can move beyond the stale notion that patriotism is the dominant province of our fighting men and women. As a former community organizer in Chicago, he understands well the many ways in which love of country can be expressed.

Mr. Obama can bridge America’s patriotic divide by demanding of Americans the sacrifice that has been lacking not just for the last eight years, but indeed for much longer. Since Mr. McCain has chosen to emphasize military service over national service and President Bush has asked little sacrifice from Americans in the post-9/11 world, defining patriotism need not be seen by Mr. Obama as a vulnerability to be mitigated, but instead an opportunity to be mined.

In 1960, John F. Kennedy spoke of a New Frontier that appealed to the American people’s “pride, not to their pocketbook” and that held “the promise of more sacrifice instead of more security.” These were courageous words that at a time of national drift reminded a generation of Americans that they had genuine responsibilities to their country and flag. They are the kind of words that many Americans crave to hear now; and Mr. Obama should not be afraid to challenge the American people. Not only is it smart politics but, one could argue, it is his patriotic responsibility to the country he seeks to lead.

Summertime Blues

2008-07-08T16:24:36Z

Summertime Blues

Sometimes big events shake the nation's sense of self. But sometimes it is the small things, like the sound of jingle mail.

By Anna Quindlen | NEWSWEEK | Jun 28, 2008

The symbol of the summer of 2008 may well be the FOR SALE sign swinging wildly in a thunderstorm outside a suburban house, or outside two houses, or nearly every house on the cul-de-sac or the street. Or maybe it will be the gas-price signs, the numbers ticking up as rapidly as the symbols on the slots in Vegas as motorists fill their tanks and shake their heads. Or the sodden remains of a den in Iowa, or the smoking husk of a California hill house.

Once I read that humans resonate to the season in which they were born. Maybe that's why I love summer. Hate the cold, like the heat, love the pace. I'm still on a school schedule, and it's not just me. Some offices in New York City go dark on Friday afternoons during the summer months. Compared with the other seasons, summer seems easier, brighter, fraught with promise, a state of mind redolent of lying on a beach at the Jersey shore drenched in baby oil, a sin for which I pay now at the dermatologist's office, and about which I am insufficiently repentant.

Of course there were summers past that were dark and fraught with peril. There was that terrible summer after Martin Luther King and Robert F. Kennedy were murdered, when the police and protesters did bloody battle in the streets of Chicago during the Democratic convention, a summer when the American ideal of dissent seemed like a preposterous lie. There was the breathless summer of Watergate, the televised hearings and the revelations of wrongdoing that ended with the August resignation of Richard M. Nixon, a summer when the American ideal of principled leadership seemed like a laughable fiction.

This summer is different. There is, so far, no one day or date, no central event, no indelible political scandal or tragedy. Instead the domino theory that justified the war in Vietnam suddenly seems to be true, not in terms of world communism but in terms of American optimism. One thing has led to another, and another, and shaken the stability of the nation down to the ground.

"Zeitgeist" is a term so overused that the vocabulary guru of The New York Times once banned it until further notice. But there's no better term for the vague and persistent sense, like a low-grade fever, that all is not well in the United States. Most of us expected to hear the term "run on the bank" only when watching "It's a Wonderful Life" each Christmas, but there it was in real time as the investment giant Bear Stearns began to crash and burn. Many of us grew up with the maxim "home sweet home" but are new to the phrase "jingle mail," which describes keys left in mailboxes for lenders by homeowners who would rather default than fight their rising payments under adjustable-rate mortgages.

Whole neighborhoods in the South and West have been foreclosed; whole areas of California are ablaze, while in Iowa they are underwater. In Cedar Rapids, the river broke all records as residents fled homes and businesses. Those of a Biblical state of mind might see the End of Days (or retribution for single celebrity moms and sex blogs) in these natural disasters, while environmentalists said they were not natural at all, but reflected manipulation of the landscape that changed its ability to withstand both fire and floods. The flooding in the farmlands will likely drive food prices higher, which is unfortunate: like gas prices, they've already risen this year at an alarming rate. This has gone down hard with the nation's neediest families, since the food-stamp allotment will not increase until October. No milk and eggs this summer for those poor kids!

Four out of every five Americans—more, if you just survey the wealthiest—think the country is in a recession. But there's a precise formula for such a thing, and economists say it's not so, although Warren Buffett says it is, and my money's on Buffett (I wish). Of course, it's mainly a semantics game, particularly if you're hard-pressed to afford a gallon of milk or a gallon of gas. The economic classification "recession" was actually invented in 1937 when the economy was back in the toilet but FDR didn't want to call it a depression. And the description "depression" first surfaced during the Hoover administration, a substitute for a more vivid but disconcerting term of art: panic.

Most of us feel the ground trembling beneath our feet, as though the epicenter of an earthquake is somewhere else but still nearby. Some of the growth industries in the country nowadays are built around disaster. There are companies devoted to clearing away debris from flood zones, and contractors who tend houses that have been foreclosed on behalf of the banks that now own them. The Forest Service will be hiring every qualified applicant in California to battle the fires scorching hundreds of acres there.

But at least since the days of the New Deal there has been a national assumption that failure is not an option. Playing by the rules and working hard will lead to prosperity. Prosperity will lead to security, and security is immutable. But little seems immutable this summer, and prosperity has led to credit-card indenture. Having a two-car garage has an entirely different feeling when the cost of filling a car with gas begins to edge toward $100. This is the summer of our discontent, when the equivalent of the ice-cream-truck bells is the music of jingle mail, signaling that our old optimistic notion of America is on increasingly shaky ground.

Hollywood & Horror

2008-07-07T18:45:10Z

Hollywood & Horror

By Stephen King | EW.com | 3 July 2008

While walking back to my Boston hotel after a surprisingly well-attended Tuesday afternoon showing of Bryan Bertino's horror thriller The Strangers, I found myself musing on what's scary and what's not. Whatever it is, The Strangers had enough of it to do incredibly well at the box office. But what makes such a little film with only one star (Liv Tyler) work in the first place? That the question interests me shouldn't amaze anyone, since I've worked in the scare-'em-silly field for years. And it must be of vital interest to Twentieth Century Fox, which this summer releases two movies in the genre with much higher budgets: The Happening and The X-Files: I Want to Believe. The Happening was better than I expected, but it wasn't as scary as The Strangers. As for The X-Files (out July 25)? Children, I have my doubts.

One thing that seems clear to me, looking back at the 10 or a dozen films that truly scared me, is that most really good horror films are low-budget affairs with special effects cooked up in someone's basement or garage. Among those that truly work are Carnival of Souls, Halloween, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Night of the Living Dead, and The Blair Witch Project. All cost almost nothing to make and earned millions, while their sequels and remakes were crap (Dawn of the Dead in both its incarnations being the exception that proves the rule).

Horror is an intimate experience, something that occurs mostly within oneself, and when it works, the screams of a sold-out house are almost intrusive. In that sense, a movie such as Blair Witch is more like poetry than like the ''event films'' that pack the plexes in summer. Those flicks tend to be like sandwiches overstuffed with weirdly tasteless meat and cheese, meals that glut the belly but do nothing for the soul. Studio execs, who not only live behind the curve but seem to have built mansions there, don't seem to understand that most moviegoers recognize all the bluescreens and computer graphics of big-budget films and flick them aside. Those movies blast our emotions and imaginations, instead of caressing them with a knife edge.

The scariest sequence I can remember is in Night of the Living Dead. The cemetery-visiting heroine, Barbara, is chased back to her car by a lurching zombie with white hair and dazed eyes. She locks herself in only to discover her brother has taken the keys. The zombie reaches down, finds a rock, and begins to bash it strengthlessly against the car window. The first time I saw this (and twice after), the scene reduced me to jelly.

Of Fox's two summer creepshows, give the edge to The Happening, partly because M. Night Shyamalan really understands fear, partly because this time he's completely let himself go (hence the R rating), and partly because after Lady in the Water he had something to prove. And, happily, Happening plays as a relatively small movie. The new X-Files movie, on the other hand, looks big...but horror is not spectacle, and never will be. Horror is an unknown actress, perhaps the girl next door, cowering in a cabin with a knife in her hands we know she'll never be able to use. Horror is the scene in The Strangers where Liv Tyler tries to hide beneath the bed...and discovers she can't fit there.

One more problem: Big movies demand big explanations, which are usually tiresome, and big backstories, which are usually cumbersome. If a studio is going to spend $80 or $100 million in hopes of making $300 or $400 million more, they feel a need to shove WHAT IT ALL MEANS down the audience's throat. Is there a serial killer? Then his mommy didn't love him (insert flashback). A monster from outer space? Its planet exploded, of course (and the poor misunderstood thing probably needs a juicy Earth woman to make sexy with). But nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.

That's why I can't imagine that anything in X-Files will match Liv Tyler's exchange with one of the masked home invaders in one particularly terrifying scene of The Strangers.

''Why are you doing this to us?'' she whispers.

To which the woman in the doll-face mask responds, in a dead and affectless voice: ''Because you were home.''

In the end, that's all the explanation a good horror film needs.

Fooling the FARC: Betancourt & Others Free

2008-07-03T14:35:44Z

Colombia Frees Betancourt, US Hostages from Rebels

By FRANK BAJAK | Associated Press Writer | 3 July 2008

BOGOTA, Colombia - Ingrid Betancourt woke up, as always, at 4 a.m., for another numbing day in her seventh year of rebel captivity deep in Colombia's jungle.

The former presidential candidate listened to news of her mother and daughter over the radio then was told to pack by her guerrilla captors — helicopters were coming.

The sound always filled her with dread, but this time she and 14 other hostages — including three U.S. military contractors held since 2003 — were airlifted to freedom in an audaciously "perfect" operation involving military spies who tricked the rebels into handing over their prize hostages without firing a shot.

The stunning caper involved months of intelligence gathering, dozens of helicopters on standby and a strong dose of deceit: The rebels shoved the captives, their hands bound, onto a white unmarked MI-17 helicopter, believing they were being transferred to another guerrilla camp.

Looking at helicopter's crew, some wearing Che Guevara shirts, Betancourt reasoned they weren't aid workers, as she'd expected — but rebels.

This was just another indignity — the helicopter "had no flag, no insignia." Angry and upset, she refused a coat they offered as they told her she was going to a colder climate.

But not long after the group was airborne, Betancourt turned around and saw the local commander, alias Cesar, a man who had tormented her for four years, blindfolded and stripped naked on the floor.

Then came the unbelievable words.

"We're the national army," said one of the crewman. "You're free."

The helicopter crew were soldiers in disguise. Cesar and the other guerrilla aboard had been persuaded to hand over their pistols, then overpowered.

Not a single shot was fired in Wednesday's rescue mission, which snatched from the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, the four foreigners who were its greatest bargaining chips.

"The helicopter almost fell from the sky because we were jumping up and down, yelling, crying, hugging one another," Betancourt later said.

The operation, which also freed 11 Colombian soldiers and police, "will go into history for its audacity and effectiveness," Defense Minister Juan Manuel Santos said.

It was the most serious blow ever dealt to the 44-year-old FARC, which is already reeling from the recent deaths of key commanders and thousands of defections after withering pressure from Colombia's U.S.-trained and advised armed forces.

Military intelligence agents had infiltrated the FARC's top ranks — not one but many — in an operation that began last year and developed slowly and with meticulous care, Colombia's top generals said.

Many relatives of hostages have opposed rescue attempts, mindful of a botched 2003 operation in which rebels killed 10 hostages including a former defense minister when they heard helicopters approach.

This time, there were no such mistakes.

Through orders the hostages' handlers believed came from top rebels, they had maneuvered three separate groups of hostages to a rallying point in eastern Colombia's wilds for Wednesday's helicopter pickup.

"The helicopter was on the ground for 22 minutes," said army chief Gen. Mario Montoya, "the longest minutes of my life."

The agents had led Cesar, the local commander overseeing the hostages, to believe he was taking them to Alfonso Cano, the guerrillas' supreme leader to discuss a possible hostage swap.

A French and Swiss envoy were reported in the country seeking a meeting with Cano so the operation's timing was perfect.

"God, this is a miracle," Betancourt said after the freed Colombians landed in Bogota a few hours later. "It was an extraordinary symphony in which everything went perfectly."

She appeared thin but surprisingly healthy as she strode down the stairs of a military plane and held her mother in a long embrace.

A flight carrying the Americans — Marc Gonsalves, Thomas Howes and Keith Stansell — landed in Texas late Wednesday after being flown there directly. They were to reunite with their families and undergo tests and treatment at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio.

Betancourt said she will travel to France on Thursday and meet President Nicolas Sarkozy.

President Alvaro Uribe, in a celebratory news conference flanked by the freed Colombian hostages, said he isn't interested in "spilling blood" that he wants the FARC to know he seeks "a path to peace, total peace."

Although only Colombians were directly involved in the rescue, U.S. Ambassador William Brownfield said "close" American cooperation included intelligence, equipment as well as "training advice." He refused to offer details.

The two rebels overpowered will face justice, officials said. But the 58 others left behind on the ground were allowed to escape as a goodwill gesture, said Gen. Freddy Padilla, the armed forces commander.

"If I had given the order to fire on them they would almost certainly all have been killed," he said. Another 39 helicopters had been standing by, prepared to encircle the rebels and hostages if the rescue failed, Santos said.

Betancourt, 46, was abducted in February 2002. The Americans were captured a year later when their drug surveillance plane went down in rebel-held jungle. Some of the others had been held for a dozen years.

The French-Colombian Betancourt wore a floppy camouflage hat as she arrived in Bogota and hugged her mother, Yolanda Pulecio, and her husband, Juan Carlos LeCompte. Her two children and sister, Astrid, were expected to arrive early Thursday from France, where they live with her ex-husband.

Betancourt broke into tears several times — first on arrival and later at Uribe's side during the news conference.

"They used the pain of our families to pressure the entire world," she said, and appealed to the FARC to release its remaining hostages — about 700 by government count — and make peace.

"The people who stayed behind there, I forgive them," Betancourt said of her rebel captors. "Nobody is at fault."

She thanked Uribe, against whom she was running when she was kidnapped, and said he "has been a very good president."

However, she said, "I continue to aspire to serve Colombia as president."

Before leaving Paris, her son Lorenzo Delloye-Betancourt called her release "the most beautiful news of my life."

Brownfield said the Americans were healthy and "very, very happy" but two suffered from the jungle malady leishmaniasis and were "looking forward to modern medical treatment."

Congratulations swarmed in for Uribe and his military from around the world, including from French President Nicolas Sarkozy, who had made Betancourt's liberation a priority of state.

Betancourt, a dual French national who grew up in Paris, had become a cause celebre across Europe, where scores of cities had adopted her.

Many Colombians believe the end is near for the FARC, whose ranks are filled with poor peasants resentful of government neglect but who are widely despised for their ransom and political kidnappings and reliance on cocaine trafficking.

FARC battlefield losses and widespread desertions have cut rebel numbers in half to about 9,000 as the United States has poured billions of dollars in military aid into Colombia in support of Uribe.

In March, co-founder leader Manuel Marulanda died of a reported heart attack, and two other top commanders were killed, one by a turncoat bodyguard.

Padilla said the FARC informants who had made the hostages' release possible would be rewarded not with cash but with "liberty."

"They did it so that they and their families can have a better life."

Kindlin'

2008-07-02T14:18:29Z

Books With Batteries -- Why Not?

The new Kindle from Amazon.com won't replace books, says Uncle Stevie. But a good story's bound to be compelling no matter how it's ingested

By Stephen King | EW.com |

What did I do during the holidays? Read a good book, of course. It was called In Pale Battalions, by Robert Goddard. Goddard's British, and his tales of suspense and mystery have recently been reissued in America. I'd never read him. Now I'm glad I did. Set mostly during World War I (but with a leisurely framework that allows the story to stretch comfortably all the way to 1968), In Pale Battalions is a story of sex, secrets, and murder — all the good stuff, in other words. What makes it especially riveting is the malevolent demon-woman at the novel's center: Olivia Powerstock's greatest talent is making those around her suffer. And Goddard is clever, giving the reader not just one solution to what happened at drafty ole Meongate Manor, but three — each fuller and more satisfying than the last.

A book to remember, in other words, but one I'll remember another way: as the first book I read on my new Kindle.

Most of you will already know what that is, but for those of you who have been living in a barn, your Uncle Stevie will now elucidate. It's a gadget available from Amazon.com. The advance publicity says it looks like a paperback book, but it really doesn't. It's a panel of white plastic with a screen in the middle and one of those annoying teeny-tiny keyboards most suited to the fingers of Keebler elves. Full disclosure: I have not yet used the teeny-tiny keyboard, and really see no need for it. Keyboards are for writing. The Kindle is for reading.

There are two controls on the back. One is the on/off switch (duh). The other turns on a wireless connection called Whispernet. With this you can download books directly from the electronic ether, where even now a million books are flying overhead, like paper angels without the paper, if you know what I mean. The catch: For now, you can only order the ones at the Amazon-run Kindle Store. The advantage: It's cheaper than your local big-box store, with $9.99 as the price for many new releases. But a book is a book, right?

Or is it? One of my writer friends expressed strong reservations. Although raised on TV and weaned on the Internet, this talented young man made a strong argument for books as books: beautiful objects that take up real space in our lives. ''Books do furnish a room,'' people used to say when I was a kid, and I know what my talented young writer friend means. Covers, for instance. The Robert Goddard reissues have beauties. In Pale Battalions features vivid red poppies, those emblematic flowers of World War I, against a field of green. The ''cover'' of the Kindle version is a flat statement of title and author. Borr-ing. On many Kindle books the cover art is reproduced...but in tepid black and white.

I've argued all my life that the story means more than the delivery systems involved (and that includes the writer). I have never been able to understand the prejudice some people seem to feel about recorded books, for instance. Not only are good stories better when they are told out loud; bad stories declare themselves almost at once, because the spoken word is merciless. You cannot, for instance, listen to one of the later Patricia Cornwell novels without realizing how little feel she has for language, or to a Sue Grafton without appreciating her divine eye for the minutiae of ordinary life.

The Kindle isn't as gratifying as a good book narrated by a great reader...but for what it is, it's just fine. It's light, holds its charge, is simple to operate. And for a fellow of my years (a less-than-generous reader recently referred to me in his blog as ''that elderly douchenozzle''), the Kindle has one great feature: You can adjust the typeface. In the printed version of In Pale Battalions, the type is readable but small; after an hour or so, I'd be maxed out. At its highest Kindle magnification, though, the narrative looks twice as big as this, and I can breeze along for twice that length of time, my finger stuttering on the NEXT PAGE button. It's a boon that makes up for having to charge the gadget at night...which I never had to do with a novel until this one.

Will Kindles replace books? No. And not just because books furnish a room, either. There's a permanence to books that underlines the importance of the ideas and the stories we find inside them; books solidify an otherwise fragile medium.

But can a Kindle enrich any reader's life? My own experience — so far limited to 1.5 books, I'll admit — suggests that it can. For a while I was very aware that I was looking at a screen and bopping a button instead of turning pages. Then the story simply swallowed me, as the good ones always do. I wasn't thinking about my Kindle anymore; I was rooting for someone to stop the evil Lady Powerstock. It became about the message instead of the medium, and that's the way it's supposed to be.

And did I mention that you can also look up definitions of words that puzzle you as you read? My definition of Kindle: a gadget with stories hiding inside it. What's wrong with that?

Rovian Myths

2008-06-25T20:08:14Z

More Phony Myths

By MAUREEN DOWD | NYTimes.com | 25 June 2008

Karl Rove was impressed with Barack Obama when he first met him. But now he sees him as a “coolly arrogant” elitist.

This was Rove’s take on Obama to Republicans at the Capitol Hill Club Monday, according to Christianne Klein of ABC News:

“Even if you never met him, you know this guy. He’s the guy at the country club with the beautiful date, holding a martini and a cigarette that stands against the wall and makes snide comments about everyone who passes by.”

Actually, that sounds more like W.

The cheap populism is really rich coming from Karl Rove. When was the last time he kicked back with a corncob pipe to watch professional wrestling?

Rove is trying to spin his myths, as he used to do with such devastating effect, but it won’t work this time. The absurd spectacle of rich white conservatives trying to paint Obama as a watercress sandwich with the crust cut off seems ugly and fake.

Obama can be aloof and dismissive at times, and he’s certainly self-regarding, carrying the aura of the Ivy faculty club. But isn’t that better than the aura of the country clubs that tried to keep out blacks? It’s ironic, and maybe inevitable, that the first African-American nominee comes across as a prince of privilege. He is, as Leon Wieseltier of The New Republic wrote, not the seed but the flower of the civil rights movement.

Unlike W., Obama doesn’t have a chip on his shoulder and he doesn’t make a lot of snarky remarks. He tries to stay on a positive keel and see things from the other person’s point of view.

He’s not Richie Rich, saved time and again by Daddy’s influence and Daddy’s friends, the one who got waved into Yale and Harvard and cushy business deals, who drank too much and snickered at the intellectuals and gave them snide nicknames.

Obama is the outsider who never really knew his dad and who grew up in modest circumstances, the kid who had to work hard to charm whites and build a life with blacks and step up to the smarty-pants set.

He might be smoking, but it would be at a cafe, hunched over a New York Times, an Atlantic magazine, his MacBook and some organic fruit-flavored tea, listening to Bob Dylan’s “Blood on the Tracks” on his iPod.

Rove was doing a variation on the old William Buckley line: “I would rather be governed by the first 2,000 names in the Boston telephone book than by the 2,000 members of the Harvard faculty.”

Conservatives love playing this little game, acting as if the “elite” Democratic candidates are not in touch with people like themselves, even though the guys doing the attacking — like Rove, Limbaugh, O’Reilly and Hannity — are wealthy and cosseted.

Haven’t we had enough of this hypocritical comedy of people in the elite disowning their social status for political purposes? The Bushes had to move all the way to Texas from Greenwich to make their blue blood appear more red.

Everyone who ever became president was in the elite one way or another, including Andrew Jackson.

Rove and Co. are nervous because they see that Obama, in rejecting public financing, is not going to be a chump, like some past Democratic candidates.

For some of Obama’s critics, it’s a breathtaking bit of fungible principles, as though Gandhi suddenly donned a Dolce & Gabbana, or Dolce & Mahatma, loincloth.

But even as the Republicans limn him as John Kerry, as someone who is too haughty and too “foreign,” Obama is determined not to repeat what Kerry thinks was a big mistake: not having enough money to compete against the Republicans in 2004.

Charlie Black crassly argued in Fortune that a terrorist attack would “be a big advantage” for John McCain. And what’s scary is, Black is the smartest adviser McCain’s got.

It’s hard to believe that if Americans get attacked after all these years of getting strip-searched at the airport, they’re going to be filled with confidence at the performance of the Republicans on national security. And at least Obama wants to catch Osama and doesn’t think he’s getting his directions on war from “a higher Father.”

Rove’s mythmaking about Obama won’t fly. If he means that Obama has brains, what’s wrong with that? If he means that Obama is successful, what’s wrong with that? If he means that Obama has education and intellectual sophistication, what’s wrong with that?

Many of Obama’s traits are the traits that people in the population aspire to.

It looks as if Rove is on the verge of realizing his dream of creating a permanent position for the Republicans.

Unfortunately for him, it’s in the minority.

Gore & Truth

2008-06-24T14:28:16Z

Gore Vidal's Inconvenient Truths

"The Selected Essays of Gore Vidal" reminds us that this combative political provocateur is also one of our finest literary critics.

By Louis Bayard | Salon.com | Jun. 23, 2008 |

"Is he still alive?" a friend asked me not long ago.

Casual observers might be excused for thinking of Gore Vidal in posthumous terms. A twilight pall suffused his most recent memoir, "Point-to-Point Navigation," which described the death of Vidal's longtime companion even as it ladled out retribution against longtime enemies. Many of those enemies have likewise passed on, and in recent appearances, Vidal has had to squeeze his proud, patrician figure into a wheelchair.

The old lion may be enfeebled, but he still has teeth. Doubters are referred to Deborah Solomon's recent New York Times Magazine interview, in which Vidal responded to the question "Were you chaste?" with a line that Groucho Marx might have coveted -- "Chased by whom?" -- and succinctly described his feelings on the death of William F. Buckley: "I thought hell is bound to be a livelier place, as he joins forever those whom he served in life, applauding their prejudices and fanning their hatred."

In the course of what must have been a terrifying conversation, Solomon managed to ask Vidal why critics prefer his essays to his novels. "That's because they don't know how to read," he replied. By now he has schooled us in the dangers of conventional wisdom, but in this case, the conventioneers have it right. Vidal has never produced a great novel (though not for want of trying) because he was, from the start, an essayist manqué.

It was his misfortune, perhaps, to come of age in postwar America, when the novel was still the royal road to glory. His first book, "Williwaw," was published when he was still 19. Several more followed, among them the succes de scandale of "The City and the Pillar," one of America's first fictional depictions of homosexuality (and barely readable today). But the field-clearing fame that the young Vidal clearly hungered for, the kind his rival Truman Capote snatched up right out of the gate -- all this eluded him.

Vidal would later blame his arrested development on the homophobia of mainstream review outlets, especially the New York Times. (To this day, the Gray Lady remains high on his shit list.) But he would also write, revealingly, of William Dean Howells, who, unable to get his poems published, "went off the deep end, into prose." Something similar happened to Vidal. Unable to claim his seat in Valhalla by fictional means, he came at it subterraneously -- through the literary journal -- brandishing not a sword but a quiver of aphorisms, smeared at the tips with invective.

Vidal, of course, would go on to write a great many more novels, most of them historical, a good many of them bestsellers. What he could never do was convince us that we were reading about someone other than Gore Vidal. "Burr," to cite one of his best works, was lively and rebarbative, and yet there was no way to reconcile its cynical, astringent protagonist with the quixotic historical figure who leapt from folly to folly. Burr was, of course, Vidal. As was Lincoln, as was Grant. As was Myra Breckinridge (though, in retrospect, she might better be described as Vidal's countercultural alter ego, which may explain why she is the most persuasive of his fictional personae).

Vidal's essays, by contrast, have all the strengths of his novels with this additional grace: They don't have to make a show of inhabiting other minds. And so the qualities of the originating mind -- wit, phrasemaking, autodidacticism, a talent to inflame -- stand out all the more starkly.

For proof, we may call up "The Selected Essays of Gore Vidal," assembled by Jay Parini, the author's literary executor (more whiffs of the posthumous). That word "selected," of course, implies a certain amount of cherry-picking. Juvenilia, senilia, outmoded usages, casual tribalisms have all presumably been cast away. Or have they? To Parini's credit, more than enough remains to show why and how Vidal gets under people's skin.

There is enough, too, to show that Vidal was, in some respects, well ahead of his time. His defense of homosexuality as "a matter of taste" (in the midst of the '60s), his calls for limits on executive power, his attack on "the National Security State" ... these still walk the razor's edge of topicality. Mere weeks after the Iraq war was joined, Vidal was calling attention to the prisoners in Guantánamo Bay. Some 15 years before Christopher Hitchens' "God Is Not Great," Vidal was declaring that monotheism was "the great unmentionable evil at the center of our culture."

He was not always so prescient. Taking his cues, probably, from Paul Ehrlich, he predicted that the entire planet would be overrun with famine by ... 2000. Some 28 years before that, he was declaring with great confidence that "the South is not about to support a party which is against federal spending ... Southern Democrats are not about to join with Nixon's true-blue Republicans in turning off federal aid."

But federal aid was the least of it. Southerners were breaking from the fold for cultural, not economic reasons, and American culture, in general, is one of Vidal's most notable blind spots. By his own choosing. Like Sinclair Lewis, he speaks of "our brainwashed majority," of the "hypocrisy and self-deception" that mark our "paradigmatic middle-class society." Unlike Lewis, he gives no signs of having actually lived there. The grandson of a U.S. senator, he was raised in privilege in Washington, D.C., and absconded as quickly as he could to Europe, sequestering himself for many years in a villa in Ravello, Italy, where he could get the right altitude on his native land.

But an aerial shot won't show you where all the bunkers are. No surprise, then, that wherever Vidal actually enters the bunker, his political reportage sparks to life. There's a deft analysis of Theodore Roosevelt that draws on conversations with Alice Longworth, and a wry and splendid take on his one-time pals the Kennedys ("The Holy Family," he calls them) that offers welcome ballast to the hagiographies of Schlesinger and Sorensen.

The old injunction to "write what you know" can be crippling for a writer of fiction, but for a writer of essays, it is close to an imperative. And there are clearly places Vidal hasn't been -- the corporate boardroom, for instance -- and things he doesn't know (though he doesn't always know it). His broad-brushed attacks on American power elites have earned him a reputation in many quarters for paranoia. In reality, he is simply vague (although vagueness is a prerequisite for paranoia). "The Few who control the Many through Opinion," he announces, "have simply made themselves invisible." A mercy for him, because he is excused from describing them at any length. He mutters darkly of "cash in white envelopes" and the "1 percent that owns the country" and the "elite" that is "really running the show." Beyond that level of signifying, he rarely ventures.

Which means that he can't exactly be proven right or wrong -- although history has done a fine job of vindicating him. If anything, the backroom corporate dealmaking of the current administration has shown that Vidal wasn't paranoid enough. We might venture to conclude, then, that he has been right more often than he has been wrong. The only problem is that he's often right for the wrong reasons. He disdains the U.S. power elite not because it oppresses the common man but because it savages his own vision of America, a history-steeped mythos that ignores (when it doesn't condemn) the multicultural realities of today's nation.

But if it's difficult to fix Vidal's standing as a political intellectual, there is no such difficulty in measuring his ability to read and assay literature. Indeed, the real contribution of Parini's collection is to remind us -- how exactly did we forget? -- that Vidal has been from the start one of our finest literary critics. Not simply because of those lancing quips. ("Might Updike not have allowed one blind noun to slip free of its seeing-eye adjective?" he wonders in a review of "In the Beauty of the Lilies.") But because the act of reading other people's books frees Vidal from having to swallow all the oxygen in the room. In much of his political writing, knowingness passes for knowledge. Here, that tends to fall away, and what's left is a man genuinely engaged with the matter at hand and willing to be changed by it.

In his long analysis of the French New Novelists, for example, Vidal cogently makes the case for theoreticians like Alain Robbe-Grillet and Nathalie Sarraute before parting ways, reluctantly but firmly. "There is something old-fashioned and touching," he writes, "in [the] assumption ... that if only we all try hard enough in a 'really serious' way, we can come up with the better novel. This attitude reflects not so much the spirit of art as it does that of Detroit."

"The French mind," he adds, "is addicted to the postulating of elaborate systems in order to explain everything, while the Anglo-American mind tends to shy away from unified-field theories. We chart our courses point to point; they sight from the stars. The fact that neither really gets much of anywhere doesn't mean that we haven't all had some nice outings over the years."

There is a refreshing lack of doctrine in that judgment, and Vidal's strength as a critic is that he refuses to matriculate into anyone's school. An exhaustive study of the "Art Novels" of Barth, Barthelme and Gass leads him back to his first conclusion: "I find it hard to take seriously the novel that is written to be taught." But the road that leads him there is cobbled with dazzling insights. "I suspect that the energy expended in reading 'Gravity's Rainbow' is, for anyone, rather greater than that expended by Pynchon in the actual writing. This is entropy with a vengeance. The writer's text is ablaze with the heat/energy that his readers have lost to him."

With other authors, Vidal can be quite startlingly generous. I was surprised to learn that he considers Thornton Wilder "one of the few first-rate writers the United States has produced." Kudos are likewise extended to Italo Calvino and to Edgar Rice Burroughs (a boyhood favorite). Vidal almost single-handedly salvaged the fortunes of the late Dawn Powell, who, in his perfect formulation, "hammered on the comic mask and wore it to the end."

Vidal even has a grudging word or two for smut merchants. "By their nature," he writes, "pornographies cannot be said to proselytize, since they are written for the already hooked. The worst that can be said of pornography is that it leads not to 'antisocial' sexual acts but to the reading of more pornography. As for corruption, the only immediate victim is English prose."

On at least one occasion, as I recall, Vidal has confessed that his primary passion in life is not writing but reading, and judging from these deeply informed essays, I can well believe it. Others may suspect him of less pure motives. His social circle has been notable for its glamour, and his willingness to grant audiences to every reporter who comes calling has passed well beyond compulsion. Interviews, in general, bring out his very worst grandstanding impulses and goad him into his most insupportable statements (a bizarre defense of Timothy McVeigh, for instance, and the usual cockamamie theorizing about 9/11).

Vidal's well-documented reputation as a go-to provocateur has made it all too easy to overlook his astonishing work ethic: 24 novels, five plays, two memoirs, screenplays, television dramas, short stories, pamphlets and more than 200 essays. As this particular collection makes clear, Vidal writes to live. Approvingly, he recalls the final days of Edmund Wilson: "He was perfect proof of the proposition that the more the mind is used and fed the less apt it is to devour itself. When he died, at seventy-seven, he was busy stuffing his head with irregular Hungarian verbs. Plainly, he had a brain to match his liver."

Plainly, too, Vidal has a brain to match his self-regard. And late at night, when the blandishments of ego subside and a new book lies open in his lap, his lifelong, half-requited love for the novel still burns bright -- no matter that the novel itself is fading into insignificance. "Our lovely vulgar and most human art is at an end," he wrote in 1967, "if not the end. Yet that is no reason not to want to practice it, or even to read it. In any case, rather like priests who have forgotten the meaning of the prayers they chant, we shall go on for quite a long time talking of books and writing books, pretending all the while not to notice that the church is empty and the parishioners have gone elsewhere to attend other gods, perhaps in silence or with new words."

Hooching-Up Our Young Daughters

2008-05-30T20:08:21Z

Little Girls Gone Wild

Now companies sell padded bras to 6-year-olds. Isn't it time to stop marketing grown-up sexuality to little kids?

By Katharine Mieszkowski | Salon.com | May 20, 2008

Last Halloween, a 5-year-old girl dressed as a Bratz doll showed up at Gigi Durham's front door. Wearing a gauzy miniskirt and a tube top, the child tottered on platform shoes while carrying the doll that had inspired her racy get-up. "I had an instant dizzying flashback to an image of a child prostitute I had seen in Cambodia, dressed in a disturbingly similar outfit," Durham, a professor at the University of Iowa, writes in her new book, "The Lolita Effect: The Media Sexualization of Young Girls and What We Can Do About It."

Playing dress-up is a normal part of childhood. But simply test-driving mommy's high heels now has to compete with sexually suggestive pint-size products from pole-dancing kits sold in the toy section to "Hooters Girl (in training)" T-shirts for toddlers to padded bras for 6-year-olds. And that's all long before the tweens and teens, where girls face the dizzying contradictions of a popular culture that salivates over youth and tells them "if you've got it, flaunt it," while sexual education in school, if it exists at all, too often consists of preaching "abstinence only."

In her new book, M. Gigi Durham, who heads the Iowa Center for Communication Study at the School of Journalism and Mass Communication, critiques the many ways that young girls' sexuality is shaped and exploited by a marketplace where younger is better and the line between child porn and art gets ever blurrier. Durham, a self-described pro-sex feminist, also leads workshops in media literacy in schools, aiming to give kids the tools to critique the sexual images and myths that are being promoted to them.

Salon spoke with Durham, who is the mother of two daughters, ages 7 and 10, by phone at her office at the University of Iowa. Listen to the interview here.

Why is grown-up sexuality being marketed to younger and younger girls?

I don't think that anybody can pinpoint the single reason, but I think there are a number of trends that can give us some clues about it. The '90s were prosperous. In the mid-'90s there was a lot of disposable income floating around and tweens became a very important niche market for a number of industries. One research firm Euromonitor posits tweens spending $170 billion in 2006. So, this is a wealthy little group of people.

Marketers realized they could create cradle-to-grave consumers by marketing products to kids very early. Then, they would develop brand loyalties, and consumer practices that they would sustain throughout their lifetimes. It was very profitable to start marketing these products to very young kids.

Also, as women have made tremendous gains politically and in the workforce, grown women are moving away from this traditional model of femininity where women are supposed to be docile and passive. And little girls still conform to that very traditional ideal of femininity. So I think that increasing attention is being focused on little girls as embodying ideal femininity.

But 6-year-olds obviously don't have money to buy padded bras. Adults have to be buying them for them. You can criticize companies for bringing out these sleazy products for kids, but if parents reject them won't the products just go away?

It should be that way. There is some collusion on the part of the adults who are allowing, or maybe even encouraging, children to respond to these marketing practices so openly and uncritically.

You were disturbed when a 5-year-old showed up at your doorstep last Halloween dressed up in a titillating costume as a Bratz doll. Why?

Some clothes project sexual symbols. And we know what they are: fishnet hose and stilettos and corsets. They're almost clichés of sexuality. But when you see them on a very young child, there's that sexual overtone that to me is not appropriate. It's not a legitimate way for a child to present herself to the world.

Everyone is sexual, and we develop sexually throughout our lives. I'm not at all insisting that children have to be innocent and sex-free or anything like that. But I think that the kinds of clothing that they're being encouraged to wear are really associated with sex work, in particular. And that to me is a very troubling tendency.

What did you make of the Miley Cyrus Vanity Fair photos fracas?

The way that it's being constructed in the media is parents are outraged because Miley Cyrus -- Hannah Montana -- is supposed to be such a pure, innocent child. She's a role model for 6-year-olds. Then, on the other hand, the argument is: "Oh, it's great, this is sexuality, and she has a right to do this." I think that the reality is way more complicated than that.

She is 15, and she is in this transitional period where her body is changing, and she should be exploring and recognizing her sexuality. She's moving into womanhood. To me, the big issue is not that she should be pure and innocent and chaste, but rather should her body be put on display?

A 15-year-old child's body, should that be put on display as a sexual object, and aren't there other ways for us to think about female sexuality rather than just this exhibitionist mode? At the same time, I really do think the pictures are aesthetically very appealing, but there is a question to be raised, because she is only 15.

Can you imagine an image of Miley Cyrus embracing her youthful sexuality that you would condone?

My position is just: Do we need to? Do we need to put it out there? Can't she just grow into womanhood in kind of private and safe ways? Does it have to be exploited for commercial purposes?

What do you think is the relationship between the sexualization of young girls in pop culture, and the actual sexual exploitation of children?

I think it's quite troubling that many of the highly sexualized images we see in fashion and beauty magazines use bodies of 12-, 13-, 14-year-old girls. Maddison Gabriel and a lot of the models are very, very young. [Last fall, there was an international furor when Gabriel, who was then 12 years old, was chosen to be the official ambassador for Gold Coast Fashion Week in Australia.]

I think in a way this mainstreaming of very young girls as sexually desirable objects is one side of the more illegitimate child pornography industry. I almost think that it tacitly condones it. Children are now being trafficked in large numbers for sexual purposes. I do think that there is a connection there, and I think we ought to be disturbed by this.

Are you advocating censorship of sexually provocative media images of young girls?

I am absolutely opposed to any form of censorship. I recognize the immense value of the First Amendment, and I support free speech. It's possible "The Lolita Effect" would be subject to censorship because of its content and focus. So, no, censorship is not something I advocate.

On the contrary, what I call for is the opposite of censorship: I'd like to see more discussion, more public debate, and more discourse around issues of sexuality. What I'm trying to do is increase consumer consciousness so that people -- including kids -- can better understand and control their media environments.

What are some of the distortions that girls learn from magazines and advertising about what girls' sexuality is all about?

If you've got it, flaunt it. Sex is only about baring the body, and exhibiting the body, and especially girls' bodies. That's a very narrow definition of what sexuality is. At the same time, you can't express yourself, you can't enjoy your body, you can't feel like your body is sexual unless you've got this perfect, sex goddess anatomy, which is something like a Barbie body. That's ridiculous, too. It makes girls end up hating their bodies, and not enjoying their own sensuality and sexuality. That's a real problem.

Then, there's this insistence that younger and younger girls are sexual. There's this huge emphasis on linking youth with sexuality. People mature sexually throughout their lives, and there is a lot of scientific evidence that women who are past menopause really enjoy sex. Children who are 12, 13 years old are not in a position to understand or cope with their sexuality very well. Linking sex to youthfulness is really dangerous.

Girls are always supposed to be changing their bodies and dressing up in order to attract male attention. There is not much emphasis on girls enjoying their own bodies, or even any reciprocity where boys might be thinking about what they could do to please girls. It's not very mutual.

But aren't boys also sold a very limited ideal of what it means to be sexual, too? Like all the pop culture references to pimps?

I think that male sexuality is defined in really narrow and limiting ways as well, but in the end, it ends up giving more power to boys. It actually hands it all off to them as being the arbiters of girls' sexuality, and the ones who can make the sexual decisions.

When you talk to girls do you find that they are pretty media savvy?

I've always expected them to understand a great deal about how the media works. But in fact, they don't. I show them videos of how much images are digitally altered before they appear in magazines, and they're stunned by that. They've never really thought about how if the word "glamour" is put beside a particular outfit, then the outfit becomes glamorous.

You write that the current Western beauty ideal -- very slender with big breasts -- is just one in a long line of cultural beauty ideals that have shifted over the centuries in different countries. So, what makes this one different from any of the others?

I think that one of the things about this one is that it's so hard to obtain. It's just basically a body not found in nature. You have to be extremely thin and at the same time extremely voluptuous, and those things are contradictions, because usually thin people are not voluptuous, so you have to go to all of these great artificial lengths in order to maintain a very low weight, and at the same time a very voluptuous figure. All it does is generate endless consumerism.

I'm not saying some of the beauty ideals of the past were progressive. Foot binding, for example, was just as horrible. But it just seems to me that in the 21st century we ought to have a more diverse range of the understandings of beauty.

When you talk to middle school and teen girls, you find them stuck between the cultural imperative to always look "hot," but at the same time not be seen as a "slut" by expressing sexual desire. How do you suggest talking to teens about that?

Just pull out some of the media. Every magazine cover has "405 ways to look hot!" Just say: "What does it mean to look hot?" Once you start bringing it up, I've found that they're very critical of the whole issue, and they want to be seen as multidimensional people with talents and abilities beyond this ridiculous standard of hotness. Helping them find strength in that critical voice that they have is really important.

But how can you reassure girls that it's OK to express their own sexual desires, or even have their own sexual desires, if there is potentially this label of "slut" hanging over them?

I know. It's so difficult. Perhaps I'm just optimistic. In an era of abstinence-only, sex becomes such a fearful thing. It just seems to be so wrong to be interested in sex. Bringing it up, normalizing it, and helping them to understand that this is part of growing up, and that it can be the most wonderful and pleasurable thing can really help a lot. It's going to take a cultural shift.

Do you think that the whole abstinence-only environment is enforcing these dichotomous taboos?

I really do. I think it's either no sex, or let's just leap into it, and ignore every precaution.

Yet, at the same time, it's really important to look hot.

To be hot, yet to abstain. They're getting such a terrible mixed message.

How can parents encourage their daughters to critique the image of girlhood sexuality that they're being sold without seeming like tedious scolds, condemning everything that's "hot"?

I don't think that condemnation ought to come into it either. Everybody wants to be attractive. Everyone wants to find love and relationships. So, I don't think anybody should come across as just condemning popular culture. Lots of it is pleasurable and fun, and so I don't want to deny that part of it either.

What parents ought to do is just open up conversations with their daughters. "You're looking at Seventeen magazine. What do you think about that outfit? Do you think her body is the one that everybody ought to aspire to?" Have those conversations with girls. They're remarkably interested in talking about it, if they don't sense censure. Share your values, share your opinions and listen respectfully to theirs.

There are so many ways now for girls to make their own media. Do you feel like that can help girls create their own images of girlhood, rather than just consuming the ones that are being sold to them?

I really do. I think it's a wonderful thing to encourage girls to be creators of their own media. They can blog. They can make Web sites. They can shoot videos. They can make their own magazines.

When should adults start talking to kids about what the images in the mainstream media mean to them?

I don't think that it's ever too early to start. You can start with very young children talking to them about advertising, and how they make things look pretty to get you to buy them.

It's amazing how much kids understand. If you start these conversations when they're very young, you can continue them when they're teenagers. I think that opening those lines of communication is incredibly important.

How young?

Two.

That is young. How would you do that with a 2-year-old?

I've done it. If they're watching a commercial on TV, and there is a toy, you can just start talking to them: "Do you think that toy is as good when you bring it home as it is on TV? Do you know why they make it look so fun, and like these kids are having so much fun? Because they really want you to spend money on it."

They understand.

Remembering Sydney Pollack

2008-05-29T17:52:47Z

A Rare Breed

Sydney Pollack made movies that were smart and commercial.

David Ansen | Newsweek Web Exclusive | May 28, 2008

"The only thing that really interests me is the relationship between men and women, because it's a metaphor for everything else in life," Sydney Pollack told a NEWSWEEK reporter in 1985, just before "Out of Africa" opened. He won two Oscars for that movie—as producer and director—and it cemented his position at the top of Hollywood's A list, a consummate professional who could make films that were both glossy and intelligent, commercial and adult. But whatever the subject or genre, there would almost always be a love story—usually star-crossed and impossible—at the heart of it.

"There aren't a lot of good love stories left," he went on to say, but he found ones that resonated deeply with audiences—whether turning Isak Dinesen's memoirs of Africa into a tale of doomed romance between Meryl Streep's proud Danish aristocrat and Robert Redford's dashing, commitmentphobic Denys Finch Hatton, or creating the explosive, odd-couple romantic chemistry of Redford and Barbra Streisand in his madly popular "The Way We Were," a touchstone for a generation of women.

Pollack worked with the biggest stars in Hollwood, but Redford was his main man. They met, as fellow actors, in the 1962 film "War Hunt." Redford starred in seven Pollack movies, beginning with his Tennessee Williams adaptation "This Property Is Condemned" in 1966. Their peak may have come with the taut, autumnal, paranoid thriller "Three Days of the Condor" in 1975, the first mainstream studio movie to show the CIA in a villainous light (a portrayal that later became a commonplace). Even in the midst of this suspense movie, Pollack created an intriguingly off-beat romance, tinged with sadomasochistic undertones, between Redford and Faye Dunaway, who plays a woman he's hijacked to hide him in her apartment while assassins track him down.

Pollack made only one comedy in his career, but it's become a classic. "Tootsie" works so well in part because it's played for emotional realism, not cheap laughs; the love story intrigued him more than the farcical cross-dressing gags. Pollack, who had trained as an actor under the legendary Sanford Meisner (and later became his assistant) understood actors as few directors do, and he got great work out of them. Everybody in "Tootsie" is at the top of their game, from Dustin Hoffman and Jessica Lange down to Bill Murray and Pollack himself, who plays Hoffman's agent. Jane Fonda credits Pollack's "They Shoot Horses Don't They" as a turning point in her evolution as an actress. (Gig Young won an Oscar for his work in that film.) Take a look at "The Firm," his solid 1993 John Grisham adaptation. It's not the best or the worst of Pollack's movies, but the depth of talent is extraordinary. He wisely made Tom Cruise a team player and surrounded him with indelible supporting performers like David Strathairn, Holly Hunter, Gene Hackman, Ed Harris, Gary Busey, Jeanne Tripplehorn and Wilford Brimley. The acting gives what could have been a routine thriller its quirky humanity. He lost his touch for a time after that success; "Sabrina" and "Random Hearts" were badly misconceived. But Pollack bounced back, taking the camera in hand himself to make the illuminating personal documentary "Sketches of Frank Gehry" (2005).

Though he didn't take his own acting career seriously, Pollack was always a delight to watch when he did pop up in other peoples' movies. Perhaps his greatest role was in Woody Allen's 1992 film "Husbands and Wives," as an unhappily married man trying to become a swinger a little too late in life. Stanley Kubrick used him well in "Eyes Wide Shut"; he lent worldly-wise weight to "Michael Clayton" (which he also produced). And it was a wonderful surprise to see Pollack steal scenes in "The Sopranos" as the wife-killing oncologist Dr. Warren Feldman.

Onscreen you can sense the man's intelligence, his toughness, his sense of humor, his lack of pretension—all qualities that came through when you met him. I once had the pleasure of watching a UCLA-USC football game with him in my hotel room in Denver, where we were both attending a film festival. Pollack was a sports fan, and he wasn't about to miss the big game to promote his movie.

It was widely known that Pollack had been gravely ill, but his death still came as a shock—and something of a double blow, following on the heels of the premature death of Anthony Minghella, his partner in his production company, Mirage. As the producer of such movies as "Sense and Sensibility," "The Talented Mr. Ripley," "Iris," and the low budget Sundance winner "Forty Shades of Blue," Pollack encouraged both new talent and resolutely grown-up entertainments. In Hollywood the sense of loss was palpable, coming at a time when his kind of movies—and his kind of in-his-marrow professionalism—increasingly feel like endangered species.

Raisin' McCain

2008-05-15T21:02:42Z

McCain: A Question of Temperament

By Michael Leahy | Washington Post | April 20, 2008

John McCain cupped a fist and began pumping it, up and down, along the side of his body. It was a gesture familiar to a participant in the closed-door meeting of the Senate committee who hoped that it merely signaled, as it sometimes had in the past, McCain's mounting frustration with one of his colleagues.

But when McCain leaned toward Charles E. Grassley and slowly said, "My friend . . ." it seemed clear that ugliness was looming: While the plural "my friends" was usually a warm salutation from McCain, "my friend" was often a prelude to his most caustic attacks. Grassley, an Iowa Republican with a reputation as an unwavering legislator, calmly held his ground. McCain became angrier, his fist pumping even faster.

It was early 1992, and the occasion was an informal gathering of a select committee investigating lingering issues about Vietnam War prisoners and those missing in action, most notably whether any American servicemen were still being held by the Vietnamese. It is unclear precisely what issue set off McCain that day. But at some point, he mocked Grassley to his face and used a profanity to describe him. Grassley stood and, according to two participants at the meeting, told McCain, "I don't have to take this. I think you should apologize."

McCain refused and stood to face Grassley. "There was some shouting and shoving between them, but no punches," recalls a spectator, who said that Nebraska Democrat Bob Kerrey helped break up the altercation.

Grassley said recently that "it was a very long period of time" before he and McCain spoke to each other again, though he declined, through a spokesman, to discuss the specifics of the incident.

Since the beginning of McCain's public life, the many witnesses to his temper have had strikingly different reactions to it. Some depict McCain, now the presumptive Republican nominee for president, as an erratic hothead incapable of staying cool in the face of what he views as either disloyalty to him or irrational opposition to his ideas. Others praise a firebrand who is resolute against the forces of greed and gutlessness.

"Does he get angry? Yes," said Sen. Joseph I. Lieberman, a Connecticut independent who supports McCain's presidential bid. "But it's never been enough to blur his judgment. . . . If anything, his passion and occasional bursts of anger have made him more effective."

Former senator Bob Smith, a New Hampshire Republican, expresses worries about McCain: "His temper would place this country at risk in international affairs, and the world perhaps in danger. In my mind, it should disqualify him."

A spokesman for McCain's campaign said he would be unavailable for an interview on the subject of his temper. But over the years, no one has written more intimately about McCain's outbursts than McCain himself. "My temper has often been both a matter of public speculation and personal concern," he wrote in a 2002 memoir. "I have a temper, to state the obvious, which I have tried to control with varying degrees of success because it does not always serve my interest or the public's."

That temper has followed him throughout his life, McCain acknowledges. He recalls in his writings how, as a toddler, he sometimes held his breath and fainted during moments of fury. As the son of a naval officer who was on his way to becoming a four-star admiral, McCain found himself frequently uprooted and enrolled in new schools, where, as an underappreciated outsider, he developed "a little bit of a chip on my shoulder," as he recalled this month.

During a campaign stop at Episcopal High School in Alexandria, the most famous graduate of the Class of 1954 opened a window on what swirled inside him during his school years. "I was always the new kid and was accustomed to proving myself quickly at each new school as someone not to be challenged lightly," he told students.

"As a young man, I would respond aggressively and sometimes irresponsibly to anyone who I perceived to have questioned my sense of honor and self-respect. Those responses often got me in a fair amount of trouble earlier in life."

He defied authority, ridiculed other students, sometimes fought. The nicknames hung on him at Episcopal mocked his hair-trigger feistiness: "Punk" and "McNasty." Hoping to emulate his father and grandfather, also an admiral, he went on to the Naval Academy, where his pattern of unruliness and defiance continued, landing him near the bottom of his class. "I acted like a jerk," McCain wrote of the period before he righted himself to become a naval aviator, a Vietnam POW and eventually a career politician.

The trajectory of his temper, studied ever more intently as his White House ambitions took shape, includes incidents from his years in the House and in the Senate, leading up to the early days of his current presidential campaign. In 2007, during a heated closed-door discussion with Senate colleagues about the contentious immigration issue, he angrily shouted a profanity at a fellow Republican, John Cornyn of Texas, an incident that quickly found its way into headlines.

Reports recently surfaced of Rep. Rick Renzi, an Arizona Republican, taking offense when McCain called him "boy" once too often during a 2006 meeting, a story that McCain aides confirm while playing down its importance. "Renzi flared and he was prickly," McCain strategist Mark Salter said. "But there were no punches thrown or anything."

'Everyone Has a Temper'

According to aides, McCain's frequent comments about his temperament reflect a recognition that the issue persists for some voters and the media. At times he expresses regret about his temper, often tracing it to the same resentments that ignited him as a boy: "In all candor, as an adult I've been known to forget occasionally the discretion expected of a person of my many years and station when I believe I've been accorded a lack of respect I did not deserve," he said at Episcopal.

On other occasions, he has contended that his blowups have served a purpose. In a recent interview with CNN, while referring to his temper as "a very minor thing," McCain declared that voters occasionally want him to vent: "When I see corruption, . . . when I see people misbehaving badly, they expect me to" be angry.

Salter, who has co-written five books with McCain that, among other things, explore the origins of his feistiness, said he thinks McCain's temper first became an issue after an incident in 1989, during McCain's first term in the Senate.

The nomination of a beleaguered John Tower to become defense secretary was already in trouble when Sen. Richard C. Shelby of Alabama, a conservative Democrat who later became a Republican, helped doom it by voting against Tower. A furious McCain, believing that Shelby had reneged on a commitment of support, accosted him, got within an inch of his nose and screamed at him. News of the incident swiftly spread around the Capitol.

"I think it started there," Salter said, though by 1989, many of McCain's colleagues had already heard stories about other eruptions during his two terms in the House.

Part of the paradox of McCain is that many of the old targets of his volcanic temper are now his campaign contributors. Former Phoenix mayor Paul Johnson is one example. In 1992, during a private meeting of Arizona officials over a federal land issue that affected the state, a furious McCain openly questioned Johnson's honesty. "Start a tape recorder -- it's best when you get a liar on tape," McCain said to others in the meeting, according to an account of their "nose-to-nose, testosterone-filled" argument that Johnson later provided to reporters.

But Johnson, who once was quoted as saying that he thought McCain was "in the area of being unstable," today says that he has mellowed, citing a 2006 face-to-face apology that he said he received from his old adversary. "He's not the same guy, as far as I'm concerned," Johnson said. "And nothing has happened during the course of this year's campaign."

Cornyn is now a McCain supporter, as is Republican Sen. Thad Cochran of Mississippi, himself a past target of McCain's sharp tongue, especially over what McCain regarded as Cochran's hunger for pork-barrel projects in his state. Cochran landed in newspapers early during the campaign after declaring that the thought of McCain in the Oval Office "sends a cold chill down my spine."

Indeed, aside from a single testy exchange in March with New York Times reporter Elisabeth Bumiller over whether he had had a conversation in 2004 with Democratic Sen. John F. Kerry about being his running mate -- a tape of which appeared immediately on YouTube -- McCain has been noticeably unflappable throughout the primaries. Advisers posit that his temperament ought to be a dead issue.

"Everyone has a temper . . . but there has been no evidence of a temper problem here," said Rick Davis, McCain's campaign manager. "In our campaign, he has done give-and-take with people everywhere, regardless if someone agrees or disagrees with him. There is no more probing process than a presidential campaign. He has performed well under the most intense kind of pressure."

Friends and Enemies

McCain has been down this road before. During his 2000 presidential run, responding in part to questions about his temper and what effect, if any, his 5 1/2 years as a POW had on his psyche, he released about 1,500 pages of his medical and psychiatric records, which presented a clean bill of mental health.

"I'm not saying he doesn't have a temper, but it's governable," Salter said. "When he has a heated argument, it's usually with one of his peers, who are unaccustomed to being addressed that way by anyone, really. Sometimes he can't govern his tongue. He's just blunt -- he's a straightforward person."

McCain has built much of his appeal, especially with independents, as the fiery maverick willing to defy both parties. His tempestuousness has girded him in high-stakes confrontations, especially against Republican conservatives who regard his occasionally moderate stances as proof that he has sold them out.

"You will damn well do this. You will make this a holiday. You're making us look like fools," he privately exploded two decades ago at a stunned group of Arizona Republicans who opposed creating a state holiday in remembrance of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

Early during their days together in the Senate, Smith came to believe that McCain often used his temper as a strategic weapon, that if he "couldn't persuade you, he was going at least to needle you or [sometimes] belittle you or blow up into trying to have you believe you were beneath him, so that you'd be less likely to challenge him. He needed to be the top guy."

Smith admits to not liking McCain, a point he has often made over the years to reporters. "I've witnessed a lot of his temper and outbursts," Smith said. "For me, some of this stuff is relevant. It raises questions about stability. . . . It's more than just temper. It's this need of his to show you that he's above you -- a sneering, condescending attitude. It's hurt his relationships in Congress. . . . I've seen it up-close."

Smith, whose service in the Navy included a tour on the waters in and around Vietnam, said he stood stunned one day when McCain declared around several of their colleagues that Smith wasn't a real Vietnam War veteran. "I was in the combat zone, off the Mekong River, for 10 months," Smith said. "He went on to insult me several times. I wasn't on the land; I guess that was his reasoning. . . . He suggested I was masquerading about my Vietnam service. It was very hurtful. He's gotten to a lot of people [that way]."

While in the course of a policy disagreement at a luncheon meeting of Republican senators, McCain reportedly insulted Pete V. Domenici of New Mexico with an earthy expletive. Domenici demanded an apology. "Okay, I'll apologize," McCain said, before referring to an infuriated Domenici with the same expletive.

Salter insists that many of McCain's run-ins with colleagues and activists have resulted from McCain's conviction that his honor in some way has been questioned. "If he feels a challenge to his integrity, then he'll say something," Salter said. "If he thinks you betrayed him . . . he'll tell you, he'll be angry. . . . But he's also exceedingly forgiving."

During the early 1990s, McCain telephoned the office of Tom Freestone, a governmental official little known outside Arizona's Maricopa County. McCain had an unusual request. He wanted Freestone, then chairman of the Maricopa County Board of Supervisors, to reject a job applicant named Karen S. Johnson, whose last governmental position had been in the office of a former Arizona governor and who had just interviewed for a position as an aide in Freestone's office.

According to two employees in the office, McCain told Freestone that the applicant's past political associations left her carrying unflattering baggage.

The pair of Freestone staffers thought it odd that a U.S. senator would even know that Johnson had applied for a job in their office, let alone that he had taken time out of his workday to pick up a phone and weigh in on a staffing matter so removed from the locus of Washington power. But McCain's disenchantment with Johnson was personal: A few years earlier, he had an angry exchange with her while she was the secretary for Republican Arizona Gov. Evan Meacham, who was impeached and forced out of office for campaign finance violations.

Around the time of Meacham's ouster, Johnson said, McCain paid a visit to him. Johnson recalled that McCain swiftly used the opportunity to lecture Meacham: "You should never have been elected. You're an embarrassment to the [Republican] Party."

A stupefied Meacham just stared at the senator. An indignant Johnson, as she tells the story, snapped at McCain: "How dare you? You're the embarrassment to the party."

As Johnson and another person working in Freestone's office remember, the surprised supervisor told Johnson about McCain's objections to her. "But I'm hiring you anyway," Freestone told her.

For Johnson, McCain's call raised questions as to whether he bore a lasting animosity against anyone who ever challenged him. "Everyone in [Freestone's] office thought it was all ridiculous . . . and petty," remembers Johnson, a devout Republican conservative who today is an Arizona state senator.

"Senator McCain says he has no recollection of ever making a phone call to block a job for Karen Johnson," Salter said.

During roughly the same period, McCain requested the firing of an aide to Arizona's senior U.S. senator, Dennis DeConcini, according to two top figures in DeConcini's office.

The aide, a veterans affairs expert named Judy Leiby, first ran into problems with McCain in the late '80s, when she sought to correct what she regarded as a McCain misstatement about DeConcini's record on a veterans issue. She was attending a Phoenix meeting between McCain and some veterans when she rebutted a McCain assertion that DeConcini, a Democrat, favored a bill that included a cut of some veterans benefits. "That is incorrect," Leiby said, detailing the specifics of DeConcini's position as McCain listened stonily.

Sometime afterward, McCain called DeConcini and asked that he dismiss Leiby, insisting to the senator that his aide had become a toxic, partisan figure. According to the two people in the office, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, DeConcini defended Leiby and, praising what he characterized as her bipartisan fairness and expertise, urged McCain to give her a second look. McCain refused, repeating his demand that Leiby be fired.

DeConcini "politely told McCain to go to hell," according to a source close to the conversation, adding: "Not once in [DeConcini's 18-year Senate tenure] did another senator ask for an aide to be dismissed. Not once did anyone speak about an aide like that."

Episodes such as the Johnson and Leiby incidents, along with McCain's oft-chronicled blowups on Capitol Hill, have led critics to say he has a vindictive streak, that he sees an enemy in anyone who challenges him.

"I heard about his temper more from others," said Grant Woods, McCain's first congressional chief of staff, who is generally regarded as McCain's closest confidant in his early political years. "According to them, he really unleashed on some of them, and they couldn't figure out why. . . . It happened enough that it was affecting his credibility with some people. If you wanted a programmed, subdued, always-on-message politician, he wasn't and will never be your guy."

Woods helped orchestrate McCain's first House campaign in 1982 and worked to get him elected to the Senate in 1986. That year the Arizona Republican Party held its Election Night celebration for all its candidates at a Phoenix hotel, where the triumphant basked in the cheers of their supporters and delivered victory statements on television.

After McCain finished his speech, he returned to a suite in the hotel, sat down in front of a TV and viewed a replay of his remarks, angry to discover that the speaking platform had not been erected high enough for television cameras to capture all of his face -- he seemed to have been cut off somewhere between his nose and mouth.

A platform that had been adequate for taller candidates had not taken into account the needs of the 5-foot-9 McCain, who left the suite and went looking for a man in his early 20s named Robert Wexler, the head of Arizona's Young Republicans, which had helped make arrangements for the evening's celebration. Confronting Wexler in a hotel ballroom, McCain exploded, according to witnesses who included Jon Hinz, then executive director of the Arizona Republican Party. McCain jabbed an index finger in Wexler's chest.

"I told you we needed a stage," he screamed, according to Hinz. "You incompetent little [expletive]. When I tell you to do something, you do it."

Hinz recalls intervening, placing his 6-foot-6 frame between the senator-elect and the young volunteer. "John, this is not the time or place for this," Hinz remembers saying to McCain, who fumed that he hadn't been seen clearly by television viewers. Hinz recollects finally telling McCain: "John, look, I'll follow you out on stage myself next time. I'll make sure everywhere you go there is a milk crate for you to stand on. But this is enough."

McCain spun around on his heels and left. He did not talk to Hinz again for several years. In 2000, as Hinz recalls, he appeared briefly on the Christian Broadcasting Network to voice his worries about McCain's temperament on televangelist Pat Robertson's show, "The 700 Club." Hinz's concerns have since grown with reports of incidents in and out of Arizona.

In 1994, McCain tried to stop a primary challenge to the state's Republican governor, J. Fife Symington III, by telephoning his opponent, Barbara Barrett, the well-heeled spouse of a telecommunications executive, and warning of unspecified "consequences" should she reject his advice to drop out of the race. Barrett stayed in. At that year's state Republican convention, McCain confronted Sandra Dowling, the Maricopa County school superintendent and, according to witnesses, angrily accused her of helping to persuade Barrett to enter the race.

"You better get [Barrett] out or I'll destroy you," a witness claims that McCain shouted at her. Dowling responded that if McCain couldn't respect her right to support whomever she chose, that he "should get the hell out of the Senate." McCain shouted an obscenity at her, and Dowling howled one back.

Woods raced over, according to a witness, and pulled Dowling away. Woods said he has "no memory" of being involved, "though I heard something about an argument."

"What happens if he gets angry in crisis" in the presidency?" Hinz asked. "It's difficult enough to be a negotiator, but it's almost impossible when you're the type of guy who's so angry at anybody who doesn't do what he wants. It's the president's job to negotiate and stay calm. I don't see that he has that quality."

Having reunited with his old boss after a falling out in the '90s, Woods is back on board. Barbara Barrett, too. Other Arizona Republicans, once spurned or alienated from McCain, have accepted invitations to rejoin him, though not Sandra Dowling or Jon Hinz, who said, "I've just seen too much. That temper, the intolerance: It worries me."

How Big a Factor?

Historians are generally ambivalent over whether hot-tempered leaders have fared any worse than the placid. Harry S. Truman once threatened bodily harm in a letter to a reviewer who wrote disparagingly about the musical talents of his daughter. Richard M. Nixon ranted, and so did Bill Clinton. George Stephanopoulos once described Clinton's "purple rages," which left Stephanopoulos, often the subject of Clinton's private lashings, so shaken that he broke out in hives, sunk into depression and began taking an antidepressant.

"Clinton could flare up," remembers John D. Podesta, a former Clinton chief of staff. "You might have to endure five minutes of him yelling. But you could challenge him. . . . He would sometimes get mad when [aides] pushed back -- but it was a passing moment; tomorrow would be fine. You didn't get in the doghouse for pushing back."

"Temper can sometimes be a political instrument," said James A. Thurber, director of the Center for Congressional and Presidential Studies at American University. "There are sometimes calculated displays of temper, which is what Lyndon Johnson used to persuade people. . . .

"But sometimes somebody's temperament can get in the way of aides telling him the truth, which happened [during the Vietnam War] with LBJ. His temper scared some [aides] away, which was not good for anyone. . . . That's always part of the risk with a strong temper . . . and so it's always relevant."

After his failed 2000 presidential campaign against George W. Bush, McCain sensed the political cost of his temperament. During a debate, he had snapped at Bush: "You should be ashamed. . . . You should be ashamed." In May 2006, he told CNN: "My anger didn't help my campaign. It didn't help. People don't like angry candidates very much."

McCain's defenders today include an old nemesis -- Grassley.

"It doesn't mean I'm buddy-buddy with McCain," the senator said recently. "He may have a short fuse. . . . But I've come to the conclusion that his strong principles, sometimes backed up by considerable" -- Grassley paused -- "not temper, but considerable conviction, is what a president ought to have."

One man's bulldozer is another's bully. "I don't think that he forgets anyone who ever opposed him, that he can ever really respect or trust them again," said Karen Johnson, the targeted secretary-turned-state senator. "That goes for people here and overseas."

Ode to the Old and Angry

2008-05-15T20:54:18Z

One Angry Man

Should we worry about John McCain's temper?

By Christopher Hitchens | Salon.com | April 28, 2008

So, a fresh and sly political subtext in a very bizarre campaign season. The two Democratic nominees remain icily calm when in each other's vicinity—plain as it is that they cordially loathe and despise one another—while huge shudders of molten rage continue to shake the ample and empurpled yet graying frame of Bill Clinton as he broods on the many injustices to which life has subjected him. What a good time to shift the subject to the temperament (or temper) of Sen. John McCain and to hint, as did Michael Leahy in a major piece in the April 20 Washington Post, that we should wonder whether the Republican nominee has his tray table in the fully locked and upright position, whether he lives happily or unhappily in his own ZIP code, whether there are kittens in his granary or bats in his belfry, and whether his elevator goes all the way to the top.

"Anger management" is the euphemism that allows this awkward matter to be raised. In a solemn version of the old "Whose finger on the trigger?" question, Leahy was able to recruit the views of former Sen. Bob Smith, R-N.H., who opined that McCain's rage quotient "would place this country at risk in international affairs, and the world perhaps in danger." I once went on a TV panel with Smith and passed some green-room time with him, and I can assure you that premature detonations of any kind would certainly not be his problem. He combines the body of an ox with the brains of a gnat. Indeed, if his brains were made of gunpowder and were to accidentally explode, the resulting bang would not even be enough to disarrange his hair. He moved from being the most right-wing Republican senator from New Hampshire, switching to the U.S. Taxpayers Party after a distinct absence of what we call "traction" in his presidential run of 2000, tried to rejoin the GOP when he saw a nice, fat chairmanship become vacant on the death of Sen. John Chafee, failed at that, lost the nomination in his own state, moved to Florida, endorsed John Kerry in 2004, endorsed Duncan Hunter for the Republican nomination in December last year, and was last spotted on the Web page of the Constitution Party: a Web page that's tons of fun to check out. And this cretinous dolt, who managed to do all the above without bringing out so much as a sweat on his massive and bovine frame, is the chief character witness against the impetuous McCain. Nice work.

However, we are still obliged to ask ourselves whether the senior senator from Arizona is a brick short of a load or, as heartless people in England sometimes say, a sandwich or two short of a picnic. Because "anger," make no mistake about it, is the innuendo for instability or inadequacy. What if McCain doesn't really have both oars in the water or is either too tightly wrapped or not tightly wrapped enough?

The anecdotes are both reassuring and distressing, and the best and the worst both come from Arizona. About two decades ago, facing a group in his state GOP that resisted proclaiming a state holiday for Martin Luther King Jr., he shouted, "You will damn well do this" and rammed the idea home with other crisp and terse remarks. Fair enough. However, a bit later, in 1986, he was pursuing a Senate career and took extreme umbrage at an Arizona Young Republican who had given him too small a podium on which to stand before the cameras. It can be tough being 5 foot 9 (as I am here on tiptoe to tell you), but most of us got over it before we were out of our teens, let alone before donning the uniform of the U.S. armed forces.

The podium example is the worrying one, because otherwise one could defend McCain by arguing that some things are worth becoming enraged about. Michael Gerson got this exactly wrong when he recently indicted McCain for denouncing the Christian right in 2000, calling them "agents of intolerance," comparing them to Louis Farrakhan, and accusing them of being "corrupting influences." Who could possibly have looked at the Jerry Falwell-Pat Robertson riffraff and said anything less? There was nothing "out of control" about that address. The problem there was not the senator's rough speech but the way that he later sought accommodation with the same frauds and demagogues.

One reason that I try never to wear a tie is the advantage that it so easily confers on anyone who goes berserk on you. There you are, with a ready-made noose already fastened around your neck. All the opponent needs to do is grab hold and haul. A quite senior Republican told me the other night that he'd often seen John McCain get attention on the Hill in just this way. Not necessarily hauling, you understand, but grabbing. Again, one hopes that the nominee has been doing this for emphasis rather than as a sign that he is out of his pram, has lost his rag, has gone ballistic, has reported into the post office that he's feeling terminally disgruntled today. (Or, as P.G. Wodehouse immortally put it, if not quite disgruntled, not exactly gruntled, either.)

Thomas Jefferson used to note of mild George Washington that there were moments of passionate rage in which "he cannot govern himself." We often forgive what we imagine, to use Orwell's words about Charles Dickens, are the moments when someone is "generously angry." Yet how are we to be sure that we can tell the hysterical tantrum from the decent man's wrath? The answer ought to be that we cannot know in advance of a presidency what causes people to become choleric, so anger management is yet another name—and yet another reason—for the separation of powers.

___________________________________

Christopher Hitchens is a columnist for Vanity Fair.

Updike: This I Believe

2008-05-13T17:25:10Z

Updike: This I Believe

John Updike | NPR | April 18, 2005 ·

A person believes various things at various times, even on the same day. At the age of 73, I seem most instinctively to believe in the human value of creative writing, whether in the form of verse or fiction, as a mode of truth-telling, self-expression and homage to the twin miracles of creation and consciousness. The special value of these indirect methods of communication -- as opposed to the value of factual reporting and analysis -- is one of precision. Oddly enough, the story or poem brings us closer to the actual texture and intricacy of experience.

In fiction, imaginary people become realer to us than any named celebrity glimpsed in a series of rumored events, whose causes and subtler ramifications must remain in the dark. An invented figure like Anna Karenina or Emma Bovary emerges fully into the light of understanding, which brings with it identification, sympathy and pity. I find in my own writing that only fiction -- and rarely, a poem -- fully tests me to the kind of limits of what I know and what I feel. In composing even such a frank and simple account as this profession of belief, I must fight against the sensation that I am simplifying and exploiting my own voice.

I also believe, instinctively, if not very cogently, in the American political experiment, which I take to be, at bottom, a matter of trusting the citizens to know their own minds and best interests. "To govern with the consent of the governed": this spells the ideal. And though the implementation will inevitably be approximate and debatable, and though totalitarianism or technocratic government can obtain some swift successes, in the end, only a democracy can enlist a people's energies on a sustained and renewable basis. To guarantee the individual maximum freedom within a social frame of minimal laws ensures -- if not happiness -- its hopeful pursuit.

Cosmically, I seem to be of two minds. The power of materialist science to explain everything -- from the behavior of the galaxies to that of molecules, atoms and their sub-microscopic components -- seems to be inarguable and the principal glory of the modern mind. On the other hand, the reality of subjective sensations, desires and -- may we even say -- illusions, composes the basic substance of our existence, and religion alone, in its many forms, attempts to address, organize and placate these. I believe, then, that religious faith will continue to be an essential part of being human, as it has been for me.

The Road to Sanctimony: The Ol’ Self-Righteous Posturing of the Arrogant

2008-05-13T17:03:37Z

Will Bush Crony Scott Bloch's Gay-Hating Finally Catch Up with Him?

By Bill Berkowitz | Talk To Action | AlterNet.org | May 13, 2008

In early October 2004, five Democratic members of Congress called on President Bush to "take the necessary action" in regards to Scott Bloch, the head of the Office of Special Counsel.

Bloch had refused "to enforce anti-discrimination protections for federal workers contradict[ing] Bush Administration policy to uphold former President Clinton's executive order banning discrimination based on sexual orientation," the Washington Blade had reported.

The letter to the president was signed by gay House members Barney Frank (D-Mass.) and Tammy Baldwin (D-Wis.), along with Eliot L. Engel (D-N.Y.), Henry A. Waxman (D-Calif.) and George Miller (D-Calif.).

On Tuesday, May 6, McClathchy Newspapers reported that "FBI agents ... searched the office and [Virginia] home of ... Bloch ... as part of an investigation into whether he obstructed an inquiry into allegations of his own misconduct."

Since his appointment the relatively unknown Bloch has been wielding a heavy hand and been the source of a series of controversies.

Who is Scott Bloch and how did he wind up as head of the Office of Special Counsel?

Up from Kansas

After graduating from the Law School at the University of Kansas, Scott Bloch was a partner in a Kansas law firm specializing in civil rights law, employment law and legal ethics.

He came to the special counsel's office after a stint as deputy director of the Justice Department's Task Force for Faith-based and Community Initiatives. The Washington Blade pointed out that he is "a devout Catholic and staunch social conservative" who revealed on a Senate disclosure form that he had been the former Lincoln Fellow at the Claremont Institute, a right-wing, California-based think tank that vigorously opposes the gay rights movement.

Scott Bloch was born in New York City, where his father Walter wrote for Broadway and television programs, the Lawrence Journal-World -- the hometown newspaper of the University of Kansas -- pointed out in an April 2002 profile.

At age 3, Bloch moved to Los Angeles where his father contributed to such popular television programs as Gilligan's Island, Hawaii Five-O, Bonanza, and The Flintstones.

Bloch's grandfather, Albert, a man of Jewish descent, was a noted abstract expressionist painter. Albert Bloch was "the only American member of 'Der Blaue Reiter,' (The Blue Rider), Germany's most important group of artists in the 20th century," Dan Hayes wrote in a January 1997 article.

An American Art Review piece by University of Kansas Art Professor David Cateforis pointed out that Albert Bloch's paintings had religious themes, with striking renderings of biblical figures, including Jesus Christ and showed strong Christian leanings throughout his painting career.

Albert Bloch became head of the department of drawing and painting at KU, where he taught from 1923 to 1947, and worked in Lawrence until his death in 1961.

At some point, Bloch's father changed his last name to Black for "professional reasons." The Washington Blade speculated that the change may have "occurred in the 1950s, during the height of the Hollywood 'red scare.'" By that time Sen. McCarthy's investigations had spread to Hollywood's film industry, and "anti-Semitism, as well as prejudice against perceived membership in liberal and 'leftist' groups, became a factor that prompted some writers and film industry workers to change their names to hide their Jewish ancestry."

At age seventeen, Scott changed his name back to Bloch.

Converting Catholics in Kansas?

While at the University of Kansas, Bloch enrolled in the experimental Integrated Humanities Program -- a controversial curriculum established in 1971 to counter the anti-war and women's movements and a growing demand for greater multiculturalism on campus. Organized by three conservative English Department Professors, Dennis Quinn, John Senior, and Franklyn Nelick, the program was geared toward teaching the classics, and had a strong Catholic bent.

In a telephone interview, Professor Quinn insisted that the project "was apolitical," although he admitted that "we talked about everything under the sun." Some critics of the program "alleged that we were making Roman Catholics out of everyone," Prof. Quinn said. "We talked about religions, but we had no specific point of view."

(Disclosure: Nearly forty years ago, I was enrolled at the University of Kansas in Professor Quinn's "Seventeenth Century Minor Poets," a class that was not part of the IHP.)

The IHP ended in 1979 amidst charges of proselytizing and "cult-like" behavior. Professor Quinn, who has kept in contact with Bloch over the years, told me he believed "that sometime during the program he [Bloch] converted [from Judaism] to Catholicism," a development which "didn't surprise" him.

Although he hadn't heard about Bloch's earliest travails in the Special Counsel's office, Professor Quinn allowed that Bloch is "brash, not in an offensive way, but he wasn't afraid to say what he thought. And, he had strong views. He may," the professor added, "be just a little imprudent."

According to the Washington Blade, when he assumed the Office, he hired at least two religious conservatives "and offered the No. 2 post at the OSC to a college professor from Wyoming who helped form an anti-gay campus group," who turned him down.

On Tuesday, May 6, McClatchy Newspapers reported that "Agents are looking into whether Bloch deleted his agency's computer files to hinder an outside investigation of his treatment of employees, the officials said."

______________________________

A Supreme Legacy

2008-05-06T18:21:26Z

The 2008 Bench Press

The most important decision a president ever makes? It's choosing a Supreme Court nominee. Voters, take note.

Anna Quindlen | NEWSWEEK | May 3, 2008

John Roberts could probably walk through any Home Depot in the nation unnoticed. Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton—chaos in the bathroom-vanity aisle. John McCain—autographs in power tools. But the chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court could likely shop for a Phillips screwdriver and most people wouldn't look twice, even though he may be one of the most powerful people in America. Or at least one of nine.

Congress chips away at legislation, then sends some lowest-common-denominator version to the White House, to be signed or vetoed or later redesigned by the next president to take up temporary residence in Washington. But the work of the high court has had vast systemic influence over the lives of all Americans, an effect that lasts through generations. In the tripartite tussle, it's no contest: SCOTUS rules.

The display of the Ten Commandments in public buildings. The scope of eminent domain. The reading of rights to defendants. The ability of taxpayers to litigate against faith-based government-funded programs. School prayer. Medical marijuana. Campaign ads. And that's before you get to desegregation, abortion, affirmative action and capital punishment. If you try to register to vote in Indiana and are turned away because you don't have a government-issued photo ID, that's because the Supremes just ruled, 6-3, that that's OK.

So why are many Americans insensible to a body that has so much power over their lives? (Quick: can you name the nine? Yeah, that's what I thought.) Well, in our three-pronged system the justices are the only people we don't elect. But they are chosen by the person we do. So it makes sense that the presidential candidates be repeatedly asked specific and searching questions about what sort of justices they favor, especially since on Inauguration Day two thirds of the court will be 70 or older.

During the last general election, there were roughly four and a half hours of televised debate, and about five minutes of that were taken up with the Supreme Court. The usual code words and phrases applied. Strict constructionist = conservative; personal privacy = liberal. To listen to the questions, you would have thought the only issue before the court was abortion. This draws battle lines, but doesn't enlarge public understanding.

History tells us that virtually all presidents get blindsided by their court choices, that Richard Nixon thought Harry Blackmun would be a reliable conservative, not the guy who wrote Roe v. Wade, that Ike rued the expansionist Warren Court until the day he died. But, more important, history tells us that the decisions that made people angriest at the time are often the ones that seem most obviously just. Brown v. Board of Education, the landmark desegregation case, was excoriated. Limits on unreasonable searches, protection from self-incrimination—they were trashed until they became accepted as bedrock American principles. On every cop show a character shouts, "You can't come in here without a warrant!" and viewers nod as though it were Jeffersonian edict.

Today it's impossible to tell where prospective justices stand on some of these issues. The modern confirmation hearing has become kabuki theater, in which members of the Senate ask questions to which they already know they will not get answers. The nadir of this advise-and-consent travesty came when Clarence Thomas insisted he had never given any thought to whether Roe, the most contentious decision of the 20th century and the one which has been the litmus test for the far right for 35 years, had been correctly decided.

Republican presidents have made all but two of the appointments to the Supreme Court in the last 40 years. But the result has not yet been the ultraconservative body dreamed of by the right wing, although there is no doubt that since Justice Sandra Day O'Connor was replaced by Samuel Alito, and Justice Roberts took over as chief, there has been a move in that direction. Men and women change in the job. Their view of the Constitution, a document whose interpretation is more art than science, often expands. Perhaps they can see the bigger picture from that neoclassical temple in Washington.

Maybe that's why we don't pay enough attention to the court: because it exemplifies the long view, and Americans are of the moment. So, too, are politicians. Their court appointments are too often an attempt to mollify supporters. But all people live with the results, whether the results are the expansion of rights and liberties or their diminution.

The next president will probably have the opportunity to appoint several justices, and therefore voters have the right to know precisely how the candidates will think about that monumental task. But no more pandering shorthand: cross-examination is in order. Which decisions in recent history have they admired, and why? If they favor strict constructionists, how can they support Brown, which was seen as judicial overreaching? Leaving the question of legal abortion aside, should Americans expect a constitutional right to privacy? Are there any circumstances under which execution is not cruel and unusual? The time for questions is not when the president is standing at the podium with a justice whose term may last for decades. It's when we're trying to decide who gets to stand at the podium and therefore who gets to sit on the court.

Presidential Race

2008-03-19T13:20:50Z

Obama Speaks on Race

By: Barack Obama | March 18, 2008

“We the people, in order to form a more perfect union."

Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America’s improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation’s original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least twenty more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution — a Constitution that had at is very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part — through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk — to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign — to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together — unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction — towards a better future for of children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton’s Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I’ve gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world’s poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners — an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It’s a story that hasn’t made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts — that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either “too black” or “not black enough.” We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we’ve heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it’s based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we’ve heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely — just as I’m sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren’t simply controversial. They weren’t simply a religious leader’s effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country — a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright’s comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems — two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and You Tube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn’t all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God’s work here on Earth — by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

“People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend’s voice up into the rafters….And in that single note — hope! — I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion’s den, Ezekiel’s field of dry bones. Those stories — of survival, and freedom, and hope — became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn’t need to feel shame about…memories that all people might study and cherish — and with which we could start to rebuild.”

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety — the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity’s services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions — the good and the bad — of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother — a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America — to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we’ve never really worked through — a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, “The past isn’t dead and buried. In fact, it isn’t even past.” We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven’t fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today’s black and white students.

Legalized discrimination — where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments — meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today’s urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one’s family, contributed to the erosion of black families — a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods — parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement — all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late '50s and early '60s, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What’s remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn’t make it — those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations — those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright’s generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician’s own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright’s sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don’t feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience — as far as they’re concerned, no one’s handed them anything, they’ve built it from scratch. They’ve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African-American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they’re told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren’t always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze — a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns — this too widens the racial divide and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It’s a racial stalemate we’ve been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naive as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy — particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction — a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people — that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice is we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances — for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs - to the larger aspirations of all Americans — the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives — by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American — and yes, conservative — notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wright’s sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright’s sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It’s that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country — a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know — what we have seen — is that America can change. That is true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope — the audacity to hope — for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination — and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past — are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds — by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world’s great religions demand — that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother’s keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister’s keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle — as we did in the O.J. trial — or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina, or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright’s sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she’s playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we’ll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, “Not this time.” This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can’t learn; that those kids who don’t look like us are somebody else’s problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st-century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the emergency room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don’t have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn’t look like you might take your job; it’s that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should’ve been authorized and never should’ve been waged, and we want to talk about how we’ll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for president if I didn’t believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation — the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I’d like to leave you with today — a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King’s birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, 23-year-old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that’s when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother’s problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn’t. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they’re supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who’s been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he’s there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, “I am here because of Ashley.”

“I’m here because of Ashley.” By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the 221 years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.