Note The Date

May 30th, Donald Jay Trump is found guilty of 34 counts of felony fraud for covering up moneys spent to affect the election. People (some) will think this was for sleeping with a porn star, but it was not. It was for the crime of defrauding an election by way of illegal payments to muzzle someone.

Conspiracy is very difficult to prove because one must demonstrate intent. New York state prosecutors managed to do just that and 12 jurors came back after 9 and 1/2 hours with unanimous guilty verdicts.

This is historic, certainly. The first time a former president has been so convicted.

The concern now is manifold. Big picture, will this make a martyr of him? That could redound to his benefit. Secondly, will the other trials now move forward with more alacrity? It seems to me that certain courts have been dragging their feet, waiting to see how this would play out, especially in Florida. Now that the first one has gone down, perhaps the others will decide to act and proceed. Thirdly, while there is no Constitutional bar to his running, how will this affect more state ballots?

On another level, the question must be asked, how safe are those jurors? Or the judge? Trump has a cadre of zealots who (clearly) think nothing of employing intimidation to serve their idol. I hope steps have been taken to protect these people till after the election at least. Maybe longer. Trump made a show of eye-balling them after conviction, the method of gangsters and bullies. That he is a bully has been apparent for a long time. We’re learning more about that from his time on The Apprentice, but anyone not swayed by his “charms” has seen it for decades.

Why this does not matter to those who buy into his messianic p.r. will baffle many of us forever. Just as a matter of taste, his cult is repulsive. But it is what it is, so we must act on other metrics.

Those who are claiming this has been a sham and despicable are pleading on his behalf. It must be said, no convicted felon ever has accepted that the trial was fair. But it was done by the numbers, according to the law, professionally and in detail. It transpires that Michael Cohen, who has been a problematic element in all this because of his track record as a proven liar, was not key to the outcome. Too much evidence merely corroborated his testimony. He was icing on the cake, so to speak. To be found guilty on 34 counts required far more than simple word-of-mouth.

Trump has played this game since he appeared on the scene as a “tycoon” and it has caught up with him. This has been a pattern. He thought, probably, that he could treat the presidency as if it were just another real estate deal. (This is one reason the assertion that “a businessman would make a better president” is bullshit. The office requires a statesman, which is a whole other set of skills most business people lack, not because they couldn’t be but because the job of running a business doesn’t require it in the same way nor does it allow time to learn it. For one, you have to be somewhat selfless. Anyway.) He was all about making deals. He thought he could play international politics the same way and he not only lost the respect of the majority of allied leaders but our enemies took advantage and played him.

He was a bad president.

He would be a classic dictator.

But for now, we can breathe a little easier knowing that he will not always get his way.

For a little while. This is just the first one. We have an election coming up,

And what do we see, once again? The one doing the work, which is not reducible to soundbites, is not “sexy”, is longterm on a road filled with potholes and obstruction, is being derided for not being a “savior” and the one in the clown car is getting all the press and making claims that have no substance but play well on television. The test here is how gullible the electorate is.

If we want to put this to rest, Trump must lose unequivocally. No narrow margins. We the People must make it clear as can be that he is rejected. It is not just Trunp. It is his backers, and by that I mean the moneyed interests and the fascist wannabes  behind him. This includes his enablers in Congress. Trump is a fool, but if we give him the precedent, the next will not be and we can kiss our institutions good-bye.

Yes, this is a very partisan statement on my part, but it is not party partisan. I am concerned about my country.

But for now, celebrate if you’re so inclined. Then next week get back into it and see the task through. Thank you for your time.

One Year After

One year later…

Curious, how time just goes on as before, as if nothing has changed. And once the thought occurs, you look around and wonder what has changed?

Not much, really. The present emerged from a slow set of inevitabilities that challenged as they happened and left us with a sense of exhaustion, melancholy, and perhaps a tinge of unfocussed regret.

Life has a shape. We can’t always see it, not all the time, and it does change in response to, well, living, but it does have a shape. We rely on it, we live within it. I’m not sure I would go so far as to say it defines us—more that we define it—but it certainly contributes to our sense of self. The components that create that shape…other people, aesthetic choices, the general gestalt of the world…

When there is a loss, that shape changes radically enough that we are unbalanced. We stagger, grope for the familiar ease with which we navigated (or the familiar dis-ease, which can form its own kind of dependence), we experience a reordering that seems impossible because that which is lost cannot be replaced.

The effect is often unexpected and we aren’t really taught how to handle it. It’s just assumed we’ll figure it out—or, as seems to be the case, we’re expected to simply keep staggering drunkenly through the rest of our lives as some kind of homage to the loss.

But healing happens for the most part. We learn how to walk again. Sometimes we replace the lost part, sometimes it simply heals over and we learn to go on with some balance. Sometimes we find something new that is not a replacement but fills out that shape we once knew.

Recovering is never indicative of forgetting, though. 

It’s been a year since my father died. He faded. It took a few years, but finally he came to crisis and he passed away after a few days of difficulty. Despite the fact that he could neither hear or see, limiting communication profoundly, he was popular at the care facility, and he received a final farewell from the staff that squeezed at our hearts.

He was a good man.

There is a large vacancy in my life’s shape now. It does not hurt. I miss him. We had no unfinished business. For my part, he was a substantial part of that shape, a presence to be relied on, not for anything specific but just to be there. I’ve been able to look back on him with a measureless affection for all that he did, for me and others. He could be gruff and occasionally short-tempered (he did not suffer fools) but at the end of the day he was a generous and kind man who went out of his way to make whatever he could better.

After retirement, my parents bought a house in a subdivision and over time he became the guy to go to for any number of things. Most surprisingly, he cut down trees for neighbors. He had spent time as a teenager in rural Pennsylvania where, I assume, he learned how to do this. Insofar as plotting the fall is an engineering problem, it would seem a natural thing for him to do well. I think he cut down 28 trees in the area before time and pain stopped him.

One of those neighbors took this photograph of him after one such project. It is quintessential dad, the best of him. He’s in his glory. He was having a great time. He expressed emotions in limited ways, but when he did, like everything else, he was all in and effusive.

 

I think that part of my life’s shape he once was has been partly filled by memory and by new stories my mother has been telling me, things I never knew or only knew partly. As for what I miss…

Occasionally I think how good it would be to have one more argument (Socratically, mind you), one more conversation. Not that I have anything I need to tell him—as I said, we left no unfinished business—but just to have the talk, the give and take. I surprised him occasionally and I relished those moments. 

I miss him, but it doesn’t hurt. It just is.

He was a great dad.

Images

The one skill I acquired from my stint at my last lab job was color printing. I’d never been interested before. My few attempts in my own lab had been frustrating and unsatisfying. But I had to do it for the job. I learned. But.

But I will always be fond of black & white. I value good b&w more than color (with certain narrow exceptions).

So I’ve been playing a bit. Here, for your pleasure, are some recent results.

 

Hope Projected

An idea occurred to me recently while reading a history of the early christian church (a very good one, I might add). I have little patience with the absolutes advocated by religious sentiment, the whole idea that one must, above all, believe. That to “have faith” is the most important thing. The materialist in me always come back to the same question: in what? That is the shoal upon which any ship of faith I might board runs aground. And without a clear What, the rest splinters and sinks.

But while I have a firm distrust of calls to faith—likewise demands for belief, for loyalty, for boundless commitment to causes for which I may be sympathetic even if unwilling to suspend all critical analysis of them—I cannot deny at least a set of habits that draw me to it. Historically, we see examples of faith empowering people to do amazing things.

I have not for many decades been able to “put my faith” into anything I cannot define. Further, just defining the thing is insufficient. There must be some basis in accepting its reality. I do not believe in gods.

But I do accept an idea of the numinous.

Recently, while listening to To The Best Of Our Knowledge, during an episode about hope, it occurred to me that we may have the whole idea of faith backwards. Humans have a habit of projecting concepts onto externalities. We attribute qualities to all sorts of things that cannot, in many instances, possess them of themselves. We do this across the spectrum. People, cars, boats, books, buildings, money. Luck is a prominent one. Public figures provide endless opportunity for us to project our desires, our preconceptions, our dislikes and prejudices, our sense of self worth.

I have always conceded, at least intellectually, that Faith (with a capital F) goes beyond concepts like trust, relying upon, dependence. All those are conditional.  Faith is supposed to be absolute, unconditional, ever reliable. Faith defies reason. Faith asserts infallibility.

And I realized that there is one thing we carry inside that fits all that, to varying degrees, which most often we take for granted, but occasionally elevate to supernatural status given the right circumstances. Hope.

Hope is a mercurial idea. Part optimism, part fantasy, part will, it is a view of the world that our place in it will be acknowledged and rewarded. To hope is to choose the positive outcome, no mater how unlikely, over the despair resulting from surrender. It is, in fact, one of the factors in getting out of bed in the morning feeling that the day will come out all right. It operates often without evidence. In short, it exhibits all the characteristics of Faith with one exception—it is entirely self-generated. In fact, there is one thing that faith supposedly provides that hope does not: comfort.

Or does it?

My conclusion is that faith is only hope projected. We put it on an external something then attribute that something as the source and then proceed to believe in it as if it actually existed. (Now, it may be that we do this to another person, in which case it is concerned with something—someone—that exists, but there is still that confusion as to the actual source.) The much-vaunted “faith in god/providence/the supernatural/etc is usually what is meant when we talk about Faith.  Also, because so many people have difficulty investing ideas with loyalty, at least in any sustained manner, we personify the idea and make into…

The question always comes back to, “do you have faith?” I have hope. I may be unable to do anything about that, it comes with the equipment. But I know the source, and curiously that gives me comfort.

It also makes me responsible for any misconceptions I might have about matters of…well…faith.

Chicago

The first week of April, we boarded a train and headed to Chicago. The train ended up behind a freight train, which slowed us down a bit, so we arrived later than intended. Still, after navigating the construction blocks around Union Station, we summoned a cab and got to our hotel. Famished, we asked what was open this late and were directed to an Italian place three blocks away, which served good pizza.

It was raining when we arrived and continued most of the week to be one degree of wet or another, but it did not deter us.

We met up with friends, ate great good, wandered around the central district around Michigan Avenue, toured some smaller museums, and had a great time.

Chicago is a bit of a joke for us. Not the city but the fact that in 44 years together we have only managed to get there twice. The last time was 24 years ago, for a Worldcon. That one happened 20 years after we met and talked about running up to Chicago. After all, it’s not that far away…

Well, what can I say? Other places, other people got in the way, and we just lacked either the time or the money. Hopefully, that will not be a problem going forward. I’d like to visit once a year at least.

We stayed at a 21C Museum hotel, which was hosting an exhibit which proved to be excellent. Some fine pieces of work, thematically to do with family relations,  both parent-child and siblings.

The restaurant in the hotel, Lure Fishbar, was a marvel. It was the main reason we picked that hotel, as the son of a good friend works there. As one might guess, it specializes in seafood, especially sushi. I’m not myself a big seafood fan, but this was all wonderful. (If you go, ask for Andrew.) And then, the special deal, Donna was able to indulge her love of smoked salmon for breakfast.

The only odd thing was, this is the first hotel room we’ve had since the 1980s that lacked a coffeemaker in the room. Otherwise, comfortable.

And it was almost ideally located for easy access to a lot more of downtown Chicago than we indulged. Did I mention it was wet? One morning is even snowed, but none of it stuck. We went forth, braving the blech weather, and walked quite bit. The highlights include the Museum of Medieval Torture, the American Writers Museum, the Chicago Architecture Center, and the Driehaus mansion, one of those Gilded Age monstrosities that have since been turned into a museum and, in this case, a venue for new art.

And I got to indulge one of my favorite things, which is photography. I count a trip at least partially a success if I get some good images. For instance:

 

 

Chicago is a very photogenic town.

We returned on the train Friday. Neither of us are used to just walking around like that, so we both felt it, but in a good way. Next time we will visit during a bit more temperate weather, something with more sunshine?

Chicago feels like someplace in our backyard, which may be one of the unconscious reasons we haven’t been there more. That has to change. (We did zero shopping, and we were two blocks from Michigan Avenue!) We have friends there, we have no real excuse.

But for now, we had a very good time. Just sharing.

Projecting

I went out yesterday and indulged myself. New clothes. I needed a new belt. Pants. Socks. I haven’t been to a mall in over a year. I used to enjoy them quite a bit. They sprouted like mushrooms for a time, though, and like the gas station wars (which, yes, I remember) they undercut each other until there was an inevitable collapse. The few that have survived, well.

I was amused a couple weeks ago when I had occasion to drive past one of the first in the greater St. Louis area, Crestwood Plaza. In my childhood, we used to run out there. I don’t think they called them strip malls then, but that’s what it was. Then, beginning in the early 70s, it grew and was covered over. The outdoor strip was joined to a roofed-over extension and then later the original strip was enclosed until the whole vast thing was a small town with lots of cool stuff. It was one of the first ones to fall on hard times. Efforts were made to preserve it and for a short while it became an enclave of independent artists. Alas, it wasn’t really close to the wealthier parts of the area to sustain that and it was shut down. Then torn down. Plans for redevelopment followed, many quite grandiose. I hadn’t seen it in a long while. As I drove by I saw that there was a new line of stores…a strip mall. What goes around…

Anyway, I spent too much money on too few things but for a brief moment I felt good. Last week I stopped by an art supply store and bought pencils, pens, and a small sketch pad. I keep intending to start drawing again, maybe even get back into painting (though I was never huge into that). All that stuff is sitting there, waiting. Between my music, photography, and writing, along with the other things I try to keep up on, I honestly don’t know where I’m going fit one more project.

See, it took years to acquire all the skills I have, such as they are. I don’t want to walk away from any of them. But the fact is, I was never really good at most of them, just good enough to show off, as it were, but not good enough to satisfy my own estimates of what that means. And that was fine since for many of those years I hadn’t settled on what I wanted to do. When the writing turned out to be the primary project, all the rest receded and time was reallocated.

You don’t realize how you lose things when you don’t pay due attention to them. It may be that I’m inwardly dreading trying to draw anything anymore, because it’s been so long that I’m sure I’ll suck at it.

And I really can’t stand being bad at the things I like to do.

Now, you might think, reading that, that I had gotten very good at those things at one time. And as far as it goes, I think I was. Drawing and painting, back in my youth, yeah, if I took my time, I was fairly good. But it came “naturally” so I didn’t consider how practice might be necessary. The music? That was….different. And I have over the last several years developed an improvisational method which serves to impress even as it isn’t exactly “good.” I’ve recently set myself to learning actual pieces, but the discipline of practice is a hard one to recover once abandoned. Photography I did for so long that it just seems innate now, and I don’t walk away from it for very long, so while I could certainly be better, I’m not bad,

Writing is the only thing I do with serious intent, and it seems to take up the largest chunk of time.

I don’t seem to be organizing my time very well, especially if I want to start up a new project. I don’t know where I’m going to fit all the things I want to do. That did not used to be an issue. I just did whatever appealed to me that day. It was all so organic.

Subsequently, questions of goals emerge. And I am brought up against a fact about myself that has always been an issue. I do very little just for the sheer pleasure of doing it. Almost nothing. All that I do I have certain intentions, even if only wishes. I started drawing again many years ago when it was pointed out to me that I needed an outlet that had nothing to do with career paths. I pursued it for a while until I found myself looking at the work and thinking, I could sell some of this… At which point it ceased being an outlet and became one more thing with a goal.

I suppose I write these blog posts as outlets. I don’t sell them.  They’re like a shopping trip. Wander through the mall, see what’s new, maybe buy something just for the hell of it.

Anyway, these are some of things occupying my thoughts of late.

The Unrealized Dream

I’ve gotten to the point where I nearly tune out when someone in the public eye starts going on about the Founders and what they intended. Pro or con, it’s a surmise, and cherrypicking is rampant, though some pick bigger cherries than others. A few don’t even bother, they just make up whatever feels right and layer it over a 10th grade understanding of history. They can do this because we Americans in general couldn’t care less about history. That has always been the case, just as we, who have freedom to do so, read very little on average.

Some things have emerged from what I’ve read over the years pertaining to what the good folks in 1787 intended, not so much what they wrote down (though many of them did) as to what a reasonable assessment of the history of the times tells us.

The first thing I conclude is that the vast majority of Americans, once the ties were severed from England and the nation established, went on to pay precious little attention to the Constitution or the intent of the Founders. They were too busy doing what they then felt at liberty to do, which was carve out a bit of something for themselves and their descendants, legally if they could, by whatever means they had at hand. To live their lives as they chose. Adhering to the vaunted principles set forth by the framers of the Constitution was not top of their agenda. Not that they paid no attention to what was going on in Philadelphia, seeing that whatever emerged from that august body was bound to affect them directly. But I believe their interest was largely self-directed. They had just gotten one pest off their back, it would be annoying if another took its place.

And I’m sure they were fine with the results as far as it went, probably proud of it, since the majority voted for it, but it was not about to change how they saw or made their way in the world. For one thing, it did not seem to require that they change. Those few passages in the Bill of Rights which later in our history caused some upheaval just didn’t seem all that big a deal then. As far as the self-defined audience for the new Constitution was concerned, it was for their benefit and any restrictions applied to someone else. From all appearances, especially the Bill of Rights, it was designed to interfere as little as possible with the aspirations of the average citizen.

That average citizen/settler came here or migrated west in order to succeed at some form of self-sufficiency. The “dream” here that attracted so many from Europe and other places was that you, whatever your origins, could actually own something, and the law was there to see that no one could take it away arbitrarily. This was not unprecedented—English common law offered something similar, and the 13 colonies were overwhelmingly English—but the opportunity to actualize that goal seemed far more possible here. Enough folks managed a degree of it to give real force to the idea. And the new Constitution was by and large a set of restrictions on government, to keep it from acting arbitrarily.

This goes to one of the questions about the American revolution that teases people from time to time, which is out of all the revolutions that followed, why did this one work and the vast majority of the rest did not?

Simple. Our revolution—the war, the severance from England—was done in order for the people living here to continue doing what they had been doing all along. With relatively minor modifications (initially) the institutions already established had been up and running for over a century and in the aftermath very little changed. They had been doing fine and wanted England to butt out. Likewise, the Constitution seemed designed to guarantee the same continuity. The ones that followed, almost all of them sought to completely change the institutions and machinery of their countries. They were trying to do things differently, from top to bottom. We, by contrast, had it easy in the aftermath. (Plus, it there was something you didn’t like that the new establishment was doing, you could pick up and head west, out of reach, at least for a while.)

The idealism of a freedom of the press, the separation of church and state, the guarantee of due process, all could be regarded not as radical instantiations of a new communal ethic, but merely as a promise that the government—specifically the federal government—would not intrude upon local custom. 

The big problem left on the table, of course, was slavery. Every high-minded phrase from the Declaration of Independence on talked about individual liberty, and yet the necessary changes to guarantee that were not made. Things, as I said, went on much as they had always gone on.

Aside from slavery, other problems continued. Newspapers were burned down, the presses smashed, when they disturbed local sensibilities. No one prosecuted the perpetrators on the basis of the first amendment, but on property destruction and, in some instances, assault and murder. The “Constitutionality” of the acts were not taken into account (naturally, since such actions were rarely if ever instigated by the government). The people doing the smashing and burning likely never considered the higher ideal involved. They only knew they were offended by the newspapers in question and felt they had a right to shut the down. Vigilantism overrode juris prudence and due process. And, per the early supreme court, contracts were held to be more important than individual circumstance and rights.

And of course the “rights” of indigenous peoples were almost never considered, even though the founding ideas of the country aimed at All Men. (Of course, that left women out as well.) There were several “oversights.”

It has been pointed out that the Founders didn’t think much of democracy, which is why they established a republic. Aside from educational assessments, I suspect they knew fairly well that for too many of their fellow citizens, the ideals they had managed to enshrine in the Constitution mattered very little. They knew, though, that they could not just mandate the new structures, because that would have caused many of the same problems they had just finished fighting a war with Great Britain over. So the ratification was an open vote, universal, one man one vote. The first time and for a very long time the only instance of allowing an open plebiscite. The population voted for it, en mass. It was a fairly literate population and the campaign to get it all approved resulted in the Federalist Papers. (There were also opposing viewpoints, the Antifederalist Papers, which I suspect most people today know nothing about, but it was a debate, a very public one.) People had a chance to vote no.

So did they not approve of all the highmindedness? I mean, they voted yes, they had to know.

Well, yes and no. We’ll never know for sure, we can’t, but I have a feeling that many if not most looked at what was being proposed, saw it as a set of restrictions on the federal government, and believed none of it would apply to them. It was a legal framework that gave them freedom to live the way they wanted.

No matter at whose expense. 

And it’s not that they had ambitions to do bad things, but exclusivity was seen as natural. The idea that the privileges and rights held by a white male in 1790 should be shared with everyone else…well, perhaps the theory may have sounded fine, but to actually establish that in his own neighborhood? 

By the the time the Civil War came around, a lot of people were probably thinking what a nuisance this whole All Men thing was. That perhaps the Founders had pulled a fast one on them. It had never occurred to too many of them that there was a slow bomb in the thing they had agreed to.

That slow bomb was an idea let loose from the beginning, which is at the heart of all the Constitutional controversy down through to today. Equality. Perhaps they thought it wouldn’t matter—after all, they had said that All Men were created equal, which by implication left women and children out. But Native Americans are men (those who are not women) and so are African Americans, Latinos, and so forth. Once the claim was made, it was only a matter of time before all those groups who were denied equal regard would begin pointing out the disconnect and others would agree. But it likely never occurred to those who in subsequent generations grew angrier and angrier by the assertions of rights from groups they never themselves considered equal on any grounds that what the Constitution said would actually mean things would have to change. 

(Perhaps if they had written All Humans, it would have been clearer. But as we know from history, people here and there have no problem designated Others as Not Human.)

Now, on the other side, no doubt many people knew very well what they had just voted for and liked it. Which is why they were so angry about the degree to which their country had failed to live up to its stated ideals. These populations were not monoliths. And they fought with each other. The Founders—some of them—had, in the old aphorism, put the cat among the chickens, quite intentionally.

The fight over equality has been about an assumed right to acquire the power to dictate to people with less power. Not overseas, although one can hear that being argued among certain people, but right here. The unquestioned right to accrue wealth and power which can then be used to control those with no money and no power. The argument? That this is not a right, but a privilege that has the drawback of impacting actual rights. 

That one is still being argued. Of course, there’s nothing in the Constitution about that, other than that implied mandate for equality in several sections and in a good deal of the Bill of Rights, that these freedoms and protections are meant to be applied equally. We’re having a difficult time with that. The first successful skirmish after slavery over that was back during the Trustbusting days, which was an ethical fight using the commerce clause of article V to base the federal government’s legal right to interfere in financial systems. FDR nearly finished that job, not quite, and here we are again.

(Consider how often an obvious argument about equality has been side-stepped judicially in order to avoid certain ramifications. Reproductive rights, for instance, has been mainly argued as a right to privacy rather than an obvious matter of equality. When gay rights came before the courts, attempts were made to put them in the same category, but the decision was made to argue them as matters of equality. It should be noted that in the subsequent decades, reproductive rights ended up more and more vulnerable while LGBTQ rights have only gained valence. When arguments that are best made based on equality are set aside it is almost always because someone is afraid of losing a perceived privilege.)

Because that was the aim, to find a system wherein everyone had a share, a say, and no one could take away their voice. Wherein everyone had an equal right to the possibilities of community.

The American Dream has for too long been characterized as a materialist fantasy—money, property, etc. True, much of the dream requires a material component, but only in service to the larger dream, which is for each of us to be able to live in the world as who we are without arbitrary limits imposed for reasons that have nothing to do with the principles upon which we were ostensibly founded. 

But living that way requires we respect everyone else’s right to live their way. The unimagined (but perhaps not unanticipated) varieties of tolerance necessary did not have so many challenges to the people then who felt it was simply and exclusively all about them. They probably knew that at some point there would be a reckoning, between principle and reality, certainly over slavery—in fact, they did know since the argument was built in to the Constitution (the 20 year delay in allowing the issue to be addressed in congress), so some of them might well have had an inkling that there would be more and for them stranger examples of the meanings they had set to emerge.

My point? Well, the obvious one with regards to the nonsense foisted on us about Originalism. Even if philosophically there were some validity to the idea of Originalism, it’s an impossible argument to make, because we continually refuse to address the obvious, that people then were not much different in key respects than they are now. They did not go forth to conquer and settle this country spurred by the vaunted ideals of the Founders, but to make as much money and guarantee as much security as they could, and were quite happy to have a legal structure—they thought—that approved of their personal ambitions. The Founders knew that and some of them managed to create a guiding document intended to open up and emerge with more and more force as circumstances arose to trigger those inherent meanings. This would be the very definition of a Living Document.

But for the sake of argument, let’s suppose Justice Scalia was right when he dismissed the idea of the Constitution as a living document. It doesn’t matter. Because it is a document based on an idea and ideas are useless without a living mind to embrace them. Assume then that the Founders, some of them at least, knew what they were doing when they put all those bits about equality into these various instruments, that in the future the living minds that accessed the underlying principles of those documents, the ideas, would have to unpack them and interpret them. (Alexander Hamilton said there was no need for a Bill of Rights because the structure of the Constitution would force people to oppose each other over ideas, issues, and rights.) There are only so many ways to interpret Equality. The document may not be alive but the ideas cannot be otherwise. Many of the Founders likely had a constrained idea what equality meant. Or maybe not, maybe they just had a limited notion of who they intended it for. But they likely knew their understanding of it would not be the only one through time. And they put it in there anyway.

Meantime, we’re having the same fight. Between people who wish to live in a better, more equitable society, and those who wish to be free of any interference so they can get what they can, preferably without having to be brutal, but certainly prepared to be if they can’t manage any other way. The latter group are the ones complaining today about Wokism and frankly terrified of education. Born of the previous generation who hated Political Correctness, something they misunderstood and/or mischaracterized then. And they came from those who hated Civil Rights, because they thought they’d lose power if actual equality were established. They’re the same sorts who back in the day thought nothing of wiping out native tribes and stealing their land because of some nonsense called Manifest Destiny. The idea of actual equality would have sounded…foreign…to them. Certainly frightening.

Imagine what it would be like if we actually did embrace equality…

From 1789 on we have had two Americas. The one we like to brag about, but which too many people really don’t want. And the one we live in, which is still stuck in an anti-idealistic struggle engineered by people who have a stake in keeping us frightened of each other. It’s troubling to me how eagerly we seem to embrace our fear, even while we often sing praises to the unrealized dream.