Dear Mr. President,
After 365 letters I suppose I should be running out of things to say. Is a year enough distance to gain any perspective on all that has changed and all that still waits to? Tonight I hoped to make sense of it all; the personal and the political, the minutiae, the mundane, the profound, all of the things I've written about this year. As I look back through this year of letters, of one-sided conversations about issues and actions that defined 2010, I don't have any clue what it all means. I am still tired, still frustrated, still impatient with the progress we've made and the way you govern. But I'm still more like the girl I was in November 2008- stone sober and still too drunk off of election night euphoria- than I ever thought I could be. For all of the disappointments and frustration I have been so proud this year to call you my President. I don't imagine your job is easy, nor do I think I could do it better myself. I am often wrong. I am often too emotional. I use far too many commas.
For all of my shortcomings, I am still a voter and still a citizen and still, I believe, entitled to tell you what I think. Personally, I feel that the great tragedy of the disconnect between the people and our government in this country is not the disparity of money or even power but the way we converse. You do not speak or listen to people like me. When you do talk to me it is in form letters and speeches and talking points- language so polished as to be devoid of any real meaning. We do not have frank conversations. We do not hear one another. I listen to your Sunday addresses, your press conferences and your speeches and all I can say I know for sure is what you want me to think or feel, not what you actually think or feel. Perhaps the most important domestic issue is what you called the deficit of trust. This year has shown me, more clearly than I ever might have seen otherwise, how little trust our government has in the people or we have in it and how damaging this deficit is to all involved.
Deep down I still think that you are well-intentioned. If your caution and moderation do not always sit well with my hot head or bleeding heart, I can accept that you at least believe you are doing the right thing. That is what prompted me to vote for you, to phone bank for you, to write you 365 letters and to hope that I might cast my ballot in 2012 for you, again. Beyond your good intentions, I believe that you are capable of great things, that, should you overcome your fear and find the courage to make really the necessary, difficult decisions that will save this country from some of our worst tendencies, you will be re-elected and likely remembered well. I would not say that I'm a person with any tremendous amount of faith in anything, but I do have faith in you. 2010 didn't change that, and I hope to say the same about 2011.
Happy New Year, Mr. President. Good Luck.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
To all of my awesome readers:
Thank you so much for all of your support this year. I will have a much more articulate and coherent reflective piece in the coming days, as well as some suggestions for reading, a bonus letter to President Obama from a guest blogger and information about the Espresso book I'll be making. I hope you all have a fun and safe New Year's Eve! See you in 2011!
Showing posts with label deficit of trust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deficit of trust. Show all posts
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Day 348- Secrets and Lies
Dear Mr. President,
I've never been a particularly good secret-keeper. My face gives away every emotion, every lie I try to tell. This might be why I've never had the stomach for any significant subterfuge. I've been another person's secret too many times and seen it end too badly for them and for me to have any illusion about the nobility of secrecy. If a decision cannot bear the scrutiny of others it is probably not a particularly good choice. Michael Moore recently posted bail for Julian Assange, and in his letter explaining his motivation for this decision he says
I think that what you once called the "deficit of trust" Americans have in our leaders is brought about by these lies we've been told throughout history. Wikileaks is not the answer to this; a government that doesn't hide behind lies is the answer. Instead of joining the chorus of voices from the right and left calling Wikileaks a terrorist organization, I think that you should take this opportunity to change some of the behaviors you've been so embarrassed to have the rest of the world discover. I think an important (though, for obvious reasons, unsavory) step toward this is to relinquish some of the sweeping expansions made under President Bush to executive powers. Aspects of the PATRIOT ACT, the power to assassinate suspected terrorists without a trial, even the new standards for screening by the TSA all contribute to the sense that the government does not trust the people. It can hardly be a surprise, then, that the people have developed our own system for dealing with a similar mistrust for our leaders. Some one has to blink first. Demonstrating a commitment to responsible, trustworthy leadership is the only way the government can regain our trust.
A friend, while commenting on a previous letter about Wikileaks, pointed out
Michael Moore and Julian Assange certainly have their share of faults. They also don't have the complicated, difficult job of running a country or trying to keep the free world safe. But the burdens of your position don't justify the lying and they don't justify defending a system that is based on mistrust of Americans. Even if you can't publicly defend Wikileaks or Assange, you can take steps to change the way our government keeps its secrets and the way it spies on the American people. We can't trust a government that doesn't trust us, and it's up to you to change that.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I've never been a particularly good secret-keeper. My face gives away every emotion, every lie I try to tell. This might be why I've never had the stomach for any significant subterfuge. I've been another person's secret too many times and seen it end too badly for them and for me to have any illusion about the nobility of secrecy. If a decision cannot bear the scrutiny of others it is probably not a particularly good choice. Michael Moore recently posted bail for Julian Assange, and in his letter explaining his motivation for this decision he says
Openness, transparency — these are among the few weapons the citizenry has to protect itself from the powerful and the corrupt. What if within days of August 4th, 1964 — after the Pentagon had made up the lie that our ship was attacked by the North Vietnamese in the Gulf of Tonkin — there had been a WikiLeaks to tell the American people that the whole thing was made up? I guess 58,000 of our soldiers (and 2 million Vietnamese) might be alive today.
Instead, secrets killed them.
I think that what you once called the "deficit of trust" Americans have in our leaders is brought about by these lies we've been told throughout history. Wikileaks is not the answer to this; a government that doesn't hide behind lies is the answer. Instead of joining the chorus of voices from the right and left calling Wikileaks a terrorist organization, I think that you should take this opportunity to change some of the behaviors you've been so embarrassed to have the rest of the world discover. I think an important (though, for obvious reasons, unsavory) step toward this is to relinquish some of the sweeping expansions made under President Bush to executive powers. Aspects of the PATRIOT ACT, the power to assassinate suspected terrorists without a trial, even the new standards for screening by the TSA all contribute to the sense that the government does not trust the people. It can hardly be a surprise, then, that the people have developed our own system for dealing with a similar mistrust for our leaders. Some one has to blink first. Demonstrating a commitment to responsible, trustworthy leadership is the only way the government can regain our trust.
A friend, while commenting on a previous letter about Wikileaks, pointed out
most of the people whining are old politicians. Our generation has already seen these document releases happen with corporate and personal communication. We have an entire generation (the boomers) that have relied on "security through obscurity", and that doesn't fly in the technological world. This is a rude wake-up call for them.Perhaps the endearing anecdotes about your addiction to your Blackberry deceived me into thinking you'd be on our side of a generational conflict. Surely the age issue is as false a dichotomy as race or religion or any other of the teams we're told to fight for in life, but I think that my friend is right in identifying an old world view of security and the conflict between those who cling to it and those of us willing to view security in a modern light. Secrets and lies may have worked (at least for a little while) for previous administrations, the unprecedented level of individual access to information simply will not allow it to continue. Secrets and lies have created the current state of international affairs, the mistrust of Americans for actions our government has taken on our behalf and often without our knowledge.
Michael Moore and Julian Assange certainly have their share of faults. They also don't have the complicated, difficult job of running a country or trying to keep the free world safe. But the burdens of your position don't justify the lying and they don't justify defending a system that is based on mistrust of Americans. Even if you can't publicly defend Wikileaks or Assange, you can take steps to change the way our government keeps its secrets and the way it spies on the American people. We can't trust a government that doesn't trust us, and it's up to you to change that.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Day 338-The Moral Lie
Dear Mr. President,
While I am generally opposed to lying, and do not tell many lies, there are certain lies I tell all the time. I don't think this makes me much different from most people, and I usually carry on with little notice of this hypocrisy. The polite constraints we expect of one another in most casual conversations compel a certain amount of dishonesty. I think that most of the lies I tell are for the sake of politeness. But, today at least, dishonesty weighs heavily on my conscience.
I have been staring at this page for hours now, wondering if I have the courage to finish this story. I have written before about stigmas surrounding mental illness, the way a frank admission of depression and its effects can change the way people look at you, the way they treat you and the esteem they hold for you. I have experienced both sides of this disdain and am loathe to subject myself to it. To be honest about my struggle, to be honest about my history would be uncomfortable for me and for those who think they want to know about it. And so I lie, for every one's comfort. Or so I tell myself.
When I was very young, and for years after I was old enough to know better I was troubled with compulsive self-injury. It may ring falsely to those who do not understand this, those who see only the stigma, the cliché, to describe myself as passively affected, the direct object of such acts rather than their perpetrator. And I am theirs to judge, I suppose. My history with it is long and complicated and over. I have shut the book on that struggle, on that part of my life and, most importantly, on that behavior. But the evidence of it remains, and will likely remain on my skin for the rest of my life. I don't think it is fair that I should be judged by the mistakes of my younger self, that I should be defined by this aspect of my past, no matter how far it is behind me. When questioned about these old scars, I tell myself that those who ask really do not want to know the story behind them, and it gives my conscience no trouble lying to them. It is, after all, for their own good.
Today I was asked by some one I have slowly come to trust and I lied anyway, almost without realizing I was doing it. I don't imagine he is the type of person to ask questions he does not actually want the answer to. Because I look for his approval the same way I would look for that of a role model or mentor or even a brother, I realized even as I was in the process of lying that I was doing it for my own protection and not for his. I was lying because it is important to me not to be seen as weak or emotionally disturbed. I was lying because of my own ego, my own fear, and I could not pretend that there was any nobility, any honor, in this fiction.
Which brings me, once again, (and rather oddly,) to Wikileaks. As I hear each new story, as each new lie is revealed, I find myself wondering not at the government's dishonesty but at its justification for this dishonesty. The gossipy diplomatic cables I understand. I don't care if a US diplomat thinks Vladimir Putin is Batman and doesn't want the world to know. (Honestly, I'd be more surprised at this point if Vladimir Putin wasn't Batman, but I can see how it might cause some discomfort.) These are polite obfuscations that help every one save face. The body counts in Iraq, the corruption in Afghanistan, the 22 dead children in Yemen, however, are not lied about because they are impolite topics of conversation. These are lies of ego, lies of fear, lies born of the greater self-delusion that they are kept from the American people for our own good. Even the idea that bringing these crimes to light will put American troops in greater danger is, I believe, misguided. The people of Iraq and Afghanistan (and Yemen. And Palestine. And God knows how many other places.) know who is killing their children and empowering their corrupt leaders. This information is only secret to the American people, and it is kept secret from us not to protect us but to protect our government from our reaction to this knowledge. And there is no nobility, no honor, in these fictions.
My past is full of dark things and terrible stories and many people will not want to hear them. But I cannot pretend I hide the past for the protection of others. I hide because I am ashamed and I hide because I am afraid. And so do you. So does this government. Our greatest lie is not when we hide the truth from others but when we tell ourselves that we lie for a greater good.
I did not write this letter to call you out for these lies. Clearly, I have no moral high ground to claim. We are both liars and we are both deceived by our own lies. I wrote this letter because I have been quick to condemn your dishonesty while slow to notice the same tendency in my own life. I understand why you lie, and why you convince yourself it is the moral thing to do. I just don't think that you really believe it any more than I do.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
While I am generally opposed to lying, and do not tell many lies, there are certain lies I tell all the time. I don't think this makes me much different from most people, and I usually carry on with little notice of this hypocrisy. The polite constraints we expect of one another in most casual conversations compel a certain amount of dishonesty. I think that most of the lies I tell are for the sake of politeness. But, today at least, dishonesty weighs heavily on my conscience.
I have been staring at this page for hours now, wondering if I have the courage to finish this story. I have written before about stigmas surrounding mental illness, the way a frank admission of depression and its effects can change the way people look at you, the way they treat you and the esteem they hold for you. I have experienced both sides of this disdain and am loathe to subject myself to it. To be honest about my struggle, to be honest about my history would be uncomfortable for me and for those who think they want to know about it. And so I lie, for every one's comfort. Or so I tell myself.
When I was very young, and for years after I was old enough to know better I was troubled with compulsive self-injury. It may ring falsely to those who do not understand this, those who see only the stigma, the cliché, to describe myself as passively affected, the direct object of such acts rather than their perpetrator. And I am theirs to judge, I suppose. My history with it is long and complicated and over. I have shut the book on that struggle, on that part of my life and, most importantly, on that behavior. But the evidence of it remains, and will likely remain on my skin for the rest of my life. I don't think it is fair that I should be judged by the mistakes of my younger self, that I should be defined by this aspect of my past, no matter how far it is behind me. When questioned about these old scars, I tell myself that those who ask really do not want to know the story behind them, and it gives my conscience no trouble lying to them. It is, after all, for their own good.
Today I was asked by some one I have slowly come to trust and I lied anyway, almost without realizing I was doing it. I don't imagine he is the type of person to ask questions he does not actually want the answer to. Because I look for his approval the same way I would look for that of a role model or mentor or even a brother, I realized even as I was in the process of lying that I was doing it for my own protection and not for his. I was lying because it is important to me not to be seen as weak or emotionally disturbed. I was lying because of my own ego, my own fear, and I could not pretend that there was any nobility, any honor, in this fiction.
Which brings me, once again, (and rather oddly,) to Wikileaks. As I hear each new story, as each new lie is revealed, I find myself wondering not at the government's dishonesty but at its justification for this dishonesty. The gossipy diplomatic cables I understand. I don't care if a US diplomat thinks Vladimir Putin is Batman and doesn't want the world to know. (Honestly, I'd be more surprised at this point if Vladimir Putin wasn't Batman, but I can see how it might cause some discomfort.) These are polite obfuscations that help every one save face. The body counts in Iraq, the corruption in Afghanistan, the 22 dead children in Yemen, however, are not lied about because they are impolite topics of conversation. These are lies of ego, lies of fear, lies born of the greater self-delusion that they are kept from the American people for our own good. Even the idea that bringing these crimes to light will put American troops in greater danger is, I believe, misguided. The people of Iraq and Afghanistan (and Yemen. And Palestine. And God knows how many other places.) know who is killing their children and empowering their corrupt leaders. This information is only secret to the American people, and it is kept secret from us not to protect us but to protect our government from our reaction to this knowledge. And there is no nobility, no honor, in these fictions.
My past is full of dark things and terrible stories and many people will not want to hear them. But I cannot pretend I hide the past for the protection of others. I hide because I am ashamed and I hide because I am afraid. And so do you. So does this government. Our greatest lie is not when we hide the truth from others but when we tell ourselves that we lie for a greater good.
I did not write this letter to call you out for these lies. Clearly, I have no moral high ground to claim. We are both liars and we are both deceived by our own lies. I wrote this letter because I have been quick to condemn your dishonesty while slow to notice the same tendency in my own life. I understand why you lie, and why you convince yourself it is the moral thing to do. I just don't think that you really believe it any more than I do.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Day 269- Truthiness
Dear Mr. President,
My fangirl enthusiasm for the political comedy of Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert and their writers is rivaled only by my geeky obsession with international law. Since international law is taking a beating today, I thought I'd write instead about the ventures in to mainstream political discourse Stewart and Colbert have made lately. It can't have slipped your notice that both are holding Glenn Beck-inspired rallies to restore sanity and keep fear alive in Washington DC. While some Democrats have expressed mixed feelings about the event, citing a possible dampening of get out the vote efforts, I think that, as the right embraced Beck and Palin's event in August, Democrats ought to be capitalizing on Stewart's call for moderate, reasonable discourse. Demonstrating a sense of humor about themselves can't possibly hurt their election prospect this fall, and I believe that the rallying cry from a figure widely loved on the left will be more effective than all the possible phone banking and door-knocking that may be missed as a result.
Similarly, the non-controversy controversy over Colbert's testimony before the House seems to be more absurd than the comedian's own schtick. Elmo testified before a House committee; surely the bar for legitimate expertise from witnesses was lowered long before Mr. Colbert was invited to testify. Even if his testimony was compelled for no reason more legitimate than to increase awareness of the hearings and of the "take our jobs" program, than I think there are far more important things to be upset about. That Democrats are joining in this chorus of disapproving voices is deeply disappointing. Colbert and Stewart should be the reasonable answer to Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck. Their satire of these clownish right-wing puppets almost always works in the favor of the Democratic party (or, at least the parts of it that still have the the courage to act and talk like Democrats.) Yes, they are comedians. They tell more jokes than they do truth, but still, I think, one would be hard-pressed to find a more effective way of combating the absurd and depressing tactics of the right wing media than by mocking them.
I'm not suggesting Stewart or Colbert run for office or anything ridiculous like that. Their value is in their outsider status- their commentary would not be effective if they were saddled with the responsibility of actual governing. But in their attempts to keep our public servants and the rest of the media honest, I think that they do serve a purpose with even more value than mere entertainment. I hope that Democrats stop disparaging their attempts to rally unenthusiastic young voters and learn to laugh at themselves a bit more.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
My fangirl enthusiasm for the political comedy of Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert and their writers is rivaled only by my geeky obsession with international law. Since international law is taking a beating today, I thought I'd write instead about the ventures in to mainstream political discourse Stewart and Colbert have made lately. It can't have slipped your notice that both are holding Glenn Beck-inspired rallies to restore sanity and keep fear alive in Washington DC. While some Democrats have expressed mixed feelings about the event, citing a possible dampening of get out the vote efforts, I think that, as the right embraced Beck and Palin's event in August, Democrats ought to be capitalizing on Stewart's call for moderate, reasonable discourse. Demonstrating a sense of humor about themselves can't possibly hurt their election prospect this fall, and I believe that the rallying cry from a figure widely loved on the left will be more effective than all the possible phone banking and door-knocking that may be missed as a result.
Similarly, the non-controversy controversy over Colbert's testimony before the House seems to be more absurd than the comedian's own schtick. Elmo testified before a House committee; surely the bar for legitimate expertise from witnesses was lowered long before Mr. Colbert was invited to testify. Even if his testimony was compelled for no reason more legitimate than to increase awareness of the hearings and of the "take our jobs" program, than I think there are far more important things to be upset about. That Democrats are joining in this chorus of disapproving voices is deeply disappointing. Colbert and Stewart should be the reasonable answer to Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck. Their satire of these clownish right-wing puppets almost always works in the favor of the Democratic party (or, at least the parts of it that still have the the courage to act and talk like Democrats.) Yes, they are comedians. They tell more jokes than they do truth, but still, I think, one would be hard-pressed to find a more effective way of combating the absurd and depressing tactics of the right wing media than by mocking them.
I'm not suggesting Stewart or Colbert run for office or anything ridiculous like that. Their value is in their outsider status- their commentary would not be effective if they were saddled with the responsibility of actual governing. But in their attempts to keep our public servants and the rest of the media honest, I think that they do serve a purpose with even more value than mere entertainment. I hope that Democrats stop disparaging their attempts to rally unenthusiastic young voters and learn to laugh at themselves a bit more.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Day 261- One in Seven
Dear Mr. President,
I have written you 260 letters this year. Of those 260, the top two subjects I've tagged are "Hope and change" and "values." These are more for my own reference than anything else. "Hope and change" refers to a letter that addresses something I feel you promised during the campaign. "Values" is usually to indicate a letter about our national or societal priorities. I chose "values" because it's a term often co-opted by the right (and, I'm sure, used by your own staff in the context conservatives use it.) So-called values voters, by the conservative Christian definition, oppose gay marriage, abortion and stem-cell research. The website for the Values Voters Summit lists the agenda as "Protect Marriage • Champion Life • Strengthen the Military • Limit Government • Control Spending • Defend Our Freedoms". I've always been irritated at the idea that voters sharing these particular values are the only ones conventionally identified as values voters- as though all of us are not voting based on our own personal values.
What does it say about what we value that preventing two people in love from marrying or putting the lives and well-being of women at risk is a demonstration of having "values"? Especially considering the 2010 census data, which shows a record number of Americans, 43.6 million or one in seven are living in poverty? When one in five children live in poverty, and one in four African Americans or Latinos? Where are the Christian values in letting twenty percent of American children grow up impoverished? While I do think the main source of this problem comes from corporate greed and corrupt politicians on both sides of the aisle, we as voters must also be held accountable for this. Voters who don't inform and educate themselves before voting. Voters who allow trivial issues of appearance, personality or campaign smears to sway their vote without an appreciation for issues. Especially voters who do not vote at all.
Once, however, we have voted, once we have elected a party to control Congress and the White House, the responsibility falls to you to come through with all the Hope and Change promised to this country during the campaign. Mr. President, for all the right might howl and scream and lie through their teeth on FOX news, Democrats have cowered, backed down, abandoned the values that ought to define our party and set it apart from the greed, xenophobia and selfishness of our opponents. A livable minimum wage, a strong national education system, and access to affordable health care - these are values that Democrats ostensibly stand for, values I support, values I was promised would be defended when I cast my ballot in 2008. If these values were being fought for just as hard as the right is fighting to undermine them than 1 in 7 Americans would not be living in poverty. Your job isn't easy, and it isn't close to finished. This election is going to be ugly and difficult and the next one is probably going to be worse. I do not feel sorry for you. One in seven of us is living in poverty, Mr. President and while every single one of you elected to represent us is living in fear of election day, the situation is just getting worse. I think it is time that you asked every elected Democrat what they really value more- their office or their conscience.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I have written you 260 letters this year. Of those 260, the top two subjects I've tagged are "Hope and change" and "values." These are more for my own reference than anything else. "Hope and change" refers to a letter that addresses something I feel you promised during the campaign. "Values" is usually to indicate a letter about our national or societal priorities. I chose "values" because it's a term often co-opted by the right (and, I'm sure, used by your own staff in the context conservatives use it.) So-called values voters, by the conservative Christian definition, oppose gay marriage, abortion and stem-cell research. The website for the Values Voters Summit lists the agenda as "Protect Marriage • Champion Life • Strengthen the Military • Limit Government • Control Spending • Defend Our Freedoms". I've always been irritated at the idea that voters sharing these particular values are the only ones conventionally identified as values voters- as though all of us are not voting based on our own personal values.
What does it say about what we value that preventing two people in love from marrying or putting the lives and well-being of women at risk is a demonstration of having "values"? Especially considering the 2010 census data, which shows a record number of Americans, 43.6 million or one in seven are living in poverty? When one in five children live in poverty, and one in four African Americans or Latinos? Where are the Christian values in letting twenty percent of American children grow up impoverished? While I do think the main source of this problem comes from corporate greed and corrupt politicians on both sides of the aisle, we as voters must also be held accountable for this. Voters who don't inform and educate themselves before voting. Voters who allow trivial issues of appearance, personality or campaign smears to sway their vote without an appreciation for issues. Especially voters who do not vote at all.
Once, however, we have voted, once we have elected a party to control Congress and the White House, the responsibility falls to you to come through with all the Hope and Change promised to this country during the campaign. Mr. President, for all the right might howl and scream and lie through their teeth on FOX news, Democrats have cowered, backed down, abandoned the values that ought to define our party and set it apart from the greed, xenophobia and selfishness of our opponents. A livable minimum wage, a strong national education system, and access to affordable health care - these are values that Democrats ostensibly stand for, values I support, values I was promised would be defended when I cast my ballot in 2008. If these values were being fought for just as hard as the right is fighting to undermine them than 1 in 7 Americans would not be living in poverty. Your job isn't easy, and it isn't close to finished. This election is going to be ugly and difficult and the next one is probably going to be worse. I do not feel sorry for you. One in seven of us is living in poverty, Mr. President and while every single one of you elected to represent us is living in fear of election day, the situation is just getting worse. I think it is time that you asked every elected Democrat what they really value more- their office or their conscience.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Day 255-Tea Partying
Dear Mr. President,
It's 9/12, so I suppose I should talk about the Tea Party. I'm not feeling particularly funny this evening, so I think I'll pass on the obvious opportunities to make jokes about their diversity, average age, fashion sense, or their confusion about American history. The Tea Party may not be much more than a fringe movement of angry white people, but it has an incredibly powerful media outlet representing it and spewing a worldview conforming to the Tea Party's narrative (or, more accurately, responsible for the shape of the Tea Party's narrative.) The Tea Party has gotten so much press in the last year that it seems like the whole country must have gone conservative. I think that's why so many Democrats are running scared. While their outlook for the midterms may not be so optimistic, I have to wonder if their poll numbers started dropping because of a conservative resurgence, or because they started legislating like they were afraid of one.
I've heard lots of ideas about reforming the Democratic party. Granted, most of what I hear (and most of what I think) comes from the left. The left would like to see Democrats act with courage, to stop governing like they've got to apologize for winning the election by pandering to the people who didn't vote for them. To stop compromising to no end. To take the gloves off when criticizing the obstructionist, hypocritical, xenophobic classism of the Republicans. I think this might save a few seats on our side of the aisle come November. But I don't think it's a party strategy that you (or your chief of staff) would take particularly seriously.
I think this is why the Tea Party is so popular. Not because the country is too far left, but because it is too stagnante and slow. The Tea Party might not have great ideas, but they're unscripted and unexpected. I think most of their candidates are even worse than the establishment Republicans they ran against in the primaries- but they resemble the kind of third-party shakeup of the system that our country needs (though preferably from a saner source with less corporate sponsorship.) So while I don't like them, agree with them, or even respect them, I do understand why they came about. People are waiting on a word I'm sure you've got to be sick of hearing by now-change. Actual change. Change that makes voting feel less like an exercise in futility.
Several fellow bloggers are starting a movement to publicly burn ballots on election day. One of the things they would like to see changed is a requirement that each race have a "none of the above" option that, should it receive the most votes, would require a new election with new candidates. I admire the spirit behind this protest, even if I am not going to participate. For one thing, I am a supporter of Senator Murray and I do want to see her re-elected. I will not waste my chance to ensure (hopefully once and for all) that Dino Rossi isn't allowed to represent my state in National office. For another I'm not sure that refusing to vote is a way to be taken seriously by the government. But I understand the intent. The government shouldn't be allowed to ignore us and not take us seriously. The government should be terrified of us. This protest, just like the Tea Party, comes from the deep sense that the American people are not being listened to. That we are manipulated to keep the rich and powerful richer and more powerful. I believe in the values of the Democratic party. I want to be proud of this. I want to call myself a Democrat. Right now, all that seems to mean is centrist, compromising, cowardly and even, in some cases, corrupt. The Tea Party might have changed the Republican Party a little, but it's made the Democratic Party downright unrecognizable. We've got to stop running to the right every time we get frightened of it. The Tea Party has had its time, it has made its mark. But it isn't nearly as powerful or influential enough to justify the fear Democrats are showing this year.
So it's 9/12. Forget the polls. Forget FOX news. Forget the Tea Party. Forget the fear. Lead a Democratic Party that people in this country are proud to vote for and maybe this November won't be quite the massacre everyone is so worried about.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
It's 9/12, so I suppose I should talk about the Tea Party. I'm not feeling particularly funny this evening, so I think I'll pass on the obvious opportunities to make jokes about their diversity, average age, fashion sense, or their confusion about American history. The Tea Party may not be much more than a fringe movement of angry white people, but it has an incredibly powerful media outlet representing it and spewing a worldview conforming to the Tea Party's narrative (or, more accurately, responsible for the shape of the Tea Party's narrative.) The Tea Party has gotten so much press in the last year that it seems like the whole country must have gone conservative. I think that's why so many Democrats are running scared. While their outlook for the midterms may not be so optimistic, I have to wonder if their poll numbers started dropping because of a conservative resurgence, or because they started legislating like they were afraid of one.
I've heard lots of ideas about reforming the Democratic party. Granted, most of what I hear (and most of what I think) comes from the left. The left would like to see Democrats act with courage, to stop governing like they've got to apologize for winning the election by pandering to the people who didn't vote for them. To stop compromising to no end. To take the gloves off when criticizing the obstructionist, hypocritical, xenophobic classism of the Republicans. I think this might save a few seats on our side of the aisle come November. But I don't think it's a party strategy that you (or your chief of staff) would take particularly seriously.
I think this is why the Tea Party is so popular. Not because the country is too far left, but because it is too stagnante and slow. The Tea Party might not have great ideas, but they're unscripted and unexpected. I think most of their candidates are even worse than the establishment Republicans they ran against in the primaries- but they resemble the kind of third-party shakeup of the system that our country needs (though preferably from a saner source with less corporate sponsorship.) So while I don't like them, agree with them, or even respect them, I do understand why they came about. People are waiting on a word I'm sure you've got to be sick of hearing by now-change. Actual change. Change that makes voting feel less like an exercise in futility.
Several fellow bloggers are starting a movement to publicly burn ballots on election day. One of the things they would like to see changed is a requirement that each race have a "none of the above" option that, should it receive the most votes, would require a new election with new candidates. I admire the spirit behind this protest, even if I am not going to participate. For one thing, I am a supporter of Senator Murray and I do want to see her re-elected. I will not waste my chance to ensure (hopefully once and for all) that Dino Rossi isn't allowed to represent my state in National office. For another I'm not sure that refusing to vote is a way to be taken seriously by the government. But I understand the intent. The government shouldn't be allowed to ignore us and not take us seriously. The government should be terrified of us. This protest, just like the Tea Party, comes from the deep sense that the American people are not being listened to. That we are manipulated to keep the rich and powerful richer and more powerful. I believe in the values of the Democratic party. I want to be proud of this. I want to call myself a Democrat. Right now, all that seems to mean is centrist, compromising, cowardly and even, in some cases, corrupt. The Tea Party might have changed the Republican Party a little, but it's made the Democratic Party downright unrecognizable. We've got to stop running to the right every time we get frightened of it. The Tea Party has had its time, it has made its mark. But it isn't nearly as powerful or influential enough to justify the fear Democrats are showing this year.
So it's 9/12. Forget the polls. Forget FOX news. Forget the Tea Party. Forget the fear. Lead a Democratic Party that people in this country are proud to vote for and maybe this November won't be quite the massacre everyone is so worried about.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Day 233-Never-never land
Dear Mr. President,
Recently I've read several articles on my generation and our refusal to grow up. We're living with our parents, or relocating every year. We're working dead-end jobs, struggling under mountains of student debt, and working on our blogs. We're riding our bikes and living with our boyfriends with no intentions to get married or have babies. We travel, we volunteer, we hobby and create and use irony as an excuse to never be accused of taking anything, especially ourselves too seriously. While I'm glad that these (much older) journalists have no problem generalizing about 20-somethings like we're all the same, I am only confident enough to speak for myself. I can't answer these charges for a whole generation, but I think I at least ought to explain my own failure to achieve the socially accepted milestones for adulthood.
Some weeks, when money is really tight, my mother still pays for my groceries. I live in a 2-bedroom apartment with 3 roommates. I work part-time, with no benefits, for about $10/hr. Student loan payments run me $250 a month, and I haven't graduated yet. It isn't that I don't want to grow up. I want my degree, I want health insurance and I want to make enough money to help out my family, instead of depending upon them. I want a house with a garden and I want a stable relationship. But I also want to travel, to keep learning, to help others, to find a way to live without adding to the destruction of the planet and the exploitation of the poor. The kind of experiences I still look for aren't always comfortable or safe or conducive to settling down and having children. But delaying the trappings of traditional adulthood for the sake of a better world (or at least a better understanding of it) isn't exactly cause for the kind of hysteria I see in these articles.
The New York Times might sneer at this as whimsical and immature, but I'm not convinced that the traditional model works particularly well. What kind of country have you left us? The environment is being destroyed and destroying us (and Pakistan) as a result. The rest of the world hates us for our consumption, our pollution, or the way we've manipulated the histories of their own nations to suit our fear-mongering of the moment. Our economy is collapsing, college costs are skyrocketing and divorce rates in our parents' generation left more than a few of us disillusioned about running down the aisle with the first person we want to sleep with.
Sorry, I seem to be falling into that dangerous trap of generalization. Again, I can't speak for any one but me. I may not do much more than write this silly blog and send you these naive letters but, to be frank, I don't know that you've left me a lot of better options. Maybe we are languishing in entry-level jobs, DIY-ing, blogging, painting and otherwise skipping through life like we're still kids at summer camp. Personally, I'm just trying to live the best way I know how. The world our parents left us is not sustainable. We know it, they know it, and you know it. I appreciate that your administration hasn't jumped on the bandwagon of lamenting my generation's everlasting adolescence, (perhaps because so many of us are fetching coffee for no wages while we teach your staff how to use twitter.) If you do come across these laundry lists of complaints your generation seems to have about mine, take it from this 20-something and don't try to help us live lives that look more like our parents. In spite of all your well-intentioned plans for us, we've got our own ideas about growing up and all you need to know is that we're a lot more likely to figure it out if we're not so wrapped up in looking and buying and earning like adults we lose sight of that hallmark of true maturity- concern for the condition of the world we're leaving to the next generation.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Recently I've read several articles on my generation and our refusal to grow up. We're living with our parents, or relocating every year. We're working dead-end jobs, struggling under mountains of student debt, and working on our blogs. We're riding our bikes and living with our boyfriends with no intentions to get married or have babies. We travel, we volunteer, we hobby and create and use irony as an excuse to never be accused of taking anything, especially ourselves too seriously. While I'm glad that these (much older) journalists have no problem generalizing about 20-somethings like we're all the same, I am only confident enough to speak for myself. I can't answer these charges for a whole generation, but I think I at least ought to explain my own failure to achieve the socially accepted milestones for adulthood.
Some weeks, when money is really tight, my mother still pays for my groceries. I live in a 2-bedroom apartment with 3 roommates. I work part-time, with no benefits, for about $10/hr. Student loan payments run me $250 a month, and I haven't graduated yet. It isn't that I don't want to grow up. I want my degree, I want health insurance and I want to make enough money to help out my family, instead of depending upon them. I want a house with a garden and I want a stable relationship. But I also want to travel, to keep learning, to help others, to find a way to live without adding to the destruction of the planet and the exploitation of the poor. The kind of experiences I still look for aren't always comfortable or safe or conducive to settling down and having children. But delaying the trappings of traditional adulthood for the sake of a better world (or at least a better understanding of it) isn't exactly cause for the kind of hysteria I see in these articles.
The traditional cycle seems to have gone off course, as young people remain un tethered to romantic partners or to permanent homes, going back to school for lack of better options, traveling, avoiding commitments, competing ferociously for unpaid internships or temporary (and often grueling) Teach for America jobs, forestalling the beginning of adult life.
The New York Times might sneer at this as whimsical and immature, but I'm not convinced that the traditional model works particularly well. What kind of country have you left us? The environment is being destroyed and destroying us (and Pakistan) as a result. The rest of the world hates us for our consumption, our pollution, or the way we've manipulated the histories of their own nations to suit our fear-mongering of the moment. Our economy is collapsing, college costs are skyrocketing and divorce rates in our parents' generation left more than a few of us disillusioned about running down the aisle with the first person we want to sleep with.
Sorry, I seem to be falling into that dangerous trap of generalization. Again, I can't speak for any one but me. I may not do much more than write this silly blog and send you these naive letters but, to be frank, I don't know that you've left me a lot of better options. Maybe we are languishing in entry-level jobs, DIY-ing, blogging, painting and otherwise skipping through life like we're still kids at summer camp. Personally, I'm just trying to live the best way I know how. The world our parents left us is not sustainable. We know it, they know it, and you know it. I appreciate that your administration hasn't jumped on the bandwagon of lamenting my generation's everlasting adolescence, (perhaps because so many of us are fetching coffee for no wages while we teach your staff how to use twitter.) If you do come across these laundry lists of complaints your generation seems to have about mine, take it from this 20-something and don't try to help us live lives that look more like our parents. In spite of all your well-intentioned plans for us, we've got our own ideas about growing up and all you need to know is that we're a lot more likely to figure it out if we're not so wrapped up in looking and buying and earning like adults we lose sight of that hallmark of true maturity- concern for the condition of the world we're leaving to the next generation.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Day 230-Cars and ditches, or how I beat a metaphor to death
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Dear Mr. President,
As the last of the combat troops were pulled out of Iraq today I thought about the night the war began. I was driving home from coffee with a friend when I heard the news, still a junior in high school. A friend and I had been drinking chai tea at Starbucks, an activity that felt vaguely subversive in itself as the chain had opened only recently in our small town, and my father still didn't approve of us spending so much time there. I was too young to vote, but still, I felt responsible for what was happening. For not doing more to stop it. My best friend had gone to anti-war marches in Seattle- what if I had gone, too? Would it have made a difference? I'd had this belief my entire life that my opinion mattered, by virtue of being an American. A naive faith in the power of Democracy to ensure that my country would always act with good intentions. So much of that youthful hope was dead by the time I arrived home. Suddenly, instead of being an empowering, inclusive force for goodness and wisdom and justice, our government seemed hostile, unyielding and frightening. I don't know if my government changed that night or if I did. Lately I've heard you refer to the country as a car the Republicans drove into a ditch; for me, that was the night we lost control.
What I felt today seeing Operation Iraqi Freedom end was not happiness. It's what you feel when you've gotten the car out of the ditch and surveyed the damage. Grief. Anger. Self-reproach. Relief. I'm grieving for the lives ruined by this war- the lives lost, the families broken, the maimed and traumatized and homeless and broken on all sides. I'm angry that this was done in my name, under my flag, associating me with it forever. Still, I wonder, could I have helped? Could I have stopped it or made it less awful even for one person if I had been more involved? This is not a moment of joy, this is not a victory for the left. A mistake of this magnitude cannot be corrected, it can only be prevented from getting any worse.
When you mention this car and ditch metaphor what you are asking is for Americans to understand that the reason your legislative victories and accomplishments don't feel like progress is because they aren't. We haven't made any progress because you've been trying to repair the damage. Real progress, you contend, will only begin once the repairs are complete and we can drive again. The first 3 or 4 times I heard you use this analogy I admit, I rolled my eyes and brushed it aside as more talking-point nonsense. But today that all changed. In my personal life, I've been waiting for a long time for progress. I've been doing the hard work that has to be done and feeling like I'm in the same place I left off. Today I realized this is because I've been trying to make repairs. I've just gotten the car running again. I haven't gone anywhere, but it's ok, because at least it's fixed. I'm in the same place, but I'm not the same person. And all I've got ahead of me for miles and miles is road.
This war might be over, but you've still got a difficult job ahead. I think I was losing faith in you, for a while. I didn't like that feeling and, even if it turns out to be misguided, I'm glad to feel hopeful again. I'm sorry I had to feel it on a small, personal scale to understand and appreciate what you were saying. It hasn't been easy, and it isn't going to be for a long time. I think that you've got an important message, Mr. President, but your greatest challenge is returning a sense of control (and the responsibility that goes along with it) to people disillusioned by so many years feeling like we can't make a difference. Like we don't have the wheel. Finding a way to involve and empower the people of this country (to do more than just show up on election day) is the only way forward if your Presidency is ever going to be about more than just cleaning up your predecessor's crash sites.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Day 224- In praise of Wikileaks
Dear Mr. President,
I have been reluctant to write to you about the recent Wikileaks controversy. I've followed Wikileaks for several months now, and, during the buildup to the release of the secret documents I was certainly anxious to find out what information they would contain, even as I was hesitant about the idea of leaking military secrets. I understand that you can't be expected to be happy about the release of secret documents, no matter how harmless they might seem, but I do think that Wikileaks serves an important purpose.
Our government is meant to be open to public scrutiny. I understand the need for national security and the secrecy that goes along with it, but the American government has become too comfortable misleading or outright lying to the American people. This deception seems especially widespread in military matters, and the kind of information released in the Wikileaks documents demonstrates that often these lies are for the simple purpose of painting military action in a more favorable light. A disturbingly large amount of our tax dollars goes to fund the Defense Department without significant public scrutiny. (Go ahead, Mr. Gibbs, say what you will, but I'm not for eliminating the Pentagon and I'm not using drugs.)
Maybe I'm in the minority here, but I would like to know what my tax dollars are buying, and how successful the operations being funded are. Beyond the monetary issues, there is a moral imperative for every American to know how, exactly, our country is representing itself in times of war. By allowing the public to access this information on Afghanistan, (or revealing evidence of US troops targeting civilians in Iraq,) Wikileaks is doing it's part to ensure that this government continues to be of and by and for the people. It's the American public's way of telling our government that we simply can't be cut out of the loop and fed a palatable bedtime story. We will find out the truth.
Perhaps people would rather be told lies, so long as they are safe and aren't asked to think too much? I think that is an incredibly cynical way of looking at the American people. Some of your most eloquent writing is on the need to leave behind our cynicism and do our part to make our country stronger. How can you ask us to do this for a government that lies to us? A government that told us the truth about our military operations, even if that truth was ugly or hard to hear, would not risk this kind of exposure. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have been awful, world-changing events that will forever alter the way the world views Americans. It is the responsibility and right of every American to know exactly how and why this war is being waged. I know that you cannot publicly do anything but denounce Wikileaks, but you ought to strive to lead a government that would not engender this kind of necessary mistrust of the stories we're being told. A site like Wikileaks could not exist if the government didn't make it absolutely necessary.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I have been reluctant to write to you about the recent Wikileaks controversy. I've followed Wikileaks for several months now, and, during the buildup to the release of the secret documents I was certainly anxious to find out what information they would contain, even as I was hesitant about the idea of leaking military secrets. I understand that you can't be expected to be happy about the release of secret documents, no matter how harmless they might seem, but I do think that Wikileaks serves an important purpose.
Our government is meant to be open to public scrutiny. I understand the need for national security and the secrecy that goes along with it, but the American government has become too comfortable misleading or outright lying to the American people. This deception seems especially widespread in military matters, and the kind of information released in the Wikileaks documents demonstrates that often these lies are for the simple purpose of painting military action in a more favorable light. A disturbingly large amount of our tax dollars goes to fund the Defense Department without significant public scrutiny. (Go ahead, Mr. Gibbs, say what you will, but I'm not for eliminating the Pentagon and I'm not using drugs.)
Maybe I'm in the minority here, but I would like to know what my tax dollars are buying, and how successful the operations being funded are. Beyond the monetary issues, there is a moral imperative for every American to know how, exactly, our country is representing itself in times of war. By allowing the public to access this information on Afghanistan, (or revealing evidence of US troops targeting civilians in Iraq,) Wikileaks is doing it's part to ensure that this government continues to be of and by and for the people. It's the American public's way of telling our government that we simply can't be cut out of the loop and fed a palatable bedtime story. We will find out the truth.
Perhaps people would rather be told lies, so long as they are safe and aren't asked to think too much? I think that is an incredibly cynical way of looking at the American people. Some of your most eloquent writing is on the need to leave behind our cynicism and do our part to make our country stronger. How can you ask us to do this for a government that lies to us? A government that told us the truth about our military operations, even if that truth was ugly or hard to hear, would not risk this kind of exposure. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have been awful, world-changing events that will forever alter the way the world views Americans. It is the responsibility and right of every American to know exactly how and why this war is being waged. I know that you cannot publicly do anything but denounce Wikileaks, but you ought to strive to lead a government that would not engender this kind of necessary mistrust of the stories we're being told. A site like Wikileaks could not exist if the government didn't make it absolutely necessary.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Day 173- Abuses of power
Dear Mr. President,
I started my new job today. It's much more responsibility than my last job, and requires me to make quick decisions, often based on little information, my own instincts and my own experience. If I screw up, things could get stolen, crimes could go unnoticed, or some one could get hurt. Still, I could go completely rogue, I could overlook laws and safety regulations and do everything in my power to cause as much harm as possible and, still, I could not destroy the Gulf of Mexico. While I'm sure that the people who's jobs depend up on the oil industry were relieved to hear the court's decision to overturn your moratorium on new deep-water drilling projects, I can't imagine that 63 days have been enough for the industry to have adopted practices or contingency plans to avoid, or more quickly react to, another disaster. Yes, every one deserves to make a living; but the dangers posed by this industry's reckless pursuit of efficiency at the expense of safety are too great to blindly continue to drill as we did before. Because of the industry's ties to the agencies that regulated them, they have operated on what could generously be called an honor system; BP has demonstrated that none of the deepwater drilling projects are prepared to effectively deal with the kind of disaster we're now two months into dealing with. Most likely, it won't happen again; if it does, the consequences would be unimaginably devastating. is that a risk that this judge feels willing to take? Further regulation, further oversight is needed, and until that happens, allowing new projects to go forward is irresponsible.
I can't regulate the safety practices of the oil industry. I don't have the education or the skills. I put faith in my government to do this for me, and it has failed us all. The judge overturning your moratorium is now a part of this failure. We cannot place the value of a person's livelihood above the value of the lives it may destroy. I find myself increasingly disturbed by the world we live in; a world where the President may order covert assassination of American citizens, may rendition and torture and twist a person's status to deny them legal rights, but where he may not threaten the profit margins of the oil industry. When did corporate interests become more powerful than the legal rights enshrined in our constitution? The executive may ignore Habeas Corpus, or due process or the first amendment, but to try to protect the American public and the environment from the reckless behavior of an entire industry is beyond his ability? I'm really not trying to make you feel worse about the court's decision, but it seems like the power of the executive really ought to be wielded to protect the individuals who are not powerful enough to defend themselves, not those organizations who exploit them.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I started my new job today. It's much more responsibility than my last job, and requires me to make quick decisions, often based on little information, my own instincts and my own experience. If I screw up, things could get stolen, crimes could go unnoticed, or some one could get hurt. Still, I could go completely rogue, I could overlook laws and safety regulations and do everything in my power to cause as much harm as possible and, still, I could not destroy the Gulf of Mexico. While I'm sure that the people who's jobs depend up on the oil industry were relieved to hear the court's decision to overturn your moratorium on new deep-water drilling projects, I can't imagine that 63 days have been enough for the industry to have adopted practices or contingency plans to avoid, or more quickly react to, another disaster. Yes, every one deserves to make a living; but the dangers posed by this industry's reckless pursuit of efficiency at the expense of safety are too great to blindly continue to drill as we did before. Because of the industry's ties to the agencies that regulated them, they have operated on what could generously be called an honor system; BP has demonstrated that none of the deepwater drilling projects are prepared to effectively deal with the kind of disaster we're now two months into dealing with. Most likely, it won't happen again; if it does, the consequences would be unimaginably devastating. is that a risk that this judge feels willing to take? Further regulation, further oversight is needed, and until that happens, allowing new projects to go forward is irresponsible.
I can't regulate the safety practices of the oil industry. I don't have the education or the skills. I put faith in my government to do this for me, and it has failed us all. The judge overturning your moratorium is now a part of this failure. We cannot place the value of a person's livelihood above the value of the lives it may destroy. I find myself increasingly disturbed by the world we live in; a world where the President may order covert assassination of American citizens, may rendition and torture and twist a person's status to deny them legal rights, but where he may not threaten the profit margins of the oil industry. When did corporate interests become more powerful than the legal rights enshrined in our constitution? The executive may ignore Habeas Corpus, or due process or the first amendment, but to try to protect the American public and the environment from the reckless behavior of an entire industry is beyond his ability? I'm really not trying to make you feel worse about the court's decision, but it seems like the power of the executive really ought to be wielded to protect the individuals who are not powerful enough to defend themselves, not those organizations who exploit them.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Day 149- No drama
Dear Mr. President,
"President Spock," "No Drama Obama," the list of ways the media has found to call you calm, as either an insult or a compliment, seems to get more creative all the timeMaureen Dowd writes today about the paternal aspect of the presidency, something she feels you are failing at. A President, apparently, must demonstrate the emotional state of the nation to show that he understands how people feel. I don't often find myself in such strong disagreement with Ms. Dowd. I don't need you to show me your emotional response to the oil spill in order to feel better about my own; I believe that you have emotions, just like me, and that, just like me, you decide who sees how you feel and who sees how you think. I don't believe that the citizens of this country are entitled to see every aspect of your personality; we ought to hold you accountable for how well you do your job, not how well you demonstrate that you feel the "right" way about every issue. I don't need to see you react the same way I do.
I think this urge we have, to feel that we know our leaders on a personal level, manifested in votes based on who we'd rather have a beer with, or in a need to see ourselves and our lifestyles reflected in those of our elected officials, is not always the surest compass to find the best qualified leaders. I'm an emotional person. I feel things violently, obsessively, consumingly. I do not appreciate this about myself, and think that, especially in matters of leadership and crisis management, it can be considered more a weakness than a strength. I look for a leader who can calmly, thoughtfully, rationally make decisions based on information and guided by a sense of what the best choices will be. I didn't vote for you because I thought you'd cry at things that make me cry or scream at things that make me want to scream; I voted for you because I hoped that you would, in the face of these things, have more productive solutions than my tears.
This is not to imply, as Ms. Dowd does, that you lack emotional depth. I think that your emotional reactions are kept private, as most of us prefer ours to be. I am often moved by displays of emotion by politicians; that does not mean I have to see such displays to know they exist. Asking for such demonstrations from our elected officials is only asking to be lied to. Our need to feel better, to be comforted by the parroting of our responses by others, does not help us overcome the challenges of our times. As much as I might like to know you as a person, to feel that we are friends and that you are just like me, it would do me no practical good. I don't believe that any one who hears the news from the gulf, or who has seen the terrible images, especially some one who must take responsibility for fixing it, can be unaffected. But your feelings are your own, Mr. President, and, while I clearly do not speak for Ms. Dowd and may not speak for the majority of American voters, I, personally, do not need you to share them in order to satisfy my own desire to see my own personality reflected in my President's.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
"President Spock," "No Drama Obama," the list of ways the media has found to call you calm, as either an insult or a compliment, seems to get more creative all the timeMaureen Dowd writes today about the paternal aspect of the presidency, something she feels you are failing at. A President, apparently, must demonstrate the emotional state of the nation to show that he understands how people feel. I don't often find myself in such strong disagreement with Ms. Dowd. I don't need you to show me your emotional response to the oil spill in order to feel better about my own; I believe that you have emotions, just like me, and that, just like me, you decide who sees how you feel and who sees how you think. I don't believe that the citizens of this country are entitled to see every aspect of your personality; we ought to hold you accountable for how well you do your job, not how well you demonstrate that you feel the "right" way about every issue. I don't need to see you react the same way I do.
I think this urge we have, to feel that we know our leaders on a personal level, manifested in votes based on who we'd rather have a beer with, or in a need to see ourselves and our lifestyles reflected in those of our elected officials, is not always the surest compass to find the best qualified leaders. I'm an emotional person. I feel things violently, obsessively, consumingly. I do not appreciate this about myself, and think that, especially in matters of leadership and crisis management, it can be considered more a weakness than a strength. I look for a leader who can calmly, thoughtfully, rationally make decisions based on information and guided by a sense of what the best choices will be. I didn't vote for you because I thought you'd cry at things that make me cry or scream at things that make me want to scream; I voted for you because I hoped that you would, in the face of these things, have more productive solutions than my tears.
This is not to imply, as Ms. Dowd does, that you lack emotional depth. I think that your emotional reactions are kept private, as most of us prefer ours to be. I am often moved by displays of emotion by politicians; that does not mean I have to see such displays to know they exist. Asking for such demonstrations from our elected officials is only asking to be lied to. Our need to feel better, to be comforted by the parroting of our responses by others, does not help us overcome the challenges of our times. As much as I might like to know you as a person, to feel that we are friends and that you are just like me, it would do me no practical good. I don't believe that any one who hears the news from the gulf, or who has seen the terrible images, especially some one who must take responsibility for fixing it, can be unaffected. But your feelings are your own, Mr. President, and, while I clearly do not speak for Ms. Dowd and may not speak for the majority of American voters, I, personally, do not need you to share them in order to satisfy my own desire to see my own personality reflected in my President's.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Day 135- Wait.
Dear Mr. President,
It's the end of a sunny Seattle day. High school students are celebrating Prom; tourists are coming out droves, and the cheerful good weather so uncharacteristic of our part of the world is getting eerily persistent. The last few letters that I've written you have been angry and bitter and sad. I don't say this by way of an apology; I feel that this week has had example after example of the kind of mystifying ignorance, ill will and horrifying abuses of power that stir such emotions in me. There are moments when I feel overwhelmed by all of this, and escaping it through distraction, a narrow focus on my own life and the incredibly small sphere of influence I have, seems the only sane course of action. But we take the good with the bad, much like the tourists and the sunny weather that brings them. They may be annoying and slow moving and indifferent to those of us with the audacity to try and live our lives in their vacation destination, but they stimulate our economy, they keep our city thriving and enable companies to employ us. And so we roll our eyes at the city's "be nicer to tourists" ad campaign, and we try to share the city and keep our sanity. (Your motorcade likely protects you from the worst of this in Washington, but I realize that city has it even worse than Seattle.)
You recently spoke at the fallen officers memorial, to the families of those police officers killed in the line of duty. (Of the 126 officers killed in 2009, 7 came from Washington state. 6 of those 7 were shot.) One of the officers I chat with every day at work is attending the ceremony. This is how I think of police officers; they're my parents and my neighbors and my regular customers; they're heroes who risk their lives to serve their communities. But with the good, comes incidents like this recent example of brutality by a Seattle PD officer. I've witnessed this kind of thing in my own neighborhood; one of our first nights in this apartment, we called 911 in the middle of a night for a woman who had collapsed in the street. The responding officers did not call medical services, instead they roughly searched the woman and degraded her verbally, before releasing her, barely able to stand, to a man who angrily berated her for leaving the car he'd left her in. I believe that officers like this, who, by their hostility, increase tensions between the community and law enforcement, and, by doing so, put other cops in danger. And there will be no end to them. All we can do then, is to hope that things will get better. That people will respect one another, and trust one another, and that, together, we will move forward.
Which is to say, Mr. President, in a convoluted way, that, like the perfectly innocent and the very grave, everything is a mix of good and bad that is made bearable only through respect and hope. That we can all do better, we can all work harder. I may write you angry letters, some days, but I still have tremendous respect for you as a person, for the enormity of the decisions you have to make, and for the office that you hold. Alexandre Dumas said that "all human wisdom is contained in these two words--"Wait and Hope." Neither of these are easy things to do. I just want you to know that I'm trying.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
It's the end of a sunny Seattle day. High school students are celebrating Prom; tourists are coming out droves, and the cheerful good weather so uncharacteristic of our part of the world is getting eerily persistent. The last few letters that I've written you have been angry and bitter and sad. I don't say this by way of an apology; I feel that this week has had example after example of the kind of mystifying ignorance, ill will and horrifying abuses of power that stir such emotions in me. There are moments when I feel overwhelmed by all of this, and escaping it through distraction, a narrow focus on my own life and the incredibly small sphere of influence I have, seems the only sane course of action. But we take the good with the bad, much like the tourists and the sunny weather that brings them. They may be annoying and slow moving and indifferent to those of us with the audacity to try and live our lives in their vacation destination, but they stimulate our economy, they keep our city thriving and enable companies to employ us. And so we roll our eyes at the city's "be nicer to tourists" ad campaign, and we try to share the city and keep our sanity. (Your motorcade likely protects you from the worst of this in Washington, but I realize that city has it even worse than Seattle.)
You recently spoke at the fallen officers memorial, to the families of those police officers killed in the line of duty. (Of the 126 officers killed in 2009, 7 came from Washington state. 6 of those 7 were shot.) One of the officers I chat with every day at work is attending the ceremony. This is how I think of police officers; they're my parents and my neighbors and my regular customers; they're heroes who risk their lives to serve their communities. But with the good, comes incidents like this recent example of brutality by a Seattle PD officer. I've witnessed this kind of thing in my own neighborhood; one of our first nights in this apartment, we called 911 in the middle of a night for a woman who had collapsed in the street. The responding officers did not call medical services, instead they roughly searched the woman and degraded her verbally, before releasing her, barely able to stand, to a man who angrily berated her for leaving the car he'd left her in. I believe that officers like this, who, by their hostility, increase tensions between the community and law enforcement, and, by doing so, put other cops in danger. And there will be no end to them. All we can do then, is to hope that things will get better. That people will respect one another, and trust one another, and that, together, we will move forward.
Which is to say, Mr. President, in a convoluted way, that, like the perfectly innocent and the very grave, everything is a mix of good and bad that is made bearable only through respect and hope. That we can all do better, we can all work harder. I may write you angry letters, some days, but I still have tremendous respect for you as a person, for the enormity of the decisions you have to make, and for the office that you hold. Alexandre Dumas said that "all human wisdom is contained in these two words--"Wait and Hope." Neither of these are easy things to do. I just want you to know that I'm trying.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Day 122- Katrina
Dear Mr. President,
The media stories comparing your response to the oil spill in the Gulf to the Bush administration's response to Katrina are starting to get to me. For one thing, I still find the mistreatment and neglect of American citizens by our own government in the face of an environmental disaster to be offensive; belittling the magnitude of this failure by constantly comparing it to other disasters makes a poor substitute for actual journalism. This crisis is distinct in many ways and the administration's response to it needs to be whatever is most suited to the unique demands of this situation, and not based on some artificial scale set by the previous administrations failures.
If there is any lesson to be had from the Bush administration, and especially their handling of Katrina, it ought to be that the President should be able to admit to mistakes. President Bush could have turned his failures into something more useful, had he been able to own up to being wrong. Instead, caught up in a desperate attempt to sell his administration as being right all the time, confusing decisiveness with gravitas, attempting to doublespeak his way through contradiction and hypocrisy when confronted with it, he alienated people and made each mistake seem even worse through his obvious insensitivity to it. This isn't the type of President that you've proven yourself to be.
The oil spill in the gulf should cause us to seriously re-evaluate a number of aspects of domestic policy. I think the decision to halt any new offshore drilling projects was a good one; I hope that it lasts longer than the media storm. I'm also hoping that the projections for the size and scope of the spill are wrong; if it is smaller and easier to fix than we fear, that will be a blessing to all of the lives and livelihoods threatened, and if that makes it more difficult to make the case against drilling for more oil, that's certainly a price I'm willing, and even eager, to pay. But I hope that the hysterical, worst-case scenarios being discussed right now are taken seriously, even if we are fortunate enough that they do not come to pass; they should serve as a wake-up call to this country about the hidden cost of cheap oil and the dangers of our current lifestyles.
I think that so far your response to this crisis has been appropriate given the information available. More importantly, you've long since proven that you're an engaged and capable leader who is willing to work through the challenges facing this country even when it is not politically expedient. I hope that you can also admit when your best intentions fail, when you make the wrong decisions, or when there simply wasn't enough information to act appropriately. It brings people together and reminds us all that being willing to adapt and learn from mistakes is more important than blindly and desperately insisting you've been right all along.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
The media stories comparing your response to the oil spill in the Gulf to the Bush administration's response to Katrina are starting to get to me. For one thing, I still find the mistreatment and neglect of American citizens by our own government in the face of an environmental disaster to be offensive; belittling the magnitude of this failure by constantly comparing it to other disasters makes a poor substitute for actual journalism. This crisis is distinct in many ways and the administration's response to it needs to be whatever is most suited to the unique demands of this situation, and not based on some artificial scale set by the previous administrations failures.
If there is any lesson to be had from the Bush administration, and especially their handling of Katrina, it ought to be that the President should be able to admit to mistakes. President Bush could have turned his failures into something more useful, had he been able to own up to being wrong. Instead, caught up in a desperate attempt to sell his administration as being right all the time, confusing decisiveness with gravitas, attempting to doublespeak his way through contradiction and hypocrisy when confronted with it, he alienated people and made each mistake seem even worse through his obvious insensitivity to it. This isn't the type of President that you've proven yourself to be.
The oil spill in the gulf should cause us to seriously re-evaluate a number of aspects of domestic policy. I think the decision to halt any new offshore drilling projects was a good one; I hope that it lasts longer than the media storm. I'm also hoping that the projections for the size and scope of the spill are wrong; if it is smaller and easier to fix than we fear, that will be a blessing to all of the lives and livelihoods threatened, and if that makes it more difficult to make the case against drilling for more oil, that's certainly a price I'm willing, and even eager, to pay. But I hope that the hysterical, worst-case scenarios being discussed right now are taken seriously, even if we are fortunate enough that they do not come to pass; they should serve as a wake-up call to this country about the hidden cost of cheap oil and the dangers of our current lifestyles.
I think that so far your response to this crisis has been appropriate given the information available. More importantly, you've long since proven that you're an engaged and capable leader who is willing to work through the challenges facing this country even when it is not politically expedient. I hope that you can also admit when your best intentions fail, when you make the wrong decisions, or when there simply wasn't enough information to act appropriately. It brings people together and reminds us all that being willing to adapt and learn from mistakes is more important than blindly and desperately insisting you've been right all along.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, April 12, 2010
Day 102- Faith in the voters
Dear Mr. President,
The rumors of the campaign finance reform legislation soon to be proposed by congressional Democrats seem like the first good news since the Supreme court decision earlier this year. This push for greater transparency in the way donations are disclosed puts the responsibility for real reform to the voters. If we can't regulate the way donations are given, at least we can ensure that voters know who, exactly, is funding candidates and parties. Despite the cynical thoughts that tell me otherwise, I have to believe that voters can recognize corruption and will act to correct it.
Passing this legislation must be about more than putting Democrats on the popular side of a national issue before the election. There just isn't a way to ever completely prevent corporations and organizations from wielding greater power and influence over elected officials; our best hope is to expose such corruption to the voters and to hope they make the right choices. This is why any legislative battle must be coupled with significant and effective promotion of the issue to the public.
I know it is a common and unfair stereotype that Democrats do a poor job of communicating or selling our issues to the American people, but the health care debate demonstrated we certainly have a great deal of room for improvement. I think, if we are going to have any chance at staunching the flow of corporate campaign donations allowed by the Supreme Court's decision, we have to do a better job of uniting our members behind this issue and calling out the corrupt politicians, on both sides of the aisle, who compromise their integrity for the sake of the powerful interests funding their campaigns.
I hope that, with your leadership on this issue, congress is able to effectively demonstrate to the American public the necessity of this reform. Giving voters all the information they need to make informed choices at the ballot is all that the government can do to protect us from corruption; the rest has to be up to us.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
The rumors of the campaign finance reform legislation soon to be proposed by congressional Democrats seem like the first good news since the Supreme court decision earlier this year. This push for greater transparency in the way donations are disclosed puts the responsibility for real reform to the voters. If we can't regulate the way donations are given, at least we can ensure that voters know who, exactly, is funding candidates and parties. Despite the cynical thoughts that tell me otherwise, I have to believe that voters can recognize corruption and will act to correct it.
Passing this legislation must be about more than putting Democrats on the popular side of a national issue before the election. There just isn't a way to ever completely prevent corporations and organizations from wielding greater power and influence over elected officials; our best hope is to expose such corruption to the voters and to hope they make the right choices. This is why any legislative battle must be coupled with significant and effective promotion of the issue to the public.
I know it is a common and unfair stereotype that Democrats do a poor job of communicating or selling our issues to the American people, but the health care debate demonstrated we certainly have a great deal of room for improvement. I think, if we are going to have any chance at staunching the flow of corporate campaign donations allowed by the Supreme Court's decision, we have to do a better job of uniting our members behind this issue and calling out the corrupt politicians, on both sides of the aisle, who compromise their integrity for the sake of the powerful interests funding their campaigns.
I hope that, with your leadership on this issue, congress is able to effectively demonstrate to the American public the necessity of this reform. Giving voters all the information they need to make informed choices at the ballot is all that the government can do to protect us from corruption; the rest has to be up to us.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, March 26, 2010
Day 85- America, the potluck
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight I am at a potluck dinner for visiting friends. We've gathered a group of people, some of whom have known one another for lifetimes, while others are connected to the group only through the briefest of acquaintance. College students, new parents, old friends and complete strangers; we've come together over food and drinks and a shared affection. The hosting family has a philosophy of inclusion; the more, the merrier. They may not know all of their guests, but there is nothing they won't do for them. This group of people recalls the America I always thought I lived in when I was young. I had this fierce belief, as a child, that we not only welcomed every one to our country, but that we sought to support them, to nourish and educate and inspire them, to foster the culture that brought out the best in people. This diversity, this welcoming spirit, is what I thought made our country strong, wise, and exceptional.
Clearly, I grew up in an era that demanded more cynicism. The hopeful belief that our country was always right or at least well-intentioned was lost as I came of age under President Bush, who was elected as I began High School. It wasn't just that I began learning about the darker aspects of our own history; I saw that the leadership of our country had failed, completely to learn from the mistakes of the past. I don't think that my experience of losing faith in the American idea is wholly different from that of many American youth. We are nurtured on the idea of an America that is one big, benevolent force for good, and then we come of age, shocked to find that this America was just one more Santa Claus.
I think this is why so many of my peers are so cynical, so disengaged. We see the disparity between the way we are raised to feel about our country's history, and the brutal, often bloody reality of that history and how it is continuing to unfold, and we can't help but be disillusioned. I think this sentiment was what you tapped into when you campaigned; you touched the part in all of us that still wanted to believe in Santa Claus, in American exceptionalism and the hope that the idealism of America's myth could yet be realized.
So many of the guests at the party tonight are upset about the current state of American politics. Because this is Seattle and, for all of our diversity, we're still a fairly liberal bunch of people, most of them are upset that the public option failed, or that some other aspect of your policy hasn't lived up to your campaign's promises. I'm sure that the disappointment of your supporters has become just as tedious a refrain as the anger of the right at their perceived marginalization. Maybe our expectations were unreasonable; maybe your promises were too lofty. The truth is likely somewhere in the middle. Being in this room, surrounded by the love and hospitality of friends and strangers alike, seeing the capacity we have, as individuals, for goodness and generosity, I have to believe that for all of the complaints on the left, for all of the hysteria on the right, we are an exceptional nation, a place of constant evolution and redefinition. The real truth behind the America we believed in as children was that this great undertaking has never been more than the collective efforts of a group of strangers, the sum of our best selves and best intentions. When we lose sight of our own role in this project, every one loses out.
You don't have to prove how bipartisan you can be to unite and inspire this country. Mr. President, your success came not in your stance on the issues but in your ability to make us believe in our own abilities. You haven't reached every one, Mr. President, but you've certainly taught me that this country will only change when we all are willing to work for it. I am frustrated with the slowness of our progress, angry at the extent of our compromises, but I am hopeful that we are moving in the right direction.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight I am at a potluck dinner for visiting friends. We've gathered a group of people, some of whom have known one another for lifetimes, while others are connected to the group only through the briefest of acquaintance. College students, new parents, old friends and complete strangers; we've come together over food and drinks and a shared affection. The hosting family has a philosophy of inclusion; the more, the merrier. They may not know all of their guests, but there is nothing they won't do for them. This group of people recalls the America I always thought I lived in when I was young. I had this fierce belief, as a child, that we not only welcomed every one to our country, but that we sought to support them, to nourish and educate and inspire them, to foster the culture that brought out the best in people. This diversity, this welcoming spirit, is what I thought made our country strong, wise, and exceptional.
Clearly, I grew up in an era that demanded more cynicism. The hopeful belief that our country was always right or at least well-intentioned was lost as I came of age under President Bush, who was elected as I began High School. It wasn't just that I began learning about the darker aspects of our own history; I saw that the leadership of our country had failed, completely to learn from the mistakes of the past. I don't think that my experience of losing faith in the American idea is wholly different from that of many American youth. We are nurtured on the idea of an America that is one big, benevolent force for good, and then we come of age, shocked to find that this America was just one more Santa Claus.
I think this is why so many of my peers are so cynical, so disengaged. We see the disparity between the way we are raised to feel about our country's history, and the brutal, often bloody reality of that history and how it is continuing to unfold, and we can't help but be disillusioned. I think this sentiment was what you tapped into when you campaigned; you touched the part in all of us that still wanted to believe in Santa Claus, in American exceptionalism and the hope that the idealism of America's myth could yet be realized.
So many of the guests at the party tonight are upset about the current state of American politics. Because this is Seattle and, for all of our diversity, we're still a fairly liberal bunch of people, most of them are upset that the public option failed, or that some other aspect of your policy hasn't lived up to your campaign's promises. I'm sure that the disappointment of your supporters has become just as tedious a refrain as the anger of the right at their perceived marginalization. Maybe our expectations were unreasonable; maybe your promises were too lofty. The truth is likely somewhere in the middle. Being in this room, surrounded by the love and hospitality of friends and strangers alike, seeing the capacity we have, as individuals, for goodness and generosity, I have to believe that for all of the complaints on the left, for all of the hysteria on the right, we are an exceptional nation, a place of constant evolution and redefinition. The real truth behind the America we believed in as children was that this great undertaking has never been more than the collective efforts of a group of strangers, the sum of our best selves and best intentions. When we lose sight of our own role in this project, every one loses out.
You don't have to prove how bipartisan you can be to unite and inspire this country. Mr. President, your success came not in your stance on the issues but in your ability to make us believe in our own abilities. You haven't reached every one, Mr. President, but you've certainly taught me that this country will only change when we all are willing to work for it. I am frustrated with the slowness of our progress, angry at the extent of our compromises, but I am hopeful that we are moving in the right direction.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Day 75- Sunshine Week
Dear Mr. President,
I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate the importance you've placed on transparency in government. Having an administration I can trust to be open and honest about their conduct is even more important to me than having an administration that agrees with me. In fact, 6 of the 10 form letters I've received from your office have included sections on the importance of transparency in government. The whitehouse.gov website is easier to navigate and full of more relevant content than it's ever been. Thank you for your efforts to these ends.
As some one who clearly appreciates the difficulties of balancing the need to protect the powers of the executive with gaining the trust of the people who empowered you in the first place, I hope that this logic can be extrapolated to other sectors of administration policy. National security is important, and some secrecy will always be required in order to protect ourselves, but, especially when it comes to the detention, treatment, and trials of our enemies, I hope we move toward greater openness with the public. Our reputation as a place that respects the rights of all, even those who hate us, must be restored. It is the true promise of America; upholding these principles in full public scrutiny is the only way to defy those who would scare us back into darkness.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate the importance you've placed on transparency in government. Having an administration I can trust to be open and honest about their conduct is even more important to me than having an administration that agrees with me. In fact, 6 of the 10 form letters I've received from your office have included sections on the importance of transparency in government. The whitehouse.gov website is easier to navigate and full of more relevant content than it's ever been. Thank you for your efforts to these ends.
As some one who clearly appreciates the difficulties of balancing the need to protect the powers of the executive with gaining the trust of the people who empowered you in the first place, I hope that this logic can be extrapolated to other sectors of administration policy. National security is important, and some secrecy will always be required in order to protect ourselves, but, especially when it comes to the detention, treatment, and trials of our enemies, I hope we move toward greater openness with the public. Our reputation as a place that respects the rights of all, even those who hate us, must be restored. It is the true promise of America; upholding these principles in full public scrutiny is the only way to defy those who would scare us back into darkness.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Day 28- State of the Union
Dear Mr. President,
I loved the State of the Union address. I thought you were eloquent, uncompromising and honest. I was cheering out loud at my laptop several times. Your proposal for student loan payment caps, if enacted, will help me save the money I need to pay for school. My degree feels like a real possibility for the first time in a long time. I was also impressed with your commitment to health care, your call to action to both parties. Promising to repeal 'don't ask don't tell' was a needed boost to the left's confidence. I think, on the whole, the speech was excellent.
What unsettled me was the number of people I talked to who had no idea the speech was even happening. From the clerk at the grocery store, to the people in the ER waiting room, who asked my roommate if we'd been attacked, I was shocked by the people who weren't aware of the night's significance. Where does that disconnect come from? Even my politically minded friends have difficulty seeing how the things you say in your speech affect them. Are we too comfortable? Too cynical? Too shallow? Or is it that we've been let down too many times?
For example, I read the transcript of your Q & A in Florida today. One young woman asked you a question about your lack of response or condemnation for the Israeli and Egyptian treatment of Gaza. The audience booed. To your credit, you calmed them down and asked them to be respectful. Unfortunately, you then proceeded to disrespect the woman in an even worse way, responding as you did with a talking point, and not one that answered the question. She asked why you did not condemn human rights violations, and you responded by pontificating about all the reasons we are Israel's ally and how complicated the situation is. Mr. President, she was not asking you to denounce Israel or outline the conflict's complexities. She was asking why you did not condemn specific actions. Any reasonable adult can tell you that this is a question that can be answered without renouncing our allegiance to Israel. The answer to this question is either "I do condemn these acts, but I understand why Israel and Egypt are concerned" or "I don't feel that the you, the UN, the ICRC, and much of the international community are correct in characterizing these actions as human rights violations, let me tell you why...." Maybe if my generation felt that a straight answer from a politician was possible when it comes to tough issues, more of us would pay attention when you speak.
Anyway, Mr. President, I was quite proud of your speech, even if I'm disappointed by the Q & A. I hope that you consider just how answers like the one you gave this woman contribute to the "deficit of trust" you addressed last night.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I loved the State of the Union address. I thought you were eloquent, uncompromising and honest. I was cheering out loud at my laptop several times. Your proposal for student loan payment caps, if enacted, will help me save the money I need to pay for school. My degree feels like a real possibility for the first time in a long time. I was also impressed with your commitment to health care, your call to action to both parties. Promising to repeal 'don't ask don't tell' was a needed boost to the left's confidence. I think, on the whole, the speech was excellent.
What unsettled me was the number of people I talked to who had no idea the speech was even happening. From the clerk at the grocery store, to the people in the ER waiting room, who asked my roommate if we'd been attacked, I was shocked by the people who weren't aware of the night's significance. Where does that disconnect come from? Even my politically minded friends have difficulty seeing how the things you say in your speech affect them. Are we too comfortable? Too cynical? Too shallow? Or is it that we've been let down too many times?
For example, I read the transcript of your Q & A in Florida today. One young woman asked you a question about your lack of response or condemnation for the Israeli and Egyptian treatment of Gaza. The audience booed. To your credit, you calmed them down and asked them to be respectful. Unfortunately, you then proceeded to disrespect the woman in an even worse way, responding as you did with a talking point, and not one that answered the question. She asked why you did not condemn human rights violations, and you responded by pontificating about all the reasons we are Israel's ally and how complicated the situation is. Mr. President, she was not asking you to denounce Israel or outline the conflict's complexities. She was asking why you did not condemn specific actions. Any reasonable adult can tell you that this is a question that can be answered without renouncing our allegiance to Israel. The answer to this question is either "I do condemn these acts, but I understand why Israel and Egypt are concerned" or "I don't feel that the you, the UN, the ICRC, and much of the international community are correct in characterizing these actions as human rights violations, let me tell you why...." Maybe if my generation felt that a straight answer from a politician was possible when it comes to tough issues, more of us would pay attention when you speak.
Anyway, Mr. President, I was quite proud of your speech, even if I'm disappointed by the Q & A. I hope that you consider just how answers like the one you gave this woman contribute to the "deficit of trust" you addressed last night.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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