Monday, April 28, 2008

The discussion in this article, an opinion piece in The L.A. Times by Susan Jacoby, initially struck a chord with me (I think a ringing open G, but I don't have perfect pitch). When I read it a second time, I was somewhat less impressed, but I still think it's an important subject. It's about a growing tendency among Americans to ignore opposing points of view. The article pretty much relies on recognition to make its point, since it doesn't provide any evidence. It also comes from the mindset that everything was better in the past, and hey, isn't it a shame that it isn't so good now? Whether things were better in the past or not, I can't deny that there is a problem now. I was particularly struck by the statement that "[the] spirit of inquiry, which demands firsthand evidence and does not trivialize opposing points of view, is essential to a society's intellectual and political health." I don't see much in the media, from people in my office, or from conversations I hear around me that I would describe as the spirit of inquiry.

I find it unfortuate that Jacoby blames "[a] vast public laziness" for the shoddy reporting, the kind that at best cites the statements of opposing figures in a political argument and calls it a day, without any analysis or discussion. Of course, she's writing in a publication owned by the massive media conglomerate, the Tribune Company, so it's not surprising that she wouldn't find more fault with media entities themselves. Then again, she really does seem to believe that things were different a genearation ago. She pines for the public interest in the Watergate hearings: "I remember those weeks as a period when everyday preoccupations faded into the background and we found time, as a people, to perform our civic duty." Certainly that atmosphere of public inquiry sounds nice, and I don't ultimately doubt that more public interest could lead to a rejuvination of political discussion and better political news, but the presentation here seems to be missing the root of the problem--although I'm not sure what that is myself.

In another article, longer but better and quite worth the time, Steve Fraser writing for tomdispatch describes a different aspect of the widespread lack of interest in significant events. His focus is a second Gilded Age with our huge and growing income inequality and the cronyism seen in every cabinet department (really, every cabinet department, including Labor, HUD, and Treasury--see the first paragraph of the tomdispatcharticle) and all over Congress.

And yet, he points out, despite a similar income disparity and corrupt government, there isn't a cultural and political response anywhere near as deep or loud as there was last time around.
"Fast-forward to our second Gilded Age and the stage seems bare indeed. No great fears, no great expectations, no looming social apocalypses, no utopias or dystopias -- just a kind of flat-line sense of the end of history. Where are all the roiling insurgencies, the break-away political parties, the waves of strikes and boycotts, the infectious communal upheavals, the chronic sense of enough is enough? Where are the earnest efforts to invoke a new order which, no matter how sketchy and full of unanswered questions, now seem as minutely detailed as the blueprints for a Boeing 747 compared to 'yes we can?'"

Fraser plausibly blames the erosion of the industrial working class and the weak labor movement for the lack of fiery rhetoric, passion, and the political muscle that comes with a unified demographic. There is much more to this article, but man, reading it makes me wish I had a more significant job. How ludicrous is it that I work for a labor union, but I have no role in anything interesting like political action or even arguments with management? Instead I answer phones and process membership forms, call the payroll departments in school districts around the state when I notice that dues payments aren't totaling properly, and mostly, read blogs and news articles, or play freerice, because I don't even have much work most of the time.

Last week, I was given a bouquet on Administrative Professionals Day, and it really hit home: I'm an administrative assistant. I knew this already, but it's safe to say that the bouquet, and the statements of my office's leadership team ("we really appreciate your work, everything you do, great job guys") had the oppposite of their intended effect. What kind of Greg am I?