Capitalism with Asian Values, American Style

Earlier this week The Washington Post reported that the Dow Jones Industrial Index was approaching an inflation-adjusted all-time high on the same day that NPR’s All Things Considered reported that national approval ratings of our elected government officials in Washington, across both major parties, was at an all-time low. This juxtaposition was striking in that bull markets have for decades been reliable fuel for the signature American optimism. A traditional African saying holds that if you want to know whether or not times are good simply ask “How are the children?”; In America we have more often asked “How’s the economy?”, and we have turned to the numbers on Wall Street to get much, if not all, of our answer.

But the times, as reflected by our general disgust with the folks we have sent to Washington to represent our interests, seem anything but good, even as Wall Street chugs right along. One obvious narrative is that the rich are getting richer, but that has ever been the case. What has changed is the fact that the have-nots, who have always cut the rich some serious slack based on their own caviar dreams, are fed up because not only are they still not rich, now they don’t even have a functioning democracy.

All of which means that the Asian Century is right on schedule, if we understand that the “Asian Century” is a term carefully selected because it is less threatening to the west than the “Chinese Century.” China, of course, is home to a thriving brand of capitalism that has no truck with democracy. This is politely referred to as capitalism with Asian values. Tuesday November 19th, 2013, the day the Post and NPR made their twin reports, marks the beginning of the Asian Century in America, a mere 13 years and change after the putative beginning of the 21st century, making us strangely like Orthodox Christians celebrating Christmas 13 days after December 25th.

Shut Down Nostalgia

In the condensed timescape of the twenty four hour news cycle, it is now officially appropriate to begin feeling nostalgia for the October government shutdown. We have, it seems, reached the point where the only storyline that captures our collective attention is one of existential threat, which, with the looming specter of federal government debt default, the shut down provided in spades. For just a moment, before House Speaker John Boehner let it slip that he would not, in fact, allow us to welsh on our debt and launch a global economic meltdown on his watch, it was beginning to feel like late 1991 in the Soviet Union. For those of us not out a paycheck this moment was, among many other things, spectacularly entertaining. It was like watching an overtime NFL playoff game, except that instead of the possibility of the end of the road for Ravens Nation (until next season) we were actually witnessing the possible final act for our really existing nation state, without the “just wait ‘til next year” safety net. This made for some real Must See TV, an archaic phrase popularized by the National Broadcasting Company’s dominant Thursday night comedy lineup in the 1990’s, an institution ultimately done in by reality TV. The government shutdown is, of course, nothing but the ne plus ultra form of reality television.

To get a sense of just how entertaining the government shutdown was, one needs only tune in to the news media’s current sky-is-falling narrative account of the difficulties in the implementation of the Affordable Health Care Act. It turns out that “Hey look, Obamacare isn’t working,” isn’t anywhere near as compelling as “Hey look, our way of life hangs in the balance,” although many on the right and many in the media would seek to conflate the two, both judging, perhaps correctly, that doing so is good for their bottom line. But, as I heard Tony Kornheiser say on his radio show the other day in response to Ted Cruz and Sarah Palin’s grandstanding about the World War II Memorial’s shutdown enforced closure, the American people aren’t stupid. As with pornography, we know looming catastrophe when we see it. And, not unlike the eight billion dollars’ worth of porn we consume annually, when we see it we can’t stop watching. (And if that isn’t testament to Freud’s pairing of Eros and Thanatos, the libido and the death instinct, then perhaps nothing is.)

It would be nice to close by saying “Wake me up when Obamacare is as taken for granted as Social Security.” But that presumes a future, one with both a functioning democracy and something resembling a modest social safety net, that was, if I am being optimistic, placed in jeopardy by the government shutdown, or, in my more pessimistic moods, was actually foreclosed by the half-way point of Ronald Reagan’s first term in office. If the latter, then our inability to stop watching the government shutdown was already a form of nostalgia for something long since lost. But since this perspective is simultaneously maudlin, defeatist, and realistic, I choose optimism. In the wake of the government shutdown, and with the full frontal assault on the Affordable Health Care Act in full swing, it may be the peak of naivete to give thanks and exclaim “We just dodged a bullet,” but I prefer the term chutzpah. The only way forward for the left is to have more chutzpah than the right and their corporate media acolytes, who have effectively pronounced Obamacare dead on arrival, to which I can but say “Obamacare is dead. Long live Obamacare!”

Obama Gets Tough?

In a recent interview with Today show host Matt Lauer, President Barack Obama had his “talking tough” moment.  Obama explained that he had been talking to regular, everyday Americans , not ivory tower experts, about the gulf oil spill in order “to know whose ass to kick.”  Upon learning of these remarks I was immediately reminded of Obama’s Oval Office predecessor, President George W. Bush.

            

Bush built his entire presidency around a tough guy response to the terrorist attacks of September 11.  Bush’s tough guy theatrics, which notoriously included the “Mission Accomplished” incident in which Bush arrived on a US aircraft carrier via fighter jet dressed in full fighter pilot regalia, reached their rhetorical peak in 2003 when Bush taunted the “Islamofascists” with a hearty “Bring ‘em on.”

            

While Bush was a disaster as president, he was, nevertheless, well suited to his role as tough guy.  His firm resolve to use force, even, as in the case of Iraq, when uncalled for, required minimal nuance.  And nuance, as exhibited by Bush’s singularly unimaginative “Bring ‘em on,” was not Bush’s strong suit.   Much better for Bush, at least stylistically, to round up a posse and “stay the course,” come hell or high water.  Bush the tough guy had a few good months rallying the American people after 9/11, and the dye was cast for the next seven years of his presidency.  Ironically, Bush publicly voiced regret for his “Bring ‘em on” remarks at the end of his presidency, which was like the 2 Live Crew expressing regret for their explicit lyrics; without incessant chants for female genitalia 2 Live Crew would never have existed in pop culture.  Similalry, Bush only ever existed as president in the guise of the tough guy.

            

Obama was elected president for a number of reasons, and not least among them was an intelligence plain for all to see (and hear).  One of the qualities of Obama’s particular brand of intelligence is his capacity for nuance; Obama successfully touched the third rail of racial politics during his campaign precisely because of this ability to engage with a complex issue on many of its nuanced levels.  In this sense, as in others, we elected Bush’s opposite.  It would be absurd to suggest that Obama is somehow not tough, as any African American able to win the presidency must necessarily possess vast reservoirs of toughness.  But Obama is just too nuanced to play the part of ass-kicking tough guy convincingly.  One gets the sense from Obama that when he does dispense discipline it is in a controlled fashion, measured and delivered with a precision simply foreign to an old-fashioned butt-whooping.  But, “I will diligently pursue those responsible and hold them accountable” doesn’t sound nearly as tough as “I’ll find them and kick their ass,” and the polls must strongly suggest that what Americans want from Obama in response to the gulf oil spill right now is unadulterated aggression.

            

But a more interesting contrast between Bush and Obama is apparent when we look carefully at Obama’s exact words here.  When Bush said “Bring ‘em on,” we had a good idea as to whom the intended recipient of the ass-kicking was (the qualifications for “Islamofascist” were not crystal clear, but at the very least we knew they had to be Muslims).  But explicit in Obama’s tough guy turn is his confusion as to where to open his can of whoop-ass.  Recall that he spoke to those average Joes “so I know whose ass to kick.”

           

Obama’s indeterminate target is a symptom of the most significant threat America faces today and for the foreseeable future.  While I certainly hope to avoid any terrorist violence, the threat posed to civilization, western or otherwise, by terrorism pales in comparison to the potential danger of ecological catastrophe.  And while some would argue that we have created the terrorists just as much as we have created the threats to a sustainable environment (and some would deny that we have created either), it remains far easier to target any given human enemy of the state, be they communists, terrorists, or illegal aliens, then it is to target the agents of ecological disaster.  Blame BP and/or the US Federal Government for the oil spill if you wish to delude yourself, because never has “we have met the enemy and he is us” been more true than in the case of all things “environmental.”

            

Obama’s confusion as to whose ass to kick re. the gulf oil spill is a preview of things to come.  As “the environment” begins to unravel, and basic human resources such as food and potable water begin to diminish, an enraged public will clamor for the responsible heads to roll, just as they have in the case of the gulf oil spill.  But the only ass to kick is our own, since we all created this mess together.   Of course, the outcome of man-made natural disasters such as the gulf oil spill will make that collective beating a fait accompli.  As in all disasters, man-made or otherwise, those at the bottom of the ladder will take the brunt of the beating.  But perhaps ecological catastrophe may be the great equalizer.  It’s silly when they call Obama a socialist; oil, the lifeblood of capitalism, may, when spilled across the earth, turn out to be the greatest socialist of all, i.e. we’re all equally screwed.

The Problem With Really Existing Democracy

            There is a popular bumper sticker that reads “Don’t blame me, I voted for X”.  In Maryland, where Democrat Martin O’Malley (an odd mix of a very poor man’s John Kennedy and Jon Bonjovi if he sang Irish bar tunes) occupies the governor’s mansion, the bumper sticker currently reads “Don’t’ blame me, I voted for Ehrlich”, a reference to erstwhile governor Bob Ehrlich, the Republican ousted by O’Malley in the last gubernatorial election.  In addition to voicing the bumper sticker affixer’s (BSA) displeasure with O’Malley, “Don’t blame me, I voted for Ehrlich” is a clue to the problem with representative democracy.

           

 The key word in the bumper sticker’s formula is “blame”.  To accept blame is the ultimate act of responsibility; only those in power have the authority to say “the buck stops here.”  To accept blame is to accept responsibility for and, by extension, exercise power over the community in which you exist.  The denial of blame gets one off the hook for responsibility, but unmasks a powerlessness beneath the blamelessness.  You can only deny blame if you abdicate the exercise of will.  It is the absence of will that marks the masses who participate in democracy.

           

Everything comes at a price, and democracy is paid for by the transfer of the will from the population at large, the voting public, to its representative government. Representative government holds out the promise of duly elected officials carrying out “the will of the people.”  What gets lost in the ideology of representative democracy is that in order to carry out the will of the people, the government must have in its possession that very will.  This is, of course, guaranteed by the process of free and fair elections; if elected representatives fail to carry out the will of the people they are summarily replaced by those parties who can, for the time being, act as more trustworthy surrogates for the people’s will.  But while the major parties take turns exercising the will of the people like basketball teams alternating possession, the people are relegated to the bleachers, mere spectators.

           

The subtext of “Don’t blame me, I voted for Ehrlich” is the implication that the BSA’s obligations as citizen end in the voting booth.  The BSA need not serve her community because she has met her responsibility in the act of casting her vote.  From that moment on she is blameless.  This passive stance is necessary for the blame, and all of the responsibility that accompanies blame, to be shifted onto the democratically elected government.  There is no reason for the BSA to serve her community, because the responsibility for the welfare of her community is not hers, it is her representative government’s.  Re. the well-being of her community, the BSA’s will is in absentia.  You can find it at City Hall.

           

Ironically, the conservatives who rail against the intrusion of “big government” into the lives of the citizenry are far more likely to display “Don’t blame me, I voted for X” bumper stickers than their liberal brethren.  Conservatives may take their ideology in and out of the voting booth at their leisure, but they leave their will in the ballot box like everyone else.  As liberals prefer naivete to bitterness on their bumper stickers, they must find other means to express their lack of will.  A frequent favorite is the empty gesture of threatening to move to that great white utopia to the north, Canada, where health care is free and the national identity consists of Not Being American.  Liberals, of course, never actually move to Canada.  But what they express in threatening to do so is that they have absolutely nothing to do with the conditions on the ground, which is exactly what the conservatives are saying with “Don’t blame me, I voted for X.”  Void of their will, the liberal instinctive fantasy is flight.  Conservatives, bound by another bumper sticker’s credo, “America, love it or leave it”, encounter the void of their will with the instinctive fantasy of fight, on full display in this recent bumper sticker: “Nuke Iran before Iran nukes us”.  (Perhaps an equivalent liberal bumper sticker might be “That’s it, I’m moving to Canada”, which would of course circumnavigate the highways of America in an endless loop, as endless sign of the American-bound liberal’s escapist fantasy.)

           

“Don’t blame me, I voted for X” can be translated as “Don’t blame me, I voted for Daddy.”  In transferring their will to the representative government, the voting public has regressed to the role of child, with the two major parties assuming the role of Mommy and Daddy.  The child-like fantasy that maintains the transfer of the will of the people to their government is that Mommy and Daddy will take care of everything.  Whether you prefer Mommy or Daddy is ultimately beside the point, as what you really want, as evidenced by the aversion to blame at the core of our bumper sticker’s formula, is to be completely unaccountable.  We will gladly hand over our will if we are allowed to suckle at the breast forever.

           

“Don’t blame me, I voted for X” can also be translated as “Don’t blame me, I didn’t ask to be born,” the common adolescent rallying cry in the face of adult authority.  It is the ultimate passive stance: not only am I not responsible for my actions, the responsibility is yours and became eternally so the moment you created me.  Translated thusly, “Don’t blame me, I voted for X” takes the more radical step beyond emptiness of will to emptiness of being: I do not even exist, except as your creation.  The flight from blame reaches its apogee.  The representative government is left to its own devices; there is no will of the people to enact, as there are no people.

           

As we no longer exist in relationship to our government, and as our government no longer has any use for our will in its current state of self-sufficiency, a space has opened up in which we might reclaim our will.  Of course, by doing so we take the risk of blame, and the risk of forfeiting escape, to Canada or elsewhere, by taking our stand here and now.  We are irrelevant to our government, and our complicity in this irrelevance is total.  As the government, in feigned representation of our will, consolidates global interests with a will that is exclusive of the people, we are left in possession of our “useless” wills.  That is the position from where we start.  What shall we will?    

Slavoj Zizek Met The Buddha On The Road, But Didn’t Kill Him Because He Looked Like Slavoj Zizek

With First As Tragedy, Then As Farce, Slavoj Zizek is at the peak of his considerable critical powers. Zizek’s thesis here is that 9/11, at the beginning of this inauspicious decade, and the ongoing global financial crisis at its end, together signify the twin deaths of liberal democracy as hegemonic paradigm. Zizek maintains that 9/11 marked the death of liberal democracy’s political supremacy, with the financial crisis finishing off its claim to transcendence in the economic sphere. Zizek’s next, more problematic maneuver is a call for a return to a re-imagined communism in response to the failures of liberal democracy and the lurch in which these failures have left us all.

Zizek’s greatest strength is the critical eye he brings to bear on the current state of affairs. The first half of First As Tragedy, Then As Farce sings as Zizek shreds the pieties of liberal democracy’s “cultural capitalism”. Zizek nails precisely how capitalism has masked itself culturally, posing as the antidote for the poison to be found in its very own nature: “Consumption is supposed to sustain the quality of life, its time should be ‘quality time’ – not the time of alienation, of imitating models imposed by society, of the fear of not being able to ‘keep up with the Joneses’, but the time of the authentic fulfillment of my true Self, of the sensuous play of experience, and of caring for others, through becoming involved in charity or ecology, etc.”

Zizek’s key insight is that however you dress up consumption, in order for capitalism, “cultural” or otherwise, to function, consumption must continue apace. Zizek sees the pseudo-transformation of consumption on display in the Starbucks “It’s not just what you’re buying. It’s what you’re buying into.” ad campaign: “The ‘cultural surplus’ is here spelled out: the price is higher than elsewhere since what you are really buying is the ‘coffee ethic’ which includes care for the environment, social responsibility towards the producers, plus a place where you yourself can participate in communal life…. And if this is not enough, if your ethical needs are still unsatisfied and you continue to worry about Third World misery, then there are additional products you can buy.” Taking Zizek’s insight to heart, one is reminded of President Bush’s exhortation of Americans to fulfill their civic duty by continuing to keep shopping after 9/11, and of President Obama’s recent statements to the effect that if Americans will only keep shopping the end of the recession is surely in sight. The truth grasped by Zizek is that be it tragic horror (9/11), economic meltdown, or crippling guilt due to “Third World misery”, capitalism, again “cultural” or otherwise, has reduced us to one response: Keep Shopping!

First As Tragedy, Then As Farce climaxes just past its mid-point , when Zizek takes us where this is all headed (a place where our current leadership dare not gaze, as they remain duty bound in their loyalty to liberal democracy, that spouse of capitalism, the vehicle transporting us exactly where Zizek points). Zizek describes “an apocalyptic end point: ecological breakdown, the biogenetic reduction of humans to manipulable machines, total digital control over our lives…. At all these levels, things are approaching a zero-point; ‘the end of times is near.’” One is forced to decide whether Zizek is yelling “Fire!” in a crowded movie theater or whether he is simply a reasonable pessimist. I know what vibe I am getting.

Having walked up to the abyss and peaked over, Zizek spends the rest of First As Tragedy, Then As Farce in an impassioned plea for a return to a re-imagined communism for the 21st century. Given the track record of “really existing socialism” in the 20th century, it is almost impossible not to dismiss this portion of the text as a manual on How To Make A Very Bad Situation Even Worse. But if you give Zizek the benefit of the doubt that a constructive re-imagining of communism is even possible, then one of Zizek’s throwaway lines reveals the limitations of Zizek’s strict materialist imagination.

The passage in question, a familiar refrain from Zizek’s prior work, is his evaluation of what he terms “Western Buddhism”. Zizek’s stance on Buddhism as practiced in the west is that “it enables you to fully participate in the frantic capitalist game while sustaining the perception that you are not really in it, that you are well aware how worthless the whole spectacle is, since what really matters is the peace of the inner Self to which you know you can always withdraw.” But one need only expose one’s self to such bestselling mainstream “Western Buddhist” authors as Pema Chodron to understand that the entire edifice of Buddhist dharma is intended to cultivate mindfulness, i.e. being fully present to the world and all its suffering. That Zizek’s caricature of “Western Buddhism” inverts the process of mindful awakening into a means of self-centered withdrawal, in effect accusing Buddhism of cultivating the very condition for which it is a cure, leaves Zizek’s painfully obvious reaction formation open to interpretation.

The bet here is that, on one level, Zizek is well aware of what the Buddhists are really on about; the Buddhists make no bones about their belief in the non-conceptual nature of being, that the utility of thinking has its limits, and that mindful awakening occurs only where thought intentionally leaves off. Zizek’s dust jackets proclaim that “he leaves no social or cultural phenomenon untheorized”, equating Zizek with infinite theory. Oft referred to as the “rock star” of critical theory, it should come as no surprise that Zizek’s narcissistic equilibrium rests on the public recognition of the potency and unlimited nature of his theory, of his thought. Buddhism, with its emphasis on the limitations of thought, says to Zizek that there is a limit to how far his thinking can take us, and that the most important steps, even and especially for Slavoj Zizek, must be taken without Slavoj Zizek. The Buddha has thus left Zizek with a gaping narcissistic wound.

On another level, Zizek’s dismissal of “Western Buddhism” highlights the great, lasting flaw of Marxist materialism. The religiously atheist Marxist lineage, of which Zizek is the current standard bearer, bets the house that human social relations can be arranged such that peace and justice will reign. But Zizek, who is as indebted to Freud as he is to Marx, would be wise to revisit Freud’s remarks on communism in Civilization and Its Discontents: “the psychological premises on which the system is based are an untenable illusion. In abolishing private property we deprive the human love of aggression of one of its instruments, certainly a strong one, though certainly not the strongest; but we have in no way altered the differences in power and influences which are misused by aggressiveness, nor have we altered anything in its nature. Aggressiveness was not created by property.” Never was uttered a more succinct explanation for the failure of “really existing socialism” in the 20th century. In whatever form Zizek re-imagines communism, he will have done nothing to alter the basic fact of human aggression, what Freud uncannily named our Death Instinct.

Only the world’s great religions, e.g. Buddhism, are equipped for the duel with the Death Instinct (Freud himself absented psychoanalysis from this epic duel with his belief that it’s utility was limited to tamping down neurosis into common every day misery; Freud’s atheism, shaping his disbelief in religion’s ability to pick up where psychoanalysis leaves off, marks him as one of history’s great pessimists). The frequent failures of religion are at their core no more than testimony to the power of the Death Instinct. It is the Death Instinct, not liberal democratic capitalism, that has brought this world to the brink of disaster. And it is only by connecting with something greater than the Death Instinct (something inside of us, outside of us, who anymore cares where this something resides?) that human civilization will outlast the century. If communism is indeed the answer, we will achieve that answer through (there is no other, less loaded word for it than) religion, including Buddhism. Zizek and his fellow travelers overlook the Buddha (and Christ, etc.) at everyone’s peril. Communism is fine just as it is, Mr. Zizek. Please help us re-imagine religion.

A Few Thoughts on the Recent Election

There are many lessons to be drawn from this election. As everyone acknowledges, it is a rebuke from the American public for the current war in Iraq, where we are in the ultimate damned if we do damned if we don't situation; As I heard it said on the radio this morning, there is not much support for bringing the troops home immediately because it would probably make things even worse, but at the same time there is not much support for keeping the troops there much longer because they don't seem to be making things any better. So the vote had less to do with arguments about what to do next than it did with frustration at the Bush administration for putting us between this rock and a hard place.

But there is more to it than that. Bush's fatal political mistake this year, one he belatedly attempted to correct in the final weeks of the campaign when he publicly disavowed his "stay the course" rhetoric, was an inability to connect with the American public about the reality of the situation on the ground in Iraq. The American public might have been able to stomach the situation in Iraq if Bush had more effectively over the past year acknowledged the problems with the military campaign and called upon America to make the difficult but important step (from his perspective) of continued sacrifice to overcomethe setbacks in Iraq. But Bush until very recently, when it was already too late politically, continued to paint a rosy picture of progress and approaching victory in Iraq that was out of joint with the actualsituation on the ground. The American public was left with two possible conclusions. Either their President was not being straight with them, or their President was ignoring reality. I believe that this impression, from the American public's perspective, was as much if not more important in this election than the actual state of the war inIraq.

Another problem the GOP had in this election cycle was the taint of scandal. Democrats are as prone to scandal as Republicans, but this time it was almost exclusively the Republicans who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that the GOP has had its hands on the steering wheel for the past 12years in Congress, and as we all know "absolute power corrupts absolutely...."

But astute observers of this election will realize that there was more to this election than just GOP gaffes. Bill Clinton's political genius was his ability to capture the political center. The party that captures that political center is the party that will lead in America, and in this election the Dems exhibited a renewed capacity for holding the center. They strategically ran candidates in conservative strongholds that allowed them to win House and Senate races in places like Virginia, Kentucky, Missouri, and Montana. The radicalized bases in both parties make it difficult for both of them to hold to the center for extended periods of time, so usually the center goes to the party that is hungrier. Right now the Dems are hungrier, and have, for today, nailed a formula to appeal to the political center.

The story for '08 will beif that center holds. Losing a national election in the fashion that the GOP has is necessarily a time of identity crisis for the losing party. The question right now for the GOP is simply "who are we?" For 5 years the GOP's definitive identity has been strength in the war on terror. Due to a confluence of circumstances, that identity does not have the traction it once did (the reasons why would make an interesting debate for another day). The GOP is now tasked with the inevitable political chore of redifining itself to correspond with the chamging political landscape. To do so successfully it must negotiate some tensions within its own ranks, having to do with the aforementioned radicalized elements and the political center. To cut to the chase, the GOP must make the most difficult decision it has made in some time, ie. parting ways with the Rovean politics that has empowered its hold on the majority and the oval office for the past 6years. Hilary Clinton is oft criticized as a polarizing figure, but shehas nothing on Mr. Rove, whose avowed strategies are energizing the GOPbase and getting just enough moderate votes to hold power. This strategy worked like a charm for 5 years. But the landscape has, as ever, shifted, and I don't believe that Rove, as powerful a strategistas he has been, has shifted with it. Rove was an (evil) genius for a time, but his performance this year makes it highly dobtful that he can lead theGOP to victory in '08. His art does not capture the center.

On a final note, I believe the McCain or Guiliani campaigns are moretroubled than appears on the surface. I don't see how either of them appeal to the GOP base without alienating the very centrists who give them their crossover appeal. Perhaps a lesser known mainstream conservative like Romney is a safer bet to capture the center. As for me, where do I get an Obama '08 sticker? His politics may not be centrist, but I believe he has the charisma to make up for that with thevoters. Time will tell....

MARRY ME, WHOEVER YOU ARE

If there is one thing that liberals and conservatives can agree on, it is that the media is biased towards the opposing view. Conservatives long ago made a cliché out of the “liberal media bias”, and any liberal worth her salt can tell you that the mainstream media is owned and operated by the same corporations for whom the Grand Old Party is transforming America into a client state. I am not interested in asking which side is right, because that is a trick question designed by both sides to ensnare those foolhardy enough to wander into the trap. Both sides of the aisle adopt the pose of media bias victim, but if they can not convince you of their victim-hood, they will settle for a debate. Because once you are affixed to the sticky-trap of the media bias debate, you are not going anywhere that either side can’t keep an eye on you. When you enter a debate that can never be won, you have already lost. And what you have lost is the ability to ask the first question that should always be asked of politicians and their parties: What’s in this for them? In this set of particulars, what do both parties have to gain by portraying themselves as victims of the media?

Avoiding such bottomless pits as the futile media bias debate is where the rubber hits the road for the body politic of a democratic America. Citizens leaping into the abyss of the media bias debate enable political entities, both right and left in orientation, to concentrate on their real ambition, the consolidation and expansion of political power. Americans wishing to hold politicians accountable to the citizenry they purport to represent must remember that a magician distracts you with his right hand so you won’t see the tricks he’s up to with his left. Conservative and liberal politicians have us all arguing about the media over here, while they are both over there dividing up what belongs to us like kid brothers and sisters measuring who gets the bigger glass of milk.

Both liberals and conservatives are entrenched in the role of media bias victim because of the political ammunition accessible from the victim role. Donning the cloak of victimization infuses a political entity with greater potency, which more than makes up for the slight cloud of weakness that lingers over the victim. The potency of the victim flows from the pall cast over the alleged oppressor from the other side of the political spectrum. Right and left are so quick to paint themselves as victims in order to smear the opposition as oppressors. The universal desire by both ends of the political spectrum to be identified as victim of the media reflects how important holding the moral high ground remains in the war without guns that is contemporary American politics (see the attempted character assassinations of Bush via dubious National Guard duty and of Kerry by way of swift boat veterans as the central acts of violence in the political war without guns; so far the conservatives have better snipers). Holding the moral high ground is the sine qua non for success in American politics, and has been ever since the Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth Rock with their own brand of moral fervor. Seizing it gave liberals desegregation and the end of the Vietnam War, just as it fueled the success of the recent conservative campaigns for war in Iraq and the Patriot Act (note that liberals most often attempt to seize the moral high ground on the coattails of social justice, while conservatives lean heavily on the American public’s belief in the sanctity of patriotism-ergo the aptly titled “Patriot Act”).

When conservatives and liberals play the media victim role they resemble nothing more than a fraudulent employee wearing a neck brace to work in order to get workman’s compensation. The employee is not really hurt, but he knows that by portraying himself as injured by his employer he will be able to manipulate the employer to his own ends. The false wound grants true power. Have you ever faked an illness just to miss a day of work? Imagine what politicians are willing to fake to get their hands on their drug of choice, power.

The breadth of the myth of political entities as passive media victims is matched only by the depth of its absurdity. Political spin doctors are the most capable and calculating manipulators of media breathing air (ad wizards give them a run for their money, but ultimately it is easier to convince someone to buy a Coke than it is to convince him that you are the right guy to run his life). The media bias debate is perfect cover for the real battle by both right and left to more effectively manipulate the media to their own respective ends, a battle now fought to the (political) death. The real question is not whether right or left are the true victim of media bias, but whether right or left is the reigning victor in media manipulation.

Of course, the two party system guarantees both right and left a perpetual bout on the championship card. In real boxing, one or two losses send a fighter into retirement or obscurity. In American politics there are no real defeats, because no matter how many times the right or the left lose, they are right back in the ring for the next championship fight. As vicious as the war between right and left is on one level, with both sides vying to play the Don, on another level the never-ending skirmish between institutionalized right and left is actually a dance. As long as the two keep up their never-ending political tango they have the dance floor all to themselves, making American politics nothing more than an infinite 1950’s dance-a-thon, where the last couple dancing wins the prize.

In order to believe in the reality of their democracy, Americans focus exclusively on the war between right and left for Big Enchalada status. The fact that almost every American, whether Conservative or Liberal, believes that their side is the victim of media bias originates from our need to believe that our democracy is real, that our participation in elections has real consequences, that the future really is at stake when we cast our ballot. To accept that right and left are ultimately collaborators taking turns as Head Honcho would be to deflate the drama of political theater into farce. The dominant cultural myth of America is the greatness of our democracy. For Americans to continue to believe in the greatness of their democracy it must be increasingly infused with the meaning of war. American democracy needs the weight of war to hold it down. Otherwise, having severed its legitimate connection to the populace by failing to offer real choices, it would float away, a farce whose plot is lighter than air.

Americans are now fighting a war to establish “democracy” on the other side of the world. The war in Iraq is something of a wedding ceremony for war and American democracy, in a courtship that is at least as old as the military industrial complex. The difference between the war-without-guns to keep democracy real at home, and the war to make American democracy real in Iraq, is that we can use real guns in Iraq. The symbolic violence enacted by American democratic theater at home is no longer vivid enough to keep the American audience in its seats. Now we must spill the real blood of brown skinned Muslims to keep the show of American democracy in production; As ever, the show must go on. This week’s revelation that the National Security Agency has begun spying on Americans at home is the first indication that the blood spilled in Iraq will not suffice, and that the marriage between war and democracy in the Homeland will no longer be symbolic. Americans sang “Over there, over there” during World War I, but will soon be singing “Over here, over here” in the War (without end) On Terror, a war whose drumbeat has become the beating heart of American democracy.

To divorce democracy from war, Americans must remarry their own democracy. But, like any successful second marriage, this reborn marriage must tell a new story the second time around. The false divide between American right and left, encoded in the myth of media bias, is the lie that undid the first marriage. Americans, no longer able to make real choices for their country through the levers of democracy, became legally separated from both the right and the left, who had in the meantime married one another. It was the ultimate marriage of convenience, like a seventeenth century marriage between rival European royal families that sewed up the map for both of the involved clans. Polygamy has now ensued, as in order to finalize their divorce with the American citizenry , the right and the left have together now married war.

For a second marriage between Americans and democracy to work, it will have to be a lot like the movie Somersby, in which the Richard Gere who returned from war to Jodie Foster became the mensch he had never before been. In fact he may not have even been the same person at all. But that’s okay, because Americans are looking to remarry a mensch this time, and don’t really care if our new democracy isn’t really our old one. Power will always be seductive for politicians, but for a second marriage to work the bond between Americans and democracy must be strong enough for fidelity to trump seduction. If we can craft such a relationship between Americans and democracy, Jodie Foster can look that new democracy in the eye and say “I never loved him the way that I love you.”

I managed to catch a broadcast of my favorite television program the other day, ESPN's "Pardon The Interruption" (PTI), a rare feat these days due to parental duties for my one year old, who has a strict No-TV policy diligently policed by the author of that legislation, my lovely wife Jennifer. During this episode of PTI, the charmingly argumentative hosts of the program, Kornheiser and Wilbon, took a break from yelling at each other about the latest happenings in the male soap opera of sports entertainment and showed a clip of our President in Beijing, China. Mr. Bush had just finished some sort of photo-op/brief press conference for the gathered media, and attempted to exit stage right. Unfortunately for Mr. Bush he attempted to exit via a large, rather ornate set of red and gold doors, a pair of doors fit for an entrance to a palace or grand ballroom. Mr. Bush reached for the first of these doors without hesitation, without a doubt in his mind that it would open for him and allow a graceful exit from the stage. But the door was locked, or perhaps as a decorative door it just doesn't open. Undaunted, without missing a beat, Mr. Bush reached for the second, conjoined door. This kind of thing happens to me all the time, I'll be entering the local 7-11 and the first glass door I try is inevitably the one locked. Mr. Bush must have reacted as we all do, we know we can get in the 7-11 if we just use the other glass door. So it was typically American of Mr. Bush to grab for that second door, only this time the second door wouldn't budge either. At this point I thought Mr. Bush handled the situation with aplomb, as he appeared to share a laugh at his plight with the on-looking media, diffusing the embarrassment of the moment and restoring some dignity as he at last found the real exit stage right, a discrete set of black curtains set a few feet to the back of the stage behind the decorative doors. Mr. Bush then got out of there post haste. Narrating the clip, Kornheiser and Wilbon had a few laughs at the president's expense, but were fairly generous in cutting him plenty of slack.

Of course, the temptation in observing this clip is to use it to make a mockery of Mr. Bush, which Wilbon gave us a taste of by comparing the moment to President Ford's memorable tendency to fall down the stairs when deplaning, a tendency exquisitely sent up by that great Saturday Night Live "Stumblebum" skit (which skit served as my primary introduction to Mr. Ford's tendency, as I was in diapers during Ford's presidency). Mr. Bush's embarrassing Beijing moment dovetails nicely with his famous/infamous deficiency in oratory. We always knew Bush was no Churchill, but we never suspected he was a Ford.

But rather than skewer Mr. Bush for his comical blunder, I'd rather do something more pretentious. I intend to view this incident symbolically, for I believe that what happened on the stage in Beijing can tell us much more than that our president is kind of dopey and gravitas-challenged. Viewed symbolically, this incident is a snapshot of the failure of Mr. Bush's most important foreign policy strategy, the war in Iraq. More importantly, it is a roadmap (to borrow a thus far empty phrase from another Middle Eastern thicket) for Bush, if he can summon the courage of leadership to emulate his wisdom on stage in Beijing.

The symbolism is not overly complex. In Beijing, Mr. Bush found himself on stage, just as his decision to pursue war in Iraq placed Mr. Bush at the center of the global stage. As I watched Mr. Bush pull futilely on those decorative doors, I could only think of the day he landed a jet fighter on an American aircraft carrier, to proclaim victory in Iraq. In the buildup to the Iraq war Mr. Bush and his administration had promised a swift victory that would both rid the world of the threat of Saddam Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction and establish a model democracy in the heart of the Islamic world. Top Gun-style theatrics aside, Mr. Bush’s proclamation that day aboard the aircraft carrier was his finest hour: weapons of mass destruction or not, Saddam was deposed, and for a brief moment an Iraqi democracy appeared a fait accompli, with but an inevitable series of elections to make it official.

The aircraft carrier stunt was the Bush team’s choreographed attempt to exit stage right through the doors of history with Mr. Bush off to attend a post-Oscar-style after party where he would be feted as a conquering hero. But, just like those doors in Beijing, the doors of history would not budge. And Mr. Bush, his political capital, and the US Military are stuck in Iraq to this day, where assuredly, things have not gone according to script.

If the symbolic view ended there it would be a possibly clever, but probably just cute way of criticizing Mr. Bush’s plan to triumph over terrorism via victory in Iraq. But the real value of interpreting events symbolically rests on an ability to carry the analysis into the future tense. Events have a way of unfolding that not only reflects what has already come to pass, but offers a guide for a safe, if trying, navigation of churning waters. I believe that events unfolded on stage in Beijing in precisely such a fashion, and that the value of viewing those events symbolically obtains only when we view the scene in its entirety. If Mr. Bush is to salvage his final three years in office he needs to discover a future tense in Iraq. Put bluntly, the man needs an exit strategy. On stage that day in Beijing, Mr. Bush’s own reactions will, if viewed symbolically, guide him towards a possible exit strategy, or at least an approach that would make one possible.

The key element in Mr. Bush’s reaction to his embarrassing situation in Beijing was his immediate awareness of the humor of the situation. Laughing at himself was the only way to preserve his dignity in a potentially humiliating circumstance.
Now I am not suggesting that Mr. Bush needs to find the humor in the morass of Iraq, because there is nothing funny in the daily tragedies befalling both Iraqis and American servicemen (and servicewomen). Instead I want to link Mr. Bush’s use of humor in the face of embarrassment with the quality of humility. Mr. Bush evidenced some capacity for humility when he laughed at his blunder on stage in Beijing. By laughing at himself he laughed with the onlooking media throng, instead of allowing them to laugh at him. Bush was then able to exit the stage, dignity largely intact, by way of an inconspicuous curtain at the back of the stage. Symbolically, this is the recipe for Mr. Bush to exit Iraq. He, and his administration, must exercise a capacity for humility that to this point appears to be beyond their ken. But it is only through a quantum leap in humility that Mr. Bush can summon the courage to craft an exit strategy from Iraq that will in no way resemble the glorious victory envisioned at the outset of hostilities. It is only through humility that Mr. Bush can accept that the goal of establishing a foothold for democracy in Iraq through the use of military power has failed, and that simply to avoid civil war in Iraq and get our men and women home will be all the victory we are going to get. And perhaps most importantly, it is only through a demonstration of humility that Mr. Bush can join with the American public and the world who watches us, just as he joined with the media on stage in Beijing. Mr. Bush’s war in Iraq has been one of the great acts of hubris in modern times, and it will take an even greater display of humility for Mr. Bush to balance the scales. I have my doubts as to whether Mr. Bush is up to the task, but I have no doubt that this was symbolized for us all to see on a stage in Beijing.