See Infra

Digging at the confluence of culture and everything else

Category Archives: Culture

Making Deals

Imagine you are playing a game. The object of the game is to have the most points after an indeterminate amount of time. The only way to get points is to make deals. Deals give you points in exchange for someone else getting points. Not making trades gives you no points.
 
OK, that’s the set up. You are offered a deal of 5 points to 5 points. Do you take it?
 
The correct answer is “how many players are there?” If there are only two players, the net result of the deal is 0, so you might as well not make it. In fact, the very fact you are offered the deal is suspicious, so you might even refuse it if it appears lopsided in your favor. The game becomes functionally zero-sum. If however, there are 318.9 million players (he said, picking a TOTALLY ARBITRARY NUMBER) then you should almost definitely take the deal! You need those points. Deals everywhere! You might even take lopsided deals just to get more points, as long as you spread the points around, you stay ahead.
 
OK. Now the twist. What if roughly half of those 318.9 million players wore one kind of shirt while you wore a different kind of shirt? And let’s say you like the people wearing your kind of shirt, who go to your kind of bars, have families with people who wear your kind of shirt a lot. And let’s say you don’t really care for those other people, who go to the other kind of bars, have families with people wearing the other shirt color. I mean, there’s more to it than that, obviously. These are just TOTALLY ARBITRARY things picked out of the ether to point out that you identify with one half of the players more than the other half.
 
The deal rate would slow down until you found clusters of people you wanted to make deals with. But slowly you would sort yourself and start making deals again. Except maybe then you’d discover that in order to get really big points, you need to make big deals, where a whole lot of you, but not all of you, with one kind of shirt have to pool your point contributions by making 0 to 1 deals to some designated people with your kind of shirt, but shinier. And then they make a big deal with someone with a shiny version of the other kind of shirt and whatever group they rustled up. And first time it happens and you get that huge point kick back it’s amazing! So you sign up to do it again. Except, because there are 318.9 million of you and you have to execute a lot of simultaneous, 1-0 deals and hope it all kind of works out, and a lot of time it doesn’t, so maybe you stop making those kinds of deals and kinda start hating the people with your kind of shirt and lots of points who keep wanting to make big deals.
 
Another twist in this game. Not even a twist so much as noting something I didn’t say. I didn’t say when the game ended. No one knows when it ends. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it does. But you know you feel better when it feels like you have a lot of points and the people around you have slightly less points than you and the people who wear the other kind of shirt have way less points and why wouldn’t it? It means you’re more likely to be winning and you want to be winning all the time just in case the game ends on the next move.
So there are less points flying around than you’d like, but it’s ok! Everyone has made a rational decision within the framework of the game so at least it makes sense, and you’re not sure you’re winning, but you’re definitely not losing, and the people around you who are most likely winning more than you you actually like a whole lot!
OK. Very last twist. What if what I said about winning was a lie, and the game is set up so no one ever wins. But it still feels good to get points, especially when people who wear your shirt have more points than people who wear the other kind of shirt and the people around who you like you have about as many points as you; and everyone else feels that way except a couple of losers with less points who keep telling people the game isn’t about winning even though it definitely feels like it is.
Man. Playing that game would get pretty tragic quick, wouldn’t it?

Parallel Invaders

Mary Karr has published an extraordinary piece about the entirely too common experience of sexual assault.[1] Karr:

[H]e grabbed between my legs with a meaty claw, big as a waffle iron. He also called me the “C” word with breath that stank of beer. Then he passed on into a sandwich shop with his buddy. [H]e wasn’t dope sick or a flat-out loon.

In case you haven’t been on the receiving end of this sort of assault, you should know the primal physiological response it evokes—in this woman, anyway. The stomach drops, as if you’ve been shoved backward from a skyscraper and are flailing through space. Time dismantles. […] Inside, the Grabber, as I thought of him, was waiting in line to order a sandwich. He was fine; I was the one with the problem.

Please, read the whole thing.

I don’t understand the fear of women in their full #YesAllWomen totality feel. I can’t – I grew up in the parallel universe where the sexual assaults of the real world are invisible, more fantastical than ghosts or gremlins. A universe where all sexual overtures, even of the gross sort, seem welcome on some level. Karr corrects:

One pal joked, “Oh, yeah, try it,” suggesting that for men, any sexual overture is welcome. I asked how he’d feel if a fellow weighing three-forty cornered him somewhere isolated and manhandled him. Suddenly this struck him as way more sinister.

This reframing, alone, doesn’t let us understand the fear or see the real universe from our parallel existence. But I think we can begin to glimpse it by imagining these overtures not only as coming from a rough, gigantic man[2] but that he is one of countless rough, gigantic men. That there are nothing but rough gigantic men, the ninety-some percent of the human species sexually drawn to you. Some of who are quite decent! But they look the same as the other ones or maybe better. Karr:

a voice rose from the sidewalk. “What’d he do?” It was a man on a rectangle of cardboard you might normally step around.

“He grabbed […] my private zone!” [I said. He] jutted his jaw out, saying, “He cain’t do that” with such fire that I started dialing 911. […] My new friend on the cardboard said, “Go, go, go!” and I started to trot. They broke into a sprint, outpacing me right off.

There also needs to be action with our empathy. The heroes of this story are Karr and the man with nothing but a cardboard home and a sense of righteousness who helped her. The Grabber is the obvious antagonist, as is the system that will fail to end the Grabber’s threat. But I keep thinking of the Grabber’s friend. He, I think, is the true villain of the tale.

There are two ways to exit the parallel universe where men exist without fear of sexual assault. One is to be forcibly wrestled into the real world by the sudden visibility of assault. To have your loved ones become the victims and seeing the world their eyes, or worse, becoming a victim yourself.[3] The other is to catch glimpse of the assaulters as they pass from our world to the real one and back again. They alone among parallel men can transit between worlds – doing their damage and then hiding among the good parallel men still none the wiser. They alone know how to erase the borders between worlds, to seduce us into their conspiracy, that we do not know enough of the real world to see something when their mask slips. They alone among the parallel universe men know we live in is fiction because they help create it.

Of course, our world is better. So we need to bring the women here, where sexual assault is as fantastical as ghosts and gremlins. We need to make our world the real one, freed from the malignant influence of a horrific parallel universe where men destroy women with word every word and every touch.[4] It is our duty to stop the parallel invaders we have been fooled into thinking are friends.

Yesterday, I announced that “all that I am” was in preparation for fatherhood. I hope you begin to gauge the full meaning of “all”.

Footnotes

[1] If you think the numbers are inflated, I challenge you to find a number of sexual assaults you would accept as reasonable.

[2] Especially ones with the impudent swagger of the never-punished.

[3] The double invisibility of male sexual assault victims is beyond the scope of this essay.

[4] The full strategy for how good men can stop bad men is way beyond the scope of this essay. But spoiler: it involves norms and cultural thinking.

It Has All Been For This

I try to tell the truth. I don’t just mean “don’t lie” and I don’t mean “preach the good news” or even “speak truth to power”. I mean that I’m constantly trying to understand the world and then convince other people to understand it too. I’ve been doing it for a painful lifetime. But what has it all been for?

Truth telling is one of America’s great fetishes. Mind you, this is not the same thing as actually valuing and rewarding truth telling. No, plenty of research has proven that truth telling is worse than useless. In fact, it repels people away from you and your ideas. So while I’d love to believe that my truth telling comes from pure motives, I am certain it does not. Maybe it’s a desperate grasp for power in dangerous world. Maybe it’s self-destruction, Churchill’s black dog now hunting me.

I remember meeting the black dog for the first time. It was after one of many sleepless nights at my first undergraduate college. My sleeping patterns had gotten so bad that my biology professor (bless his heart) had to call and wake me up so I could take an exam. Finally, I decided I couldn’t, wouldn’t live like that and I walked over to the student health center. While in the waiting room I look for more truth to assimilate and pick up a pamphlet on depression. I force myself to check off my symptoms. I check off all but two boxes. I see my black dog for the first time, promising the comfort of self-destruction. My past takes on a new cast. My new thoughts cannot be trusted. The black dog is always with me and speaks with my own voice.

* * *

I’m in my first elementary school. I’m perched alone on the smaller of two metal slides, with my feet planted on the top step. I’m watching my classmates run around the field. Someone asks me what I’m doing. I tell her I’m trying to understand why the boys are chasing the girls. I shift my posture and keep watching. They call me Mr. Detective. I’m outside, looking in.

I’m in my middle school. I’m talking to one of my few friends. I brag about being able to talk to almost all of the cliques in the school because I’m not part of them. But inside I know I’m an outsider everywhere and always will be.

I’m in my second elementary school. A special place for children like me, with brilliant but fragile minds, in love with the world. I recognize myself in all three traits. I open up so I can join the Community that will take me to high school and beyond. I have hope.

I’m in my high school. I’m nudging a friend to make the decision that will make her happy. I’m getting worse at listening and better at talking. I wonder again if I’m manipulating people or doing what’s right. I forget to wonder why I don’t take my own advice.

I’m in my room. My dad and I had another fight yesterday. Today he brought me Spider-Man. We don’t talk about yesterday. I read about Peter Parker failing his father figure, about him being hated by his city. I embrace the pain, the power and the responsibility.

I’m in a psychiatrist’s office. It’s been years since I beat back the black dog, but it’s back. I beg him to get rid of it. He tells me a truth: I want to change the world so I can be happy. I cry because then I can’t be happy.

I’m in my first elementary school. Someone is doing a presentation. The scotch tape and rulers holding up the prop stand keep falling apart and I keep scooting over to fix it. The teacher tells me to stop. I don’t. They call me Mr. Fix It.

I’m in a Christian home. I’m still not comfortable being one of them. I’m telling them that I’d be bored in heaven. I’m here to fix things. It’s my calling.

I’m in my home. I’m trying to save a friend again by typing the right words or making the right late night phone call. I know that there is a price and it may be her friendship. I can’t think of a reason it shouldn’t be me that pays it.

I’m in my high school. We’re asking if the Community and respect or the individual and self-actualization is more important. I say the right answer, that each serves the other. I instead try to love without being loved.

I’m in my room. I’ve been crushed by my consistent failures. My parents hate me. I’m angry at them for hating me. I’m angrier at myself that I have given them good reason. Then something touches me and I feel totally and completely loved. I call it God.

I’m in a psychologist’s office. I dropped out of college last year. The fog is lifting. I did the right things, wrong. I start to do the right things, better.

I’m in my second college. A long string of failed friendships-turned-romances is behind me. A cute stranger is in front of me. I do something new, something better. I ask her out on a date. I love her. I ask her to love me. She loves me. We get married in a house, in a church, and in a field. Friends and family tell me I finally did it right.

I’m in a physician’s office. A week ago she told us my wife probably miscarried. I don’t dare to hope. The physician spins the ultrasound’s display towards us. There is a heartbeat.

It has all been for this.

* * *

I have never in my life done something for a pure reason. My virtues have served as apologies. My generosities have been desperation. My love has come from self-hatred. But I’ve still done good. I’ve still loved the world. Purity is a crock anyway. Without purity I’ve learned and I’ve grown and I’ve grasped what power I have to change things and tried to change things for the better. I have engaged in the noblest work of lifetimes.

So here, now, I make my claim against the world, and announce my gift to the same. His name is Franklin, due in the second week of February. Take care of him, for I will raise him to take care of you. Let him be born free of kings and bound by righteousness. Help him serve and be served. Help him change and be changed. Help him love and be loved.

All that I am has been for this.

The War on Racism May Not Be Won After All

I used to think that the war against racism had been won. That (with others) Martin Luther King Jr. had dealt the critical blow and won the decisive battle not so long ago. That his martyred spirit would guard the victory into eternity. That all that was left would be the decades long mopping-operation where we as a society moved on from racism to slowly dismantling the booby-trapped structures and systems that racism left behind. It is ugly, painstaking, divisive work, but it is planned along a schedule of inevitability. Alas, no battle plan survives contact with the enemy.

The forces of racism have counterattacked in force. They have tapped their reserves, they have recruited partisans, and they have struck with their guerrillas. And now, the bolstered forces of racism – ugly, no modifier, hunting for a race war racism – think they have not merely infiltrated but seized control of the party of Lincoln. They think they’re about to march on Washington to take it over.

They may be right.

We are too used to arguing about whether and how to dismantle each bit of structural racism. That is an important fight, especially now that we no longer are on the schedule of inevitability but upon the question of never. But it is not the most important fight. The enemy is at the gates. Racism is coming for us, and it would be well pleased if we snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, all just to bludgeon each other. It’d be so easy.

Racism is an idea and thus immortal. But though it cannot be killed, it can be beaten. Racism can be captured from our hearts and left to rot alone in well-guarded closets when it cannot. Racism can be undermined, it can be weakened, it can and it must be routed.

But none of those things will happen unless we can first repel racism’s foot soldiers as they march upon our capital. None of those things will happen until we band together to do it. We do not have to abandon our struggles over whether and how to dismantle the structures of racism, but the when for continuing that argument must be in the future if it is to have a future. We will not dismantle the structures of racism when the enemy has taken control of the land.

So come, friends. Put down your pens for but a moment so you can take them up in service; by each other, with each other, and for each and every other.

A Wanderer’s Rest and Reflection in the Moment Between Grief and Joy

From last year, a favorite.

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Holy Saturday is a pause. It is the narrator of a tragic tale silently waiting on stage refusing to leave. And the Christian watchers have already had the ending spoiled for them. At the Episcopalian service that I attended last night, the liturgical service ends in silence. We were to leave the sanctuary dark like a tomb, but stilled and at peace. The effect was diminished somewhat by parishioners chatting gaily upon entering the vestibule. It was the first time in a long time I felt I belonged, if only for now.

Allow me to recap the end of my conversion story. It has been a long time since I’ve been to church. I mean sure, there have been the stop-offs at an Easter Vigil here and there. (Say what you will about the Catholics, and I have, they know their ritual). And there are the funerals and the weddings…

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Good Friday

From two years ago.

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The hero has been beaten, broken, and slain

the sun retreats in sorrow

the darkness will take us soon.

The joy of Christmas has turned to ash

the powers drown out the angel’s chorus

salvation has died on the cross and hope is next.

The storyteller has fallen silent

but he has not left.

He remains

patient, patient, patient.

Sunday is coming.

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The Heretical Gospel of Trump

Pascal-Emmanuel Gobry has a column out in the Week tracing Donald Trump’s evangelical support to two factors: Christian nationalism, and the prosperity gospel. As is often the case, I almost agree with Gobry about the prosperity gospel. Gobry:

In its most crude forms, the prosperity gospel says that God rewards financially those who pray. If you don’t have the car you want or the house you want, if you pray hard enough, God will give it to you.[F]orgetting […] that sometimes the righteous have to suffer […] and that a man’s worth is never, ever judged by his possessions.

The prosperity gospel is one of the most vibrant heresies in America today, […and…] one of America’s most powerful religious leaders is undoubtedly Joel Osteen, who is a prosperity preacher. It’s obvious why someone taken in by the prosperity gospel would see no glaring contradiction between Trump’s assertion that he’s a “very strong Christian” and his gaudy lifestyle and ostentatious wealth.

So far so plausible. Prosperity gospel breaks orthodox Christianity’s view of wealth and creates the idea that being a good Christian is positively correlated with wealth, Trump is wealthy, so prosperity gospel believers think he’s a good Christian, so prosperity gospel is at fault. But if you look at how prosperity gospel churches actually work, and how Trump supporters behave, it doesn’t quite match up with their optimism and their activism.

The prosperity gospel is a very optimistic approach to religious life. The kind of twisted optimism that casts cruelty as a shadow. As I’ve discussed before, the inevitable consequence of believing that if you just pray hard enough you’ll be wealthy and healthy is that if you are not wealthy and healthy, you believe that it is all your own fault. Trump supporters do not believe it is their fault. They are not optimistic and about their personal ability to do things, they believe they need some savior billionaire to wreck/beat all the other countries. Hell, there is a lot of evidence that they don’t even believe that. Instead, they believe that Trump can’t change things, but he can help them give a big middle finger to everyone who has looked down on them or otherwise messed with their lives. And their anger seems to come from the standard issue places: socioeconomic class resentments, personal prosperity, Jacksonian ideas of national dignity and so on. No reason to reach for some sort of psychological inversion of the self-blame the prosperity gospel engenders. Trump’s Evangelical followers aren’t going to this church enough to shape their thinking in this way. Hell, they’re just not going to church much at all. Which brings us to the activism gap.

Prosperity gospel churches trend heavily towards a highly active church life with big asks. Now, most other Christians sneer at this, because the theology of the prosperity gospel asks pretty much none of the hard things, like embracing your enemies, faith while in fear and trembling, and charitable conduct and thought. But prosperity gospel churches ask a lot in simpler ways: cold hard cash. Tithing, going to church activities, evangelizing for the church, buying the preacher’s latest book, buying a book from the church store for this month’s sermon, providing free labor for the church’s commercial bookstore – there are plenty of big asks, especially for the poor who don’t have much to give. Trump has done none of these. Except that one time he screwed up giving money during communion. He can’t even rely the subtle linguistic cues of someone culturally Christian to signal that he is “one of us” to the Evangelicals who support him. He is not one of them. So who are these supporters anyway?

Evangelical supporters of Trump may not actually be Evangelicals the way we tend to think of them. They’re probably more like Mr. Young from Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchet’s Good Omens:

He quite liked nuns. Not that he was a, you know, left‑footer or anything like that. No, when it came to avoiding going to church, the church he stolidly avoided going to was St. Cecil and All Angels, no­ nonsense C. of E., and he wouldn’t have dreamed of avoiding going to any other. All the others had the wrong smell‑floor polish for the Low, some­what suspicious incense for the High. Deep in the leather armchair of his soul, Mr. Young knew that God got embarrassed at that sort of thing.

Gaiman and the late Pratchett were writing Mr. Young in an English context, but change the set dressing a little, and you get that everywhere religion has just enough hold on a people to give them a tribal affiliation but not enough to give them religiosity. They probably know a lot of churchgoers, they’re related with churchgoers, probably even married to churchgoers. But you don’t need to believe Christian ideas to identify as Christian on a poll. You don’t need to believe to get upset about people saying “Happy Holidays” or telling you to stop saying “God bless you”. You don’t even have to disdain the outsiders doing it, you just have to perceive their disdain for you. That’s tidy, isn’t it?

But, but, but, what if there are, actual religious evangelical Christians in the Trump coalition and it can’t be explained away by personal idiosyncrasies? Well, certainly it’s going to be a further step in the Faustian bargain with secular power Christians have made since suborning Constantine into the flock. Christianity is deeply suspicious of secular power, but if a Christian takes the idea we live in a fallen world seriously grasping at power is inevitable. But why Trump and why were they doing it while other candidates still seemed viable? And this is where we get into a twisted up understanding of evil. Which is to say, too many people think that evil works better than good.

Way back when America was grappling with whether or not to torture – sorry “use enhanced interrogation techniques on” – captured suspected terrorists in order to get information. And according to the Republican Presidential candidates, we should relitigate that debate. So here it is: torture is not a superior, always works like for Jack Bauer on TV, method of interrogation. Torture doesn’t give you information. Torture gives you compliance, a compliance that is agnostic to truthfulness. We know this because of the several thousand year known history of regimes torturing people into confessing crimes they didn’t commit. So, while we can construct scenarios where torture is both effective and forgivable, they are not the general case. The general case is torturing someone until they break.  And yet there are clearly people who think it is universally effective, purely because the bad guys do it and we won’t (anymore). But sometimes evil is evil agnostic of its effectiveness. And sometimes evil is evil because it is so ineffective.

Trump is more than America’s pro-even-worse-torture candidate. He’s America’s pro-evil candidate. He’s selling the idea that he’s evil, he’ll be evil for America, and that will make America win again. And even before we embrace evil because it is effective, we have to remember that evil is not effective. Trump represents a number of challenges, and one of them is religious. A number of Evangelicals have failed that test, God help them. And more are to come unless we can convince them otherwise.

Don’t Answer Pain With Doctrine

Something finally clicked for me just now about why the typical small-c conservative Christian responses to  gay, lesbian and transgender people and issues has bothered me more and more over the years. It’s this awful tendency Christians have had to answer pain with doctrine.

Let me be specific.  Jana Riess is a progressively inclined Mormon convert with a great heart for lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and the transgendered. She also loves her church. So the recent business about how the children of those who are same-sex married was obviously painful, especially when a high ranking member seemed to suggest it was a revelation from God, no dissent proper.

I sit here heartbroken that the Church is not only standing by this regrettable policy but enshrining homophobia as God’s will.

It seems that now, by holding these views I am not just objecting to a here-today-gone-tomorrow policy in the handbook. I’m actively resisting the will of the Lord as revealed through his holy prophets.

Elder Nelson closed with dire warnings about people like me. “The somber reality is that there are ‘servants of Satan’ embedded throughout society,” the Salt Lake Tribune quotes him as saying. “So be very careful about whose counsel you follow.”

As I’ve said elsewhere, this is heartbreaking to see. Loyal dissent is doubly painful because not only do you strain relationships with those who you agree, you don’t get any new friends, as they look down on you for maintaining your ties to disreputable people. Keep that in mind when reading one of the first comments:

Yes. In fact, some of us have viewed your writings that way for some time now. But please, continue to kick against the pricks and advocate that this policy is not inspired and that the 15 apostles who prayed about it must have been wrong and you are right. I see no problem there. 😉

It’s the emoji that really seals the deal. I don’t care how right you think you are and how wrong you think Jana Riess is to stand against the leaders of your church, this is an inhuman way of responding to someone in pain. So is this:

Jana wrote: “I don’t believe God is behind this policy.”

Then are you not ethically bound to refrain from sustaining the church leaders?

Jana wrote: “By rejecting this policy, are active LDS church members like me, people who hold a calling and a temple recommend …..”

To be “worthy” of a temple recommend one must sustain the LDS Church leaders. And to “sustain” them one must uphold their “revelations.”

Since the Church is adamant that their anti-Gay policies are revelation, isn’t it an obvious conclusion that any temple recommend-holding member (who honestly answers the recommend questions) agrees with the Church’s policies regarding Gays?

At what point do you say, “Enough,” Jana, and separate yourself from this organization?

I don’t care how wrong you think Jana Riess is to stand by her church, this is an inhuman way to respond to someone in pain.

Yes, yes. Blog comments are the worst. I can attest to that being a frequent maker and reader of blog comments. But it also happens in other ways. Like a two thirds majority of Anglican churches  rebuking the Episcopal church [see update below] over their acceptance of non celibate gays and same sex marriages. Like those same two thirds taking the time to reiterate what we all know to be their position:

 “The traditional doctrine of the church in view of the teaching of Scripture, upholds marriage as between a man and a woman in faithful, lifelong union,” the statement also notes. “The majority of those gathered reaffirm this teaching.”

Like those same two thirds rebuking the Episcopal Church and making sure to point out how hurt they were that the Episcopal church went and did nice things for gays when we don’t wanna. Wasn’t that mean of them?

I suppose I should add that I’m actually sympathetic to the conservatives and their position on marriage. I burn a lot of time, credibility and friendships defending both the people I know and love who are conservative on marriage doctrine and total strangers who hold the same. I concede they have an excellent case, and I think they might be right as a doctrinal matter. But, but, but, everything seems wrong. Dreadfully wrong. Witnessing a frustrated parent scream at their child in public wrong.

Witnessing has a special place in Christianity. It’s used as a synonym for proselytize, but it really means so much more. Christians believe they are witness to the gospel – the good news about sin and salvation, carrying on the message from Jesus’s apostles all the way to the present. Christian witness is the obligation to speak the truth of such weight matters, as if in court under subpoena. Now that we know, we must speak. And since communication is service, we should speak well. As you well know reader, we don’t.

Witnessing is more than just spitting out your beliefs and calling it testimony. It’s answering the question you’re asked when you’re asked. Witnessing is still communication, and that means witnessing is about listening.

So when gays and lesbians and the transgendered or anyone else comes and says that they are in pain, that is not the time to spit doctrine at them. When gays and lesbians and the transgendered have suffered at the hands of Christian authorities and mobs, specifically because the mob wanted to pick on a sexual minority, that is not the time to point out that Christ said “go and sin no more”. It’s inhuman. Especially since we’re the ones who are causing the pain! If Christians had treated gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people decently, even within the confines of doctrine, since day one, we wouldn’t be having this fight! You think the urge to be marriage is new? Or do you think it has to do with people who have just had it with being abused and suffering and now need governmental protection?

There’s no justification answer pain with doctrine, because the proper answer to pain is about the person in pain, and your answering with doctrine is about you. It’s making sure that everyone knows about your righteousness, your fidelity, your insistence and purity, and your affirmation of doctrine. No one cares about your need to say you disagree. Witnessing is not about you! It’s the good news about Christ, who so loved this world he died. It’s about serving Christ in the poor, the naked, the suffering. It’s about serving people, not changing them.

So don’t answer pain with doctrine. Just don’t. You can be right on your own time. Or when they ask. But not before. That’s real witness.

Update: The body at issue does not have the authority to suspend but can still cause trouble. I relied on news sources that did not have a good understanding of the intricities and I should have known better. I regret the error.

Christmas is for Weak-minded Losers, Thank God

Thanks to a combination of Facebook algorithms, I went micro-viral with a post concerning one of the most annoying features of American political life: a holiday display. The details of the post and the dispute are unimportant generally, and were quite unimportant to internet strangers who showed up to have a fight about, I dunno, Christianity is stupid: Yes/No. If you’ve been on the Internet for a while and have ever witnessed an argument about religion, you can imagine something like this will come up:

Religion is, has been, and always will be a farce for weak-minded people who constantly search for blame and forgiveness. By absolving yourself of responsibility for your actions and your life, you deceive yourself, your children, and those around you. Grow up and learn to think on your own. – An internet stranger, name withheld

There is a lot to be said about this diatribe, (Spufford said most it already in Unapologetic) but I want to pick on one theme in particular:

Religion is […] for weak-minded people[.] Grow up and learn to think on your own.

What the hell is wrong with being weak-minded? What’s wrong with being not-grown-up? What’s wrong with not being able to think on your own? It’s really easy for those of us blessed with the right genetic, socioeconomic status and educators to congratulate ourselves on our strong wills and advanced thought, but it isn’t just prideful, it’s snobbishness. It isn’t about freeing the masses from religion, it’s about declaring yourself better than those fools over there.

I’m pleased to say I’m with the fools. I’m with the losers, the malcontents, the ugly, the weird, the fuck-ups, the crazy, the classless, the poor, the sick, the hungry, and the fearful lost sheep. And hey, maybe you can be good without God, thanks to your superior intellect and, I dunno, whatever. But I’m fine sticking by the rest who haven’t managed it. If you’re really and truly fine, Christian religion isn’t about you, and you can go on your merry way, because we’re talking about a God-made-flesh so he could help people in need. That’s what Christmas is, in a nutshell. God from God, born to an unwed pregnant woman (probably slut-shamed all the way to Bethlehem) in a dingy manger to be sacrificed by a broken people under the rule of the mightiest empire the world had ever known, all to help broken people. And we talk about him doing that a lot so we can ourselves be helped, and then help others. And that, my friends, is way more important than sustaining any illusion of “thinking on my own” via conforming to this particular atheist exhortation. Christmas is for weak-minded losers. It’s the whole point. And if that isn’t you and people you love, well, there’s probably no God, and enjoy your life. But for the rest of us, well, I think I’ve got some good news. We’re covered. It gets better. Come inside, and let’s eat.

Merry Christmas

A History of Saying “No Thank You” to Immigrants

Our country is engaged in two of her three sacred Thanksgiving traditions: gorging ourselves during a big family meal and ironically displaying unjustified fear of migrants as we remember the first harvest of early European migrants.[1] About this time last year President Obama made a big speech[2] announcing a now-stalled reform of our immigration system and people lost their damn minds about the rule of law and them coming to take our jobs. Two weeks ago, European-born Islamists made a series of terrorist attacks that Daesh[3] has claimed responsibility for. In response, 29 Republican governors and 1 Democratic governor, starting with my own state’s Governor Synder[4], announced their intent block Federal government attempts to settle Syrian refugees because a terrorist will sneak in or something through the 2 year process. You know, the victims fleeing the war wrecked misery caused in large part by Daesh. This is a profound moral failing. A moral failing deeply institutionalized into our law and culture. And it persists because there is a political benefit to stoking the predictable knee jerk fear of outsiders.

Our immigration system is badly flawed; not just in a technocratic sense, but as the result of malicious policy choices. It caters to racists, nativists, and cowards. It does so by throttling immigration by country of origin, “securing the border” and expelling “subversives. It doesn’t make you a racist, nativist, or coward if you support that system, but it does mean that if you support that system you end up helping racists, nativists and cowards. As an inevitable consequence we have massive permanent underclass of illegal immigrants.

Let me now state that I am the child of two immigrant parents. My wife’s parents were refugees who were in danger because of a failed American war. I’m not coming from a place of objectivity and I won’t pretend otherwise. So what follows (and preceded) is certainly editorialized, but it Is also as precise and accurate as I can manage. For convenience, I will also be referring to refugees, long term nonimmigrant visitors, and immigrants all as “immigrants” despite the legal and sociological differences between the groups. If they’re coming here for a better life than where they were, they’re immigrants enough for our discussion.

My parents and my wife’s parents were able to enter the United States legally through the front door, but they had very little to do with it. My parents are Chinese by way of Taiwan and the Philippines they had good grades and worked hard and applied to college, sure, but they were also politically approved by the Americans, because we liked Taiwan and the Philippines and we didn’t care much for Communist China. My wife’s family fought (via a CIA operation) on the American side of the Vietnam War in exchange for a land of their own when the Americans kicked the commies out of ‘Nam. It didn’t work out so great when America pulled out in defeat. It still took dedicated lobbying and the sponsorship of Christian missionaries to get America’s direct allies over, never mind their families. American politics had a whole lot more to do with our families making it over here than our families did, despite all of the things they did to earn the right to come over. The front door is illusory, crushed by the tight fist of nativist politics. Immigrants manage to slip in through the cracks by luck and pluck. And that’s all that’s left for them now, despite modern America being built on a massive spike in immigration.

The old system lasted between 1921 and 1965, starting with the appropriately named Immigration Act of 1921. The system worked like this: to preserve the American character of our society and secure our border from “homosexuals”, “idiots”, “feeble-minded persons”, “criminals”, “epileptics”, “insane persons”, alcoholics, “professional beggars”, all persons “mentally or physically defective”, polygamists, and anarchists, no more than 3% of the immigrant population could come from any single country of origin, which biased immigration significantly towards West and Northern Europe.[5] This formula was revised in 1924 to lower the rate to 2% and to eliminate citizenship by naturalization from certain places of origin. This had the not at all coincidental effect of keeping out the following Un-American troublemakers:

  • East Asians
  • Arabs
  • Indians
  • South East Asians
  • Africans
  • Southern Europeans
  • Eastern Europeans
  • Jews

Latin America got an unlimited pass because they provided cheap farm labor.

Under the 1924 Act, Asian immigrants were specially barred by classifying them as non-white. This referenced the Naturalization act of 1790, which restricted naturalization to so called free whites of good character.[6] That specific part of the 1924 Act was called Asian Exclusion Act. That passed less than a hundred years ago.

In 1952, the Immigration and Nationality Act finally abolished the racial restrictions of the 1790 Act, but kept the racial/ethnic preferences designed into the national origin caps while ratcheting up the paranoid barriers against suspected “subversives” with the wrong politics. Harry Truman vetoed the act over the political tests and quotas citing many “examples of the absurdity, the cruelty of carrying over into this year of 1952 the isolationist limitations of our 1924 law. In no other realm of our national life are we so hampered and stultified by the dead hand of the past, as we are in this field of immigration.”

In a remarkable show of bipartisan can-do, the 82nd Congress, led by two Democrats, overrode Truman’s veto. Senator McCarran, one of the co-sponsors left us this gem of wisdom:

I believe that this nation is the last hope of Western civilization and if this oasis of the world shall be overrun, perverted, contaminated or destroyed, then the last flickering light of humanity will be extinguished. I take no issue with those who would praise the contributions which have been made to our society by people of many races, of varied creeds and colors. […] However, we have in the United States today hard-core, indigestible blocs which have not become integrated into the American way of life, but which, on the contrary are its deadly enemies. Today, as never before, untold millions are storming our gates for admission and those gates are cracking under the strain.[7]

As a result our system went from explicit racism in preferring whites of “good character” to a slightly more-subtle xenophobia expressed by hand-wringing about all those who refuse to adapt to the American way of life.

In 1965, the national origin quota system was finally replaced with the precursor to our modern preference based system. The new system discarded national preferences in favor of selecting highly skilled migrants and those with family already present.[8] Except it applied the national origin quota system to our visas, which is the first step in coming over as a tourist, worker, or immigrant. There was a hard cap for 170,000 per year created for those originating in the Eastern Hemisphere. There was a hard cap of 120,000 for the Western Hemisphere, with unlimited access for a few favored nations. With some adjustments, we are still using this system today. The bill’s sponsors promised that very little would change as far as the demographic mix of the United States. They were wrong.

The 1965 act heralded a massive rush of immigration to the United States. It created the America we are living in now. My mother was one of the lucky 170,000 year to be allowed a student visa so she could attend school here, work hard, raise a family, and create jobs. My father was allowed to come here and work as a doctor, running the lab and helping surgeons hunt and destroy cancer.

Opponents of immigration defend their position as taking care of the people who are here already as their primary obligation. Well, it turns out immigrants lower prices, create jobs, and help keep you alive. My parents are just one example of many at the highly skilled end.[9] The deliberately cultivated importation of farm laborers from Latin America is another. Our immigration system doesn’t protect the people already here. It hurts them. It tries to deport them. It is in a real sense, the most unsuccessful wasteful and racially discriminatory affirmative action program yet conceived, rewarding legacy European immigrants and punishing poor Latinos who have the hustle necessary to work hard in the illegal immigrant underclass.

Even when the fear of nebulous and omnipresent undesirables, subversives, and now terrorists isn’t hopelessly tainted by politics and racism, it turns out throttling immigration and securing the border doesn’t help much anyway. If you shut out refugees, they come through as skilled workers. You shut out skilled workers, they pose as family members. You ban all new people from coming in, they sneak in. You button up the border, and they laugh and have someone on the inside kill you anyway. You have lost much and gained nothing but fear. Daesh is a malicious idea, not a diffuse people group. That idea can spread over the internet with deadly consequence without the bother of sending over a bomber across the border. We’ve created a cruel, complex, and punitive system and have gotten nothing of worth out of it.

Don’t believe me? Look up the details yourself. Try to follow the immigration process from start to finish and see if you can even comprehend it. Try to comprehend the difference between immigrant and nonimmigrant visas. Try to imagine marrying the person you met in college, and then being interrogated by overworked case officers under inhuman directives about whether your marriage is genuine. Imagine that marriage breaking up under economic strain and infidelity later and you being held up as an example of someone who married as fraud. and then have the failure of that marriage be used as proof of your fraud. Try to imagine coming over to visit family, only to find out you’ve broken the law when you stayed an extra day to help out with the new baby. Try to imagine laboring in America and trying to apply for legal presence, only to find out you have to find the money to fly back to your country of origin and apply there – a home you may never want to see again. And why? Because rules are rules my dear. It says so right on the notice the immigration officials – the ones who are supposed to deport you – send to your apartment.

Yeah, immigration enforcement is a bizarre bit of kabuki. I mean, so often they know where you are. And if you don’t show up to your deportation hearing it’s not like they’re going to send the border patrol after you. They’re busy. Unless you’re a violent offender, anyway. Oh, the consequences are pretty bad for your long term plans so it’s better to show up, but we care a whole lot less than we say we do. Then again, maybe you should be in the country. Maybe you’re not an illegal at all, but an undocumented refugee. So you show up at your immigration hearing, and in your accented English you try to explain to the immigration judge your situation. But the judge is a lawyer and has a legal checklist to follow and there is another government lawyer in the room talking to him. Her job is to make the case against you. If you’re lucky, a non-profit activist or lawyer noticed you on your way in. If not, you’re on your own. You don’t know how to make your case and you go to back to the hell you nearly bankrupted your family to escape from. Your children will never see you again.

Let me make this clear. In our immigration courts, where the consequences for failing to attend are not prioritized, there is a government lawyer whose job it is to try to kick out people who may be bona fide refugees and send them back to hell.

Right now Syria is hell, and Americans have no small part in it becoming that way. We have a bunch of Governors trying to block Federal policy because they’re concerned about the potential of someone sneaking in through a two-year process. It’s not just that it’s worth the risk. It’s that the risk reduction in eliminating or strengthening the system is so negligible as to be nonexistent. But it’s good politics. You get to sound tough. It’s easy to sound tough when all you’re hurting are voiceless and voteless immigrants.

Immigrants work for you and I and the tomorrow of our children. Immigrant soldiers bleed on our battlefields, immigrant laborers sweat in our farms and immigrant children dream the American dream when so many Americans are too cowardly to hope for a better tomorrow. Did your forefathers live and die to give you a better life in this country or do you think they lived and died so you can give other people a worse one? What kind of thankfulness is it to count your blessings to be American and free while shutting out new Americans?

Footnotes