Signs of Independence

dr. elsewhere here

The past couple days, I’ve found myself comparing this Independence Day with one celebrated exactly 30 years ago, our Bicentennial.

It was my daughter’s first, and her father and I took her, along with a large group of friends, down to the river where there was a spectacular show, replete with live symphonic 1812 Overture and cannons.

It was thrilling, but way too much for her tiny little being with ears and all sensitive to the teeming throngs, loud noises, and intense vibes. She shrieked incessantly, no matter how many blocks away from the banks I walked, until I was afraid she’d stop breathing.

What a cruel way to introduce her to our democracy, eh?

So much has changed in these 30 years. Jimmy Carter was elected that fall on a grass roots campaign that capitalized on this country’s frustration with the patronizing arrogance and destructive paranoia of the Nixon years. He and Rosalyn got out of the limo and walked to his inauguration. He installed solar panels, wore a sweater, and told us we’d have to tighten our belts. It was a brief period of recovered pride and hope and responsibility that somehow seemed boundless.

We all know what has happened in the ensuing three decades. No need to beat that dying (hopefully) but deadly elephant again now. I just wanted to share with you some of the reflections that sent me comparing now to then.
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I found myself realizing what a luxury is my warm morning shower. Indeed, the running water to brush my teeth and flush the toilet. The power to turn on the fans in the brutal heat, keep my food cold in the frig, and run my iMac so I can check the net. The fuel and machinery to take me to visit friends and go to a party where we ended a night of large fun with loads of (power generated) music by watching breathtaking and artful fireworks over a scenic harbor under the half moon, the clean scent of salt and a cool breeze wrapping us all in a perfect embrace of comfort and security.

So why am I, in the midst of this idyllic reverie, feeling so insecure and uncomfortable? Why was I instead noting the tenuous, fragile nature of our lives just now? Why was I focusing on all these things – the plumbing and the power and the technotoys – that were not around in 1776, and many of the technotoys that were not even around for the Bicentennial?

I suppose because I could not shake the unbearable weight of all the absences that have been essentially erasing us since that last really big birthday bash. Our sense of unity, hell, our cultural civility, our separation of church and state, our free press, our privacy, our safety, our freedom from fear, hell, our Constitution and our Bill of Rights, our sense of integrity, our place on the high road, our admiration in the world.

Odd that I would focus on all those material items that have accrued – but are nonetheless still quite vulnerable – when all these ideals and abstract principles are what really matter. But I suppose that a case could be made that therein lies an inverse correlation: The extent of our needs for plumbing and power and technotoys will certainly place our ideals and principles at risk. I sometimes even wonder if it is truly possible to maintain the highest principles while still maintaining a bank account and a blog and even a bicycle. I know that this kind of talk only leads one to the way of Thoreau or a mendicant, but there it is. We all put off answering that really big ultimate question, myself included, opting instead for the most benign daly compromises.

In any case, all this meandering was not originally the point of this post. I had hoped that some meandering would actually lead me neatly and smoothly to what I had wanted to offer, which was a reminder that this week gave us perhaps the most hopeful sign we have seen in thirty years - and certainly in the last five - that our democracy is not dead and can be revived. Fitting, almost as a birthday gift, that the Supreme Court should determine to call the Bush administration to the carpet on their undemocratic treatment of “detainees.” Fitting that, while wielding Bush’s crony lawyers’ notions of the “unitary executive” a debilitating blow, they hand us a moment of hope for our future. Fitting that we should all be reminded of what a democracy really is, what the Constitution really means, and what these really require of each of us.

That, in a nutshell (for contrast, the best overview of the decision, with copious links, can always be found at Christy’s excellentasusual FDL post), is all I had really wanted to share on this great day. Which, in these times, should be a far more solemn occasion than hot dogs and pyrotechnics.

Especially when one cannot help but notice the creeping skepticism enter into the psyche, namely that Bush, in the name of the very “unitary executive” the SC decision appears to deny outright, will likely just claim he – as the Commander in Chief Executive Decider Emperor Dictator – must protect America, at all costs, from these scary tourists.

So that sort of cynical sentiment is I’m sure why I chose to finally go see An Inconvenient Truth on America’s birthday. It was arresting. If you haven’t seen it already, it’s a must, an absolute must. Most of us know the plot so well we can recite it blinded by smog and gagged by gas fumes. But it is elegantly presented; hard-hitting and pitch-perfect. Even the segments that focus on Gore’s personal life, nearly losing his son and then losing his sister and then not losing the 2000 election, are delicately woven into the fabric of his passion for this mission he took on while in college. All of it, of course, smacking us in the face with the reality that might have been had the Supreme Court actually stood true to their oath to uphold the Constitution in December of 2000.

So make a point to see the film today, early matinee, to drive home the connection of our culpability in these crimes, and our responsibility to lead in resolving them.

Then go out and get drunk on burgers and rockets. We all need a break from reality once in a while (as long as we don’t confuse the break with reality itself).