Founding Fathers

The argument for a “Christian nation” depends on myths and the false narratives of many American history textbooks, as researcher James Loewen has discovered (“Lies My Teacher Told Me, 2018).  As time passes these textbooks have corrected the record, but those of us who attended high school in the 1960’s, ’70’s and 80’s have not had the benefit of updated texts. We may be still shackled to the traditions not based on primary resources.

The assertion that the United States is a “Christian nation” has marginalized Muslims as citizens, some Native Americans, as well as believers in eastern religions, such as Buddhism, Ba’Hai and Sikh, not to mention the substantial representation of “Nones” (29%) who do not identify as members of any religion in the Pew Religions Poll [https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2021/12/14/about-three-in-ten-u-s-adults-are-now-religiously-unaffiliated/].

In some cases this is a deliberate marginalization, because non-Christians are considered less American because of their religions, but in most cases the idea of the “Christian Nation” has been used to eliminate the notion of separation of church and state.  Some Christians believe their faith should be represented in aid to public schools, in reciting prayers in public places, or in public celebration of religious holidays.

This is what John Stuart Mill described as “the tyranny of the majority,”and the Bill of Rights was designed to prevent it. Those who staunchly defend their rights under the first ten amendments, sometimes forget the rights of  minorities.

The claim that the United States has been a “Christian” nation from the beginning has ignored the settling of the south and southwest long before 1620.  The Pilgrims were strict Protestant Christians in the sense that modern conservative Christians define “Christianity,” but a lot of territory was settled in the sixteenth century by the Spanish, long before they arrived.

The first religious group “seeking regions new to them to secure religious liberty” were  the Spanish Jews in New Mexico in the late 1500’s. [Loewen, James, “Lies My Teacher Told Me, (2018, p. 71].  Clearly they were not “Christian” by any theological definition, but their persecution in Europe was just as real.

Before the New England Pilgrims existed (1620) the Spanish Catholics arrived,  settling in Florida and founding St. Augustine in 1565. The Spanish actually occupied one-third of the territory we know as the United States, from Arkansas to San Francisco, and mostly arrived in the sixteenth century before the Pilgrims [Loewen, p. 71].

The signers of the Declaration of Independence were predominantly Protestants, but also Deists, Quakers, and Unitarians, not always linked with mainline Christian believers.  The faith of Deists and Unitarians relied heavily on Enlightenment philosophy, which is distinguished from the more traditional faith of biblical Christians. Religious toleration was commonly held by the signers, but theological purity was never tied to the name of God as used in the Declaration.

As for the doctrine of separation of church and state, most Deists, like Thomas Jefferson, took a strong stand against the state observance of private faiths. As President Jefferson said in a letter to a Baptist group in Danbury, CT.

Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legislative powers of government reach actions only and not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should `make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,’ thus building a wall of separation between church and state. https://www.americanprogress.org/article/the-founding-fathers-religious-wisdom/

Similar statements about untangling religion from the state can be found in the writings of James Madison, an Anglican by confession (“Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments,” 1785). Madison has been known as the “Father of the Constitution,” which does not mention religion at all, except in the First Amendment.

The honoring of the traditional Christian beliefs of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, the wisdom of the Mayflower Compact, and the influence of Puritan faith in New England have been over-emphasized in the argument for a “Christian”nation. Strictly speaking, only 35 of 102 settlers aboard the Mayflower were “pilgrims.”  “. . .the rest were ordinary folk seeking their fortunes in the new Virginia colony,” (Loewen, 81).

That should make us take pause before asserting that the United States is a “Christian nation.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Seductive Strongman

In an analysis of the age 118th Congress, the oldest generations show their dominance of the House (49.8%) and the Senate (73%). These aging generations (“Silent” and older representatives of the “Baby Boomer”) have a time-stamp on their leadership. In the interests of democracy they must step aside for Gen X and the Millenials. 118th Congress generations in House and Senate[https://fiscalnote.com/blog/how-old-118th-congress]

President Joe Biden’s fitness for the Presidency is under attack, not because of his competence, but because of his longevity.  It is not his record that the polls call into question, but his appearance as an aging icon of a past generation.  It is grossly unfair, especially since his rival, Donald Trump, is of the same generation (the “Silent”) as the President. But Trump has aged a little better and has convinced half of America that he is the virile choice among leaders.

Appearance is now more compelling than the substance of leadership. That alone can explain the strength of the incorrigible Trump in the polling for Presidential candidates. He looks better in a suit and a scowl than his opponent in grandfatherly compassion.

The populist dictator has been a dominant image of leadership since 1919, according to Ruth Ben-Ghiat in her book Strongmen: Mussolini to the Present. We have such charismatic figures as Viktor Orban (Hungary), the recently ousted Jair Bolsonaro (Brazil), the late Silvio Berlusconi (Italy), Recep Tayip Erdogan (Turkey), Nahrendra Modi (India), Vladimir Putin (Soviet Union) and Donald Trump (USA).  Among the early Strongmen are Benito Mussolini (Italy), Adolf Hitler (Germany), and Francisco Franco (Spain).  Ben-Ghiat argues that “Strongmen” learn from each other, even across the generations, adopting similar playbooks.

The leader’s displays of machismo and his kinship with other male leaders are not just bluster, but a way of exercising power at home and conducting foreign policy. Virility enables corruption, projecting the idea that the Strongman is above laws that weaker individuals must follow. It translates into state policies that target women and LGBTQ+ populations, who are as much the Strongman’s enemies as civil prosecutors or the press. (pp. 7-8) This is a good place to assert that women can show this strength, too, even though we may call it “charisma.”

Many of the current Strongmen trace their heritage back to Benito Mussolini . He modeled a populism that allowed him to overcome democracy by sheer force of personality.  As Ben Ghiat argues, Donald Trump fits the profile of Strongman to an alarming degree. He has somehow acquired the playbook and adapted it to his “TV Apprentice” model of leadership. In particular, he has mastered the lessons of media propaganda.

At its core, propaganda is a set of communication strategies designed to sow confusion and uncertainty, discourage critical thinking, and persuade people that reality is what the leader says it is.  (p. 93)

The Republican Party has decided to “sow confusion and uncertainty” with its confounding House investigation of the Bidens and its determination to discredit the authenticity of the 2020 election.  A minority of the Party faithful believes these dishonest claims, and they have decided on an illegitimate and corrupt Presidential candidate, an image too many voters have accepted without critical thinking.

Trump’s popularity, despite lawsuits against him and diabolical plans for his next administration, follows in the footsteps of tyrants who have successfully deposed democracy.  The mere image of the scowling Trump at his own trial shows his contempt for law and the limitations of his less intimidating rivals.  He conveys the Strongman image that voters crave, even in an “enlightened democracy” like the United States.

If Ben-Ghiat is right in her comparative analysis, we have reason to fear the transition to a Strongman Presidency.  When half the country sees Donald Trump as its next President, we cannot but conclude that the moment for the Strongman has come for America. Image is about to overwhelm competency.

The aging Baby Boomer and the “Silent” generation politicians should realize the time has come to pass the torch. Even perceived weakness will not stand against the Strongman. Youthful, energetic nominees are needed to counter the charismatic Trump.

Whether he has the stamina or good health to serve, the President has become irrelevant because of the soft, grandfatherly image he projects. That will not fly in the 2024 election. It is not reasonable or fair, but it is the Achilles heel of his candidacy, and he can’t fake it in the next campaign.

Perhaps the next President will be a Baby Boomer, but he or she will have to project strength, as well as compassion, as a leader.  The Party platform can articulate the goals of democracy, equity, and inclusion, but the image of authority and strength in the candidate will matter more.  America is primed for a Strongman, and it can ill-afford one who is narcissistic, hyper-masculine, ruthless and dishonest.  The next President will have to prove that compassion is consistent with strength and charisma.

The Seductive Strongman

According to Lydia Stowe, writing for Fiscal Note, Baby Boomers constitute 65% of the Senate and 44.8% of the House. This is by far the largest representation in the Senate and a modest lead for the House over Gen X, its nearest rival.  It is time for the Baby Boomers to realize they are the past, while Gen X and Millenials are the future of governing. And for Joe Biden, who represents the “Silent” generation (see table below), to step aside for a younger successor.

The domination of Baby Boomers suggests an inertia in the voting population that accepts the status quo, especially when the status quo is the same age as they are.  We Baby Boomers believe we are still the immediate future of democracy, especially since we have done such a good job so far, or at least we have convinced the voters of that. But even the self-appointed leaders of democracy have a time-stamp on their leadership. In the interests of democracy we must step aside for Gen X and the Millenials.

118th Congress generations in House and Senate
                                                       https://fiscalnote.com/blog/how-old-118th-congress

The issue of succession has reared its head most significantly in the Presidency of Joe Biden. His fitness for the Presidency is under attack, not because of his competence, but because of his longevity.  It is not his record that the polls call into question, but his appearance as an aging icon of a past generation.  It is grossly unfair, especially since his rival, Donald Trump, is of the same generation (i.e. the “Silent”) as the President. But Trump has aged a little better and has convinced half of America that he is the virile choice among leaders.

As discouraging as it may be, the appearance of strength and virility has become more important than competence and humility of governing. We have finally come to the point where appearance is more compelling than the substance of leadership. That is my conclusion about the strength of the incorrigible Trump in the polling for Presidential candidates. He looks better in a suit and a scowl than his opponent in fatherly compassion.

The populist dictator has become a dominant image of leadership since 1919, according to Ruth Ben-Ghiat in her book Strongmen: Mussolini to the Present. The “present” includes such charismatic figures as Viktor Orban (Hungary), the recently ousted Jair Bolsonaro (Brazil),  Silvio Berlusconi (Italy), Recep Tayip Erdogan (Turkey), Nahrendra Modi (India), Vladimir Putin (Soviet Union) and Donald Trump (USA).  Among the deceased strongmen are Benito Mussolini (Italy) and Adolf Hitler. (Germany) She argues that “strongmen” learn from each other, even across the generations, and have adopted similar playbooks.

The leader’s displays of machismo and his kinship with other male leaders are not just bluster, but a way of exercising power at home and conducting foreign policy. Virility enables his corruption, projecting the idea that he is above laws that weaker individuals must follow. It also translates into state policies that target women and LGBTQ+ populations, who are as much the strong man’s enemies as prosecutors or the press. (pp. 7-8)

Many of the current strongmen trace their heritage back to Mussolini and Hitler. They model a populism that allowed them to overcome democracy by sheer force of personality. This brings us to the current attraction for Donald Trump in the United States. He fits the profile of “strongman” to an alarming degree. He may not be an historian, but he has somehow acquired the playbook of the strongman and adapted it to his “Apprentice” model of leadership. In particular, he has mastered the lessons of propaganda.

At its core, propaganda is a set of communication strategies designed to sow confusion and uncertainty, discourage critical thinking, and persuade people that reality is what the leader says it is.  (p. 93)

When we observe Trump’s popularity despite lawsuits against him and diabolical plans for his next administration, we cannot but think he follows in the footsteps of tyrants who have successfully deposed democracy in favor of the cult of the individual.  The mere image of the scowling Trump at his own trial shows his contempt for law and the limitations of smaller rivals.  He conveys the strongman image that citizens crave, even in an “enlightened “democracy as the United States.

Which brings us back to the current campaign for President. If Ben-Ghiat is right, we have reason to fear the transition to a strongman Presidency.  When half the country sees Donald Trump as its next President, we cannot but conclude that the moment for the strongman has come for America. Image is about to overwhelm competency.

We cannot afford a coup.  We need an image that will rival the heir apparent in the Republican Party.  That Party has decided to “sow confusion and uncertainty” with its confounding House investigation of the Bidens and its determination to discredit the authenticity of the 2020 election.  No one in the Republican Party can possibly believe these dishonest claims, but they have created the image of an illegitimate and corrupt President, an image too many voters have internalized without much critical thinking.

Which brings us back to the seniority of the candidate or candidates, if we include Congress.  The Baby Boomer (and the “Silent” generation) politicians should realize the time has come to pass the torch. Weakness, even superficial weakness, will not stand with voters across the generations and ethnicities.  Strong and vigorous nominees are needed to counter the seductive strongman image projected by Donald Trump.  This is not to exclude women as candidates, but they will have to convey the kind of strength that wins confidence from voters who are susceptible to image over substance.

Finally, the President needs to step down and let younger candidates pick up the mantle of leadership in the next election. Whether he has the stamina and good health is less important than the grandfatherly image he projects. That will not fly in the 2024 election. It is not reasonable or fair, but it is the Achilles heel of his candidacy, and he can’t fake it in the next campaign.  It is simply a matter of respecting the strength of youth in leadership.

Perhaps the next President will still be a Baby Boomer, but he or she will have to project strength, as well as compassion, as a leader.  The Party platform will articulate the goals of democracy, equity and inclusion, but the personal image of authority will matter more than in previous elections.  America is primed for a “strongman,” and it can ill-afford one who is narcissistic, hyper-masculine, ruthless and dishonest.  The next President will have to prove that compassion is consistent with strength and resolution.

 

 

 

What in the “Woke” World?

Language matters, but sometimes its connotations are more powerful than its denotations. It doesn’t matter what it means, but whom it incites to anger and mayhem.  We should not be manipulated by terminology like “woke,” which no longer has any meaning, except “you should be angry” at anyone who comes under the curse of the label.

It is ignorant speech, and I don’t mean contemptible, but speech lacking thoughtful consideration.  When I hear ostensibly smart people like Governor Ron DeSantis or Senator Ted Cruz using the term, I know they mean nothing but “pile on.”  Join the mob. Let’s get these “woke” people.  That is not constructive discourse.

“Woke” and “communist” have similar American histories. They connect with the case of the “Scottsboro boys,” a trial of nine Black teenagers accused of raping a white woman in Alabama in 1931. The origin of the term “woke” comes from a word of caution from the blues singer “Leadbelly.”

In the recording, Lead Belly says he met with the defendant’s lawyer and the young men themselves, and “I advise everybody, be a little careful when they go along through there (Scottsboro) – best stay woke [emphasis added], keep their eyes open.”  [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woke[4][12]

In this usage, “w0ke” was what Leadbelly hoped his listeners would be, i.e. aware of the causes of, and potential for, racist violence.  The young men  in “Scottsboro” were acquitted after numerous appeals of their case. In the process their case became known as the “Scottsboro boys.”

Another famous participant in this case was Rosa Parks, her involvement giving rise to accusations that she was a communist.

And then, Rosa Parks. … Some of her first political activities were around the Scottsboro case, you know? She never joined the party, but as a young woman, she and her husband, in fact, attended some of the meetings. …https://www.thetrumpet.com/26400-the-civil-rights-movement-noble-cause-or-communist-plot

The website “The Trumpet” argued that Rosa Parks and the Civil Rights Movement had its origins in the Communist Party. This was a popular trope for conspiracy theorists of the 1920’s until the 1950’s.  So, depending on your leanings, civil rights could be either “woke” (Leadbelly) or “communist” (“the Trumpet”) in 1937.

This reminds me of the branding of political enemies in recent years. While “communist” has outlived its usefulness in political diatribes, at onetime it was associated with civil rights, prayer in the schools, sexual preference, pacifism and the United Nations. An effective attack on your political enemies was to label them “communist.” Hundreds of employees in the State Department, as well as union organizers, academics, and writers were labeled “communist” for their progressive leanings on any issue of the 1950’s.

While we have abandoned the arbitrary assignment of “communist,” the accusation of “socialist” still raises hackles.  Any Congressional bill that distributes funds to the disadvantaged may be judged as “socialism” by certain critics.  In spite of the federal government’s mighty investment in Social Security and Medicare, some still believe we live in a purely capitalistic society. “Socialism” is demonized as much as red meat at a feeding frenzy.

Today the inflammatory term “woke” serves a similar purpose. If  politicians are labeled “woke” it could mean they support  (1) the 1619 account of  racism, (2) toleration of multiple gender identities, (3) the inclusion of certain books in the school curriculum or library, (4) the asylum of immigrants in America, (5) the expansion of voter registration, or any number of causes. While being “woke” is equivalent to “high treason” as communism was, it will  destroy your social or political standing.

Why do politicians push buttons that evoke racism, sexism, literary intolerance, or xenophobia? It is a way to rally their supporters without mentioning the actual labels of race, gender, or immigrant.  The less defined the label, the more politically useful it is. It gives voters a chance to insert their pet peeve into the category of “wokeness.”  You may not be racist, but you may have issue with transgender persons, so you condemn “wokeness.”

What’s more, if you’re angry about “wokeness,” you will go the polls to defend your convictions on whatever irks you about “woke.”  When we listen to politicians rail against “woke” practices (it can be a noun or an adjective), we realize that we are being summoned to the polls to defend the American way of life. Former President Trump has been implicated in inciting a mob to storm the Capitol for incendiary speech like this.

Be advised that candidates are out to get your goat. When you hear “woke” used as any part of speech other than a verb, watch out! You are being manipulated to take a stand against everything in the catalogue of “wokeness.”  Learn what the candidate truly opposes and wake up to the deceit of non-specific language.  You could actually be “woke” on what happens in the schools, yet indignant about what goes on with immigration. Realize that “woke” is a slippery term for “whatever anyone hates.”

Language matters, especially vague language that manipulates us by its ugly connotations.  Wake up and make the champions of the anti-woke get down to actual issues.  That’s a wakefulness we can all get behind.

 

 

MAGA for the Many

O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

[Langston Hughes, “Let America Be America Again”]

Who would believe that Langston Hughes and Donald Trump have this wish in common: “let America be America again”? I suppose they diverge in the next line of the stanza, where Hughes says, “The land that never has been yet–/And yet must be–the land where every man is free/ The land that’s mine–the poor man’s Indian’s, Negro’s, ME–”

Nostalgia is for those who can trace their privileges back a generation or more. That does not include all of America; some did not benefit from the GI bill or could not buy a home in certain neighborhoods, or had their voting rights curtailed until 1965.

America lives with the legacy of injustice, despite the many leaders who fought against it.  We fought a Civil War over the rank institution of slavery, and for generations the descendants of the Confederacy preserved the myth of “The Lost Cause,” never quite accepting that it was the cause of the degradation of human dignity that they had fought for.

Christianity was truly perverted by the justification of slavery for generations. The cause of rebellion, the Civil War, had a religious fervor that affirmed the right to hold slaves. At the very onset of the War, Confederacy President Jefferson Davis said,”We feel that our cause is just and holy.”  Rev. Charles Jones assured the people. “A kind of Providence seems to watch over our Confederacy. The Black Republican Party is essentially infidel!”

Christians claimed the Bible supported slavery. It was more than a custom, they claimed, it was sanctioned by God in these texts:

  • Genesis 9:21-27 -God’s  curse on the Negro race: the curse of Canaan by Noah  as interpreted by Rev. Frederick Dalcho, Episcopal clergyman, “”Canaan, whose race were under the malediction” of consignment to “the lowest state of servitude, slaves.” (60)
  • Leviticus 25:44-46 – the accepted practice of Abraham (“Both thy bondmen and they bondmaids, which thou shalt have, shall be of the heathen that are round about you . . .
  • the epistle called “Philemon,” the letter of Paul regarding an escaped slave, Onesimus, who was urged to submit to his master
  • the omission of condemnation of slavery by Christ,  “If domestic slavery had been deemed by Jesus Christ the atrocious crime which it is now represented to be, could it be passed over without censure?  . . . [s]hould we not have been told, not that the rich man, but that the slave-holders, could not enter the kingdom of heaven?” Morrison, “A Religious Defense”
    [All references found in Meacham, John, And Then There Was Light: Abraham Lincoln and the American Struggle, Chapter Four, New York: Random House, 2022.]

Does anyone believe these arguments were not misguided, a deviation from the spirit of Christianity?   This racism remains embedded in the culture today. We see it in the brutal pursuit of Black men by officers of the law, in the resistance to affordable housing, because it attracts “those people” to our neighborhood, in the flourishing of white supremacy groups breaking out in insurrection. The cause of the Civil War lingers in our culture sixty years after the Emancipation Proclamation.

There was never a Christian nation in North America. The founding documents do not mention Christ, and many of the founding Fathers owed loyalty only to the Creator God. As Thomas Jefferson, the famous agnostic, said, “Endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights.” Christianity was the dominant faith of those times, but the Unitarians and the Quakers were among the most articulate spokespeople of  democracy, and they did not acknowledge Christ as a deity. And sadly, many Christian churches failed to support the cause of abolition, when our country needed moral leadership.

For America to be America again we need to admit our tattered record of human rights and the traditions of moral injustice passed down through the generations. Many Christians are leading the call to repentance, but many are denying the racism that lingers, because it was never  admitted.

It was a lawyer who cross-examined Jesus about the meaning of the commandments, “You shall love the Lord your God . . . and your neighbor as yourself. And he [Jesus] said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this and you shall live.”

Are we not like the lawyer who pressed Jesus with the most famous question in the Christian Testament, “Who is my neighbor?” We are not unlike this lawyer, who was “Seeking to justify himself.” We still ask Jesus this question: “Who is my neighbor?”

And many of us know that Jesus answered with the “Parable of the Good Samaritan.” We know that Samaritans were outcast in Jewish society, so despised that travelers would go out of their way to avoid Samaria as they traveled from south to north in Israel. Jesus, on the other hand, lingered in Samaria for two days after meeting the “Woman at the Well,” [John 4:1-42].

In the “Parable of the good Samaritan,” the story of integration of cultures, Jesus shows his followers that he welcomes, even loves the rejected, the ethnic outcasts of Israel. If America aspires to be a Christian nation, so should we love the ones we claim to be disreputable, the rejected ones.

The land that never has been yet–/And yet must be–the land where every man is free/ The land that’s mine–the poor man’s Indian’s, Negro’s, ME–

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Cabildo and the Battle of New Orleans

Sketch of the exterior of the CabildoWelcome to the Cabildo, the site of the Louisiana Purchase Transfer ceremonies in 1803 and our State’s most important historical building. Several important historical events took place within the Cabildo and it has been visited by five American Presidents.

The emphasis throughout the Cabildo exhibit is on the people of Louisiana, the many diverse ethnic groups who came here and who collectively comprise Louisianians today.

 

At the Cabildo they displayed excellent art and a video narrating the Battle of New Orleans, a major victory for Andrew Jackson, wholly outnumbered, but strategically well-positioned.

Below is the “correct view” of the Battle, showing the British, on the left, outnumbering the Americans on the right. Behind is the Mississippi River lying to the north and the city up in smoke beyond that.  It represents the same battle line as the painting below.

At left a  bayonet used in the War of 1812.  The two sections of a huge mural of the Battle of New Orleans. Again the British are portrayed on the left in a huge force. The Americans under the flag on the right, with General Jackson standing behind the lines in the right panel below. The battle was the vaulting of Jackson to fame as a general. Before that he had only conquered Indians in the Seminole war.

Behind the Cabildo on Pirates’ Alley is the Faulkner House, where Faulkner lived writing his first novel.  See annotations from the book shop’s web site below.

We browsed and bought several books, including a book on Blues poetry, The Feast of Saints (Anne Rice’s tribute to New Orleans), and Literary New Orleans (Richard S. Kennedy ed.) which includes essays on Faulkner, Kate Chopin and Tennessee Williams.

The shop was named for William Faulkner, who completed his first novel, Soldiers’ Pay, while living here. Faulkner also wrote for New Orleans literary journal Double Dealer and was known to enjoy a cocktail or two and get into a bit of trouble in the French Quarter.

Where is the Midwest?

I remember at my first faculty gathering at a university in Michigan one of my new colleagues informed me “Michigan is not the Midwest, Kansas is the Midwest. ” This was news to me, a middle-aged English teacher, who had spent his first forty-six years in New York and Massachusetts.  Now I think he was right, and George Will is wrong about the Midwest.

In a surprising paean to the Midwest George Will described it as a seedbed of democracy and patriotic values. On Wednesday  he wrote, “. . .these states had the crackling entrepreneurial energy that Alexis de Toqueville, floating down the Ohio in Jacksonian America, saw to his right, in Ohio, but not to his left, in slaveholding Kentucky.”  I have never trusted deTocqueville’s unlimited capacity to generalize based on his visitor’s first impressions of America.  Americans love to quote him, because he loved this place, but he was not much of an anthropologist by modern standards.

Both Will and de Toqueville give enormous credit to Midwestern states for their “free state” status before the Civil War, but Will ignores their later racist history. Of states with the largest Ku Klux Klan membership between 1914 and 1944, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois lead the top five (The Ku Klux Klan in the City, 1915–1930 by Kenneth T. Jackson).  Michigan is number eight. These numbers are in the hundreds of thousands, not representative of the states, but suggestive of a culture tolerant of racism.  While Michigan voters vacillate Democratic and Republican, Ohio has increasingly voted as a border state. Jim Jordan, a potential Republican recruit for Speaker of the House, is from Ohio.

Probably if Will excluded  Ohio, Indiana, Michigan and Missouri, he would have a list of Midwestern states that represent the democratic ideals he is trying to capture: Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Kansas, Nebraska, and the Dakotas.  These states stand out as examples of lower CoVid infection rates in a map showing the results of a recent Harvard research study, cited in the Post-Dispatch editorial “Elections have deadly consequences.”

The editors drew the conclusion that the permissive CoVid politics of states below the Mason-Dixon line and above the Ohio River  ( i.e. Pennsylvania, Ohio and Indiana) resulted in an 11% higher mortality rate than the Midwest, Northeast and Western States.  Maybe this is research seeking a justification for liberal politics, but it has more statistical validity than the casual glances of de Tocqueville and George Will.

A map of elevated Infection rates bears a close resemblance

to the red-state/blue-state political map.

Coronavirus mapThe Post-Dispatch editorial makes some fascinating contrasts between Missouri and Illinois in terms of pandemic prevention, gun control, and highway safety. Without recapitulating their conclusions, it is enough to say that Illinois outshines Missouri for lower rates of mortality in the light of weak CoVid prevention regulations, permissive gun control legislation, and shoddy highway maintenance.  These contrasts hold true in the CoVid Map, which links Illinois with other Midwestern states in terms of rate of infection, while Missouri compares more with the Southern states.

This new map, linking Ohio, Indiana, and Missouri to the South reflects a political trend aligned with public health regulations, so it might be temporary. But it is more realistic today to see the Midwest as a geographic heartland, excluding Missouri, rather than a hybrid of the Big Ten Athletic Conference and the Wheatbelt, which is Will’s configuration.   The new Midwest reflects what George Will intends when he quotes the John K. Lauck’s characterization, “the reassuring rhythm and rituals of civic affairs.”

Of course, we know when we contrast the urban and rural Midwest in every state, we see striking contrasts. Still state government reflects both the urban and rural character of a state, and so represents each state’s diverse character.  Missouri leans rural and Illinois leans urban. And so goes the identity of the Midwest, a region of moderate climate, moderate health policies, and diverse political sentiments.

 

 

 

 

 

Show Me

Always on the lookout for new information about my adopted state Missouri, I was amused to find this explanation from Bill Bryson in his fascinating book Made in America: An Informal History of the English Language in  the United States:

We do know, however, the derivation of Missouri’s current slogan, the Show Me State. The expression was coined as an insult by outsiders and was meant to suggest that Missourians were so stupid that they had to be shown how to do everything. The state’s inhabitants, however, contrarily took it as a compliment, persuading themselves that it implied a certain shrewd caution on their part (113).

The anecdote shows one of two things about Missouri: 1) The residents were inventive enough to turn an insult into a compliment or 2) They were too stupid to be insulted and actually deserved the insult.  I love the way Bryson describes the nickname as ” a certain shrew caution.” That would suggest “show me” is a worthy description of a state that can not easily be fooled. I am now looking for indications that the nickname is well-deserved, that, as a state, we are wiser than our neighbors.

One sign that we are not so wise is the gun laws, which have recently been blamed for a school shooting in St. Louis. Do we need to be shown evidence that the laws are too permissive? How about the fact that a mentally-ill nineteen-year-old owned an AR-15, and his worried parents could not get the police to confiscate it? “Officers determined that Harris was lawfully permitted to have a firearm” (St. Louis Post-Dispatch, October 27, 2022).

Because police could not confiscate the weapon, it eventually returned to the hands of the owner Orlando Harris, who proceeded to use to it kill a teacher and a student at Central Visual and Performing Arts High School in St. Louis.  Harris’s parents had further attempted to have their son committed to a mental facility. Interim St. Louis Police Chief Michael Sack said, “They were constantly in touch with the medical providers. They  made every effort they felt they reasonably could” (St. Louis Post-Dispatch, October 27, 2022).

What went wrong with the medical providers? Probably more information will shed light on this case.

However, some facts shed favorable light on Missouri’s residents. First, unlike the sad developments in the case against the parents of a school shooter in Oxford, Michigan, these parents took every precaution they could think of to keep their son from harming others. “Michigan prosecutors say the parents of accused Oxford High School shooter Ethan Crumbley exposed him to years of “chaotic, toxic conflict,” and that they left him in an unstable home often with little supervision, creating a pathway to violence.” This testimony comes in a trial to determine if the Michigan parents are guilty of manslaughter.

Meanwhile the parents of the Missouri shooter, Orlando Harris, attempted to have his firearm confiscated and further tried to get him declared dangerous to himself and others.  The fact that they were unsuccessful on both counts suggests something wrong with Missouri’s gun laws and mental health competency regulations.

When asked at the initial press conference about Missouri’s gun laws, Chief Michael Sacks said, “The gun laws are a great challenge to us in an urban environment” [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1wEtJzjv6bM].  This Youtube recording shows the obvious frustration the police feel with keeping guns out of the hands of criminals. The conflicting interests of urban and rural law enforcement are implied by Chief Sacks’ comments.

This brings me to the central political reality of Missouri, and perhaps of other midwestern states. It is a largely rural state bookended by two cities, St. Louis and Kansas City.  The social problems of the two cities are nothing like the problems of the heartland.  In the cities education, crime, violence, and the flight from urban neighborhoods are constantly in the news, while in the heartland the disappearing family farm, the opioid crisis, the lack of hospitals are often publicized. It is like two states with very little in common.

Missouri does not need to be shown how this divide is harming the state. Rural Republicans daily battle the Urban Democrats in the state legislature, but the reason for their struggle is obvious to both. It is like the blind men and the elephant. Each party has one end of the elephant and can not acknowledge the other end in its communications. It is like they are content to live in their separate realities.

And so these men of Indostan, disputed loud and long,
each in his own opinion, exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right, and all were in the wrong!

So my tentative conclusion about the “Show Me” state is that it is too stubborn to deal with its two identities– rural and urban.  There are few concessions from the ends of the state to the middle or the middle to its urban extremes.  They just keep demanding “show me” to their counterparts.

If they want a place to start listening, it would be with the gun laws that govern the whole state, but do not meet the needs of its outer extremes.

Buried Atrocities

I am half way through a memoir by a Professor Emeritus of History from West Point. It is, in part, a memoir of stunned recognition of the racist past of towns he grew up in,  Alexandria, VA and Monroe, GA, a past whitewashed from the history books and public monuments in Monroe, once known as “Lynchtown.” Almost halfway through his confessional, he writes:

At the time I graduated from high school in 1980, I knew nothing about Monroe’s and Walton County’s racial past. No one ever talked about it. As late as 2000, the Georgia Bureau of Investigation reported that Monroe’s veil of silence remained. (Ty Seidule, Robert E. Lee and Me: A Southerner’s Reckoning with thew Myth of the Lost Cause, 103)

This after recounting for thirty pages the horrors of the post-Reconstruction history of his “adopted hometown:” Black men and women shot in the face point-blank, Black men beaten and left to die, Black men lynched and lofted to high visibility, photographed corpses converted to postcards and mailed across the country; Black men dragged from jails and from railroad cars on their way to trial or execution, and so on. Then white juries refusing to convict avowed lynchers, citizens of Monroe keeping enforced silence, mainline churches voting to exclude Blacks applying to join,  countless crowd harassments and assaults on protest marches and organized voter registration and so on. This documented racial history of Walton County, GA never made the history books of the twentieth century.

I haven’t even reached the fourth chapter about his college years: “My College: the Shrine of the Lost Cause.”

Already the message of the book tolls alarmingly: we have buried the atrocities of our racial past. The front of the book shows a stately monument of Robert E. Lee on horseback with the Confederate flag on a pole in the background. In 2018 the author  returned to Monroe, searching for some monument depicting the racial atrocities of the past.  In the downtown he saw a large 1906 Confederate monument, but nothing to recognize any of the lynchings in the town nicknamed “Lynchtown.” Then he drove out east on the Old Athens highway:

Next to a small road turnoff, I saw a plaque. I pulled over and stepped out of my rental car, right into some red clay. Yes, I was back in Georgia. Staring me in the face was a highway marker for the Moore’s Ford lynching. The marker served as a modest marker to a ghastly crime [described earlier in some detail]. Not at all like the monumental obelisk honoring the Confederate veterans in front of the Monroe courthouse.

I read the Monroe’s Ford lynching marker, near to tears. I felt the emotions of finally seeing a part of the truth revealed in Monroe, but I also felt angry that I had grown up surrounded by the trappings of white supremacy, and I hadn’t even realized it [104].

This is the resonant theme of this book: our public records, monuments, and textbooks have whitewashed the racial atrocities of our past, as recent as the Moore’s Ford 1946 lynching of four Black citizens.  What we don’t want to remember, we cover up, leaving subsequent generations in ignorance. We remember the Lost Cause of the Civil War with handsome and conspicuous monuments, but we ignore the crimes of White supremacy, as recent as the 1982 Klan attack on protest marchers in Walton County.

White people are not inclined to remember the racial offenses of the past two centuries, because they stain the myth of supremacy. We are so eager for bygones to be bygones, because they contradict American exceptionalism and the movement to “Make America great again.”

​“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” [George Santayana, The Life of Reason, 1905].  Ty Seidule, who has written four books on the history of American wars from the American Revolution to World War II, has taken up this personal history of innocence and disillusionment to prove this point.  We bury our atrocities at our peril.  We are carelessly fertilizing a field of white supremacy.
Seidule wants us to learn from his own shocking discoveries that ignorance is not bliss.

I am half way through a memoir by a Professor Emeritus of History from West Point. It is, in part, a memoir of stunned recognition of the racist past of towns he grew up in,  Alexandria, VA and Monroe, GA, a past whitewashed from the history books and public monuments in Monroe, once known as “Lynchtown.” Almost halfway through his confessional, he writes:

At the time I graduated from high school in 1980, I knew nothing about Monroe’s and Walton County’s racial past. No one ever talked about it. As late as 2000, the Georgia Bureau of Investigation reported that Monroe’s veil of silence remained. (Ty Seidule, Robert E. Lee and Me: A Southerner’s Reckoning with thew Myth of the Lost Cause, 103)

This after recounting for thirty pages the horrors of the post-Reconstruction history of his “adopted hometown:” Black men and women shot in the face point-blank, Black men beaten and left to die, Black men lynched and lofted to high visibility, photographed corpses converted to postcards and mailed across the country; Black men dragged from jails and from railroad cars on their way to trial or execution, and so on. Then white juries refusing to convict avowed lynchers, citizens of Monroe keeping enforced silence, mainline churches voting to exclude Blacks applying to join,  countless crowd harassments and assaults on protest marches and organized voter registration and so on. This documented racial history of Walton County, GA never made the history books of the twentieth century.

I haven’t even reached the fourth chapter about his college years: “My College: the Shrine of the Lost Cause.”

Already the message of the book tolls alarmingly: we have buried the atrocities of our racial past. The front of the book shows a stately monument of Robert E. Lee on horseback with the Confederate flag on a pole in the background. In 2018 the author  returned to Monroe, searching for some monument depicting the racial atrocities of the past.  In the downtown he saw a large 1906 Confederate monument, but nothing to recognize any of the lynchings in the town nicknamed “Lynchtown.” Then he drove out east on the Old Athens highway:

Next to a small road turnoff, I saw a plaque. I pulled over and stepped out of my rental car, right into some red clay. Yes, I was back in Georgia. Staring me in the face was a highway marker for the Moore’s Ford lynching. The marker served as a modest marker to a ghastly crime [described earlier in some detail]. Not at all like the monumental obelisk honoring the Confederate veterans in front of the Monroe courthouse.

I read the Monroe’s Ford lynching marker, near to tears. I felt the emotions of finally seeing a part of the truth revealed in Monroe, but I also felt angry that I had grown up surrounded by the trappings of white supremacy, and I hadn’t even realized it [104].

This is the resonant theme of this book: our public records, monuments, and textbooks have whitewashed the racial atrocities of our past, as recent as the Moore’s Ford 1946 lynching of four Black citizens.  What we don’t want to remember, we cover up, leaving subsequent generations in ignorance. We remember the Lost Cause of the Civil War with handsome and conspicuous monuments, but we ignore the crimes of White supremacy, as recent as the 1982 Klan attack on protest marchers in Walton County.

White people are not inclined to remember the racial offenses of the past two centuries, because they stain the myth of supremacy. We are so eager for bygones to be bygones, because they contradict American exceptionalism and the movement to “Make America great again.”

​“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” [George Santayana, The Life of Reason, 1905].  Ty Seidule, who has written four books on the history of American wars from the American Revolution to World War II, has taken up this personal history of innocence and disillusionment to prove this point.  We bury our atrocities at our peril.  We are carelessly fertilizing a field of white supremacy.
Seidule wants us to learn from his own shocking discoveries that ignorance is not bliss.

 

 

To Catch a Thief

Stealthy as a thief in the night

For me to catch eternally. 

[Edward Clarke, A Book of Psalms, p. 28]

God’s approach has been compared to a thief in the night, and Edward Clarke’s poem  “To Catch a Thief” suggests that he is trying to catch that thief, while God is already “inhabiting the wasted words of my cries.”

It is Clarke’s meditation on Psalm 22, also called “The Deer of the Dawn,” the Psalm that begins,

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Psalm 22 goes back and forth between feeling abandoned and knowing God’s faithfulness. Why is that called “The Deer of the Dawn”? I think God is like the elusive deer that comes quietly to us, when we least can detect its presence–at dawn. Deer are so stealthy and appear suddenly as if from nowhere. At the dawn they can be barely seen, and once in the clearing, they may startle and be gone.

The poet Clarke expresses this same sense when he compares the pursuit of God to the pursuit of a thief.  As Jesus has said,  “if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not let his house be broken into” (Matt 24:43).  It may be too literal to compare God to a thief, but being alert is like being prepared for that thief, so Clarke calls his poem “To Catch a Thief.”

In Revelations 3:3, the Spirit warns the church in Sardis, “If you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know what hour I will come to you.” So God is like the stealthy deer or the stealthy thief, upon us before we know it. We are expected to be ready and recognize the presence of God when it is upon us.

What does Edward Clarke mean that “God is inhabiting the wasted words of my cries”? Really that God is everywhere at every time, so that even when the Psalmist says “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” God is, in fact, present, and when Jesus uttered those same words at his crucifixion, God was present, “inhabiting the wasted words of my cries.” When we despair, God is present.  When we are idle, God is present. When we sleep, God is present. When we write, God is present in our words.

Catching the thief it is more like seeing the God who was always there. For those grieving, seeing God in their grief. For the slumbering church, seeing God’s approach to wake them up. For the poet, discovering God in the words written down. Jesus also said, “Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you.” (Luke 17:21).

We are trying to capture the thief when we speak of incidents of our lives as “God moments.” The moments pass by unnoticed unless we look for them. They are moments of grace, of kindness, of forgiveness. When we notice them, we catch the thief.  When they pass us by, we are deprived of a vision of God.

The same discovery came to Moses as he kept his sheep in the desert.  “Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up” (Genesis 3:3). And then Moses had the most famous God moment of all time.  Moses did not walk by the bush, but investigated and discovered God. What if he walked by and said only, “Hmm, that’s interesting”? Would he have missed the presence of God?

I share Edward Clarke’s curiosity about his own words. Sometimes I have the moment of recognition that God has spoken to me through my own words. When I began to write this piece, I thought God might surprise me. When I thought of God coming to the church of Sardis, I  thought of my own need to wake up. When I remembered Moses stepping aside to see the burning bush, I thought of my own weak curiosity. I need to wonder and seek.

Barely two weeks ago I wrote about a funeral I attended.

From the middle of the group of women around the coffin, a few quiet voices began to sing: “Abide with me. Fast falls the eventide.”  Bright, solemn voices around them took up the verse in perfect unison.

Abide with me. Fast falls the eventide.

The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide.

A quietly startling moment. The service had begun from the rear of the sanctuary without the least preparation.  A spark of love, of gratitude, of prayer.

And I knew it was a God-moment I was describing. Not because we were in a sanctuary. Not because the women were singing a beloved hymn. But because God’s light had come down, and we felt it, before even the organ had announced the beginning of the funeral service.  And my words had captured it–the moment, the thief, the deer.

And even  now, as I reflect on this moment, I feel I have caught the thief.  I am not a prophet, but God has come down in my words. God revealed that God is always here, but because I have looked for the presence of God, I have found it.

Alleluia. Deo gratia.