A Promise Unfulfilled

Let me tell you all a story.  It’s a short one, but it’s a story that needs to be told, for the life of a man and his family hangs in the balance.

In 2008, Lieutenant (now Captain) Matthew Zeller was an embedded combat advisor deep in the battlefields of Afghanistan.  That April, he met a man who would become his interpreter, his friend, and his brother – the man who would, ultimately, save Matt’s life.  His name was Janis Shinwari, an Afghan hired by the U.S. Army to act as an interpreter and guide to American forces as they made their way through entrenched Taliban strongholds.  For an American soldier in Afghanistan, a native interpreter who knew the environment was crucial to his survival.  For the U.S. Army and coalition forces, Janis, and the services he provided, was indispensible – and, for the Taliban, the reason Janis was, and is, at the top of their kill list.

Janis Shinwari (right), saved Lt. Matt Zeller's (left) life in Afghanistan.

There’s a code of honor embedded deep in Afghan culture – a code that ensures the utmost hospitality is given to a guest; that an Aghan should, and will, protect his guest’s life with his own.  In April of 2008, Janis made that pledge to Matt, and two weeks later, on April 28, Janis made good on that pledge.  While patrolling the Ghazni province, Matt’s convoy was ambushed by Taliban forces from a nearby village.  While back at their base, Janis heard that Matt was in deep trouble and came out with a reaction force to provide reinforcements.  When he arrived, a Taliban fighter was coming up behind Matt to kill him.  While an interpreter is not obligated to fight, Janis picked up a rifle and shot and killed the man seeking to end Matt’s life, fulfilling his pledge to protect Matt and sealing his fate should the Taliban ever get his hands on him.  On that day, Matt and Janis became brothers, and when Matt left Afghanistan, he promised Janis that he would stop at nothing to bring Janis and his family to the United States to start a new life.

After five long years of assisting American troops in the bowels of Afghanistan and waiting for a new life, Janis finally received it – his visa was issued to him and his family several weeks ago.  Janis called Matt in a fit of joy – finally, he was leaving Afghanistan and coming to America!  Janis talked of moving to Virginia, close to Matt, and becoming an interpreter in Washington.  He spoke of the dream that he could finally give his family something they could never have in Afghanistan – a life free of terror.

However, this joy was short-lived: on September 21^st, just a few short weeks after receiving his visas, the State Department revoked them and put his application back under review.  By the time this happened, Janis already quit his job at the Army base, sold his house and most of his possessions, and registered to leave Afghanistan.  Now, Janis and his family is in hiding; they live every day in fear that the Taliban will find them.  And, if Janis and his family don’t get their visas back, the Taliban will find them, torture and kill them, and parade them through the villages as a warning to other Afghans who dare cross their path – and our own government is the ones that are allowing it to happen.

I tell you this story because I know Matt well – back in 2010, I worked as an intern on his congressional campaign in Western New York.  Spending many days with him traveling throughout the Southern Tier, I consider him a good friend, a wonderful person, and a man who keeps his word, no matter what.  Working for him and getting to know him solidified my dedication to a life of public service, and I currently work for the City of New York, working towards making people’s lives better.

However, without Janis’ selflessness and courage, I would have never worked for Matt, because he would have lost his life in the fields of Afghanistan – just another number in a growing tally of American men and women who have lost their lives in the Middle East.  I would have never known Matt, nor would I have never seen pictures and videos of his baby girl that he posts on Facebook all the time.  I would have never seen him write his book on life in Afghanistan, nor watch his analysis on the War on Terror on a myriad of news shows.

The fact that the United States can turn its back on a man who gave everything to the promise America offered him and his people – a promise for a better future – is reprehensible.  The Special Immigrant Visa program, authorized by Congress in 2008, promises over twenty thousand visas to Afghan and Iraqi nationals who worked as an interpreter or translator for the United States government - however, in 2012, only 12 percent of allocated visas were given to Afghan nationals; in Iraq, 22%.  The red tape the State Department has these interpreters jump through are difficult and time-consuming, and there are thousands of people just like Janis waiting for their ticket to a new life and will likely never see it.  Janis lost his visa because an anonymous tipper, perhaps a member of the Taliban, called in to put a red flag on his application - without vetting the tip, or checking the credibility of the tipper, the State Department has halted Janis' chance to save himself and his family, and now Janis is on the run, looking over his shoulder everywhere he goes, waiting for the moment where someone puts a bullet in his head.  Janis saved countless American lives in a war that has taken so many.  Now, we can – no, we must – save Janis, and make good on our word not only to Janis, but to thousands of Afghan and Iraqi interpreters who made the same sacrifice Janis did in the hopes of a better life.

I implore all who read this to spread the word; spread this article, sign this petition, call your representatives – make enough noise that Janis’ plight cannot be ignored.  While you’re at it, call your representatives and demand that Congress fund the Special Immigrant Visa program, which expires on September 30^th, for another year to fulfill the promise we gave to Afghans and Iraqis like Janis in exchange for their service and sacrifice.  The power of many can overcome any obstacle – let’s come together to save some lives.  For Janis, we owe him at least that.

That's all for today.  Class dismissed.

Do not act surprised by the verdict in the Zimmerman trial

"What happens when instead of becoming enraged and shocked every time a black person is killed in the United States, we recognize black death as a predictable and constitutive aspect of this democracy? What will happen then if instead of demanding justice we recognize (or at least consider) that the very notion of justice…produces or requires black exclusion and death as normative?" -Joao Costa Vargas and Joy A. James, "Refusing Blackness-as-Victimization: Trayvon Martin and the Black Cyborgs"

I used to think that the most fundamental privilege of whiteness was that it never had to name itself, never had to be the object of a critical gaze. Now I think I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps the most fundamental white privilege in the United States is the ability to believe that the institutions of the Justice system work the way they’re supposed to – you know, that they ensure “justice.”

There is a reason that after yesterday’s Not Guilty verdict in the George Zimmerman trial so many black people proclaimed their lack of surprise. Because for black Americans, what happened yesterday wasn’t a blip in the system, but the way the system is supposed to work.

Nothing changed yesterday. Before the verdict, it was ok to kill black people with impunity. The verdict reminded everyone of this, just in case anyone forgot.

But let me quote Gary Younge’s superb article in The Guardian on the specific case for a second (you should absolutely stop reading my piece right now and go read Younge’s, then come back. In fact, you should also go read this, this, and this.):

“Let it be noted that on this day, Saturday 13 July 2013, it was still deemed legal in the US to chase and then shoot dead an unarmed young black man on his way home from the store because you didn't like the look of him.

The killing of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin last year was tragic. But in the age of Obama the acquittal of George Zimmerman offers at least that clarity. For the salient facts in this case were not in dispute. On 26 February 2012 Martin was on his way home, minding his own business armed only with a can of iced tea and a bag of Skittles. Zimmerman pursued him, armed with a 9mm handgun, believing him to be a criminal. Martin resisted. They fought. Zimmerman shot him dead.

Who screamed. Who was stronger. Who called whom what and when and why are all details to warm the heart of a cable news producer with 24 hours to fill. Strip them all away and the truth remains that Martin's heart would still be beating if Zimmerman had not chased him down and shot him.

There is no doubt about who the aggressor was here. The only reason the two interacted at all, physically or otherwise, is that Zimmerman believed it was his civic duty to apprehend an innocent teenager who caused suspicion by his existence alone.”

Younge is absolutely right. The entire confrontation was initiated by Zimmerman. Even if, at some point in the confrontation, Martin had “gotten the upper hand,” the fact remains that if not for Zimmerman’s pursuit of the child, no confrontation would have taken place.

Which leads me to a question I raised in a previous post (and I am far from the only person to raise this question; I am not claiming any original thought here): on what ground could Trayvon Martin had stood if he had killed Zimmerman for chasing him down?

Same scenario: Zimmerman sees Martin out the window of his car, calls 911, tells the 911 operator he’s going to follow the kid, the operator tells Zimmerman not to follow the child, Zimmerman gets out of his car anyway and pursues him, Martin feels threatened by the creepy guy twice his size following him when all he’s doing is trying to walk home unarmed at night.

But now let’s get hypothetical. Let’s say that at this point Martin turns around and asks Zimmerman why he’s following him, and Zimmerman approaches and the two start shoving each other, and Martin takes a swing and connects, Zimmerman falls to the ground, and his skull is fractured on the pavement. Zimmerman dies. Do you think there’s any chance that Martin could appeal to the Stand Your Ground law on the grounds that he felt his life was threatened by this scary, armed man and so he was just defending himself?

No, because Trayvon Martin is not included in that “Your” of the Stand Your Ground law. Blackness is the ground on which the edifice of the State and its laws is erected, and it’s really hard to stand your ground when you are the ground.

Don’t believe me? Think I’m being too harsh? Too pessimistic? Not placing enough faith in the U.S. justice system? Take a look at this chart which illustrates how, "In non-Stand Your Ground states, whites are 250 percent more likely to be found justified in killing a black person than a white person who kills another white person; in Stand Your Ground states, that number jumps to 354 percent." 

Black life is not worth as much as other life. Black death is not mourned like other death. In fact, it is celebrated, as we saw in the post-verdict press conferences and on Twitter (trigger warning: there are very painful Tweets collected in that link). And for those who, be it consciously or unconsciously, retain a commitment to American democracy and American justice systems because of their protection within them thanks to the fact that both are deeply entrenched in the ideology of white supremacy (and despite what SCOTUS may think, white supremacy was not eradicated in the 1960s), this celebration makes total sense. Celebrate the sacrificial expenditure that makes possible the continuity of the community. That’s just what’s done.

Because in order for American society to continue, blackness must be contained, and those bearing its mark must be ghettoized, stopped and frisked, locked up, disenfranchised, and killed in order that the machine keeps moving.

But so many folks are already saying all of this, and saying it much better than I can. So what are we to do?

First of all, we can’t do nothing, and we can’t tell folks who are doing something to slow down. If you don’t want to change the system, you are not being cautious or careful or moderate, you are being actively oppressive. Because the system as it currently exists is unjust; the status quo is morally unacceptable. So to call for a halt of attempts to overhaul this status quo is to call for the continuity of oppression – of murder.

Second, we all have skin in this game. Fellow white folks, don’t you dare for a minute believe that this isn’t a fight for us as well. (“Whiteness to me is oppression. And it oppresses not just black people, but people who think it offers them something other than dominance over their fellow man. Poor white people have been sold a bill of goods that offers them white supremacy and takes away jobs and economic growth.” – Steve Locke).  Don’t you dare for a minute try to silence movements which call attention to race by shaking your white liberal finger at them and telling them that they’re naïve and we should all really be talking about class. Instead, we must ask ourselves what we can do to actively resist a system that is set up to our advantage. And a word of advice along the way: we must never forget our privilege as long as it exists. As tempting as it will be to echo cries of “We are Trayvon Martin” or to take to the streets wearing hoodies, we must remember that hoodies draped over our white bodies do not hold the same meaning as hoodies draped over black bodies. As long as that's true, we must fight.

Third, we all can do something. Not everyone has to become a street-marching activist, or a politician, or a director of a non-profit, or a public defense attorney, or an academic, or a journalist. But, to channel Fred Moten, and perhaps offer a different inflection, everywhere there is the potential for performance (which is everywhere, because we are always performing, whether we’re paid to do so or not), there is potential for resistance.

My pessimism is a resignation to the facts of history which create our contemporary moment, facts which unequivocally demonstrate that America is a country inextricably built upon an ideology of white supremacy and anti-blackness, and that our current systems have not exorcised this legacy. Me pessimism is an acknowledgement that anti-blackness is not a symptom of American capitalism, but one of its fundamental principles, and one of the foundations on which this country stands. I believe we have to acknowledge the enormity of these things (especially white folks, since it is our interests which are most clearly served by not acknowledging these things), but my pessimism is not a resignation to a belief that things will always be this way. I retain a profound commitment to working towards a Justice that does not yet exist.

I have no idea yet what it will look like, but I know it will look nothing like this.  

       

Blackness is (always) on Trial (again): SCOTUS's VRA decision and the George Zimmerman trial

(Warning: this is a long piece. Please stay for the whole bit, though.) 

In the days following the Supreme Court’s decision on the Voting Rights Act, I was absolutely furious every unoccupied minute of the day. If I wasn’t engrossed in reading, writing, working with students, or training, I was stewing in my anger, completely incapable of articulating any kind of reasoned and unemotional response.

Rep. John Lewis, former chairman of SNCC, and Rep. John Conyers had strong reactions to the decision.

We couldn’t even get to 50 years of the Voting Rights Act’s life! It has literally been less than one full lifetime since black people in the South were subjected to ridiculous poll exams and literacy tests like this one. But apparently things have changed so it’s alright to gut the law’s key provision. I wonder why things have changed? Maybe – I don’t know – it might have something to do with the Voting Rights Act being a barrier to the kinds of legalized disenfranchisement that were one of the hallmarks of Jim Crow (and let’s be real, one of the hallmarks of the very founding of this country and its continued commitment to civic exclusion of black and brown people – but let’s not get into mass incarceration just yet). 

Thankfully, many folks have written excellent pieces on the decision and all the reasons why it is so asinine.

There really is no need to articulate another argument against the decision. Justice Ginsberg, writers at Colorlines, and even the folks over on The Daily Show, as well as numerous people of color with presences in social and traditional media and teachers and citizens across the country have illustrated myriads of reasons why the decision was wrong. So let it be said that I agree with this general position.  

One thing I would like to say, however, is that I think we should refuse to accept the burden to “prove” that “racism still exists,” because that burden is placed on the shoulders of anti-racists by the very assumption that the claim is somehow contestable – like there is legitimate reason to believe otherwise.

This is a direct parallel to the VRA case. In their ruling, the SCOTUS left in place the option for people to sue after the fact if they believe voter discrimination had taken place. This places the burden on the individual being disenfranchised (i.e. the individual who is already being disempowered by the power dynamics of race) to prove to the satisfaction of institutions of power that discrimination took place. Not only does this allow the problem to continue by adjusting the temporality of the problem-solving strategy from one of prevention to one of reaction (which in the end isn’t a problem-solving strategy at all!), but it continues the practice of placing the burden of proof on those arguing for an already marginalized form of knowledge. In the real world, epistemologies cannot be separated from power dynamics, and this is directly reflected in where we place the burden of proof in these cases of voter discrimination and these discussions of racism.    

This guy is the guy on trial. He is not Trayvon Martin.

This discussion of marginalized epistemologies also necessitates that we think about dominant epistemologies, or dominant cultural narratives which become epistemologies. And so we turn to the George Zimmerman trial.

Not the Trayvon Martin trial. Trayvon Martin is not on trial. He is dead.

But actually, he kind of is on trial. You see, while what this case is trying to decide is whether or not Zimmerman is guilty of murder, it has also become a performance where his defense attorneys try to convince the jury that Martin was assaulting Zimmerman and the latter therefore had a right to kill Martin in order to stop him.

Let this sink in for a second: Nobody debates the fact that Zimmerman killed Martin. Nobody debates the fact that after being told not to follow Martin, Zimmerman pursued the boy anyway. Yet, what the entire defense rests on is proving that Zimmerman was justified in killing Martin.

How to do that? By drawing on hegemonic epistemologies, based on dominant cultural narratives, that say that (young) black men (or teenagers) are inherently violent. Therefore, despite being older, stronger, much bigger, and much more armed for combat than Martin, according to this epistemology it was totally reasonable that Zimmerman – after being the one to follow Martin and therefore being the one whose actions made conflict possible in the first place – be afraid of Martin. Afraid enough that he’d have to stand his ground. 

(Michael Denzel Smith makes this point, but does it better, in his article on The Nation.) 

I wonder… if Martin had been armed with a gun instead of Skittles and Iced Tea, and he killed Zimmerman because, well, the creepy neighborhood-watchman who was twice his size (yes, exaggeration – get over it) was following him when all he was doing was minding his own business and therefore felt threatened and frightened, would folks be as willing to believe Martin was Standing his Ground?

I’ll answer my own question. No.

And yes, the reason is because he was a black boy wearing a hoodie in a neighborhood where he “shouldn’t have been.”

Also, read this article by Sergi Avteniev on the scrutiny and racism aimed at Rachel Jeantel. I really can’t say it any better than he does, so please go read it.

But what does this have to do with the SCOTUS’s VRA decision, right? I mean, besides the courtroom setting.

What we are witnessing in these two cases is the relationship between law and blackness in the United States. And this relationship can be summed up by the phrase “anti-blackness.”

Since enslaved Africans were designated as 3/5s of a person in the legal document that founded our current government, black subjecthood has forever been on unequal terms with American subjecthood (to echo a powerful piece from March by Ta-Nehisi Coates, What does it mean to have never been meant to be a part of the American story?). Blackness is always on trial. Blackness always bears the burden of proof. Blackness is always expendable, and yet is also always necessary.

The Voting Rights Act was one instance of hope. One way of offering, if not protection, then meaningful difference (to draw on Toni Morrison’s novel, A Mercy). And when the Supreme Court of the United States decided we didn’t need its most important and powerful provision anymore, they decided that blackness had once again gotten too close to full inclusion in American civil existence. Thus, the borders were retracted.

And celebration followed. 

      

DOMA and Proposition 8: The Long War

Image is property of the Freedom From Religion
Foundation.

The Supreme Court of the United States dealt a major blow today to anti-equality proponents everywhere by striking down the 1996 Defense of Marriage Act in United States v. Windsor and dismissing Hollingsworth v. Perry, effectively invalidating California's Proposition 8 and legalizing same-sex marriage in California.  A momentous day, to be sure - and we liberals should be proud of what we have accomplished in such a short time to bring marriage equality to all fifty states.  This was a victory well-earned, in a battle well-fought.

However, one battle is not enough to decide who wins the war for equality.  The danger of SCOTUS' dismissal of Hollingsworth v. Perry is in that the dismissal does not strike down other anti-equality laws already in place in many conservative states, and those conservative states that do not already have same-sex marriage bans will soon start the process - there is no better way to rile up a social conservative than making him look like a fool in the Supreme Court.  The Republican Party is now gunning for a fight - and they'll beat this dead horse to a pulp to ensure their Bible-thumping ideology will be adhered to in as many states as possible.

It is for this reason that, as a good friend noted to me today, I am not nearly as excited as my fellow liberals when it comes to SCOTUS' decisions today.  Call me a cynic, but I truly believe that the fight for marriage equality in all fifty states is just about to get tougher.  Conservatives do not take getting beat easily, and they excel at mobilizing in support of a cause, no matter how misguided that cause may be.  It is the blessing of being a social conservative - the lack of an informed social conservative base makes it very easy to see complex issues in black-and-white.

What this all comes down to is that we liberals are in for a long, hard slog to ensure that LBGTQ individuals are treated as equals across all fifty states.  DOMA's execution is a big step in the right direction, but true equality can only be reached when same-sex couples can be treated the same as heterosexual couples in the eyes of the law - and I am not talking just about the right to marry.

In 27 states, a gay man can be fired just for who he loves.  In 10 states, gay individuals and couples are not allowed to adopt, while 16 states are ambiguous as to whether they want to allow LBGTQ individuals and couples to adopt.  Across the United States, LBGTQ individuals are degraded and humiliated in schools, the workplace, and at home just because of who they love.  How is that fair?  How does that fit into our immortal Declaration that "all men are created equal?"  How dare we, the self-declared paragon of freedom and equality, be so heinously hypocritical as to demand one thing from other countries on the international stage while simultaneously denying a large portion of Americans the same rights?  It is a tragedy, it is a travesty, and it means that us, as progressives, have a long fight ahead of us, and, while we may celebrate in our victory, we must understand that this victory is small, and we cannot rest - no, we WILL not rest - until we ensure that all men are truly equal.

I stand before you, my fellow liberals, and the rest of America, and declare that I am, always have, and forever will be, a soldier for the cause of equality for all, in the spirit of that immortal Declaration that made us Americans, and I hope you will all join me in the fight to ensure that our LBGTQ brethren, from Hawaii to Maine, from Anchorage to El Paso, can stand with the rest of us as equals in the eyes of the law.

That is all for today.  Class dismissed.

On remembering the origins of Memorial Day

I didn't have time to sit down and write this weekend, but I felt compelled to write something short about Memorial Day, especially given the ubiquity of statements about supporting our troops who "fight for our freedom" and the sheer abundance of disremembering I hear and see all around, both in conversation walking around in physical spaces and in posts/comments/images in the virtual spaces of social media, on a day that is about nothing if not memory itself.

Because I know I'm so predictable by this point, I know those of you who have read my previous posts here at Liberal D.O.G.MA know what's coming: something about race, right? 

Right.

But I promised a short piece.

Ok, so first point: Memorial Day began as something called Decoration Day, which itself was begun following the American Civil War. More to the point, the first Decoration Day was May 1, 1865. To quote from a New York Times op-ed by historian David Blight (go read his book Race and Reunion now): 

"The largest of these events, forgotten until I had some extraordinary luck in an archive at Harvard, took place on May 1, 1865. During the final year of the war, the Confederates had converted the city’s Washington Race Course and Jockey Club into an outdoor prison. Union captives were kept in horrible conditions in the interior of the track; at least 257 died of disease and were hastily buried in a mass grave behind the grandstand.

After the Confederate evacuation of Charleston black workmen went to the site, reburied the Union dead properly, and built a high fence around the cemetery. They whitewashed the fence and built an archway over an entrance on which they inscribed the words, “Martyrs of the Race Course.”

The symbolic power of this Low Country planter aristocracy’s bastion was not lost on the freedpeople, who then, in cooperation with white missionaries and teachers, staged a parade of 10,000 on the track. A New York Tribune correspondent witnessed the event, describing “a procession of friends and mourners as South Carolina and the United States never saw before.”

The procession was led by 3,000 black schoolchildren carrying armloads of roses and singing the Union marching song “John Brown’s Body.” Several hundred black women followed with baskets of flowers, wreaths and crosses. Then came black men marching in cadence, followed by contingents of Union infantrymen. Within the cemetery enclosure a black children’s choir sang “We’ll Rally Around the Flag,” the “Star-Spangled Banner” and spirituals before a series of black ministers read from the Bible."

Now, second point: why does it matter that we remember these African American origins of Memorial Day and their relation to the Civil War? 

Again, I promised a short piece. So here we go. 

On one level, it is simply (?) important in itself that we acknowledge the prominent role African Americans played in beginning one of our most definitively American traditions, thus reminding us again that African American identity is central, not merely marginal, to American identity.

On another level, it is important to correct mistakes in the historical record of collective memory. Simply put, most folks don't know at all that the first celebrations of what would later be called Memorial Day were enacted by African Americans following the Civil War. And this has ideological consequences in how we think about Memorial Day.

The first celebrators of Memorial Day were indeed celebrating the memory of soldiers who "fought for our freedom," but there was nothing abstract or politically neutral about this statement, and it was very clear who was included in that "our." Indeed, very literally these early Decoration Day celebrators were acknowledging that soldiers died in a war which ultimately resulted in the eradication of institutionalized chattel slavery. It is impossible to re-remember this origin story of Memorial Day without also re-remembering the story about the reasons for the American Civil War and acknowledging that not all motivations for going to war are created equal. 

When we re-remember this origin story, then, we have to rethink this day about memory. For whose freedom do American soldiers fight? Are all wars "just wars"? Do all wars deserve the same kind of respect? Is it possible to honor the warriors while vehemently condemning the violence and imperialism of the war? (I think so) What kinds of more complex and nuanced understandings of war are necessarily called forth when we remember that Memorial Day began as a celebration of one American cause for fighting -- abolition -- over another -- the continuation of slavery?  

How must we think better about how we think about war, given that the very origins of Memorial Day equally point to both the American motivation to fight for freedom and the American motivation to fight for economic motive at the expense of a blatant disrespect for basic humanity?     

Infernal Revenue?

Unless you've been living under a rock for the last week or so, the floodgates have opened (and the "-gate" suffix re-re-re-revived) over reports that the Internal Revenue Service, or IRS, have been giving "special consideration" to right-wing and Tea Party-affiliated organizations applying for 501(c)(4) tax-exempt status as "social welfare" non-profits.  From both sides of the aisle, accusations of unfair treatment by the Obama administration on those organizations that seem hell-bent on destroying progressivism under the auspices of Old Glory and Jesus Christ have come out of the ground like an emerging volcano; congressional hearings, on top of the hearings already being done to beat the Benghazi embassy attack into something closely resembling a dead horse, are being launched by the Tea Party sweethearts: Senator Lindsey Graham (R-SC), Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY), and Speaker John Boehner (R-OH), just to name a few; and calls of impeachment from right-wing pundits who are clearly orgasming over the opportunity to bash the President and his administration over yet another "grievous violation of the rights of all Americans."  Between Benghazi, the drones, and now this, President Obama and the White House are clearly longing for the sunnier days of 2009 (again).

But hold on just one second - why are we even considering this IRS situation a scandal?  If you look closely, it is not, nor was it ever, nor will it ever be, a scandal - especially a scandal that can be considered "Nixonian," as one particularly hawkish Fox and Friends pundit put it the other day.  The Internal Revenue Service, which is charged with the proper enforcement of the United States tax code and the collections of said tax levies from the American people (because how else is the government going to function?), has the authority to audit and inspect any individual or entity that it deems likely of trying to cheat the tax system (outside of the loopholes placed by Republicans to allow themselves and their wealthy benefactors to have massive piles of cash in the Cayman Islands).  It's job is to ensure that everyone who must pay taxes does so.  Furthermore, the IRS must make determinations of who is eligible for exemption from taxes and what requirements are needed to maintain that tax-exempt status - for example, a 501(c)(3) organization is tax-exempt because it provides services to fulfill an educational, religious, or charitable need (but it cannot spend its money in heavy lobbying), while a 527 organization is exempt because it lobbies to influence elections and is required to disclose its donors.  You can't fault a government institution for doing its job.

On the other hand, however, you have your right-wing and Tea Party groups: most of these groups consist of a mix of tobacco-chewing NASCAR fanatics who still think our President is a Kenyan Muslim socialist from the fiery pits of Hell and well-groomed, wealthy tycoons who, oddly enough, also think our President is a Kenyan Muslim socialist from the fiery pits of Hell.  There's also one other thing they both have in common - their severe dislike of taxes.  A major tenet of Tea Party ideology is the lowering or abolishment of taxes and, for some, the abolishment of the IRS itself.  One could even go so far as to say that the abolishment of taxes would lead to the abolishment of the American government as we know it - without tax revenue, a government cannot provide services to its citizenry, such as smooth roads, fire departments, law enforcement, mass transit, sanitation, and free public education.  The beauty of the government providing these services (and a concept many libertarians and right-wingers do not fully understand) is that the government is not motivated by a profit margin.  As a matter of fact, they should never, ever, ever consider turning a profit on its services, because then the government no longer treats its citizenry as people, but as faceless consumers who are only as important as the dollar bills in their pockets.  Yet, the right-wing factions of our population would rather the private sector run these operations, and who is to stop the private industry, in the spirit of free-market capitalism, from charging you to leave your driveway and drive in your own neighborhood, or bar your children from getting a basic high school education because you cannot afford it?

Given the ethos of these right-wing groups to insist on the abolishment of taxes, as well as their public declaration that they seek to influence elections to achieve that end (as well as many others that seem to be, for lack of a more polite term, "ass-backwards"), it is only reasonable to believe that the Internal Revenue Service, which is charged, by many acts of Congress, to administer the Internal Revenue Code (Title 26 of the U.S. Code), to collect such revenue from the citizenry, and to determine who and what should be exempt from this collection, would take a keen interest as to the tax-exempt status of such organizations, particularly ones looking for 501(c)(3) and 501(c)(4) status, to make sure laws are being followed.  Any organization who declares that it is a charitable or "social welfare" organization but acts (or intends to act) as a (Super) Political Action Committee, or PAC, just to get out of disclosing their financial benefactors, is actively attempting to flout the law and should be called out by the IRS for doing so.  The Internal Revenue Code, under Section 527, accounts for (Super) PACs, and declares them tax-exempt as long as they publicly disclose who their donors are - which should make you wonder: what exactly are these right-wing organizations so keen to hide from public scrutiny?

As I've said before: this "scandal" is nothing more than a Republican fantasy designed to discredit the Obama administration and to distort the reality of what the IRS is designed to do in order to take attention away from the fact that, by obstructing the proper functioning of government, the Republican Party is effectively committing treason, and this really needs to be nipped in the bud before it infects the collective American consciousness further than it already has.

That's all for today.  Class dismissed.

On Mark Sanford, Charles Ramsey, and Race & Redemption

You can't run away from your past.

But what your past means to you, and for you, isn't the same for everyone. Two key figures in this past week's news stories make this abundantly clear: Mark Sanford and Charles Ramsey.

On Tuesday, Sanford (R) won a special election in South Carolina's First Congressional District and took his seat in the U.S. House of Representatives. He had formerly served as governor of South Carolina until a ridiculous scandal (as in, his behavior was ridiculous, not as in the incident was trivial and should be overlooked) in 2009. Sanford went missing for a week in June -- nobody, not even his Lieutenant governor, knew where he was! -- and it was quickly revealed (indeed, he held a press conference about it) that he was having an affair with a woman in Argentina who he called his "soul mate." His wife later filed for divorce and he was forced to resign first from his post as Chairman of the Republican Governor's Association. He also eventually reimbursed the state for taxpayer money that was used during his time in Argentina on a trade tour in South America. A measure to impeach him as governor failed in the state legislature and he served out his term until 2011. So in sum, the man cheated on his wife, admittedly using taxpayer money to partially fund (and his position as a figure of political power to pave the way for) a meeting with his mistress in Argentina, and went missing from his job, relinquishing his responsibilities as a governor, for a week in order to satisfy his own personal desire to be with his mistress, and still got elected to Congress as a figure of successful redemption.

Then there's Ramsey. On Monday, he and neighbor Angel Cordero broke down the door of the home in which Amanda Berry and her daughter, as well as Georgina DeJesus, and Michelle Knight had been held captive by Ariel Castro. Ramsey has since been turned into an internet meme, so I probably don't need to direct you to the video of his first interview or recount everything he did since Goggle can tell you all you need to know and more. In fact, besides being a hero for helping rescue these women (along with his neighbor Cordero, the police, and Berry herself who vocally reached out and alerted others to her situation), Google can now tell you that Ramsey has a history of domestic violence charges reaching back into the late 90s and early 2000s. So now he finds himself as the hero who was revealed to have a not so heroic past.

The temporal arrangements of these two men's stories are interesting to me. In Sanford's case, his past was known beforehand and his newsworthy event redeemed him, apparently, from that past. In Ramsey's case, he was deemed a hero, and then after this news of his praiseworthy action folks made the point of making his past public, to reveal his domestic abuse from ten years ago. So for him, his actions become redemptive retrospectively.

I know that Ramsey's record was revealed legally and ethically via Freedom of Information Act request. I know that we ought to understand people in their full humanity and not put them up on pedestals for doing one good thing (even if it's really, really good). But what I can't help asking, is, what motivated the desire to know about Ramsey potentially having a criminal past? Why make that call to request that information? What kind of lesson are we supposed to learn here? And why does Ramsey's story become one of a man who was a hero but now is a man with a complicated past who managed to turn his life around, as if he learned some kind of lesson, while the story of Sanford is one of a down and out politician who overcame the odds and triumphantly returned to political power, redeemed and ready to govern? Why is Ramsey's story just a bit less linear and self-verifying than Sanford's? Why is his power relegated to the cultural capital of being an internet meme while Sanford's is transformed into state power?

I am suspicious that (the politics of) race and class have something to do with it. Just like that reporter in the video of Ramsey's first interview who absolutely had to end the interview after Ramsey very astutely made a not so inaccurate despite his joking tone observation about race in America, I am aware that this is the point in the conversation in which most folks will want to steer away from this comparison and say "No no no, race has nothing to do with these interesting juxtapositions. We don't want to talk about race." But what if we do?

What happens when we take seriously the thought that a public eye constructed (through generations of segregation and racism, both personal and structural -- which both still exist, by the way) as fairly whitewashed both (a) wants/needs to see a black hero figure as having a criminal and/or violent and/or morally reprehensible past and (b) wants/needs to see a fallen white political figure as a figure of redemption, rising triumphantly out of the ashes of his transgressions to oppose a black political leader ("For voters, his hawkish views on federal spending, his experience and his promise to fight President Obama outweighed any personal transgressions." -NYT)?

I have my thoughts on this. But I'll end this post here to simply suggest that conversation begins, conversation which takes these questions of race seriously as they consider the discourse around the trajectories of redemption in which Sanford and Ramsey find themselves. 

In the meantime, some recommended reading for consideration during this discussion: "An Open Letter to Charles Ramsey"