Killing America

On Saturday, January 11, 1964, LBJ was in the Oval Office, The Kingsmen sang Louie Louie to the top of the R&B charts, and Brigitte Bardot was a transatlantic bombshell. It was also the day that Luther Terry, the Surgeon General of the United States, declared that cigarettes had dangerous effects including lung cancer and heart disease. A product that had been advertised as assuring good health had finally been realized for what it was: an American killer. Decades later, we look back on those days of the Marlboro Man and wonder how could those Americans have been so stupid?

Late last week, a pivotal moment in American history also occurred. It was the day that our current Surgeon General of the United States, Vivek Murthy, declared that misinformation and lies being spread across social media about Covid-19 vaccines was a public health hazard. Our president, Joe Biden, was more blunt. He told reporters that Facebook was “killing people.” Of course, Facebook feigned outrage and FOX News mocked the president as an alarmist that was trying to take control of our lives. Coordinated by American tobacco manufacturers, a similar campaign of deceit followed Luther Terry’s declaration about tobacco in the 1960s—one of the best funded campaigns of deceit in American history—and millions more died.

One day, perhaps in the not-too-distant future, I expect we will look back at social media and the largely deleterious effects it has had on our lives and view it as we now view cigarettes: how could we have been so stupid? Facebook has done to us what Phillip Morris, et al, did to us sixty years ago: they got us hooked, then lied to us to keep us hooked. Are Mark Zuckerberg and Sheryl Sandberg less dangerous than the tobacco titans of yesteryear? Is Rupert Murdock’s FOX News really serving the public interest when they fill the heads of their viewers with lies that could cost them their lives?

There is a much larger problem, however, than the simple deceits promulgated by Facebook and FOX News regarding Covid-19 vaccines. Throughout our history, Americans have been bound together by the stories we embrace about what it means to be an American. These stories were the social glue that enabled unity, regardless of our particular political persuasions, ethnicities, religious affiliations, race, gender, sexual preferences, or national origin, we could all subscribe. In the last twenty years, due to a fundamental degradation of American values, and the culture of deceit fomented, nurtured, and sustained by politicians and social media companies, we have lost those stories. They have become dead letters.

The first story is called the American Dream. It holds that anyone can become anything they want in America. That their destiny is in their own hands. That it does not matter from whence they came, or whom their daddy is, or what god they pray to (if any), or what color their skin is, or even whom they choose to love; they can become whomever they want to in America. This story is fundamental to our heritage. Like all stories, it does not stand up under the lens of empiricism. It is easy to discredit its validity as many, including the authors of the 1619 Project, have done. Yet, it has prevailed since John Winthrop landed the first settlers from Europe in modern-day Massachusetts in the early seventeenth century. It endured, less so because of its certainty than because of its allure.  We wanted to believe it. Why? Because it was aspirational.

The second story is only about seventy years old—a relative baby. It is the story of America as a superpower—as a font of exceptionalism. To be clear, it has its roots that also date back to John Winthrop when he claimed to his parishioner/colonists that “we shall be as a city upon a hill, the eyes of all people are upon us.” (That’s right, the 1980 Reagan borrowed it from the 1630 Winthrop.) But it was far from credible until after World War II when, as the United States benefited greatly as being the last intact nation-state in the civilized world and the only one that had the industrial capacity to rebuild the world, gained tremendous wealth and stature in the free world. The United States became one of two superpowers, then the only superpower after the collapse of the Soviet Union. We became exemplars of freedom and democracy and the world’s champion of those who sought the same. Again, does the story hold up under the microscope of empiricism? No. But, also again, it endured due to its aspirational nature.

If you ask an American under forty years of age today if either of these stories ring true to them—if they believe in them (as my generation does)—they will likely look at you with either pity, or scorn, or a weird mix of both. For they have largely, or mostly, lived their lives during the Age of Deceit where lies and shame and guilt have been shoved in their faces to the point that there is no longer any American story. All too often today, they are being taught that they are not individuals who can become anything they want to be; rather, they are simply members of tribal groups with grievances that excuse them from any sense of patriotism whatsoever. They should be allegiant to their group—however narrowly defined—and must subscribe to groupthink. And, moreover, that their principal right is to blame-and-shame anyone who stands between them and their desires.

This blame-and-shame trap is an ugly one and it is present on all sides of the political spectrum. The religious right expresses it as condemnation; the liberal left as cancellation. It is toxic and it will defeat one of the greatest empires in the history of the world. The key thing to acknowledge and correct (if it is not too late) is that blame-and-shame never succeeds in building a stronger more resilient culture or nation. It may feel good in the moment, but it festers and rots and destroys. Blame-and-shame movements have occurred throughout American history, but none succeeded (absent bloody conflict) to make America great. Abolition, Prohibition, and Pro-life are examples of blame-and-shame movements. Today, Occupy Wall Street, Me Too, Black Lives Matter, and Defund the Police are blame-and-shame movements.  All were, or are, destined to fail in reaching their objectives. Why? They are not aspirational.

In contrast, go back and study the Civil Rights movement in the 1960s. Granted, many of its successes are currently being undone by the Trumplicans, but it succeeded in many important ways. Why? Because it was aspirational. The Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., never, and I mean never, sought to blame-and-shame anyone. Rather, he gave everyone—regardless of race—a reason to belong to the movement. To become better human beings; to become something greater than they were under the old Jim Crow laws. He practically defined the word aspirational. In some of his last, and perhaps most famous words, he implored us: “I have seen the promised land! I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. So, I am happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man.”

My American stories are dead letters. It breaks my patriotic heart, but I accept that there must be new stories for a new America. But please people, I beg of you, drop the blame-and-shame game. Choose aspiration over shame. Summon the spirit of King, and F.D.R., and Lincoln. They may be long gone, but they understood what young leaders today do not: if you want to succeed unity is critical, and there can be no unity without giving people hope through aspiration.

By |2021-08-02T15:36:47+00:00July 19th, 2021|American Identity, General|0 Comments
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It is Us

It is not the presidents, governors, nor mayors.

It is not the ministers, rabbis, nor imams.

Not the attorneys, judges, nor the police.

It is not the corporate chieftains nor bankers

who will decide our destiny.

It is the rest of us. It is you. It is me. It is us.

 

We are black, brown and white,

yet we all claim the red, white, and blue.

We know how to be thoughtful and caring;

we can sing in harmony in church on Sundays.

But our better angels yield to dark demons

as brotherly love turns to hate on Mondays.

 

We have come to believe our privileges are rights

while entitlement courses through our veins.

We feel we are worthy simply because we exist;

not because we did the work and earned our broth;

not because we take responsibility for the greater good;

for we are drunk on selfies and greed and sloth.

 

Covid-19 revealed many cracks in our armor

as our exceptionalism died in the darkness of deceit.

Our willpower, once flexed, has become flaccid

diminished by our pettiness and our timidity.

New rivals snarl and rise like circling sharks

as we hemorrhage our virtue and our dignity.

 

Is this who we are?

Is this us?

Is this the America we want to be?

 

Who we are is up to us; it is in our hands.

Our heritage commands us to preserve the Dream.

As our politicians work hard to serve themselves,

it is up to us to save our fragile democracy.

We know the difference between right and wrong,

if only we could subdue duplicitous hypocrisy.

 

Today, we must confront ourselves

lest Independence Day loses all of its meaning.

It is not the Putins or Xis or Khameneis

who we must defeat to preserve our power.

It is the Garcias and Jacksons and Johnsons

who we must unite in this solemn hour.

 

“We the People” saved the world from tyranny,

now the world is begging us to save ourselves.

We know how to harness the brilliance of diversity.

Big minds from many places with dreams to match.

We can re-light that shining city on the hill

that beckons the world with sincere dispatch.

 

We must stop shaking fists and start shaking hands.

We must stop pushing down and start lifting up.

We must assure that the gates to that shining city

are open to anyone with the strength to climb its stairs.

We must summon the will of our ancestors

who never flinched—never faltered—when facing despair.

 

Climb aboard the American train to freedom;

the ride is not free and the work is daunting.

But it is our turn to put America back on track;

it is our duty to preserve Abe’s “best hope of earth.”

When we hold our children and look into their eyes,

will they look back and say we proved our worth?

 

We are a conundrum—we Americans—

bewildering to both friends and enemies.

 

We are the dream and we are the nightmare.

We are the righteous and we are the wrong.

We are the rich and we are the poor.

We are the strong and we are the weak.

We are the joyous and we are the forlorn.

We are the curse, but we are also the hope.

 

We are Americans.

Beware, here we come.

It is you. It is me. It is us.

By |2021-07-19T13:32:27+00:00June 27th, 2021|American Identity, General|0 Comments
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In Memory of Character

On this Memorial Day, as we remember those who gave their lives so we might remain free to live ours, we have our own remembering to do—about how we handled the challenges we faced during the pandemic. Were we patriots who wore masks and got vaccinated, or did we decide sacrifice was something for others to endure? Can we summon the courage to reconcile who we were in our collective moment of peril? Can we recalibrate and address the world before us with a renewed sense of virtue, empathy, and fortitude? Will character remain a quaint memory, or will it, once again, become our springboard to a better life for those who follow us?

This morning, a lavender wild Iris waved at me in a gentle breeze as I rode past the pastures at Telluray Ranch. In the Covid-19 summer of 2020 they never waved; even Iris know when something isn’t right. From my home in the Rockies, to my daughter’s apartment in Manhattan, to my son’s home in Seattle, America is crawling out of its involuntary hidings to experience a new life. Our maskless faces shine with complete expressions once again, conveying the hope of survival and the prospect of redemption. And while there is plenty to worry us as we confront a world fraught with uncertainty, we deserve our moment to smile and wave back at the wild and wise Iris.

What have we learned? What got us through? What should we hold onto as we forge a new post-pandemic life? One can become overwhelmed if we attempt to tally the losses that we have endured in such a short span of time. It is both breathtaking and heart-breaking. Above all, it is profoundly humbling to realize how we, and the institutions we thought would protect us, proved to be so fragile and unreliable. It turns out we were not nearly as cool or strong as our social media posts suggest. And yet, we remain. The question is: what can we do as individuals to build back our resilience and restore our strength of character?

Here are ten thoughts; by no means exhaustive in either scope or depth. They are offered here to prompt personal contemplation and discussion with loved ones, peer groups, and co-workers. Some new, but mostly old. After all, we aren’t the first to face unfathomable peril. Like our crumbling American bridges and roadways that need strengthening and renewal, now is the time to catch our breath and fortify every fiber of our being so we might face the future with an unyielding strength of character based in a sense of renewed compassion for everything and everyone that crosses our path.

  1. When life throws shit in your face, think of it as fertilizer (and grow from it). It’s not what happens to you, it is how you respond to what happens to you that matters. This rule is as old as the ancients; Stoics to be exact. Okay, Socrates before that. It was one of the principal lessons Viktor Frankl left for us to explain how he became one of the one-in-twenty-eight who survived Auschwitz. The Nazis took everything away from those they tortured in their concentration camps, but Frankl held that in spite of all the indignities and deprivations, they could not take away his choice about how to respond to them. This gave him agency, which allowed him to covet a purpose—a self-defined meaning for his otherwise miserable camp life. As Friedrich Nietzsche argued, “He who has a why in life can bear almost any how.” Humans are purpose-driven animals. Without purpose, life is unsustainable. What do you choose as your meaning—your purpose? It is your choice, and yours alone.
  2. Be worthy of your suffering. Will you become a victim of circumstance, or master of your destiny? Suffering is, in and of itself, an opportunity to exercise your muscles of resilience. Magnificence is seldom produced in the safety and comfort of privilege. It is born of sweat and pain and toil against all odds. Being worthy of your suffering asks whether the decisions you made in response to peril made a positive difference in your life and the lives of others. Suffering, therefore, can also be a source of meaning and, further, a way to actually (albeit paradoxically) sustain life. The manner in which you bear your burden may be the ultimate measure of strength of character. Again, I summon Frankl, who wrote that suffering is not necessary to find meaning, only that “meaning is possible in spite of suffering.”
  3. Think in terms of possibilities, not limits. In the grip of fear, it is natural to default to a sense of limits—to migrate to the loser’s corner that thrives in the dopey ether of focusing on why this or that cannot be done. When we are captured by the disposition of limits, defeat becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I observed this in my own county’s response to the pandemic, although, to the credit of new leadership mid-pandemic, we were able to turn the wind to our backs and, with the help of people indisposed to the thought of failure, we prevailed. All that happened was a shift in the query to why can we do this or that, as opposed to why not. Crises present opportunities to make the world over anew. Limits assure we protect the status quo, which almost never produces desired outcomes.
  4. Home is where you are, wherever that may be. People who yearn for home—that place to go back to where everything will be alright again—have a lot of work to do. Those who keep pulling up stakes, or changing partners, may be searching for a home that will never exist until they accept themselves and love that self. The constant search for new things, places, partners, in the mistaken belief that tranquility will be found by changing the external elements of life ignores the actual problem, which is buried inside the self. The continual search for replacement parts will never succeed, and will hurt many people along the way. In short, get right with yourself, or you will never be able to do right by others. When you are completely comfortable with who you are, anywhere can be home. Home is a state of tranquility that should be both attainable and sustainable regardless of location. It is where you are.
  5. Enjoy your morning cup of coffee as if it were the first one you’ve ever had, and as if it were the last one you will ever have. Let that attitude accompany you throughout your day. Your life will be as rich as that cup of coffee. This encompasses the classic Buddhist teaching of living in the present moment, which is the only moment that matters; the only moment you can do anything about. I have lost millions of moments in my life gulping down my coffee. I have missed millions of opportunities to love myself enough to allow my happiness to be sustained by the simplicity of the touch of the warm mug, the aroma of a humbly cultivated and gently processed bean, the swirl of froth that beckons a sip of perfection—all for the urgency of moments yet to come. Don’t be like me.
  6. Pursue mastery in the moment, one moment at a time. Approach every task, no matter how mundane, by attempting mastery. Not only will the task be performed better than if it were completed mindlessly, you will be strengthening your focus muscle—your power of concentration. Pursuing mastery also has the effect of slowing things down and allowing for the decompression of life. In America, we have become a culture of “good enough” or “close enough.” We only receive A grades if we have the benefit of a curve. I do not remember my maternal grandfather, who lived as a child in a sod hut; survived World War I, the Great Depression, and World War II; to just miss (by three months) seeing a man land on the moon and returned safely to earth, ever, ever, say “Okay, that’s close enough.” We need to get back to mastery, and soon.
  7. Listening is the greatest compliment you can pay someone. Valuing what others have to say not only affirms who they are, it allows them to bring their piece of the puzzle to the table, which benefits all. And, being listened to encourages reciprocation. People do tend to treat others as they wish to be treated. Are you frustrated by a parent, spouse, partner, sibling, co-worker, or child not listening to you? Maybe you should start by listening to them. If you find yourself thinking about what you are going to say next, once they finish their sentence, you are nor listening to them. If what you have to say next is not affected by what they have just said—if it pays no reference to what they have said—you are not listening to them. Until and when Americans can regain this skill, of honoring the ratio of two ears to one mouth, suggesting how much listening versus speaking we should be doing, we will find our many issues insurmountable.
  8. Practice radical empathy. In Isabel Wilkerson’s fabulous book, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents (which should be read by every American), she proposes the employment of radical empathy. “Radical empathy … means putting in the work to educate oneself and to listen with a humble heart to understand another’s experience from their perspective, not as we would imagine we would feel. Radical empathy is not about you and what you think you would do in a situation you have never been in and perhaps never will. It is the kindred connection from a place of deep knowing that opens your spirit to the pain of another as they perceive it.” Empathy—radical empathy—is the key to solving so many of America’s problems.
  9. Being kind costs nothing. On a recent flight to New York City, I was seated in the bulkhead next to a thirty-something woman with a carry-on bag that would normally fit under the seat in front of you (but for the bulkhead). In the world of airline safety protocol, her bag (and mine) were required to be stowed in a luggage bin above the seats. Of course, as airline designer ignorance goes, the bins above our seats were taken up with first aid and oxygen tanks, leaving us to swim back down the aisle to stow our bags. Without a word to her, I accepted responsibility to stow and retrieve our bags, both in-flight and after landing. Upon doing so after landing, the woman looked me in the eye and asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”  I replied simply, “So you will be nice to someone else.” Therein lies the power of pay-it-forward. Maybe, just maybe, we can start the next epidemic—of kindness. (Even during air travel!)
  10. The day of your death is an exit exam. If this was the last day of your life, would you pass? If everything you did today was the last time you would do it, did you do those things as well as you could have, and did you appreciate the chance to do them? Are you living your life in a state of tranquility? If the answers are yes, you may die a good death without fear or regret. You will leave this world better than you found it; you have prevailed in the game of life. Your farewell will undoubtedly be sorrowful for those who love you, but you have earned the right to put a smile on your face, close your eyes, and rest in blissful peace.

Live your life with a strength of character that will long be honored by those you leave behind. This is your only duty—to yourself and humankind. If you feel you have work to do (and who doesn’t) let this Memorial Day mark its beginning.

By |2021-06-27T13:08:47+00:00May 31st, 2021|General|0 Comments
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Our Plague of Righteous Certitude

How we know what we know is the purview of epistemologists and intellectual historians. Today, they are the folks who are screaming into the void while being largely ignored. Yet, they hold the keys to our deliverance from many, if not all, of the problems we face as individuals, communities, countries, and the world.

The Covid-19 pandemic exposed many weaknesses in our healthcare system, but it also provided a much more important lesson, if we care to recognize it. One of the characteristics of the pandemic that bedeviled both scientists and politicians (often at odds with one another) was how little we knew about the virus, SARS CoV-2, and even less about what to do to protect ourselves until a vaccine arrived. Masks, which have proven to be the principal means of protection, were initially thought to be necessary only for healthcare workers. Hand sanitizer, Clorox wipes, and isolation would save the rest of us (until they didn’t).  The bottom line: we didn’t know what we didn’t know. As dangerous as that condition is in any decision-making process, a worse condition was yet to come.

Ignorant of our ignorance, we stubbornly stepped off an epistemological cliff into the abyss. We not only didn’t know what we needed to know, we thought that we did know. Pull up any video of our prior president between February 2020 and Election Day in November and you will see stupefying evidence of this catastrophic condition. While he was the most obvious and egregious illustration of this condition, he wasn’t the only one making this mistake; to one degree or another we were all complicit. This condition, of ignorance masquerading as brilliance, is the proverbial disaster scenario of epistemology. And, as a result, hundreds of thousands of people died that did not have to die (and they are still dying).

The problem is that this condition has metastasized across every platform of discourse in the world today. Ignorance-based righteous certitude is a plague much worse than Covid-19. It has pervaded every aspect of our lives and is in evidence from the righteous right to the woke left. Regardless of political persuasion, education level, wealth, race, gender, religious disposition, ethnicity, origin, or sexual orientation, we have collectively become zealots of our own ignorance. I have even come up with a word to describe this condition: ignacity (noun) or ignacious (adjective). Shorthand definition: proudly stupid; arrogantly ignorant. One need look no further than the proliferation of conspiracy theories in America today, which act to simplify the world for our simple minds so that we might maintain a sense of cognitive consonance—of pseudo-sanity. Exhibit 1: QAnon.

Most of us arrived at our state of ignacity innocently enough. Social media initiated our dive into righteous certitude by feeding us self-affirming information that would increase our platform engagement and put more money into the pockets of people like Mark Zuckerberg. We systematically brainwashed ourselves while also losing our sense of curiosity. Then, isolation required to subdue the pandemic compounded our intellectual sclerosis. It was a one-two punch that has placed critical thinking and liberalism on life support. Further, it has disrupted, if not completely sidelined, the creative process that relies on the integration of seemingly disparate resources and ideas to produce comprehensive solutions to complex problems. Right when we needed to be open and creative, we shackled our hearts and minds rendering them functionally paralyzed.

I am beyond tired of listening to those whose hearts and minds—beliefs and knowledge—are so bound by righteous certitude and encased in steel-clad egos that only their definition of a problem, solution, or outcome is worthy of consideration. Especially when they marinate their argument in the slime of deceit. Many of us are so fixated on our narrow view of reality that we have become like tumors of toxicity, locked and loaded, ready to explode in a wrath of righteousness annihilating any contrary fact, idea, or option that dare come between us and our particular point of view. It is beyond nauseating; it is profoundly dangerous.

As a solution, steeped in that rarefied air of humility, every day, every meeting, every encounter with our world should begin by swapping arrogant ignorance for humble ignorance. We should all recite these words, early and often:

I don’t know.

You don’t know.

They don’t know.

We don’t know.

But together, I, you, they, and we, can know.

Further, our beliefs—the things we don’t know but nevertheless cling to as truths—must be poured out into the sand to be absorbed beyond their possible recovery. Think of it as a holistic cleansing of the soul. Our predispositions and convictions must be scrubbed from our consciousness to disentangle our egos from our worthy ambitions to improve our lives and the community of humanity. As the Zen tradition would suggest, with our cups emptied, our wise minds and compassionate hearts can allow all possibilities to be considered.

Learning is the lifeblood of knowledge. It assures that all inputs are considered to create better options resulting in decisions that produce desirable outcomes. We must remove the corrupted lenses we have duct-taped over our eyes to once again see things as they are, rather than continue to be minions of epistemological disaster. The sad thing is, if we don’t open our minds and hearts to think about things differently, we will continue on a path of death and destruction.

Please join me in saving humanity by writing, saying, shouting, and singing: I DON’T KNOW! (It’s a start.)

By |2021-05-31T15:45:06+00:00May 11th, 2021|General|0 Comments
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From Fear to Flow

Crises always offer the opportunity for creative destruction, although emerging from the Covid-19 pandemic hardly feels creative, at least not yet. The science says go for it; that is, if you are fully vaccinated. Yet, as slow as we were to adopt responsible habits of self-protection—like mask wearing—I feel no sense of urgency to drop my security blanket of triple-layered nose to chin prophylaxis by UnderArmour. Taking it off feels like I am walking around with my fly unzipped. I am embracing my vaccinated freedoms with all the enthusiasm of a bear emerging from hibernation: ambling about in a slumber-induced stupor trying to decide if I am hungry or hungover; wary of leaving my den behind. (I captured the bear picture above a few days ago from just outside my front door.)

In the last big crisis that we faced—the Great Depression and World War II—Americans raced forth to get college degrees, have babies, and rebuild the world. Back then, science didn’t tell us to go for it, ABC’s The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet did. Bigger families, bigger cars, and bigger houses put the United States on the path to superpower status. We looked up at the moon and said, “Okay, we can do that.” And, drunk on red, white, and blue ambition, we did it, as the world looked on in awe. Awe is not the way the world, or even we Americans, view the United States today. Youthful national exuberance has given way to crotchety timidity; our swagger squandered in a cauldron of personal fears and social and political fragility. There is no staff of victory upon which to hoist our patriotism. We have the people, but there is no “We the people.”

Our new president has an enormous challenge, and while he is meeting it with what appears to be a proper mix of assertiveness and deliberation, the opposition remains poised—and unfortunately capable—of returning us to the Age of Deceit in 2022. The battle over what it means to be an American is clearly not yet decided. But that doesn’t mean we can’t forge a new and better life. It just means we must remain vigilant about what lurks in the blindspots where those reside who are determined to impose their twisted conception of a 1950s-styled retrotopia—where the only winners are Ozzie and Harriet Nelson’s boys—are coiled with fangs drawn to toll the death knell of America’s liberal democracy.

We must get past our fears and get into the flow of creativity to assure a healthy transition to a new American identity and personal equanimity. The first step is recognizing the lessons of the pandemic—the things we did (even if we didn’t want to) that proved beneficial. We slowed down. We consumed less. We paid attention to family, friends, and neighbors. We realized that many of the things we thought were necessary—like flying across the country for a business meeting—weren’t necessary at all. Many of us came to realize just how much of our lives were being wasted staring at social media screens and Netflix trailers; that a walk in the woods filled our hearts better than Facebook friends. We learned to sacrifice, and while many sacrifices proved depressing, others have earned their permanence in our new lives.

I come from the generation that was taught that any effort less than 110% simply didn’t cut it. One of my lessons from the pandemic is that 80% is better. Maybe even less. Proceeding at the pace and intensity of 110% crowds out inputs and options that improve outcomes and reduce failures. Slowing down and opening up is a much more effective strategy. Further, it makes space for empathy and humility. Listening is more valuable than speaking. Hesitation is not necessarily a weakness. Like the fermata that brings aesthetic structure to music, pausing to think twice, or even three times, can yield spectacular benefits. It can turn noise into melody. Finally, it is a much healthier and more sustainable way to live.

What are your lessons? As we move from fear to flow, what can we retain of our sacrifices that still make sense as we emerge from our pandemic dens? Returning to normal should not mean going back to pre-pandemic behaviors and policies. A new identity and life must leave room to retain what we have learned. They may have been hard lessons, but lessons nonetheless. A new America and a new you are what creative destruction is all about. Summon the courage to honor your lessons. Seize the opportunity for a hard reboot. A better normal—a better life—can be ours.

By |2021-05-11T14:13:30+00:00May 5th, 2021|American Identity, General|0 Comments
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The After Days

Spring arrives emergent; a sense of jubilation and rebirth as a waning monochrome winter casts forth an ambitious spectral line of color to spawn the promise of rainbows. Our bodies slowly shed their pasty-white winter pallor for the sun-kissed promise of summer. The newborns of nature stumble to and fro under the watchful eyes of tired mothers. Old men sit in the park again to share new wisdom steeped in the short-shadow days of winter.

But this year is different. Emergent? Yes. Stumbling forth? Indeed. Out of the devastation of a wildfire of uncertainty, sickness, and death, we navigate around hotspots and deflect the embers of a pandemic blaze that has crippled our nation and world. Who knows if Darwin is grinning from ear to ear, or shaking his head in disgust? What comes next will follow signposts marked by the charred and crooked timber of humanity. All we really want is a “next” that is not the pandemic past.

The losses of the pandemic days will be measured for years, perhaps even a whole generation. The hard data—the whole numbers—are easy enough to count. The infected, the hospitalized, and the dead are slowly replaced by tallies of the first shot, second shot, and fully immunized. Herd immunity is a common aim (if only we were a herd). Yes, there will be empty seats at the table, but there will also be deep scars left on the souls of those who remain able to pull up a chair.

The soft data—the stuff that is hard to tally—piles up like detritus in the eddy waters of a river. It will take a very long time to flush it downstream. Mental anguish does not bleed, but it drains life just the same. The missed moments of youth, lost in isolation from classmates behind the sterile two-dimensional screens of technology, may manifest as errors of judgment for years to come. The now expressionless stillness of a coping stoic’s face tells a tale of its own. Hearts scarred by infection or cleaved by despair will never be whole again. At this dawn of spring, the challenges seem overwhelming.

I lost half of a family during the pandemic days; not to death, but to despair. The pandemic lockdown proved effective in exposing both demons and carefully concealed deceits. Our matriarch fled in search of a new life in hopes that a new place, and the prospect of a new partner, might finally make her whole. She had thought the third time was a charm, but a fourth bell rang. When faced with imminent danger (whether real or imagined), mammals freeze, fight, or flee. Running away has been her life-pattern; a modality she probably adopted from her love of horses. The half of a family that remains is hopeful her wake of destruction unfurls the possibility of her happiness, while we marshal on.

This spring, we must all crawl forth toward the light of the after days. Do we have a choice? The darkness behind us—the death and despair—will be locked in the pages of history which, with the blessings of hope, will remain forever sealed. This is our moment, as humans and as Americans to set a new course. The ladder of lessons we reluctantly endured during the pandemic days provide the rungs for renewal; of the birth of a stronger character against which we will forge a durable resilience to face the hereafter.

We must meet the challenge of remaking our country and world. We owe it to the memories of lives and loves lost. We owe it to our little ones who will be big ones soon. We owe it to ourselves.

Please take a moment after reading this to breathe in slowly, deeply, the promise of spring. Then, after an equally slow exhalation, let’s all get to work. The sprigs of spring suggest that the after days are upon us.

By |2021-05-05T21:42:39+00:00April 18th, 2021|General|0 Comments
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Our Next Destiny: Objective Morality

As a student of history, I have been trained to consider what we can learn from an expanse of time at altitudes that transcend the moment. To be clear, we must deal with the flames at our feet; ignoring them means tomorrow may never come. However, if we are to have any claim of authorship of our future, we must lift our eyes, hearts, and minds to consider new possibilities and opportunities. Otherwise, we are forever victims of circumstance. The time is now to lift our perspective to shape a new destiny.

I have written extensively about the cycles of American history. Born in crisis, our history suggests we then move to a period of objectivism, then liberalism, then idealism, and crisis again. We are at the end of our fourth period of crisis in American history, what I termed the “Age of Deceit.” What comes next—a new era of objectivism—has been characterized in the past by terms such as unity, reason, inclusion, pragmatism, tolerance, risk aversion, stability, containment, self-reliance, standardization, meritocracy, frugality, humility, redemption, secularity, family, and community.

Every period of objectivism varies to reflect the nature and consequences of the immediately preceding crisis. Historically, these consequences have emanated from economic and physical destruction. The periods that followed the American Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and the Great Depression and World War II were periods of objectivism. The next fourth period of objectivism will be different. Yes, there has been economic and physical destruction during the Age of Deceit that spanned the wars we waged in the Middle East, to the Great Recession, to the pandemic; but, this time, there has been an unprecedented degree of moral destruction as well. Among other things, the term “empathy” must join those above to set a new destiny—a new era—of objectivism.

Although deceit was the common denominator that I chose to characterize the period of crisis we are now leaving, the moral transgressions ranged a spectrum of violations of those things we might consider under the umbrella of “good.” In addition to our many deceits, we were also selfish, greedy, reckless, conceited, and profoundly narcissistic. Our calculus excluded morality; it began and ended in a transactional modality measured principally in dollars and seldom considered effects beyond ourselves—across extended peoples, places, or time.

Ironically, but also consistent with history, one might expect that morality would have been a primary consideration in the era just passed since periods of late idealism and early crisis are marked by high religiosity. After all, aren’t religions known for their high morality? The answer, of course, is that the values religions promote are, but the institutions and organizations formed to support them fall victim to the same things other institutions and organizations do: compromising their principles in the name of self-preservation. Organized religions compete for adherents just as private enterprise competes for customers. Doing good—meeting moral commitments—are often the first victim of competition.

Of the values all world religions hold is the idea that we should treat each other as we wish to be treated ourselves; the so-called Golden Rule. However, there is another tenet of morality we must both recognize and embrace if we are to transcend this crisis and deliver ourselves to a much better place—to a destiny of objective morality. It to, is taught by most, if not all world religions. I call it the principle of moral reciprocity. It is the idea that we are as strong as the weakest among us, as wealthy as the poorest among us, as safe as the least secure among us, as healthy as the sickest among us. This principle is they key to solving many of our problems; those that collectively fall into the basket of concerns we call inequality. And, it is a prerequisite of achieving the loftiest objective of all: a sustainable culture of integrity.

To secure a future of objective morality we must change two things: where we focus our eyes, and how we measure success. Where we end up, whether we are driving a car, or plotting a path to a new destiny, largely depends on where we focus our eyes. We go where our eyes tell the brain behind them to go. The brain then commands the body to coordinate its capabilities to get there. The other element is how we measure success; when we have arrived at our destination, be it a place or an outcome. In the Age of Deceit, we measured our success in dollars and personal gratification. It should be no surprise, then, that we are in the mess we are in as a society. I believe it can be argued we don’t even have a society today.

For the most part, this shift in perspective is understood by our current president, Joe Biden. Against extraordinary structural impediments, President Biden is trying to take us to a period of objective morality. The good news is forces tend to move us in the direction of objectivism following periods of idealism and crisis. In many ways, we are given little choice to correct our path if we are to survive. We have that going for us. Our eyes will naturally focus on new destinations out of the basic desire for self-preservation. However, embracing the principle of moral reciprocity is anathema to where we have been for the last three decades. This will be a formidable challenge.

Curiously, organized religion could play a positive role. The decline of religiosity in America could be addressed by a new appeal to the so-called “nones” that claim no religious affiliation by appealing to their sense of morality as defined by the Golden Rule and the principle of moral reciprocity. Organized religion—to save itself—must authentically and sincerely embrace morality again. If it does, it will be the first time since it supported civil rights and rallied against the war in Viet Nam in the 1960s. Since then, it has mostly spiraled into the abyss of its current irrelevance. It followed our descent into depravity rather than saving us from it.

As individuals, we must also set our sights on new horizons. If we want stronger families and communities, why do we continue to stare at our federal government and national media? We need to assure we each take responsibility for where our feet stand each and every day. We need to point at ourselves to assure a new destiny. We need to ask our neighbors how they are doing. No one will, or can, lift us up if we don’t make the effort ourselves.  Good and bad are both contagious. It is up to us to see which one spreads.

A life lived in a state of objective morality has many benefits. Today, given from whence we have come, it may just be the key to our very survival, and the prosperity—both material and moral—of many generations to come.

By |2021-04-18T13:22:24+00:00April 11th, 2021|General, Leadership|0 Comments
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Masks Are Killing America

I suspect you are like me in at least one regard: we are all tired as hell of the impact the pandemic has had on our lives, including the wearing of masks. Statistically, most of us have not endured the disease of Covid-19 or lost a loved one—at least not to death. Unless we are completely ignorant of the efficacy of masks, or have been fooled by 45, we know beyond any scientific doubt that masks reduce the transmission of the SARS CoV-2 virus. We comply to survive.

However, the cost of masks and the general isolation required to get to herd immunity may be much larger than any cost—save the loss of human lives and related Covid-disabilities—we have endured thus far. Unity, required for any democracy to thrive against the perils it faces, was in a fragile state before the pandemic. It now may be lost forever. And, masks and isolation will share the blame. These Covid-costs are only just beginning to be realized.  Masks—both virtual and actual—are slowly killing the promise of the American idea.

Our first virtual mask, simple partisanship, has always imperiled unity, but that has been a common mask throughout our political history.  Read Ron Chernow’s Alexander Hamilton to get a taste of that reality. Then, beginning in the 1990s, our second virtual mask was affluence. New and extraordinary wealth created enough space in our society to make bad decisions while largely escaping any serious consequences. This ahistorical slack in the system created by affluence also allowed us to become arrogant, self-centered, and dismissive of the need for cooperation. Money became our mask. We were too smart and selfish to entertain the admonition of the late Rodney King: “Why can’t we all just get along?”

Then, in the 2000s, came the virtual mask of social media, which allowed us to retreat further into ourselves. We joyfully allowed ourselves to limit our interaction to those ideas, beliefs, and ‘friends’ with which, or with whom, we agreed. Critical thinking gave way to the creampuff comfort of being correct, regardless of how wrong we were. In particular, Google, Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube made billions off our lazy minds and weakened characters. (Blaming them rather than ourselves has become the latest of our responsibility-avoidance behaviors.)

Then, in 2016, came 45; I won’t belabor that cost to unity.

Today, we are at home alone, or alone together with those who share a roof.  When we venture out, we do it with actual masks and distance—lots and lots of masks and distance. Zoom, Webex, and Facetime have become our only means of faux face-to-face communication. And, they suck. Yes, we can see unmasked faces, but that is only one aspect of human communication. If we are to ever have a chance at unity again, it requires breathing the same air in the same place with each other where we can observe all the clues embedded in bodily communication and are forced to respond in real time to real issues, and maybe—just maybe—get a sense of who we are again. We must touch again, both figuratively and actually. We must shed our masks.

This last weekend, many 45ers met at CPAC’s annual conference to beat their chests of certitude and genuflect before a gold statue of 45, dressed like an entitled prep-school kid going to a patriotic cookout. (The scarlet red flipflops really set off his ensemble.) Others, however, understand the challenge of unity and are offering their work to begin the rebirth of empathy and understanding. And, no, they aren’t the ones who herald wokeness as a path to unity. To me, wokeness smells like another form of self-righteous certitude.

“How to Understand Your Enemy,” a podcast episode of The Good Fight, hosted by Yascha Mounk, included the research of John Hibbing, a political science professor at the University of Nebraska who has studied 45ers and pulls back the curtain on what motivates their support of 45, but more importantly how they see America and the world. Spoiler alert: no, they are all not deplorables.  In Sunday’s Washington Post Magazine, Bill Donahue, who lives in rural New Hampshire where 45 won easily, illustrates his attempt to engage with the other political side which, through perseverance and patience, actually forged a new understanding—a necessary precursor to unity—with at least one political foe.

In my own hometown of Ridgway, Colorado, one rancher has erected an enormous American flag in the middle of his pasture, the kind commonly found flying over automobile dealerships in Texas. It has agitated many because of its size and unnatural visual impact in an otherwise pristine pastoral valley wedged between snow-capped mountains. At the same time, it has galvanized others who feel 45 was robbed of a second term. The letters to the editor that followed its erection on both sides—agitated or galvanized—were as predictable as they were banal. But, perhaps we should view it as a conversation starter; where people actually listen to each other.  Perhaps the flag is even a cry for help—to be heard. Or, simply the display of a 45-bully. Either way, if we wish to be heard, we must be willing to listen.

People are scared; they are angry. We have reason to be both. However, we must realize that partisanship, affluence, social media, and 45, have turned us into enemies regardless of the facts at hand. The pandemic, marked by masks and isolation, may be the death knell of unity and our democracy. We have to get past this nonsense as soon as possible if the promise of America has any hope of being reborn. Today, America is on its own ventilator. Put a flag—however large or small—up to your ear to hear its feeble screams.

Please, people, we can do better. We must do better.

By |2021-04-11T18:25:52+00:00February 28th, 2021|American Identity, General|0 Comments
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Tune Out to Tune In

Avert your eyes and cover your ears. A nose-clip, or essential oil diffuser, might be in order as well. Turn the channel away from the din of political dishonor. Swipe left. Refocus your efforts on yourself, your loved ones, on friends, on family, and on community. The charlatans who pledge their allegiance to our best interests no longer deserve our attention. They have failed us and embarrassed their grandchildren. In an effort to have things both ways, Mitch McConnell has turned himself inside out so many times what is left is a sack of mottled death-pallor skin inflated by putrid bloat. Shame is his pathetic legacy.

Meanwhile, Team Joe are working their butts off to reverse our national descent into the abyss while the SARS CoV-2 mutates to save itself from our many interventions. Spring, come soon. For our part, we must ignore the shiny distractions members of Congress jangle before the lenses of their media enablers to loosen our wallets in their favor. Our resources don’t need to go to Washington DC in hopes they may someday return to serve us; they need to be directly applied at home. I implore once again: building stronghold communities is our path to a better future. (See chapter 8 in Saving America in the Age of Deceit.)

There are glimpses of brilliance on the horizon. A certain byproduct of crisis is innovation. Forced to think differently and enabled by norm-crashing consequences, new powers based in new beauty are revealed. New technologies are an obvious place of innovation. As David Brooks pointed out in The New York Times recently, “life altering breakthroughs … are fewer than they once were,” which is to say: it is now time for many more. The half-full glass mindset suggests the current massive public health, economic, and political crises we face will, paradoxically, create the necessary space for an acceleration of opportunity to redesign our world.

Coronavirus vaccines have broken all the legacy rules of vaccine development and distribution. As clumsy as we appear today in our attempt to conquer Covid-19, tomorrow we may have a one-shot coronavirus vaccine that will knock out a spectrum of deadly viruses and maybe even the common cold. In energy, everything from harnessing deep-earth heat to brand new safe, small, and efficient nuclear reactors may assure that efforts in renewables—well underway already—have complementary sources of clean energy to assure our lifestyle, health and safety for generations to come while breathing new life into the planet.  As Brooks surmised, “one could go on: artificial intelligence; space exploration seems to be heating up; a variety of anti-aging technologies are being pursued; … an anti-obesity drug. There is even lab-grown meat.”

Our souls must, however, be cleansed as well. The folks in lab coats can give us new tools, but we need to reboot our hearts and minds. For example, the hyper-individualism my generation bestowed upon America that was amplified to levels of selfie-based narcissism by our children, must be set aside for new regimes of collective action that utilize the efficiencies of capitalism as a means rather than an end. The world has become an interconnected and highly dependent field of energy that transcends borders, walls, language, and currencies while honoring the beauty of cultural heritage. Honesty and respect must replace fear and greed as differentiators to affect persuasion. The butterfly effect is real. What was once seen as chaos will be recognized as rational fluidity once enlightenment is realized. (It only appears chaotic when we don’t understand what is going on.)

Achieving this is the Holy Grail of a thousand years.  It can only happen if we start with ourselves and our communities. This is a bottom-up process. One person, one soul at a time. A virtue-based life has been recognized by philosophers for thousands of years as the key to transcendence and tranquility; as the pathway to harmony with Nature, writ large. The opportunity today has been established by a lack of choice born from crisis. We may feel pinned down in the moment, but there is a better way coming into view.

Unclench your fists. Turn your screams into song. Avert your eyes but don’t close them. Beyond suffering lies the prospect of transformation. Perhaps even a second age of enlightenment. It won’t be easy; it will be damn hard. Many among us won’t get there, but those of us who do may just change the whole world. Tune out, take a huge breath, then tune in, again.

By |2021-02-28T19:47:29+00:00February 16th, 2021|General, The New Realities|0 Comments
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Onward America

“That was some weird shit,” surmised our forty-third president, George W. Bush, as he departed the inaugural of our forty-fifth, Donald J. Trump. Four years on, the American carnage visualized by Trump at his inaugural—his “weird shit”—has been realized in full.  We descended, slowly but surely, into his tangled web of threats that he carefully crafted to assure the manifestation of his psychopathy as our collective doom.

Would he become presidential, transformed by the traditions and honor of his office?  No, he would not.  Would he be cajoled and contained by veterans of American exceptionalism? No, he made short shrift of them; one crisp dark blue suit at a time. In the end, he was left with Mr. Pillow, the last and lowest of his sycophants, save America’s (former) mayor, Rudy Giuliani.

Cormac McCarthy could have written it, but none of us would have believed him. The Road, a feat of dystopic eloquence, feels too real today.  Hardscrabble America, as the playwright Sam Shepard celebrated, was an early victim. That America belonged to Trump too. Remember, “Trump Loves Coal!”? He promised them deliverance from their fears of falling into irrelevance, or worse.  But, dying of whiteness became a thing. Deaths of despair eviscerated rural America; MAGA hats clasped upon their chests as they were lowered into the cemeteries of their ancestors.

It seems we have slipped on every step as we stumbled toward peril; as if the edges of each riser were glazed in black ice. An empire lost. Generations of toil and sacrifice butchered at the altar of a malignant narcissist as his insatiable appetite raged; a gluttonous monster. “America First” was, in truth: Trump first, last, and always.

Today, we are left looking over our shoulders as we attempt to live our lives. The web of threats we face strangle us with demonic ire. Invisible death lurks in the contrails of each human exhalation we pass. Some families have grown deeper in their conviction to each other, while others have been lost. Communities and companies and churches struggle to remain united behind the glassy indifference of Zoom screens. Children, whose memory banks are naturally low, struggle to remember what happiness is. Despair has taken up residency in the soul of America.

We have hit bottom, or damn close. Weird shit, indeed. Will God shed His grace on thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea?  It seems unlikely today, but who knows? For the moment, most of us have survived what has been a monumental challenge—to evade the gangrenous rot of Donald Trump. While there are those who still dangle, tethered by their stubborn sense of denial—continuing to support the madness Trump hath wrought—their tentacles will eventually wither in the sunlight of truth.  We may no longer count them as friends or family, or possess the mercy to catch them as they fall, but it is what it is. Life is an onward proposition.

It will be a long road out from this purgatory. We must resist the notion of sudden deliverance or redemption.  It will take all of our strength and resources. Hard work and hard love. Time. We were crossed by a madman, but that too is our responsibility. Determination must supplant compromise for now. Those who continue to suckle the nipple of deceit must be relinquished of their authority; banished from further consideration. If we are to save America from treasonous Americans—whether Proud Boys, QAnon, or members of the United States Congress—we must do so with the disposition and strength of a grizzly bear. The stakes are simply too high.

Our first president, George Washington, warned us in his farewell address that

The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetuated the most horrid enormities, is itself frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries which result incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation on the ruins of public liberty.

We have lived through Washington’s warning; we must never forget this lesson again.

May we find strength and resolve in our memories of those who preceded us, and inspiration and hope in the promise of those who follow.

Onward, America.

By |2021-02-16T19:49:09+00:00January 19th, 2021|General|0 Comments
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