State of the Disunion

In honor of Obama's final State of the Union Address tonight. I feel a good one coming. Knock 'em dead, Barry. I guess this was written almost two years ago now, in the Winter of 2014. That's strange.

The day after that State of the Union, I called my brother Ryan. We had no intention of talking politics, but the conversation found its way there. Always a damn shame when that happens. My brother is a Conservative Republican and knowledgeable of things happening in the world. I am neither one of those.

I guess some part of us thought it might be a neat challenge to partake in a bipartisan conversation. Some Freudian part, where we wanted to have relations with the CNN correspondent or whatever. A bipartisan conversation is no small feat in this nation, as proven over and over again by those shiny men and women in Washington.

“I think Republicans are more or less the worst people in the world.” These were the words I chose to share with my brother. I was frustrated by what I saw the night before. The bipartisan conversation was off to a rocky start. My brother sat in silence on the other end, not disagreeing, but refusing to respond until I gave him something worth responding to. I thought that was fair, so I continued.

“Many self-identify as conservatives,” I pointed out, astutely. “Do you realize how little sense that makes? Think about it. They literally define themselves as being resistant to change. That's what makes them who they are. If they wish to be considered conservative, which most do sanctimoniously, they have no choice but to comply with the inherent nature of their label and resist change. How is that okay? How can this country ever work if half our people are staunchly opposed to change, by the very definition of the identity they willingly align with? Everything changes. Every single thing changes, but they won’t.”

Still, my brother let reticence do his talking. I guess he could tell there were a few more political banalities left to crawl sheepishly out of my mouth. That’s when I put the Darwin card on the table. I don’t know why I did this. My brother was a communications major, and now works for an elevator company. He has little practice with or reverence for evolutionary biology, as far as I know, but I went for it. “It is in the most basic parts of our nature that we change. It goes all the way down to basic biology. It is how we survive as a species. We have to keep up with the environment, which is in constant flux. It’s adapt or die, but we have this huge chunk of our country that won’t adapt because it is in the definition of whom they are not to.” And I took a big breath. That’s all I had in me for a spell.

My brother conceded to some bit of truth in my words. “I get what you’re saying. I’ll even give it to you that a lot of Republicans are just not great people, and are inclined to only sympathize with selfishness. My best friends are some of these butt holes.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

“Many need to learn to adopt some flexibility, but you are oversimplifying it. First, let’s make it clear that they have a reason to be steadfast in those convictions. I mean, it is a fundamental part of who we are as a nation to want what many of those conservatives want. You mentioned something about biology, but culture and national identity are factors too. Those things are just as deeply rooted. At this point, it is in our cultural DNA to fight for our own ways to prosper. It is what this country is founded on. Not to mention it works. Just look at what we built from...”

“It worked,” I chimed in for a quick revision. “Can you honestly tell me it still works? I’ll agree it worked. But it’s no longer 1800. It worked when this entire continent was endless acres of unoccupied field and opportunity. White dudes moved in and ran around—jamming guns down the throats of the Natives who were there, obviously—building stuff wherever they damn-well pleased. They grew stuff from the ground and ate it, or sold it to their neighbors. It worked for a while after that, too. When families from all over the world landed on the shores and started new lives, opened up sandwich shops, or made shoes, or whatever. That worked, because they were all living and doing it together. It worked because people would come and build something for themselves, and there was no reason not to. I agree that was beautiful. Besides the part with systematic enslavement and torture of humans. If you want to ignore that, it was beautiful.

“But it has run its course. This is a very different place than it was 200 years ago. Now you try to build the life you want, and there is no choice but to suck a little life out from somebody else. It’s just not the same place. There's not enough room for the sort of growth people crave. I am not even talking about room in our conscience or spirit or anything like that. I know you have little patience for that shit. I mean literally—geographically. There is no more space for it. The same things aren’t going to work like they used to. They’re not physically sustainable. You don’t take a horse to work. We can watch the President speak to us on a television. We buy food for our dinner at a supermarket. I am wearing polyester shorts. None of these things were possible when this country started and we were establishing an identity. If everything else has changed, why do some expect our ideals to stay the same and still work?

“And this isn’t just an irrational quest for some utopia land. That's not what gets me upset about the current state of things—it’s not that I just like complaining and long for some unattainable fantasy. There are numbers behind what I’m saying. People study this stuff. They do research to see if stuff the government does works. They look at what matters, like a personal sense of fulfillment, happiness, satisfaction, and the U.S. is never near the top on any of those things. Even healthcare. We have all the money in the world, and we can’t figure out how to give someone medical care when he’s sick. Studies show other countries have this figured out way better than we do.”

“What countries are you talking about? Just give me one.”

I started mentally scrolling through the facts I had collected in the books and articles I had read, trying to think of any countries that might fit the criteria, but not at all sure which actually did. “England has the best healthcare system in the world. That’s not my opinion. Every reliable metric will tell you that is the case.”

“England? Are you serious? That’s the example you choose? They have bigger problems with wealth disparities than we do. Well I wouldn’t say problems, because no one has the nerve to challenge the structure, but they do have bigger wealth disparities.”

“That’s not true,” I contested, unconvinced of myself.

“I work with a bunch of Brits. I don’t care what you read. I am telling you how it is. I hear it right from their mouths—all about the class disparity ripping apart the country. And how the royal family holds half the land and won’t share it with the people who need it. They’re just as bad as we are. If not worse.”

Okay, I was thinking. I didn’t know any of this. I just know England has phenomenal healthcare. That's all I was saying.

“What about those Scandinavians," I suggested. "They got it figured out. Sweden, Norway, Denmark. Oh and Switzerland.”

“That’s not Scandinavia.”

“Yeah, whatever. They’re white. Unbelievable healthcare, and if you look at any study on residents' quality of life, on happiness, you’ll find those countries near the top—way above where the U.S. lands on those rankings. And that’s what it is all about, isn’t it? I mean in the end, that’s really all it comes down to—are the people thriving and are they happy?”

“No. I completely disagree. I don’t think that’s what it’s about at all. People do not come to the United States to be happy. They come for something that transcends happiness. Happiness is fleeting.”

“I’m not saying we should be land of the free and home of the hedonist, but a state of happiness is usually a good indicator of general well-being. It’s a byproduct of things like success, and self-actualization, and a sense of contribution, and health, and healthy relationships. That’s why people measure happiness. Not to measure happiness exactly, because yeah, I agree it’s fleeting, but because of all the things happiness tends to accompany.”

“I am not even sure I agree with that," my brother returned. "I just don’t think happiness tells the story. People came here to be free. I know you think that sounds like some flag-waving, jingoist nonsense, but it is still true. Free to challenge themselves to live. Even if that meant failing, they were doing it on their own terms. They were deciding their fate. That’s why people come here. They get the rights to do that. That’s the American dream. It’s the freedom to choose. You can choose success. You can choose demise. You can choose happiness, if it works out that way. But you always choose. You write your own story—whether rags to riches or tragedy. That’s what makes this America. It doesn’t boil down to happiness ratings. That means nothing to what this country is about.”

I had a lot of respect for this. I saw my brother’s point. There is something to be said about authoring your story. I'm all about that. Maybe that’s what we all desire, really. "But not everyone has the choices," I realized. "That's the problem. We live in a nation that parades around in this mask of freedom, but who’s beneath it? Who is free? Certainly not everyone. You are free to make those choices—to write your story. I know I am, too. All those guys on TV are as well. But there are millions of people out there who are not. If we aren't wary of the choices we make, we end up stripping the freedom from them. We write their stories, too."

“Plus," my brother carried on, seeming to be unaffected by my most recent rebuttal, "you just can’t compare those Scandinavian countries, or your beloved Switzerland, to the U.S. The same principles are not going to apply. Those are countries with little turd nugget economies compared to that of the United States. What works for them will not work for us. Those economies are pretty much nonexistent. It’s apples and crab Rangoon, trying to compare us and them.”

“But who cares about the economy?” I begged, getting exhausted at this point. “Honestly, who gives a shit? What does it matter what their economy is like? I know precisely nothing about their economy; I just know they make it work. They have every civil and social institution functioning with an efficiency that the U.S. will never know. Isn’t that what the government is supposed to do? Create these things and make them work for the people? Isn’t that the whole point?

“We became obsessed with accumulating wealth—the government, I’m still talking about. And I don’t think it was poorly intentioned or anything. We need money to do stuff. I get that. So for a while, we focused on making money. We focused on expanding the economy. That’s fine. That makes sense. I just think at some point, everyone forgot why we were accumulating the wealth. They forgot it was ultimately supposed to be returned, and put towards systems that could use them to better the lives of our people. This was the whole point. But somewhere along the way, the means became the ends. Wealth became the goal, instead of just being something required to achieve the goal. This is why we are different than Switzerland. They don’t care that their economy isn’t booming. It doesn’t need to. They got what they need. It gives us nothing to have a booming economy unless we do something with the boom.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about. But sure, you’re right. Let’s just say you’re right about Switzerland. The thing is, we don’t live in Switzerland. Here, wealth matters. Power matters. Whether our economy is growing or not matters to our people. It is all part of our national tapestry—stitched by the heavy hand of capitalism. People want to continue to see the economy grow, and they want to become part of that growth. They want to contribute to it. That’s what people want in this country. We cannot just remove it from the equation. It’s not that simple. That’s just the real world we live in.”

“What if I just don’t want to accept that as the real world? It kind of seems like a waste of time.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, because that’s what’s waiting for you. Move to Switzerland, I guess.”

“I know you think I’m just stupid. And naïve. And whatever else. I know that. But maybe that’s not such an awful thing? You know? Isn’t that why people love babies?" I was getting a little carried away at this point. "Who doesn’t like a cute baby? You can’t hate a baby unless you’re sick in the head. The reason for this is, they are just so damn cute and innocent. And somewhere along the way, they get corrupted, and as a result they get less cute. There is a well-defined relationship between how easy human beings are to like and their degree of naiveté and innocence. No one has actually defined it, but it’s fairly well-defined. It’s why everyone loves babies. It’s a beautiful way to experience the world. Everyone agrees with this. Babies are doing this whole living thing the right way. So I'm saying, what if it’s our choice to stay there, like babies? What if we don’t have to abandon that way of viewing the world? We just have been told we do, so we listen.”

“You have to leave. You have to grow up. It’s reality. Reality is waiting for you, whether you want it there or not.”

"So I have to become selfish and cynical and jaded? That's what you're telling me? I have no choice?"

"If you want to function as part of this world, then at least to a degree, yes. At least two of those three. I'm not saying I like it, but I do it because it is required. It would be exhausting not to be."

“Just because you have 10 extra years on me, and therefore have spent 10 more years laying cynicism over your corneas, doesn’t mean you have to take me there with you. I shouldn't have to look at the world the way you do, with that cynicism glaucoma. Just because you are so entrenched in this reality you describe—where people look out for themselves and get after their own—it doesn’t mean I have to be there, too.

“You know what? It should be your responsibility to keep everyone who has not entered this reality far the hell away from it. You should just be like, 'Listen. This place is awful. Stay where you are. Stay like a baby. Stay innocent.'

“I’m not there, so don’t drag me there so you can feel better about yourself – so you can feel less alone in a selfish world. Push me to hold onto my optimism, please. I don’t care how foolishly hopeful it is to trust that people don’t need wealth and just need happiness and actually care about things beyond themselves. I don't care how naïve it is. We should encourage people to be naïve. Maybe people just screwed up a long time ago—made this all a whole lot more complicated than it really needs to be. Maybe we should try to go back and be more like babies. Everyone loves babies. With enough naïve people around, the naiveté could slowly become the reality. We can make the real world whatever we want it to be, instead of what it is now. You like freedom, right? We have the freedom to do that. It's our choice. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

We were pretty beat from all this. I think we both realized how this was taking a dive for drivel and abstraction, so we called it quits. Both sides of the phone sat in silence, letting memories of the hypnotic voices of political reporters sweep us away into our corrupted imaginations. Eventually, I broke the silence.

“I guess what it comes down to really, is two irreconcilable worldviews: Some people in this country care about other people, and others just care about themselves.”

"No. Don't be stupid."

"All right. I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it out."

"You'll get there. Goodnight, little fella. Love you."