This post has been sitting half finished for a very long time. I hereby give up and post it as is…
So it was election night 2016, and it was becoming clear what we had done to ourselves. I began thinking about my daughter and what to tell her the next day. This would be her first memory of an election, and instead of being something to, at least somewhat, inspire her confidence about the power of democratic institutions, it would, instead, be a traumatic stain in her memory: someone got elected, under questionable circumstances, who, even an 8 year old could see, was clearly incompetent and indifferent to the democratic institutions of this country and the rule of law.
Then I began to think about my first memories of anything political: I remember sitting with my parents watching the evening news as Nixon announced his resignation, I had no idea what Watergate was all about, but I knew something really bad had happened, a corrupt leader breaking the law to gain a position of power. A traumatic stain on my image of our democratic institutions.
Then, I began to wonder if all of us have some memory like this, so I started asking around. My wife’s first memory was of Reagan getting elected (another dark day). My mother had a clear memory of her entire class going outside to stand around the flagpole as they lowered it to half-mast when FDR died. My father didn’t remember anything about elections or politics, it wasn’t something his immigrant parents ever talked about (though, to be fair, I don’t think they ever talked much about anything). But he says he remembers seeing B-17 bombers going overhead and the fear of what the Japanese might do. My mother-in-law remembered seeing a sign which said “I like Ike” and asking her father “do we like Ike?” and he said “Oh, yes we do!” So at least one of those was not traumatic.
I don’t know what this memory will do in my daughter’s head as she grows up and starts participating in our democracy. I can only hope that it will inspire her to be involved and engaged in making things better rather than descending into resignation, slacktivism and trolling on political forums.
In 1986 I was handed a newspaper all about legalization of marijuana (it was actually an early version of the book The Emperor Wears No Clothes), and I have been supportive of legalization ever since. I voted for it a couple times, but it didn’t pass until I left the state. In fact every state I have lived in has legalized it… after I left! Perhaps supporters of legalization in Connecticut should start a fund to get me to move elsewhere.
More recently I read the book After Legalization which outlined the different ways legalization could actually happen, using the end of prohibition as a guide for how it could be done and the implications of the various alternatives. If you are at all interested in this issue, you should read it.
However, I would like to submit an alternative plan for your consideration:
Thus, the only way you are going to use marijuana is to grow it yourself. This would suddenly become a nation of gardeners! Numerous people would look at which part of their yards could be used for growing and how to construct beds. Everyone would begin talking about compost methods, mulching materials, gardening tools, and breeding strategies. The next thing you know, they would also begin planting some tomatoes or carrots, since it is easy enough to grow another row of plants. Some people would start cultivating more land and maybe start their own farms, earning a bit of extra money, providing fresh vegetables to their neighbors, and getting out into the outdoors.
I will give Thomas Jefferson the last word (in a letter to George Washington, 14 Aug. 1787):
Agriculture … is our wisest pursuit, because it will in the end contribute most to real wealth, good morals & happiness.
And in a letter to John Jay, 23 Aug. 1785:
Cultivators of the earth are the most valuable citizens. They are the most vigorous, the most independant, the most virtuous, & they are tied to their country & wedded to its liberty & interests by the most lasting bands.
Paris has been on my mind for the last week, as I’m sure it is for many others. Several years ago, I had the good fortune to spend a week in Paris. Coincidentally it was during a national election and it was very interesting to see how differently they conducted their election day. It was on a Sunday, and almost everything was closed (which made it difficult for a couple of vegans to find breakfast). The only places we saw people gathered were around the polling places. All else was quiet. It seemed that the process was treated with a quiet reverential dignity. During that election 83% of the French people voted. I felt privileged to be there to witness it.
Pop quiz: when was the last time the United States had a turnout like that?
Trick question! Never! The closest we ever got was in 1876. In my lifetime it’s hovered around 50%. We simply don’t take it seriously, either on election day or any other time. Political discourse in this country has become a perpetual exercise in Godwin’s Law, and even in the face of the vast tragedies occurring in Paris and other places, we all seem to revel in pointing fingers and calling each other names. We can’t stop for a few seconds and consider the fact that people of other political or religious beliefs are not monsters, but they are living, breathing people who, at their deepest level, are the same as us: we all want a peaceful and just world for ourselves and our children. Of course, recent events have shown that there are a few people people who are clearly monsters, who have no interest in such things, who will destroy anybody and anything to get their way. But I’m not sure we have enough discernment left to distinguish between the real and imaginary monsters, nor have enough civility left in us to engage in a meaningful discussion about how to deal with the real monsters, let alone enough courage to actually take some real actions to make the world a better place.
I have struggled for days to finish this post in some satisfactory way. But I don’t know if I can. I don’t know what the answers are, and most times I’m just trying to figure out the right questions. But while bombs may built with the hands, they are first built in the heart. Pay attention to what you’re building.