I’d rather not entertain current events for a while, and instead tell you a bit more about the Quaker Young Adult gathering I recently attended.  Primarily this is because it is supremely depressing to contemplate the oil spill.  The beaches on Alabama’s Gulf Coast that I visited every summer as a child and young teen might be forever changed as wave after wave of oil washes ashore.  I may return to that at another time, but right now I am avoiding even thinking about it because it hits so close to home.  Returning to my original point, there are so many stories to share I hardly know where to begin, but I’ll start with one and go from there.

Last night, voters rejected the Washington, DC, establishment, signaling an electorate eager to take out its anger on political insiders of both parties.  Channeling dissatisfaction with the nation’s capital has long been the meal ticket for candidates espousing a strong populist streak.  Such is the nature of this election cycle.  Having established that, I thought I might try to add my own perspective as to why Washington runs the way it does.  Close to a year spent here has given me ample opportunity to observe many of its idiosyncrasies and quirks.  While I have certainly not been privy to the private world of the federal government, I have experienced a multitude of other meetings, gatherings, and functions which have inadvertently or deliberately mirrored that of the seat of power.

Editor’s Note:

I wrote this originally for a Quaker audience, but would like to share this with you as well.  I’ve added a few notes in the text to aid the comprehension of those who are not Friends.  I’ve also expanded the message to include those who are not people of faith.

The Author.

Forgive me for doing something a bit different today.  A steady diet of teh serious often gets burdensome.  

The late 90’s to early 2000’s MTV animated series Daria was finally released yesterday on DVD in totality.  I’m not sure a more perfect encapsulation of my adolescence could have ever been created.  Born in an era where content on MTV still could be seen as edgy and daring, instantly creating a kind of seductively rebellious authenticity with a younger audience, the series served as a lifeline to lonely, isolated, insecure teens like myself.  I myself related so much to many of the characters.  Daria and her best friend Jane were a kind of wise-cracking vaudeville act, lampooning the contradictions and hypocrisies of the world around them with their own private repertoire.  I also knew many in my own life who reminded me of Jane’s ne’er do well brother, Trent, a chronic slacker whose dreams of rock ‘n roll stardom are always frustrated by his limited proficiency as a songwriter and guitarist.  Sometimes I still encounter the Trents of the world, particularly when it comes time for me to once again take my guitar in hand, sit, and play before an audience.

Nine months spent in Washington, DC, has provided valuable insight.  Beltway insiders and area professions are their own breed.  As I’ve gotten my sea legs, more and more of their world makes sense to me.  Once I arrived here that I was immediately given some particularly infuriating advice, namely that other people were just as smart as I was, if not smarter, and that I ought to get used to it.  I think he assumed I was just like everyone else—the latest newcomer eager to play the game in a town with more than its share of naked ambition and power plays.  Perhaps he was the latest candidate for burnout, having recognized that institutional idealism is often an exercise in minutia.  Though my background and my academic career may be relatively humble, I am no stranger to elitism when I see it, and I am just as repulsed by it now as I ever was.

One must be careful when invoking comparative politics.  If politics is indeed local, nothing could be a greater challenge than making sweeping generalities between different countries without understanding the full context.  Having said this, I have followed the recent UK General Election campaign with much attention and interest over the course of the past few weeks.  Those who follow politics to any degree often look for emerging trends which might promise some early clue to predict the future.  Much of what enraged and inspired Britons to turn out in relatively large numbers (provided they were able to vote at all), are the very same issues driving an anti-incumbent maelstrom, the results of which on our shores we will not fully understand until early November.  

I feel a bit late to the party writing about the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico.  Had I chosen to focus on this subject a few days ago, I might have been inclined to draft a personal narrative about the summers I spent on Alabama’s Gulf Coast as a boy and young teenager.  My post would have certainly have been in good company; it heartens me to recognize just how many people have an emotional and personal connection to the region.  I myself didn’t realize how much the warm salt water and white sand meant to me until I began to contemplate what both might look like covered in oil.  It is very unfortunate that tragedies like these have to happen before we ever seriously consider the long term consequences.  Off-shore drilling was, until very recently, touted as some kind of snake-oil panacea or fix-all curative.  One hopes that we now understand the complexities and potentially catastrophic drawbacks in tapping the reserves present in our coastline.  

So much of my life I spend cynically griping about the bad side of human nature.  The work I do every day frequently centers around a ceaseless source of constant frustration.  Seeking strategies to reform destructive behaviors is the basic skill set of many professions and basic activism.  Influencing people so that they might understand the correct means of conducting their lives is a substantial challenge and a constant energy drain.  I’m sure many of you understand this quandary all too well.  While it is true that we all possess a dark side, some more than others, recent events in my life have provided a unexpected but welcome sense of clarity and perspective. I note with joy over the past three days that I have, much to my great surprise, seen the very best in people.  Once again I am humbled to have been proven incorrect in my assumptions about others.

Until yesterday, the subject of distracted drivers and their role in pedestrian accidents was merely an abstract annoyance.  When I moved to DC, I quite willingly gave up my car and resorted largely to my own two legs to get me where I needed to be.  Periodically one hears a horror story here about how about a jogger, walker, cyclist, or all around fellow human gets mowed down by an inattentive driver.  Recently, there have been a handful of similar incidents where people were seriously hurt.  I suppose I may have been remiss to not use that information and apply it to my life, but I always justified my inaction by feeling certain that such a thing would never happened to me.  Well, never happened yesterday.

It is at least interesting to see the latest mainstream media insult circulate liberally across the country,  one designed to reduce bloggers to little more than reactive agitprop sensationalists.  This week it’s “(insert example of ridiculously overblown commentary here) could have been found on Daily Kos”.  I might take more offense, except when I know the major players frequently fall far short of their own lofty journalistic standards.  We’ve consistently recognized, called out, and sometimes outright mocked op-ed columnists, television commentators, pundits, and members of the fourth estate.  We shouldn’t expect a mea culpa any time soon.  But when we can produce all sorts of facts to prove our point, we can certainly make a strong case on our own behalf.  And we can certainly keep sharing our own voices for the benefit of all, unimpeded by what anyone might say.  

During the dark days of the Bush Administration, the collective mood on the Left could not have been more pessimistic and discouraged.  Believing ourselves to be utterly ignored and summarily discounted, our anger was palpable and copious.  I wonder why we on the Left didn’t form a series of spontaneous demonstrations, venting our frustration at a government we saw as illegitimate and destructive.  While it is true that protests were plentiful then, no self-proclaimed movement sprung up, one then dutifully covered exhaustively by the media.  That we did not resort to Teabagging tactics was itself a very good thing, but I think also that many of us placed complete faith in the mechanization of the system itself.  When things began to turn around at long last in 2006 and then, two years later when a compelling candidate articulated our desire for change, we believed that working tirelessly to secure his election was wholly sufficient.

Throughout the whole of my life, I have felt outside the norm.  The Methodism of my boyhood preached that, as a devout Christian, I should expect to be frequently misunderstood, feared, and at times distrusted by the rest of society.  Based on my Southern roots and the political convictions I grew to espouse, in addition to the company I kept, I continued to feel out of step with the majority point of view in all kinds of ways.  If this was supposed to be an essential component of living the Christian life, then it was not a difficult one to adopt.  When, years later, I became a Quaker, it wasn’t hard at all to accept that many would not comprehend what I believed.  Shortly before I converted, I read a book front to cover which stated that Friends were used to being thought of as peculiar and eccentric.  Those words cemented my decision to become a Convinced Friend.  For years I wore a nonconformist’s identity like a badge of honor, though my secret desire, barely even vocalized to myself, was always that I might find greater acceptance and understanding.  Having achieved this, I believe that I would find the comfort granted to those not consistently marginalized and discounted by the majority.