I missed your Cheney's speech, Bush. Not out of any ill will, but simply because I arrived back home, after my morning walk, too late to catch him. But I did hear most of what Bill Clinton had to say--including his gracious acknowledgement of Cheney's good work in spearheading the raising of funds to help the victims. I admired Clinton's ability to speak in tones of appropriate grief for those who died and their survivors, but not without a saving note of humor and an ability to see beyond tragedy into a deep sense of the human potential for nobility and hope. Among other things, he said, we owe it to the victims "to honor those in public service, and never demonize them." Because the bombing was the desperate and brutal act of men who did demonize the people in that federal building--people who worked in public service--and the government they represented.
And Clinton's reminder was surely also intended as a timely and cautionary reminder of where we stand in politics today. He thanked your Cheney for having had the graciousness to telephone his personal concern at the time when he, Clinton, was experiencing his heart problems. I had to admire the generosity and easy humor with which he acknowledged this common ground he shared with the Vice President, and gently chided those who suspected, as he said, that neither one of them even had a heart. Reminding his listeners that demonization of the opponent is not limited to one side of the political spectrum; and that we on the left can be as guilty of this unhelpful habit as those on the right.
To which I say "Amen"--though in the belief, sadly, that at this moment in our history the extreme right is more guilty in this respect than the left. Oh, sure, we have our Michael Moores. And I'll admit, Bush, that I buy into his demonization when I see it because I share his views. But the strategy of his documentaries is to demonize. He did it with you in Fahrenheit 9/11; he did it with Charlton Heston and the NRA in Bowling for Columbine. He did it with the automobile industry in Roger and Me. With enormous success. And as I see it, demonization, or extreme satire, is a legitimate literary strategy.
But my belief is that the process is more endemic, runs deeper, and is served up more in the guise of maintream political argument on the right side of the spectrum. It's more subtle, more toxic in the veins of the body politic. Worse, in my view, it's practiced not only by critics and pundits, but by those in power: by your Frist, your Delay, who are now demonizing those in public service on the judicial bench. It's practiced even by those who preach supposedly Christian values, who demonize almost as an article of faith. You, Bush, have managed with remarkable success to stand in the shadows and let others do your demonizing for you (think Swift Boat veterans, think Max Cleland, think Ann Richards, and more, and more… think Terri Schiavo…) But you have notably failed to take a stand against the demonizers, and in this manner you have joined them.
Thanks to Bill Clinton for a timely reminder, then. I'll try to bear it in mind, if only for myself. I don't think I've demonized you in these diaries, Bush. Have I? Perhaps, but only in the gentlest of all possible ways. But maybe I'm wrong. I'm counting on you to let me know when I cross the line, okay?
And then, early this morning, after a 5AM meditation out in the back yard, these lines:
Tuesday
Birdsong.
Wind chime.
The scrabble
of dog's paws
on the wood
surface of the deck.
Far off,
the rough and rumble
of traffic on the freeway.
A chopper, chasing down
the latest crime
or accident.
Birdsong.
Wind chime.
Bark.
And in Rome,
black smoke
from the Sistine Chapel.
No Pope.
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