The other day, I was walking through the snow and saw a lone goose in the pond who appeared to have lost his flock in the storm. He was honking as he circled in the air, attempting to make some contact with his family, which was nowhere to be seen or heard. He seemed rather distressed about the prospect of spending the evening alone and slightly confused about which direction to fly in.
Well, I feel a bit like a goose lost in a storm.
The country is going crazy for politics, and I’m confused. I don’t understand the thrill and I increasingly feel completely alone in that opinion.
I am, and have always been, one of those voters who stays informed because I have to, but not because I want to. No matter how hard I try to entice myself to talk about it, to comment on it, to muster any sense of interest in it whatsoever, I just don’t seem to have anything to talk about.
Now, however, I will attempt to say something. Quite frankly, it seems to me that where elections are concerned, our political system is increasingly destined for pettiness and malice.
We’re electing the new leader of the free world, and we’re comparing email accounts.
We’re deciding who is going to influence the minds and actions of this country for the next four years, and we’re picking celebrity over a basic understanding of the issues.
We’re placing our reputation in new, untried hands, and we’re shirking our responsibilities as informed voters to squabble over gender, race, and religion.
We live in a political world where iconic feminist Gloria Steinem issued (and later apologized for) potentially the most sexist remark to ever leave her mouth about the whims of young women, and where Madeleine Albright, the first female secretary of state, tells women they’re going to hell if they don’t support a certain female candidate.
Where has the flock gone, my friends?
Okay, the email server was a poorly made and potentially dangerous decision, but it was three years ago and it wasn’t illegal at the time. Okay, maybe it’s time for a president who isn’t a politician, but when climate change doesn’t exist and we’re talking about building a wall on our border—a physical wall, for cripes’ sake—we might want to rethink for the time being. As for gender, race, and religion, there’s just no excuse for that.
Perhaps it was always like this.
When we write history, we condense and rework. We spotlight the interesting, scandalous, or powerful stories and gloss over the boring or dignity-destroying incidents. We paint the politicians as the heroes and villains, while the public fades into a mass of dissenting or supporting opinion, depending on what the situation demands.
Today, former senator Joseph McCarthy is largely denounced, but when he rose to prominence in the 1950s he wasn’t without considerable support. Today he is a villain, but at the time he represented a solution to the country’s fears.
After the horrific events of 9/11, a wounded and fearful country jumped to support President Bush when columnist Mary McGrory criticized him for his unreassuring immediate reaction. Yet now it is widely recognized that his response in those first hours was unclear and indecisive.
The public is not always right or smart. History may take away that sting, but there aren’t any rose-colored glasses in the present day. We are playing into a system that is increasingly petty and licentious. Candidates attack each other, and have their relatives attack each other, instead of taking the time to explain themselves. We’re not thinking about who is going to be the strongest leader, but about who gets the strongest media ratings.
The political landscape looks more like the popular table in a high school cafeteria than a presidential election. We have the most incredible opportunity to define what happens to our country, and we’re playing into the hands of those who would destroy it.
If I’m a goose in the pond, my gaggle has deserted me for a marsh, and I’m not biting.
Careri, Jenna 