There are, I think, two Americas. There is that which we decry on reading the newspapers. “Those fools,” we say, of the group not of our political bent, “how in the world can they believe the nonsense they are spouting? How can intelligent people act that way?” This is the America of “them.”

And then there is the America we participate in — that fairly friendly and reasonable group of diverse interests and talents, happy to pitch in, the America of “us.” We see and participate in this group at the Little League, the Rotary, the Shul or Church, the block party, the sports bar — we speak its language in the conversation we strike up with the stranger in the airline departure lounge, in the chat with the other parents on the way to school, in the office jokes we share. This nonabstract, this real America, is a rather pleasant place. When we are not being actively divided — by religion or politics — we rest here in the default position of unity. Over time, we see, the reasonable often find a way to unite the seemingly irreconcilable claims of passion.

The trend toward ever-higher official conduct norms was best discussed in the 1964 essay, “The Purity Potlach”, by Bayless Manning, the Dean of Stanford Law School:

To the extent that our politics partake of the nature of a Morality Play, they have inevitably required, an generated, a set of theatrical conventions as arbitrary, and as acceptable, as thonse of any dramatic form. The vocabulary of our politics conforms to its role as a national Morality drama. That vocabulary of our politics conforms to its role as a national Morality drama. That vocabulary is formal, dogmatic, simplified, symbolic, repetitive and goal-setting; it is not descriptive and should not be thought of as being descriptive. And the actors in the political drama must, as in epic drama, appear as more than life-size, establishing, declaring, and appearing to live in accordance of standards that are not of this world. We therefore demand ultimate moral pronouncements from our parties and officials.

In Hemingway’s short story, Indian Camp, a doctor takes his son along to witness him perform a difficult emergency labor. During the labor his son asks, “Oh, Daddy, can’t you give her something to make her stop screaming?” The father’s reply is one of my favorite sentences in the English language.

“No. I haven’t any anaesthetic,” his father said. “But her screams are not important. I don’t hear them because they are not important.”

I admire protesters so much. I think that in the end, almost all of history has happened because of people resisting with their bodies.

But why do protesters always seem to ask for such unreasonable things? Such as in the photo above demanding JUSTICE NOW! A common request at protests.

Practically, justice is a pretty complicated thing to administer: it would more reasonable to ask for JUSTICE BY THE END OF THE WEEK! Or something that might actually be possible: JUSTICE BY THE END OF THIS YEAR!

Seriously, I do think that protests with highly reasonable and pragmatic political demands would be a powerful political weapon. For example, at the beginning of the Iraq war, the protest signs said things such as, NO WAR FOR OIL! At the time, I remember reading that Hans Blix, the UN Weapons Inspector was pleading with Bush for six more months; he said that they weren’t sure that Iraq has weapons of mass destruction, but that in six more months they would probably know.

Six more months strikes me as something very reasonable to ask for; something that addresses the argument of people that believed in the war. It seems possible to gain the political traction to delay the war for six more months. Millions of protesters asking for SIX MORE MONTHS might have gotten somewhere, whereas demanding NO WAR was quite the political stretch.

It’s a basic tenant of negotiation: first get something small, to establish a cooperative relationship, then work towards bigger things. Find the common ground first. Rarely in negotiation does demanding the world up front (in a rather strident manner) get one anywhere.

I’d love to see a protest, a big protest, that asked for something politically reasonable, something possible. That just might change the world.

Revolutionary Road

(It’s good to be reminded of the quiet desperation of marriage on the first date.)

Just saw Slumdog Millionaire, a fantastic story about a boy in the slums of India overcoming the most adverse circumstances, but, of course, it was all wrapped up in a Hollywood bow of love story. She, in the end, is why he does everything: why he endures.

Perhaps romantic love really is the most important thing in the world. It’s the one gesture of choice you have, the one conscious choice you can make in the entirely random circumstance of the family you were born into. Making your environment a little more hospitable to you isn’t a bad way to spend your life.

But what was he in love with? He barely knew this woman. They were children together, briefly, and yet the ideal of her remained inside his head his entire life. It couldn’t have been her he loved. Though she was beautiful and seemingly lovely, she was only a slip of a character. His great love for her obviously wasn’t about who she was — she represented his romantic ideal of making whole his childhood loss. It wasn’t about loving her. I’m not sure why women find that romantic.

Or maybe it is better to be loved as a deity, with all the passion that engenders, despite the fact it has nothing to do with who you are. Human love is much more fleeting. Perhaps love only survives in the hothouse of fantasy.

A Christmas miracle happened today! I was starting to get anxious since I hadn’t started my Christmas shopping yet. (It was only yesterday I realized I wasn’t actually going to knit everyone sweaters like I’d been planning.) Then, I heard about this e-commerce site on NPR. It is one-stop-shopping with the perfect Christmas present for everyone, such as, “a malaria net for a child in Africa” or “a year of school for an orphan.” Perfect! Who wouldn’t pretend to love that?

I bought a “small business loan for a woman living with HIV/Aids” for my sister; “10 fruit trees” for a family in Africa for my grandmother; a “goat for a woman” for my father; and “a blanket” for my great aunt.

But the best of all? For my sister’s boyfriend I bought “hope for sexually exploited girls.” At only $25, I thought it was quite a bargain. (The pig was $60.) I couldn’t figure out why hope was so cheap this year, particularly in a recession. Then I realized—Obama has flooded the market. Basic economics: more hope on the market means the price goes down.