Posted on January 12th, 2011 by D. Aristophanes
At the very least, the planned protest by the Westboro Baptist Church of the funeral for nine-year-old Tucson shooting victim Christina Green is something that is likely to be regarded as equally disagreeable by both sides on the perhaps-not-so-inexplicably deeper partisan divide that has emerged following an atrocious act of violence that some of us naifs believed should have brought all of us reasonable folk closer together in a national spasm of comity, if only for a few news cycles.
Alas, as Roy has documented, it’s partisan turtles all the way down and always shall be, at least amongst a certain set — and that should long ago have ceased to be a surprise to any of us who’ve been following the whole process for a week or longer.
None of which is to say that they’re worse or we’re worse (SPOILER: they’re worse) in all of this nonsense. But rather that it’s possible for emerging facts from an event of this nature to not fit perfectly into one’s preferred (perhaps instinctive) narrative — and that it is graceful to first challenge oneself as to whether that is the case and, more difficult and meritorious still, to ‘fess up publicly that you may have got it wrong initially if that proves to be true.
Which is a rather long way of saying that, no, it does not appear that Sarah Palin’s gunsight map or Rush Limbaugh’s daily leakages or Glenn Beck’s crocodile tears had any influence whatsoever on the muddled mindset of the Tucson gunman who attempted, over the weekend, to assassinate Gabrielle Giffords along with several other unfortunate people who happened to be in a particular Safeway parking lot on a particularly unlucky morning where she held her rally to meet constituents during the Congressional recess.
(Also not an easily demonstrated influence on the gunman — Sudden Jihad Syndrome or Bush Derangement Syndrome or Liberal Fascism or any other catch-all political theory of recent vintage that seeks to update Mencken’s famous three-legged ‘clear, simple and wrong’ construction by removing the clear and simple portions.)
So for those who leaped out of the gates to declare loud and wide that Tea Party rhetoric was to blame for this, I say, it’s time to dial back the finger-pointing and admit, to paraphrase Jon Stewart, that there is no clear through-line from right-wing rhetoric to the shooter’s motives. Tough as that can be, because it’s difficult to step back from the ledge that potent indignation has built for you, but you must do it or risk losing one of the more important assets you have in navigating a difficult world — sobriety and humility in the face of the facts.
Though one thing you mightn’t dial back is the fact that so many people’s first instinct was to assume in the initial hours of learning that a Democratic congressperson had been shot that Tea Party rage was the likeliest factor behind the crime. That is also a real thing, though it may in this case have proven to be wrong — and it ought to give Tea Partiers pause when they ponder why so many of their fellow Americans thought on first blush so poorly of them upon hearing of this terrible crime and initially measuring who might be culpable of it.
That is what the the current right-wing whinge-fest (and, just to pick on her, Sarah Palin’s own deafening silence) so willfully ignores — that the vindication of specific innocence in this particular incident does not mean that the larger questions about the debased tenor of our current national dialogue do not have merit in their own right.
Whether a disturbed individual might or might not have committed a heinous act all the same if only bombastic radio hosts, politicians and pundits had said or written different things is not really the important take-away from the last 72 hours. The important lesson, in addition to the tales of human tragedy and heroism from the shooting itself, is the glimpse of possible common ground that this latest national gun atrocity may have offered us via these initial knee-jerk (and yes, almost certainly wrong) reactions — the lesson that the political atmosphere of the past several years hasn’t been all that helpful for us sane folks either.
‘Never let a crisis go to waste.’ There has been a lot of referencing of that Rahm Emanuel quote by the Right in the wake of the Tucson massacre and the blame-game tumult that has emerged from it. Their interpretation of the saying, of course, has been to assign it a purely Machiavellian intent. That is not an unfair thing to do — after all, political opportunism was certainly the broad intent behind Emanuel’s coining of the quote in the first place.
But like so many memorable phrases, that quote is not necessarily limited by the intent of its coiner. One might just as easily turn it towards the side of our better angels. Not letting a crisis go to waste does not have to only mean selfishly gaining from it. It could also mean taking advantage of the natural, if temporary togetherness that a crisis can engender — to further noble, difficult goals that have to that point been sidelined by people’s natural ennui towards tough endeavors during easier times. It could mean appealing to people’s crisis-tuned alertness to the stuff that really matters — even if that stuff is only tangentially related to the proximate causes of the actual crisis.
If two neighbors begin building a friendship, does it really matter if their initial point of contact was a dispute over fences? There is an opportunity for more reasonable (if still hotly contested) political discourse still to be had from this national trauma. Sadly, it seems that our political class just doesn’t know how to get to there from here, so deeply ingrained is their reflex towards a horse-race view of the world. I blame the cult of marketing, Sean Hannity and Keith Olbermann, in that order.
Still, Pollyanna that I am, I do hold out hope that maybe this time we’ll successfully tell the higher-profile reactionaries to shut the fuck up and it’ll stick, that starting tonight stone-cold retarded won’t turn up on my evening news feed every goddamn night without fail, and that tomorrow I’ll finally be able to begin my 900,000-word novelization of Josh Trevino’s first clumsy attempts at l’amour without the assistance of a light saber.
Also, POOP.