Immigrants

Let's admit that you and I still know precious little about the brothers Tsarnaev.  Yes, the press is trying to patch together bits of information in constructing some semblance of a narrative.  Yes, we're told that Tamerlan was the classical big brother, Dzhokhar the loyal younger sibling.  The older seems to have achieved most (but not enough) in the boxing ring, the younger was apparently the better student with a seemingly active social media life.  But this "information" is largely second hand and thus as biography it remains largely conjecture.  There are also supposed reports of what Dzhokhar told his interrogators, but no journalists much less any of us were in his hospital room.  It is going to take some time, if ever, for us to know the whole story or the real motives of these two allegedly murderous young men.  Tamerlan is dead.  Perhaps Dzhokhar's trial (if there is one) will provide such insights, but even then perhaps only at the periphery.

Incorporated in the still emerging narrative is a tale of immigrants, especially Tamerlan, who were having significant problems adjusting to their home in America.  He is said to have been disconnected and alienated — friendless.  Attachment to the "old country" remained strong, perhaps loyalties at best divided.  How much of that played into their alleged criminal act remains to be seen.  Whether Tamerlane’s trip back to Chechnya and Dagestan somehow fueled anti-American feelings or actually provided guidance on how and where to act is unknown.  But the immigrant aspect of the saga should interest us all.  In fact, many of us can easily relate to it.

Coincident with the Boston tragedy, a Senate committee was beginning its consideration of long overdue immigration reform.  In an almost reflexive and predictable reaction to the tragedy that great sage Senator Charles Grassley suggested that the bombing should give us pause as we consider the bill.  He has since been walked back from that idea.  But the confluence of Boston and the immigration reform does present an opportunity to consider the state of immigrants and most especially the difficult task of balancing their past, present and future.  The brothers Tsarnaev may have taken their adjustment or lack of it to a very bad place, but the balancing problem, including a degree of disconnection, is hardly unique.  In fact, it always comes into play.

It may sound tired and trite, but we are truly a nation of immigrants.  Take Boston as a case in point.  The city lies at the geographic and in many ways ideological epicenter of our incipient national story.  Bostonians were there well before and at the moment of creation.  They were forefront independence fighters.  John and then John Quincy Adams of Massachusetts were our first father and son presidents — both were personally and directly informed by the revolution.  But when we think of Boston today, we think Irish as much as sons and daughters of the Revolution.  The not so distant ancestors of key Boston families came here, often penniless, to seek refuge from bad times in their native land.  Today, even those in the third and fourth generation still maintain strong identification with and ties to Ireland.  Not long before his death, President John F. Kennedy made an emotional journey to his family's ancestral home.  In the same vein, Barack Obama spent years searching out his African roots.  Immigrant adjustment is integral to our American story.

I was born one month after my immigrant parents arrived on these shores from Nazi Germany.  In 1776 my ancestors weren't any where near the place Boston celebrates on Patriot's Day but in various parts of Germany — we can trace them back to the 1600s.   So despite being a native born American, I grew up in an immigrant family adjusting to a new land.  My adult relatives all spoke with some degree of a foreign accent.  Since my mother still spoke no English at my birth German was my first language.  She quickly learned but my parents and their close circle of extended family and friends spoke a lot of German among themselves.  How much, I can't tell you because both languages were so natural to me and spoken interchangeably in our home that it's impossible to remember which one was used when and to what degree.

Our story is likely not that different from any other immigrant family, especially for those coming from non-English speaking countries.  For sure Mexican, Italian, French, Russian, Japanese, Chinese and Turkish families among others all know it well.  But it isn't only language, it's also cultural orientation, customs and, of course, food.  I still cook some dishes that come directly out of my family tradition, things my mother and grandmother would serve at their tables.  And how happy are we when our town has a food store that carries ingredients or a restaurant that serves food from our heritage world.  The aisle at Whole Foods with Asian products, the meat case with Italian sausage or a variety of tortillas in the cooler make us feel "at home".

I always marvel at how my extended family, many of whom arrived as adults, totally rebuilt their lives in America.  They experienced a personal "refresh" long before that word became part of the digital age's language.  My mother's English was accented but fluent.  From the first days, my father who made his reputation as a gifted orator in Berlin now made his living making equally compelling speeches in what he had learned as a second language.  He was fortunate both in knowing English and in having academic credentials (including a rabbinical ordination) that were transferrable.  But many of his friends had to struggle.  There were doctors and lawyers who, in order to continue their chosen careers, had to literally go back to school.   Many others had to find new lines of work or had to adjust to a vastly different economic circumstance.  It was extremely hard and for sure they often felt disconnected, some undoubtedly alienated.

Not everyone could make the adjustment cut, or make it without extraordinary pain.  Some older people never could learn the language, or really didn't want to.  Call it a fear of losing identity or just a kind of obstinacy every one of us who comes from an immigrant family can remember or knows the relative who still speaks the old tongue and, to the degree possible, lives the old way.  There was the grandmother who only spoke Yiddish or Italian, the dad who found a way to keep working while holding fast to his Chinese.  Ethnic neighborhoods, especially in larger cities like New York or Chicago, facilitated this kind of cocoon existence.   Little Italy and Chinatown are in New York, but in a way not so much.  For a long time and even today they are a protected slice of somewhere else.  And that doesn't only happen in America.  My paternal grandparents, for example, landed up in Palestine and lived to see the creation of the State of Israel.  But they lived in a tight German-Jewish conclave and never learned or spoke Hebrew.  The world is small and repetitive when it comes to the immigrant experience.

In working through the immigration bill, members of Congress should not be thinking of the brothers Tsarnaev in the sense of what harm people from other places ("people who don't belong") can do, but rather should understand that all immigrants face huge challenges.  The terms of adjustment including learning and using a new language, adopting new customs, working in a different environment and often with heretofore alien mores doesn't come with a snap of the fingers.  Good, peaceful and highly productive people will at times yearn for the old place and will have some degree of mixed if not dual loyalty.  That's true for our immigrant population today, but no more or less than was the case when my family and others settled in this new place.  That it was a wonderful place in reality as well as in the abstract took some time to discover and a considerable amount of adjustment.  But we would all be less — yes, less American — without them.

Bloody finish line.

One of the great joys of my life was running in Central Park.  Regardless of the season, Fredrick Olmstead's patch of constructed nature in the middle of the great bustling metropolis is a work of continuous wonder, an oasis of almost instantaneous calm.  I mostly ran the track surrounding the Jacqueline Onassis Reservoir, but getting there from home meant first moving through a good section of the park.  In the winter, when the track was either muddy or icy, I ran the perimeter road that encircles the park's entire 778 acres.  Living only blocks away, the park was always integral to my life.  Long before my late start at running, my daily routine included a refreshing trek from West to East on my way to work.  I got to know the place pretty well. 

In the late days of Autumn Central Park is a buzz with activity and anticipatory excitement.  Work crews begin preparations for the New York City Marathon, held on the every first Sunday in November.  Bleachers are erected adjacent to the park drive near the iconic Tavern on the Green.  A bridge-like structure emerges spanning the road at what will be the finish line.  Parallel to all the physical preparations, the number of park runners, some in the final stages of training, increases.  Each day is measured by progress and signs of the race that will soon upon us.  As the first Sunday of November draws closer, I find myself running along side people speaking with a wide range of regional American accents and a multitude of languages.  Unlike me, these are real runners. I can't possibly keep up but they provide an incentive to do better, if only in my own mind.  Every year it's the same, an annual rite of passage the City and the park.

I no longer live in New York, no longer am part of this autumnal ritual.  Before Ieaving my running had already morphed into speed walking I now do.  It's easier on the body, but much less fun.  This past November's NY Marathon was literally washed out by Super Storm Sandy.  To be sure, Central Park stood at the ready but a violent act of nature robbed the city and the runners of their glory and joy.  For obvious reasons I was thinking about this throughout the past week.  Less obvious was that what happened in Boston also brought to mind one of my most memorable experiences in making my way around the reservoir.  It was on a particularly glorious and crystal clear day when a fellow runner stopped me to report that a plane had hit the twin towers.  It was September 11, 2001.

The other marathon — Bostonians would call New York's "the other marathon — got off the ground and for four hours ran smoothly.  Patriots' day couldn't have been more festive: excellent weather, the Red Sox winning their specially timed morning game and a stream of dedicated runners.  And then, in an instant a man made storm full of sound and fury.  Perhaps it lacked the dramatic destructive power of 9/11 but tell that to the three families who lost a loved one or to the innocents who have lost legs or who are still fighting to recover some semblance of health.  To be sure, what happened at the marathon was no 9/11, not even close.  While we still no little there seems to be no link to a larger conspiracy, no Osama bin Laden in the picture.   Yet we got another reminder last week of the kind of violence that has come to characterize our lives in the twenty-first century.  In our time, so much damage is inflicted on us by individuals rather than by governments or even movements.  It was more than ironic — no it was infuriating — that the Senate killed even the most modest attempts at gun control just a day after Boston.  As we have now learned, the brothers Tsarnaev were armed to the teeth not only with homemade bombs but with unregistered fire arms and plenty of ammunition.  Maureen Dowd in a piece called No Bully in the Pulpit blames the President who, while doing a lot to bring the public arouind, didn't coddle or arm twist enough legislators.  Nonsense.  It seems if Obama concentrates on the Hill, he's blamed for not engaging the American people and if you does that he's blamed for engaging Congress.  The fact is that any senator who wasn't moved to act after all the Newtown’s we've seen in the last years has no excuse.   These are adult elected officials with responsibilities to fulfill are they not?  They are the ones who should be ashamed.

What's striking about our modern violence — what happened in both Boston and the Newtown's — is that it always seems to be directed at totally innocent people.  Just as are large magazine empowered assault weapons, bombs are designed to harm multiple victims.  This time around they were put in place precisely when the most people would be gathering at the finish line.  This is something about which government and law enforcement officials should be deeply concerned, but even more so something each of us should take personally.  This isn't some theoretical war against terrorists; it's a battle being engaged for the most part by individuals against you and me. 

The mantra voiced by NRA types that, "guns don't kill, people do", has worked as a slogan because it contains a literal grain of truth.  But people can't kill the way they do, can't kill the innocent, if they don't have guns.  The gun lobby says that gun safety laws are meant to undermine the Second Amendment, that we want to take their guns away.  The truth is that guns should be denied and indeed taken away from the irresponsible, a word that I use in the broadest sense.  I don't happen to think we should own guns, but recognize that our right to do so is built into the Constitution and moreover that the vast majority of gun owners are responsible.  That doesn't mean that the presence of a gun doesn't increase the chances that it may one day inflict harm — often self-harm.  What is incomprehensible to me is that gun owners shouldn't welcome universal registration, shouldn't see that we all have a right to be protected by it.  No one can drive a car in this country without a license.  Licensing hasn't stopped us from owning cars.

What happened in Boston was tragic and disheartening.  What happened in Washington during the same week was outrageous (there can be no excuse) and even more disheartening.  This may be a great country — the people in Boston bore witness to that — but we're not in a great place right now. 

Newton reigns supreme.

The death of Margaret Thatcher comes at the beginning of a week that will see Obama's budget proposal and possible next steps in the crafting of gun and immigration legislation.  Thatcher was known as the figure that transformed British politics and life shifting both to the right in a monumental way.  She was dubbed the "iron lady", a term that spoke to her determination but I have always seen as a sexist moniker.  Who would describe a determined male Prime Minister as "iron man"?  Ladies, don't you know you are supposed to be soft lace not iron.  Well, that's a whole other conversation.

Thatcher's legacy is controversial.  In her determination to bring the UK into the conservative camp she alienated liberals and virtually destroyed much of the country's labor movement.  The prosperity that she sought was claimed to be universal but was in fact lopsided.  Her friend, and American counterpart, Ronald Reagan traveled the same path and for many of the same reasons.  He achieved what Barry Goldwater could only dream about; somehow transforming what had been largely fringe politics — extremism — into the mainstream.  Reagan, as George HW Bush might have put it, was (perceived as) a kind and gentler version of Goldwater. 

Thatcher, while unceremoniously ousted by her own party, remains an icon for the British Conservatives and understandably so.  Even Tony Blair, whose free market policies were in large measure an extension of her legacy, owes her a considerable debt.  The disparity between the rich and everyone else only grew further under New Labour.  Reagan of course is the only Republican past president ever mentioned by his own party and his conservative stewardship has the same, if not greater, iconic status on this side of the pond.  Thatcher and Reagan were figures with strong (and often unbending) conviction and while their once fringe views became mainstream in one sense, they also were the harbingers for the "my way or the highway" politics that now prevails, most especially in our country.

When it comes to politics and governance, we have choices to make.  I think it comes down to two choices: following the advice of the prophet Isaiah or being governed by Isaac Newton's third law of motion.  You may remember that Isaiah's counsel (1:18), "Come let us reason together".  As noted in an earlier post, Lyndon Johnson's employed it while addressing Congress but most importantly made it the touchstone of how he so successively interacted with legislators on both sides of the aisle.  Newton's third law of motion states, "for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."  Isaiah seems to have no place in today's politics.  In 2013, Newton reigns supreme.  

Presidential budgets are always taken as policy statements, goals the White House wants to achieve.  Only Congress can craft and pass a budget.  So saying that a presidential budget is "dead on arrival" is not that radical.  In a literal sense all the budgets that come from the White House might fairly be characterized as such.  But in the current environment, the response is not so much DOA as it is, drop dead!  Consider the source is the only thing that pertains in this Newtonian environment.   Everything is an action that awaits only a certain "opposite reaction".  So here we are, another election behind us with a president who did in fact get a substantial mandate (much larger than W's) and the only thing upon which our elected officials can agree is that they disagree — totally.  The result is not only a kind of rhetorical ugliness; it is that we find ourselves unable to move forward on anything.  And by the way, Paul Ryan's budget was greeted with a similar "drop dead" reaction.  Whether these budgets are of equal merit is not the question — I obviously stand more with the President — but that Isaiah has no place at the table.

Thatcher and Reagan played a significant role in bringing us this sorry state.  Thatcher was never  a consensus builder.  In contrast, some might argue that Reagan had the capacity of reasoning together (roll out the Tip O'Neil example), but it was he who popularized the "L word", making liberal a pejorative.  Not only has that notion prevailed among conservatives; it has influenced how liberals talk about (and often see) themselves.  Republicans proudly self-identify as conservative, Democrats as, well, Democrats.  Leaving self-description aside, today you are either on one team or  the other and any move toward "reasoning together" is seen as selling out.  Obama proposes entitlement reforms of even a modest level at his own peril and Republicans hold the now often Tea Party line in mortal fear of being "primaried". 

Altogether the outsized role that primary elections have taken in our politics is troublesome to say the least.  Making the most out of gerrymandering, primary elections are often much more determinative than the general.  Not only do primaries draw far fewer voters, participants are from a party's hard core.  The Tea Party didn't get its power in a series of November contests but in the primaries that select candidates.  And primaries are also being used by legislatures for sham expressions of democracy.  Here in North Carolina, as I've noted in other posts, a constitutional amendment baring marriage equality was "put before the voters" in a May primary when Democrats had no presidential contest.  The result was that 20% of the electorate effectively changed not merely a law but the State's core document.  Here, too, as the sides were drawn Newton's law prevailed.

Why does Newton rule?  Well there are probably a number of answers to that.  Hard economic times and controversial wars tend to push people apart, probably at the very moment when they most need to come together, to reason together.  The election of the first African American president can't be discounted nor can the growth of the Latino community — a president who "doesn't look the part" and an awful lot of folks who "don't talk like us".  The possibility of a woman reaching the White House, of an "iron lady" sitting in a "man's seat" may extend the Newtonian atmosphere.  Let's not even mention that LGBT citizens are being considered "brothers and sisters" not adopters of a lifestyle.  It's all too much for many of our fellow citizens to take, a sense of alienation when those who have gotten so used to being in control find themselves losing groudn.  Things are not as the used to be, or in the minds of some, what they should be.

It's hard not to despair of where we are, what's become of us in these last years.  I truly think the reign of Newton is perhaps our greatest threat, a condition that if continued is bound to have dire consequences.  It is already doing great damage.  But I am not without hope.  The demographic tables are turning, perhaps not quickly enough, but inescapably so.  Most significantly, young Americans across all strata of our society have a different view than their elders.  They don't see those who look, speak or function differently as "the other", but as an integral part of "us".  They lack some of the deep prejudice that has so plagued this country, in some respects from its inception.  When their parents or their parents' generation, obsess about things like marriage equality or the loss of WASP dominance, it just doesn't compute.  They know, almost instinctively but also out of experience that we're all in the same boat, share similar problems as aspirations.  They know Newton's way is getting us nowhere.  Perhaps a larger percentage of them have left religion behind and are governed by science not faith.  Nonetheless, my guess is that when it comes to moving forward they are more in tune with the prophet Isaiah than the scientist Isaac Newton.  Let's hope so.

Lean In

 

In September 2011, badly needing redirection, the iconic Hewlett-Packard — famously founded in a Palo Alto garage — reached out to Meg Whitman.  The new CEO had recently lost a bid to become California's governor, but had a strong track record.  In over ten years at its helm, she had helped transform EBay from fledgling enterprise into an Internet powerhouse.  Meg Whitman belongs to a still very small and select class: the woman chief executive.

Last summer Yahoo, yet another Silicon Valley trailblazer founded by Stanford trained engineers, was seeking a way to get back on track after years of setbacks and management turmoil.  It turned to Melissa Mayer who rose from employee number 20 to senior executive at Google.  Meyer arrived in Sunnyvale in her final weeks of pregnancy, something that probably made as much news as her becoming the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 Company.  After a little more than six months on the job, Mayer took a drastic step for a free wheeling company many of whose employees worked from at home, in some cases all of the time.  She essentially called everyone back to the office, a move aimed at reconnecting and thus energizing the work force to be more mutually creative.  It caused a firestorm both within the company and perhaps more so in the media.  How could SHE?  Among the many criticisms aimed at Ms. Mayer were ones that related as much to who she was as what and why she was doing.  How could a woman, of all people, essentially end flextime?

The special treatment given to Mellissa Mayer is not new to the select number of women who have reached the higher echelons of their chosen profession or workplace.  No doubt Meg Whitman experienced much the same over the years.  Women, for example, are routinely described as "bossy" when doing the same leadership thing that would be, and is, admired in a male counterpart.  Sadly, few women climbing the career ladder are willing to publically or even privately confront this or other forms of ongoing gender discrimination.  Instead they play along in the hope of continuing their advancement and in constant fear of hitting the proverbial glass ceiling, or worse losing their jobs.  Rather than challenge, many speak only about how much progress has been made since the advent of the Women's Movement, a subject or rather a myth that I have discussed in previous posts and in my book.  Now Mayer’s former Google colleague, and presently Facebook COO, Sheryl Sandberg has broken that acquiescence, that silence.

In some ways Lean In is a highly personal book, one that reflects Sandberg's own journey from a happy Miami childhood through entry level and then senior positions in the public sector and ultimately in business.  Unlike Melissa Mayer who, as a Stanford trained engineer, took the expected Silicon Valley path, Harvard economics major and then MBA Sandberg came to the tech world from the Treasury Department.  Despite reaching her goal through smarts (top honors in school), hard work and merit, hers is hardly a Horatio Alger story.  She came from a nurturing affluent home with a well-educated mother and ophthalmologist father and with siblings, one a surgeon and the other a pediatrician, who also went on the bright careers.  Along the way, she had great mentors, not the least her thesis adviser at Harvard, Larry Summers, for whom she later worked both at the World Bank and at Treasury.  It's not a starting from scratch story.  Rather, and more importantly, it's the kind of career that mirrors the one of many in senior positions, public and private.  So you might say, Sheryl Sandberg came up in the usual American way.

Usual that is for a man.  Her life and the challenges presented at every stage didn't so much mirror that of male colleagues but of women in this country.  And that isn't only women in the workforce, but all women: how they are judged, what opportunities they encounter and what outcomes they have in life.  As Sandberg points out time and again, women are seen differently, paid less (than men doing the same job and underpaid in the absolute), passed over more, and must function with an often unspoken but always present handicap.  Even fifty years after the modern Women's Movement made such a splash, women hold few top jobs (or even an equal number of jobs) in business, government or institutions.  That means fewer CEOs, Senators and Members of Congress, college presidents, clergy etc. than their male counterparts.  Fifty percent of the population doesn't translate into 50/50 in the workforce.  And that workforce includes at home where few women enjoy truly 50/50 partnership with their spouses, something Sandberg considers an unmet essential.  In a revealing anecdote, she reports of a man telling a colleague that he has to go home to "babysit".  Imagine a woman characterizing being with her children as "baby sitting".  In both cases, is that something called parenting?

Sandberg's book is receiving a lot of attention and a substantial amount of flack, some of it from women reviewers.  She has been accused of speaking from a privileged place — extreme wealth and power, hardly the average woman — and for name-dropping — admittedly her acknowledgment pages especially are a little over the top.  But from beginning to end, I found an author well aware of who and what she is and certainly of her unique position.  In fact, it is because she has done so well (and clearly because she didn't have to) that she felt compelled to address gender issues head on.  Perhaps this book was written to inspire other women, but also to express honestly what they face and what they likely think but fear to communicate.  It is a compelling fact filled book that, while certainly not faultless, should be read by both women and men.  It's pages turn quickly but its message can't be taken in, hit and run.  It requires deliberate and lengthy consideration.

We most certainly can thank men for the still held back role of women in our society.  Our prejudices (or more accurately pre-conceived notions) and in recent times our fear of competition have been, and continue to be, at play.  The fabled Horatio Alger's in the American story may have come from humble beginnings, but they shared the distinct and common advantage of maleness.  They started with a leg up.  No one suggested that they didn't have the physical strength or temperament to do their job; no one assumed in advance that they would be moody or considered them bossy when they led.  Sandberg cites research showing that male leaders are both respected and liked while women doing exactly the same job, performing in the same way, may be also respected but are most often are considered "unlikable".  Some people think it a complement to say how well a woman is doing in a "man's job".  Yes, a man's job, not simply a job to be done.

But Sandberg doesn't place the entire burden and blame on men.  She knows that women can be their own worst enemies, both in not reaching as high as they should — limiting (sometimes purposefully) what opportunities they seek — and in often not standing up sufficiently for their female peers.  Lean In has been criticized for urging women to reach high, for perhaps putting too great a premium on both work away from home and on success.  It's a bad wrap, because Sandberg continually emphasises that we all face a range of choices and that no one should put a valued judgment on the path we chose to follow.  That said, this book's ultimate message to women is certainly that they should cast aside the mental and other barriers that might be in their way.  Women should lean in — be all in — to what they're dong, something that men have done, as if by second nature.

It isn't all men's fault and it isn't all women's fault.  I can't speak for women, but can for men who Sandberg urges to be, to become, true 50/50 partners including (and most especially) at home.  It isn't enough for women to be committed feminists.  Men must join them in what remains an uphill fight and unfinished business.  I'm so glad Sandberg points out that, despite her own success and the road already traveled thanks to Gloria Steinem and others like her, progress has remains quite limited.  I could not agree more.  I've always considered myself a feminist, still do.  So I invite you — especially men — to either join me in that for the first time or to reenlist. 

Say what you will about Sandberg's book, about her rarified perch, her dropping names, her first person account or any other criticism.  But this is ultimately a provocative work, a conversation starter.  And it is a conversation, an honest conversation about gender, in which we need urgently to engage.  Our future depends on all of us — men and women — leaning in.  If we are lagging behind these days, count our keeping women in their "place" as one of the reasons.  Blame it also in us men not being in there 50/50.  We may not have the power to do everything, but we do have the power to change that.

Note: Not surprisingly for a FaceBook executive, Cheryl Sandberg has started a community Lean In dedicated to this subject, a way to learn or get involved.  Check it out.

Francis I

Benedict is gone...they have a new pope.

Catholics and non-Catholics alike seem fascinated by the Vatican in papal transition.  With extended papacies like that of John Paul II there is a long lag between the conclaves.  Not this time.  So once again we all watch from afar as a group of red clad aging men, none elected to their positions of immense power, anoint one of their own to rule the Church.  The process is totally opaque with each voting member sworn to silence and secrecy.  Once white smoke appears atop St. Peters, a single now white hat emerges, no longer an equal among equals but the absolute and infallible Holy Father.

Considering that neither the Church nor the man will have even the slightest impact on most of our lives, what interests us so?  For one thing, passing the Catholic torch with all of its colorful costumes, ritual and pomp — yes theatrics  — makes for great television.  Then, too, there is the mystery of it all, complete with the aura of assumed and unseen intrigue.  Real life imitating fiction, or is it the other way around?  While we may rail against the lack of transparency in most of our institutions, here the lack of transparency only adds to the drama.  It provides a perfect and riskless setting for prognosticators.  Unlike political pundits and pollsters, they will never be scored on predictive accuracy.  After all, who knew?

If you're a Catholic woman seeking control over your reproductive rights, a gay man looking for full acceptance and marriage equality or someone in the pew hoping for an end of celibacy and the ordination, finally, of women don't expect the newly enthroned Pope Francis to be on your side.  Perhaps the choice of this particular Cardinal, Jorge Mario Bergoglio, came as a surprise.  That he would be in the doctrinal conservative mode of his two predecessors — the men who qualified him and his electors — was and is expected.  There were no reformers, as many of us would understand and define that word, in the voter/candidate pool assembled in the Sistine.

In the first hours and days after a pontifical elevation, one tends to focus on what this or that gesture might tell us about new pope's persona or foretell his rule.  We look for similar signs from anyone who ascends to power including our newly elected presidents.  Of course, with a long and largely transparent campaign, we know so much more about them.  The election of a pope is the polar opposite of transparent.  Its opacity is underscored when the winner has not been seen as a pre-conclave front-runner.  Despite his reputed strong showing in 2005 and being well known at home, Francis has arisen out of effectual obscurity.  Cardinal "who?" we say upon hearing of the Argentinian will lead more than a billion people around the globe.

So, having little else, atmospherics are likely to all we have to go on in near future — style more than substance.   That said, with no radical departure from doctrine expected to be in play, style might actually have more substance than is often the case.  By now anyone who reads or watches the news knows that Francis eschewed palace life in Argentina, opting instead for a modest apartment and self-cooked meals.  He passed up a limo in favor of a public transportation and indeed got on the Vatican bus with his Cardinal colleagues right after the election.  He picked up his bags the next day and paid his own hotel bill.  We also have been told of his interest in and devotion to the poor, of washing AIDS patients' feet.  He moved many by humbly asking the assembled crowd's blessing before bestowing any of his own on them.  These early acts and personal history suggest to some that he may well be more in the John XXIII mold than in that of either Benedict or John Paul.  Perhaps.

Francis assumes leadership of an often dispirited clergy and flock.  The shame of child abuse and decades long cover-up, the reputed Curia and bank corruption, and the Church's tin-ear in facing the realities of our time.  It all adds up to a most challenging papacy.  Perhaps Francis was able to discard some of the opulent trappings of a cardinal — good luck with doing that as pope.  All of his power notwithstanding, the new pontiff will quickly be reminded by those around him that no pope is his own man.  Everything he does has a ripple effect and the bishops upon whom he must rely in his far flung empire like their perks and are unlikely to easily let them go, if at all. 

As head of the world's largest religious denomination, Pope Francis will get a lot of press attention.  Leaders and individuals will pay him lip service, but the Church has lost much of its moral authority.  What popes say or do these days is of much more parochial than secular consequence.  I am hard pressed to think of anything that Benedict did or said in his eight years that had any measurable impact on the world at large or that even meaningfully drove the conversation.  Even among Catholics, and most certainly among Europeans and North Americans, the pope's views and pronouncements are largely ignored.  When it comes to their personal life, the "sin threat" rings hollow, even to the otherwise faithful.  That's hardly new and hardly something Francis will be able to reverse.

Reflecting the many challenges facing the Church, a cloud of sorts hung over the proceedings in Rome.  Many of the better-known cardinals had presided over dioceses where pedophile priests had been sheltered, where large settlements had been paid out and where substantial questions remain unanswered.  Even the jolly Dolan of New York is seen, albeit tangentially, as somewhat tainted.  And this is not new.  Pope Benedict had to justify and overcome his past as a Hitler Youth member.  It is a mark of the Church's current state that its leaders' past deeds or either omission or co-mission stand as elephants in the room.  Francis, despite his humility, has his own demons — actions taken or not during Argentina's Dirty War.  True to form the Vatican is already building a sharp pushback defense, accusing the accusers.  Some things don't change.

Benedict saw his mission as bringing Catholics into doctrinal line.  Some say, he would rather have a smaller church than a wayward one.  Francis may agree.  The fact is that, while the Church is experiencing some growth in Latin America and more in Africa, it is steadily losing ground elsewhere.  A large number of us no longer identify with a religion.  Onetime Catholics are well represented among those whom researchers call nones and I call transcenders.  Francis, like all religious leaders, must face that reality.  He must also understand that employing FaceBook and Twitter is not like issuing encyclicals from on high.  Social media are constructed for conversation and immediate feedback, including substantive challenges. Today's interconnected world requires as much listening as talking.  That's something popes haven't been required (or chosen) to do.  If the most recent papacies are any barometer that may not change.

The new pope is yet to be formally inaugurated and perhaps some of us will be watching, mostly (if we are honest) for the ceremony's entertainment value.  But twenty-first century folk have a very short attention span, even when it comes to things that affect them directly. When the headlines subside and the vast majority of red hats return home, Catholics will be on their own with their new leader.  Francis may impact on the larger world but if and how so remains to be seen.  Most of us will focus our attention on other things, on our own lives and beliefs.  All we can do is to wish him and most importantly his followers, our fellow human beings, well.  

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My book Transcenders: Living beyond religion and the religion wars is now available in print and as an eBook.  Both versions are available at Amazon; the electronic iBooks version can be found at iTunes; a Nook version at Barnes & Noble.

Sequester, hurray!

Make no mistake, Republicans are thrilled with the sequester.  And no, it has little to do with standing up to the President.  Republicans are happy because, above all else, they want to shrink government and what better way than to starve it of the necessary funds.  Republicans are happy, but they are playing a dangerous and, in my view, very heartless game.  In doing so, they are also making a huge political gamble. 

It's a dangerous game because the economy remains fragile and, like it or not, government spending, direct and indirect, has a meaningful impact on our national well-being.  The loss of public sector jobs — local, state and federal — has had a measurable impact on unemployment and has held back the recovery.  While we have seen steady, albeit modest, private sector job growth, public sector jobs continue to fall.  This continuing contraction and its ripple effect, particularly at the local level, has cut into the recovery.  Just ask your neighborhood shopkeeper, car dealer or real estate agent. It's a heartless game because the people who will be most hurt are again those with the least, a group that (assuming they have a job) is already suffering from wage stagnation. 

It's a political gamble because unless they can convince voters that Obama and Democrats are mostly to blame, Republicans may well sustain further election losses, this time in the Congress and at the state and local level.  Let's remember that premature austerity — starving governments of money — has thrown much of Europe back into recession and with it has produced significant voter backlash.  The recent vote in Italy is just one example.  American office holders may well experience a similar backlash.

I started this post with the assertion that Republicans like the sequester.  For years, and despite all their disagreements, there wasn't that much of a difference between the political parties.  Yes, the GOP of the twentieth century tended to be more conservative, the Democrats more liberal.  But each party had a significant contingent of members and office holders that didn't quite fit into a neat ideological mode.  There were a substantial number of progressive Republicans (e.g. Rockefeller Republicans) as there were conservative Democrats (from an Eastland in the South to a Scoop Jackson in the West).  That broader in-party ideological mix didn't insure compromise and civility, but it sure helped.

Today — and some would argue it's a good thing — differences in ideology between the parties are in much sharper focus.  Perhaps it's too simplistic to reduce it to big government verses small government, but not by much.  Republicans have to admit, though unhappily, that some government is necessary.  Conversely, Democrats have to admit that government can't do everything and that realistically there are limits on what we can afford.  Neither side is really happy about it the status quo and try hard to limit compromises on "principle". Whether on economic or social issues, today's party partisans are far more unified and of a single mind than was the case in earlier years.  So, far from being at times indistinguishable, the two major parties have worldviews that are often polar opposite, something that drives both their rhetoric and actions.  The divide is real and we haven't figured out how to negotiate well in this black and white ideological environment — hence, dysfunctional governance.

Nearly seven years ago, after spending most of my adult life in New York, I relocated to the lovely university town Chapel Hill, North Carolina.  When I arrived, the state had a Democratic governor and legislature.  In 2008 it went for Obama.  Today, that situation has reversed.  Republicans have taken full control and Romney edged out a win here in November.  Former Charlotte Mayor and energy executive Pat McCrory was elected governor in November.  If you want to understand how profound a change from Democratic to Republican rule can be these days, look no further than North Carolina.

Last spring, and despite still having a sitting Democrat governor, the now Republican controlled legislature voted to put a constitutional amendment banning same-sex "domestic legal unions" — marriage or any other — before the electorate.  That vote was intentionally set for the Spring presidential primary, where no Democratic contest (even on the state level) was expected.  Primaries draw only half as many voters as general elections and the voters, regardless of party, tend to me more ideological — the party faithful.  In the present environment especially, the scheduling clearly favored conservative, still in the midst of an unresolved presidential contest.  The marriage amendment to the State's Constitution passed, supported by what amounted to 20% of the electorate.

Fast forward to the New Year with McCrory in now place.  At this moment the legislature is seeking to remove independent members of the State's principal regulatory commissions allowing the governor to appoint members who are in sync with his policies.  This includes the utility commission that overseas his long-term employer, Duke Energy.  There is serious talk about major reductions in, perhaps the total elimination of, the state income tax, replaced by an increase in the regressive sales tax.  The governor and legislature have turned down the increased Medicaid offered under the Affordable Healthcare Act, robbing coverage for more than half a million of our currently uninsured fellow citizens.  The expansion would have been funded entirely by the federal government in the first three years and at least 90% thereafter.  Concurrently, they are in the process of both limiting and reducing unemployment benefits.

North Carolina is known for one of the nation's most respected and best public higher education systems.  The University of North Carolina Chapel Hill is the country's second oldest (1789) and ranks fifth among public universities — thirtieth among all colleges.  Governor McCrory thinks that the State's schools should be focused on jobs.  In a radio interview with former Education Secretary Bill Bennett, the Governor proclaimed, "...I’m going to adjust my education curriculum to what business and commerce needs to get our kids jobs."  Notice he calls it "my" education curriculum as if he owns and runs the schools. 

He then went on to say, “If you want to take gender studies that's fine.  Go to a private school, and take it.  But I don't want to subsidize that if that's not going to get someone a job."  By the way, UNC's annual tuition is $7,600 vs. $40,000 plus for private institutions like neighboring Duke.  I guess citizens with limited funds should only consider vocational training for their children.  Ah, the good old days.  And speaking of former times (the one's he apparently wants to restore), remember when Stanford Law grad Sandra Day O'Conner and women like her were told they could only be secretaries in law firms.  It's informative that the governor used gender studies as his example of wrongheaded education, part I guess of that Republican attempt to get women into their fold.  Good luck with that. 

McCrory and Bennett also agreed the state shouldn't be subsidizing philosophy PhDs, a sentiment that probably will go down well with my son Jesse's former colleagues here in Chapel Hill which currently has one of the country's top philosophy departments.  The UNC faculty has already endured salary freezes and cuts, and is losing some of its younger members who are deeply concerned about their future prospects here.  If all that weren't enough, McCrory is in the process of removing the word "education" from the state lottery so that it can support technical school (I guess that's not education).

Add to what's happening here in North Carolina to what we've seen in Wisconsin and Florida along with what's afoot in Washington and you get the picture.  It all adds up to a pretty grim and consistent end point. Integral to it is starving government budgets, particularly the funds for social programing, which includes teaching the humanities.  The last thing these people want is a well-rounded, well educated, and healthy public.  Republicans who love the sequester are making a calculation that an all too complacent public may complain a little in the short term but eventually go along.  Inertia is the American way, they assume, and that's their ultimate win, win.  They may be right, but I don't think so.  We'll soon know.