The Necessity of Intolerance [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Life has a way of flipping you on your head. As a former facilitator of DEI workshops I have had innumerable conversations about intolerance and the necessity for standing in “the other’s shoes.” Tolerance is a step on the path to an open mind. Throughout the course of this election I have discovered within myself the necessity of intolerance. The absolute necessity.

There has to be a line. I cannot stand in the shoes of intentional indecency. I cannot afford an ounce of grace to the ugly racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, violent ambitions of maga or its dictator-wanna-be. In a democracy, there is no validity, nothing remotely defensible about their fascist aims. I cannot listen – even for a moment – to the rabid justification of a thought-less-babble-tower built of lies and grievance. It is less than sandy soil. It is a disaster in the making. A foul permission structure of deception and nonsense.

I have found my hard intolerance and I couldn’t be more proud to declare it. At first I feared it made me a hypocrite but lately I know better. There is a place for intolerance and it is this: Intolerance of injustice, intolerance of hatred, intolerance of fear-mongering, intolerance of misogyny… is the vanguard of an open-heart, the guardian of an open-mind.

There has to be a line.

I am learning that within my intolerance of this maga-hatred is the living-seed of common decency and respect of others. My intolerance of whipped-up division constructed by a pathological liar gives bright energy to my belief in truth and goodness. It points the way to the virtues I was taught, to the ethics that are my inheritance.

Our parents and grandparents fought against fascism. My imperfect and messy nation strives to fulfill the ideal that all people are created equal. As the stewards of democracy it is now our imperative – my imperative – to claim my utter intolerance of the authoritarian bilge poisoning our nation.

Every religion, spirituality and belief-system I’ve ever studied (and I’ve studied more than I can count) instructs that I am my brothers’ and sisters’ keeper – as they are also mine, to help others – especially those who are downtrodden. As Kerri says, “If it’s not about kindness then it’s not about anything.”

That seems pretty straight forward and absolutely unequivocal to me. Especially now.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TATTERS

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The Shallow Truth [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

We had a quiet yet lively debate last night. The question was, “Did they know what they were voting for when they chose the candidate who vowed to end Democracy?” They certainly know that their candidate lacks all decency; he made no effort to hide his depravity. Kerri is of the opinion that they know. Only rage, fear and hatred could vote for a party that so explicitly promises violence. I am not so sure. Or, perhaps, I do not want to believe it.

The scholar of fascism (I didn’t catch his name) referenced Plato: Democracy inevitably leads to tyranny. “The people have always some champion whom they set over them and nurse into greatness. . . . This and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears above ground he is a protector. . . . having a mob entirely at his disposal, he is not restrained from shedding the blood of kinsmen; . . . After a while he is driven out, but comes back, in spite of his enemies, a tyrant full grown.” (Plato, Republic) The scholar said it was fascinating to watch his life’s study, the rise of fascism, happen in real time. I would choose a different adjective. Horrifying, maybe. Unimaginable. Certainly it is sad.

More from Plato: Tyrants lack “the very faculty that is the instrument of judgment”—reason. The tyrannical man is enslaved because the best part of him (reason) is enslaved, and likewise, the tyrannical state is enslaved, because it too lacks reason and order.

Tyrants lack reason. Tyrants rise from emotion untethered from rationality, logic…intelligence. Emotion untethered from intelligence is a great definition of Fox News, hate-tv, the megaphone of the tyrant.

Last night Nick Fuentes, a white nationalist and dinner guest of the tyrant-elect, tweeted, “Your body, my choice. Forever” It is a sentiment not unlike the famous Access Hollywood tape, the tyrant-elect bragging of his fondness of and predilection for sexual assault. “When you are a star they let you do it.” Of course, now we must seriously consider the ramifications of the word, “Forever.”

If they truly didn’t know or understand, with the coming of the promised nationwide abortion ban, their daughters, sisters, nieces, mothers, wives will soon fully grok the reality, living as they will, without any agency over their bodies. They will come to understand. Certainly they will come to understand when the women in our nation – as is happening now in Texas, are maimed and/or die when life saving treatment is available but illegal.

I don’t want to believe that they know what they voted for. I don’t want to believe so many of my fellow citizens are so ugly. I prefer to believe that they are titanically ignorant rather than malicious.

I decided during our late night quiet debate that, at this early moment in the shock of coming tyranny, it is a pointless conversation. A few years into the tyrant’s reign, we will discover whether or not they really understood what they voted for. When the greatest economy in the world tanks, when – as happened last time – family farms are driven into bankruptcy from needless tariffs, when we join the world’s autocrats rather than resist them, when the new class of oligarchs hold the reigns of power, when we are fully feeling the “promised pain,”… then the answer to our question will come out. Will the voters for tyranny ask, “What happened?”

I hope so.

I’m writing these words today so that two years from now I will not have to say what I suspect is the shallow truth of our present moment:

He was a star so you voted to let him do it.

(to be continued)

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE VOTE

Scratches On The Wall [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Scratches on the wall. Petroglyphs, the only evidence that remains of a people who once lived in these canyons, who lived by the river we’ve named Fremont. We do not know if they had a name for the river. We do not know if they had a name for themselves. We call them the Fremont, after the river. A location name.

The Fremont River is named for an American explorer, John Charles Fremont, so the people who scratched pictures into the rock over 1,000 years ago also carry his name. As is the nature of history, we locate them from our point of view. We build an identity-structure and civilization-story about them based upon our story of them. We’ve placed them in our narrative timeline, 1 – 1300 CE. We have no idea how they thought of or marked their time.

We have no idea what became of them. They disappeared into time. We have no idea what the petroglyphs mean or why they scratched them into the canyon walls. We wonder at the semiotics, the inner symbolic life that produced such strange (to us) images that remain on the red rock walls.

This morning, through my COVID aches and chills, I watched the news. I would like to say that I am mystified by the civilization-story currently being spun and supported by half of my nation but I am not. I would like to say that the hatred and fear-mongering of the red hat tribe is as much a mystery to me as the way of the Fremont, but it is not. The concurrent xenophobia and wild-eyed-creation of an internal enemy (anyone not in a red hat) has roots that are all too easy to see. It’s a fascist popcorn trail, a page from Hitler’s handbook. The language is identical. The images, scratched into the red-fox-walls of our time are all too easy to interpret. A frightened and misinformed populace is easily manipulated. Fooled.

What is a mystery to me is the inner symbolic life of my nation’s conservatives that seem so ready to trade our sacred democracy for a populist authoritarian. What scratches on the walls of their minds are so easily storied into hatred. What has so hardened their hearts that they embrace with cheers the repulsive bile spewed by their candidate? It is as incomprehensible to me as the petroglyphs of the Fremont.

All societies disappear into time. Ours, relative to the Fremont, is still in its infancy. We can only hope that an explorer in some distant future finds our petroglyphs – and although a mystery to them, we will have known that we transcended the authoritarian threat and overcame the fox-fear-fantasy, manufactured hatred and dark lies. And, over the next thousand years, our scratches on the wall tell the tale of how we matured to fulfill the promise of our sacred ideals. Out of many, one.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PETROGLYPHS

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