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Barely a year after the death of Wisconsin Sen. Joseph McCarthy in 1957, the voters of his home state sent Robert Kastenmeier to the U.S. House of Representatives. A passionate foe of McCarthy and McCarthyism, the young Democrat sought to break the spell of Cold War fear and reaction that the late senator had exploited to such destructive ends.
To do this, Kastenmeier began working with a handful of progressive members of the House -- including California Congressman James Roosevelt (President Franklin Roosevelt's eldest son) -- to establish what came to be known as the Liberal Project. Kastenmeier suggested that a young congressional aide from Wisconsin, Marcus Raskin, draw up a plan for advancing this transformative "new politics" in Congress and in what they hoped would become a dramatically more progressive Democratic Party.
Raskin came of age in the era when Wisconsin was a laboratory of democracy, where independent Progressives ran state government, Socialists governed Milwaukee, and a liberal Democratic Party was being shaped by young leaders such as Kastenmeier and Gaylord Nelson. His uncle, Max Raskin, the Milwaukee city attorney in the 1930s and later one of the state's most well-regarded jurists, was a central figure in the era.
Marcus Raskin brought a "Wisconsin Idea" passion to writing the Liberal Project memo, arguing for a "much broader (agenda) than the kind of economic liberalism promulgated in the 1930s." He suggested that what was needed was "a complete ... restatement of all areas of public policy, foreign policy, defense policy, industrial policy, agricultural policy, legal and judicial policy. Finally, what is needed is a formulation of the philosophic condition of Man in the 20th Century."
Working with Kastenmeier, Raskin drew leading intellectuals into the process of establishing a "rational program" for postwar liberalism that might "serve as a basis for writing a suggested Democratic Party platform for 1960 and as a campaign text for liberal candidates." They produced "The Liberal Papers," an ambitious agenda that Commentary magazine described as an "indication of a resurgent citizenry in America."
For the next six decades, until his death Dec. 24 at age 83, Raskin advanced a resurgent and expansive citizenship as a preeminent advocate for economic and social justice and for peace. He argued, on Capitol Hill and university campuses, from union halls to the parks where mass rallies were held, that voters should have a far greater say with regard to foreign and domestic policy. His was a clear-eyed vision that recognized how an "endless war" footing cost Americans physically, economically, and morally, and it helped to shape the understanding of generations of activists, academics, and elected officials from city halls to the White House.
In 1961, Raskin's skills as a thinker and organizer were recognized by the new administration of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. He joined the National Security Council's Special Staff, serving with National Security Adviser McGeorge Bundy. In that capacity, he was part of the U.S. delegation to an 18-nation disarmament conference in Geneva. But Raskin's prescient concerns about the escalation of U.S. military involvement in Southeast Asia and a host of other issues led to a split with Bundy and his eventual departure from the administration.
With Richard Barnet, who had served as a State Department official in the U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency, Raskin created an independent think tank to critique the policies of the government in which the two men had served. The Institute for Policy Studies became an essential source of opposition to the Vietnam War -- so much so that, in 1968, Raskin was indicted (along with William Sloane Coffin, Dr. Benjamin Spock, Michael Ferber and Mitchell Goodman) for conspiracy to aid resistance to the draft.
IPS would continue to oppose unwise and unnecessary wars and the excesses of the "national security state" that Raskin described in his brilliant books and essays. He also served as the chair of the Sane-Freeze campaign (now Peace Action) at a peak moment for the U.S. anti-nuclear movement, and later as a counselor to the Congressional Progressive Caucus. (His son, Maryland Congressman Jamie Raskin, one of the nation's finest constitutional scholars, now serves as a vice chair of the CPC, which is co-chaired by Wisconsin Congressman Mark Pocan.)
From his various positions, Raskin engaged in research, writing, and activism on behalf of a "social reconstruction" that would address inequality and injustice.
In his last years, Raskin guided IPS's groundbreaking Paths for the 21st Century Project, which built on his decades of engagement to propose a vision for radical change. Fiercely opposed to the Iraq War, Raskin wrote in 2007: "(The) United States must avoid making more global messes. The nuclear option must be removed from the table, including threats of 'preemptive' and 'preventive' war. No one should feel secure in a command structure that gives any U.S. president the power and authority to use nuclear weapons in a first strike."
Raskin acknowledged: "The 20th century was one of unprecedented devastation, genocide, broken ideals, and foolish promises, collapsing into organized institutional evil and individual evil," Yet, he argued, "the last century was fed by various strands of socialism, communism, democracy, anarchism, populism and enlightened capitalism that promised a better tomorrow, a world of dignity linked to universal justice."
Raskin never lost faith in that prospect of universal justice.
Yes, he wrote in 2008, "the specter of authoritarianism, religious intolerance, imperial wars for resources and domination, and economic suffering haunts humankind."
"Nevertheless," the Milwaukee-born writer concluded, "the human spirit persists ... in the attempts to find a common good that all institutions are part of and which includes the distribution of wealth and income so that all might benefit, thereby recognizing that the human endeavor is more than the production of things and information for the few but is also the fashioning of humane freedom for all."
The current controversy over whether to dismantle statues of some prominent Confederate figures is a battle over whom we admire and consider as heroes. It is also a battle over who has power to shape how we view our history.
"Many of those people were there to protest the taking down of the statue of Robert E. Lee," President Donald Trump said last month after the struggle in the streets of Charlottesville, Virginia. "So this week, it is Robert E. Lee. I noticed that Stonewall Jackson is coming down. I wonder, is it George Washington next week? And is it Thomas Jefferson the week after?"
In May, the New Orleans City Council declared monuments of Lee, Confederate President Jefferson Davis and Confederate Gen. P.G.T. Beauregard public nuisances and had them removed. In August, Baltimore Mayor Catherine Pugh ordered Confederate monuments removed from the city's public spaces. Maryland Gov. Larry Hogan, a Republican, directed the dismantling of a statue in front of the State House of Roger Taney--a Supreme Court justice who was chief author of the 1857 Dred Scott decision that ruled that African-Americans could not be American citizens. Earlier this month, in response to student protests, Yale University renamed Calhoun College--a residential complex named for John C. Calhoun, a senator from South Carolina, vice president and influential advocate for slavery--Hopper College, after Rear Adm. Grace Murray Hopper, a computer pioneer and naval officer. To buttress the symbolism, Yale removed a portrait of Calhoun from a dining hall.
Shouldn't we also honor the organizers, activists, artists, writers, athletes, judges and occasional elected officials who fought to make the United States a more humane and inclusive country? The New York Times recently published a list of the Confederate monuments that are now subject of controversy in cities across the country.
Not surprisingly, most monuments celebrate political, business and military figures. You can criss-cross the country and find statues, schools, government and university buildings, museums, parks, and streets celebrating presidents, senators, governors, jurists, inventor-entrepeneurs, founders of major corporations, generals and fallen soldiers. But our veneration of them often comes at the expense of recognizing other citizens who had a major role in shaping our nation's history.
Shouldn't we also honor the organizers, activists, artists, writers, athletes, judges, and occasional elected officials who fought to make the United States a more humane and inclusive country? What about the pioneers who built movements and gave voice to the struggles for women's suffrage, protecting the environment and consumers, putting an end to lynching, giving workers the right to form unions, and pushing for a progressive income tax, a federal minimum wage, old-age insurance, the 8-hour workday and government-subsidized health care and housing?
When they first advanced their ideas, they were considered impractical idealists, utopian dreamers or dangerous radicals. Now we take these ideas for granted. We all stand on their shoulders.
To create a partial catalogue of monuments celebrating progressive figures, I've drawn on the people profiled in my book, The 100 Greatest Americans of the 20th Century: A Social Justice Hall of Fame. I've identified statues located in public places (but not busts of heads or paintings, parks or public buildings), celebrating these progressive figures.
The list focuses on people whose influence was primarily during the 20th century--so Tom Paine, Daniel Shays, Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, William Monroe Trotter, William Lloyd Garrison, Mother Jones, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Henry Demarest Lloyd, John Muir, Ida Wells, Terrence Powderly, Thorsten Veblen and Jacob Riis, among other radicals and reformers, are not included.
A Short Tour of Monuments to Progressives
A statue of Tom L. Johnson, the progressive mayor of Cleveland from 1901 to 1909, is located in Cleveland's Public Square.
A statue of Robert M. La Follette Sr., the progressive Wisconsin governor and senator, sits in National Statuary Hall in the US Capitol. A number of public schools throughout Wisconsin are named for La Follette.
Crusading lawyer and Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis adorns the campus of Brandeis University in Waltham, Massachusetts. Besides the university, many public schools--including high schools in New York City and San Antonio--are named for Brandeis.
Attorney Clarence Darrow spent most of his career defending radicals and labor activists, but he's most famous for defending evolution in the famous Scopes Monkey Trial. A statue of Darrow sits on the lawn in front of the Rhea County Court House in Dayton, Tennessee. It was dedicated on July 14, 2017 and sits opposite the statue of William Jennings Bryan, who beat Darrow in that controversial case.
This statue of Theodore Roosevelt on Roosevelt Island in the Potomac River across from Washington, D.C. is one of many statues and schools named for the trust-busting president. You call also visit three national parks in honor of the environmental president.
The name of progressive philosopher and school reformer John Dewey adorns public schools in Denver; New York City; Warrensville Heights, Ohio; Flint, Michigan and elsewhere, but there are no statues with Dewey's likeness.
A sculpture of urban reformer Jane Addams, the first American woman to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize (1931), can be found on the campus of Cal State University in Fresno. Schools in Seattle; New York City; Bolingbrook and Moline, Illinois; Long Beach, California and other cities are named for the founder of modern social work.
Students in Sacramento can attend Hiram Johnson High School, and the public can visit the state office building in San Francisco named for the progressive governor, but there are no statues celebrating his life.
A statue of scholar and activist W.E.B. DuBois is located at his alma mater, Fisk University. The main library at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, a physics building at Fisk University, and dormitories at the University of Pennsylvania and Hampton University are named for DuBois. Public schools is Chicago, Baltimore, Wake Forest, N.C., and elsewhere are named for him, too.
This statue of Alice Hamilton, a crusading physician who founded the modern field of occupational health, sits in Headwaters Park in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
A middle school in New York City is named for Robert F. Wagner, the progressive New Deal senator who led fights for workers' rights and public housing, but there are no statues erected to honor him.
These statues of Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt at the Roosevelt National Historic Site in Hyde Park, New York are among the many statues and schools named in their honor. A stunning recent addition to the collection of memorials is The Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial along the Potomac in Washington, D.C.
A 12-foot-high, 4-ton statue of Albert Einstein is set at the entrance to the headquarters of the National Academy of Sciences in Washington, D.C. Einstein is holding a paper engraved with the equations for his major scientific contributions. There are dozens of other Einstein statues in the U.S. and around the world and many schools named after the famous scientist and socialist.
This statue of the pioneering and fearless birth control advocate Margaret Sanger, with a gag over her mouth, stands in Old South Meeting House in Boston. There are no schools named for the controversial socialist and feminist.
A monument to John L. Lewis--leader of the mine workers union and later the Congress of Industrial Orgnizations (CIO)--sits in Monongahela Township, Greene County, Pennsylvania, on a site where 37 coal miners lost their lives in a mine explosion in 1962. There's another statue of the brilliant orator and labor leader at the John L. Lewis Mining & Labor Museum in Lucas, Iowa.
Several statues of Helen Keller portray the socialist, feminist and pacifist as a young girl learning how to speak, like this one located in Tewksbury, Massachusetts, of Keller and her teacher, Anne Sullivan. The Keller statue in National Statutory Hall in the US Capitol in Washington, DC shows her at a pump, where she spoke her first word, "water." There are many schools around the country named for the founder of what is now called the disability rights movement.
There's no sculpture of consumer and labor activist Frances Perkins, but the US Department of Labor building and the Frances Perkins Academy in New York City are named for the first female Cabinet secretary and a crusading New Deal reformer. However, the governor of Maine recently tried to have the Frances Perkins Conference Room in the state capitol renamed in view of her pro-labor stance.
Famed New York City Mayor and congressman Fiorello La Guardia sits in the Greenwich Village section of New York City. New York's La Guardia High School is one of the premier arts high schools in the country.
Norman Thomas High School in Manhattan and the Norman Thomas '05 Library at Princeton University are named after the leader of the American Socialist Party and frequent presidential candidate, from the 1930s through the 1950s. A plaque at the Princeton library reads: "Norman M. Thomas, class of 1905. 'I am not the champion of lost causes, but the champion of causes not yet won.'"
Swarthmore College named a dormitory after suffragist leader Alice Paul, a graduate of the college. Montclair State University in New Jersey has also named a building in her honor. And you can pay homage to Alice Paul and other women's rights luminaries at the National Park Service's Belmont-Paul National Historic Site.
An apartment building in Philadelphia bears the name of Sidney Hillman, the founder and president of the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America and a key backer of FDR's New Deal program.
A. Philip Randolph, civil rights and labor leader and leader of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, sits in Boston's Back Bay Train Station. Another statue of Randolph was erected in the concourse of Union Station in Washington, D.C. Schools in Jacksonville, Florida; New York City; Philadelphia and Atlanta are named in his honor. Jacksonville renamed one of its streets A. Phillip Randolph Boulevard and an A. Philip Randolph Pullman Porter Museum is located in Chicago's Pullman Historic District.
Statues of the radical Minnesota Depression-era Farmer-Labor Party Gov. Floyd Olson, including one in front of the Minnesota State Capitol in St. Paul, have been constructed throughout state.
Dorothy Day, founder of the Catholic Worker movement, sits outside St. Mary's Catholic Church in Colts Neck, New Jersey. Another Day statue can be found in front of the Solanus Casey Center in Detroit. Dormitories at Lewis University in Romeoville, Illinois, the University of Scranton in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and Loyola University in Maryland are named in her honor. Broadway Housing Communities, a supportive housing project in New York City, opened the Dorothy Day Apartment Building at 583 Riverside Drive in 2003.
The name of actor, activist, singer and linguist Paul Robeson adorns public schools in Chicago, Philadelphia, New York City, and New Brunswick and Trenton, New Jersey. In 1976, the apartment building on Edgecombe Avenue in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan where Robeson lived during the early 1940s was officially renamed the Paul Robeson Residence, and the street was renamed Paul Robeson Boulevard. The main library at Rutgers University, Robeson's alma mater, is named for him. There are no statues, but many busts of Robeson, including this one at Central State University in Wilberforce, Ohio.
The people of Yakima, Washington honored their native son, Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, with a statue in front of Davis High School, his alma mater.
The Los Angeles Unified School District named a school in Wilmington after Harry Bridges, the longtime left-wing leader of the International Longshore and Warehouse Union. There's a bust of Bridges in San Pedro, Los Angeles' waterfront district, and the union is currently seeking a home for a newlycompleted statue.
A statue of Langston Hughes--poet, novelist, playwright, short story writer and columnist--sits in the Watkins Community Museum of History in Lawrence, Kansas. Schools in Lawrence; East Orange, New Jersey; Baltimore; Chicago; New Orleans and Fairburn, Georgia are named for Hughes.
New York City named a school after left-wing congressman Vito Marcantonio, who represented Harlem in Congress from 1934-50.
The Ella Baker School in Manhattan, serving pre-K to eighth-grade students, is named for the civil rights organizer.
There's a statue of Theodor Geisel--whose children's books, under the pen name Dr. Seuss, took aim at bullies, hypocrites and demagogues--on the campus of the University of California-San Diego, not far from the Geisel Library.
In 2010, fans of William J. Brennan, Jr., unveiled a statue of the Supreme Court justice in front of the Essex County Hall of Records in his hometown of Newark, New Jersey. William J. Brennan High School, named for the author of many far-reaching decisions including Roe v. Wade and the Miranda rulings, is located in San Antonio, Texas. The historic Hudson County Courthouse in Jersey City, New Jersey, which had opened in 1910, was named the William J. Brennan Court House in 1989.
Schools named for Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the theologian who was active in the civil rights and anti-war movements, are located in New York, Los Angeles and Toronto.
A statue of environmental crusader Rachel Carson was dedicated in Woods Hole on Cape Cod, Massachusetts in 2013. Schools named for Carson are located in New York City; Chicago; San Jose, California; Herndon, Virginia; Gaithersburg, Maryland; Sammamish, Washington and Beaverton, Oregon.
Riverfront Park in Wheeling, West Virginia is home to a statue of Walter Reuther, longtime president of the United Auto Workers and a founder of the modern labor movement. Walter Reuther High School is part of the public school system in Kenosha, Wisconsin and Walter Reuther Middle School is located in Rochester Hills, Michigan.
A statue of Thurgood Marshall--the courageous leader of the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, lead lawyer in the Brown v. Board of Education case and the first African-American justice on the U.S. Supreme Court, stands in front of the State House in Annapolis, Maryland. Another Marshall statue stands in front of the federal courthouse in Baltimore. High schools in San Francisco; Dayton, Ohio; and Missouri City, Texas are named for Marshall.
There's probably no progressive American with more monuments in his honor than Martin Luther King Jr. His name adorns many schools, streets, buildings and statues, including this one on the University of Texas campus in Austin. You can also visit the National Park Service memorial to Dr. King along the banks of the Potomac.
The West Chester (Pennsylvania) Area School District named its newest high school after native Bayard Rustin, a key organizer in the civil rights movement who coordinated the 1963 March on Washington.
Okemah, Oklahoma honored its most famous native, folk singer Woody Guthrie (who wrote "This Land Is Your Land") with a statue in its downtown area. Another Guthrie statue is located in Washington state near the Grand Coulee Dam, the subject of several Guthrie songs.
A statue of civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer was unveiled in her hometown of Ruleville, Mississippi in 2012. Fannie Lou Hamer Middle School and Fannie Lou Hamer Freedom High School are located in the Bronx section of New York City.
The Los Angeles Dodgers unveiled a statue of baseball legend and civil rights activist Jackie Robinson outside Dodger Stadium in April 2017. There are also statues in Brooklyn; Pasadena, California; Jersey City, New Jersey; Daytona Beach, Florida; and Los Angeles on the UCLA campus honoring the Hall of Fame player who broke baseball's color line in 1947. Schools in Milwaukee, New York City and elsewhere also are named after Robinson.
A statue of Malcolm X can be found in the former Audubon Ballroom in Harlem, the site of his 1965 assassination.
Chavez Plaza at California State University San Marcos includes a statue dedicated to Cesar Chavez as does the University of Texas at Austin. There are public schools named for the leader of the farmworkers movement in Portland, Oregon; Coachella, California; Phoenix and many other cities.
New York City is home to Harvey Milk High School, named after San Francisco supervisor and the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in the United States. A bust of Milkis located in San Francisco City Hall.
Missing Monuments
You won't find statues of some of the nation's most influential radicals and reformers. We may stand on their shoulders, but we can't stand on their statues, because they don't exist.
Here are just a few of those who aren't commemorated in any substantial way: Eugene V. Debs, Florence Kelley, Victor Berger, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Lincoln Steffens, Bill Haywood, Emma Goldman, Lewis Hine, Upton Sinclair, Rose Schneiderman, Roger Baldwin, Myles Horton, Harry Hay, Saul Alinsky, Virginia Durr, Carey McWilliams, C. Wright Mills, I.F. Stone, Bella Abzug, Betty Friedan, Arthur Miller, Jane Jacobs, Jerry Wurf, Barry Commoner, Pete Seeger, Howard Zinn, Michael Harrington, William Sloane Coffin, Allard Lowenstein, John Kenneth Galbraith, Ted Kennedy, Muhammad Ali, Tom Hayden, and Paul Wellstone.
It is time for an urgent clarion call.
Given the retrograde pits inhabited by our ruling politicians and the avaricious over-reach of myopic big-business bosses, the self-described pillars of our society must step up to reverse the decline of our country. Here is my advice to each pillar:
You have good examples from history, including those business leaders who recently quit the US Chamber of Commerce over the necessity to confront climate change or the 150 business leaders who issued strong support for the successful Legal Services Corporation for low-income Americans that Trump's budget would eliminate entirely.
Already prominent economists, business magnates like Warren Buffett and over 60 percent of Americans want single payer. Your strong voices together can sober up those politicians in Congress hell-bent on coarse pullbacks that will make the present situation even worse and more perilous. Imagine our elected, well-insured, representatives pushing a huge tax cut for the rich, at the expense of hospitals and clinics and big time reductions in Medicaid.
Over 300 retired generals, admirals and national security officials openly opposed Bush/Cheney's criminal invasion of Iraq in 2003. Veterans For Peace makes eloquent arguments for waging peace. Now is the time to learn from their experience, stand for smart diplomacy and avoid succumbing to provocations and the boomeranging impacts of Empire.
Urge the restoration of the acclaimed, non-partisan Congressional Office of Technology Assessment (OTA) in Congress that Newt Gingrich and his Republicans terminated in 1995, plunging Congress into ignorant darkness and costly, wrongful budgeting.
Many of you have the moral authority to speak truth to the power of the one percent, and resist attempts to diminish support to those vulnerable members of our society who most need it.
In times of crisis, routines must be replaced with urgent awakenings, bringing out the better angels and wisdom from these underachieving pillars of the American community. A few leaders can take the first steps and many more will follow your example. Stand tall in support of justice in these trying times.
Today is the 50th anniversary of one of Rev. Martin Luther King's most important speeches -- an address at the prestigious Riverside Church in New York City on April 4, 1967 in which he publicly denounced America's war in Vietnam.
Today is the 50th anniversary of one of Rev. Martin Luther King's most important speeches -- an address at the prestigious Riverside Church in New York City on April 4, 1967 in which he publicly denounced America's war in Vietnam.
In the 1960's, the debate over war versus want was often called a battle between "guns" and "butter." At a time when President Donald Trump has proposed a huge increase in the nation's military budget by slashing programs for the poor, King's speech, and the debate over the nation's spending and moral priorities, is particularly relevant.
King called his speech "Beyond Vietnam - Time to Break Silence." The title is misleading and may explain why some journalists and historians have claimed that this speech was King's first public stance against that war. In fact he had spoken out against America's involvement in that Southeast Asian country two years earlier and had gradually become more vocal in his opposition. The Riverside Church speech, however, garnered considerable national publicity because the anti-war movement was gaining momentum, President Johnson's popularity was beginning to falter, and a growing number of establishment figures were questioning both the moral and economic costs of having U.S. combat troops and expensive weaponry in Vietnam.
By the time King delivered that speech, he had become increasingly frustrated by the slow pace of progress by both the civil rights and anti-poverty movements. His crusade for civil rights had begun more than a decade earlier with the successful Montgomery bus boycott in 1955, which forced the city to integrate its bus system. In the subsequent decade, he helped lead local campaigns in different cities, including Selma, Alabama, and Birmingham, Alabama, where thousands marched to demand an end to segregation in buses, schools, jobs, restaurants, parks, and voting rights. In defiance of court injunctions forbidding any protests, he was arrested at least 20 times, always preaching the gospel of nonviolence.
King recognized that the use of violence -- by local police and sheriffs as well as by the Ku Klux Klan and other para-military hate groups -- was the South's way to oppose the struggle for civil rights. They bombed and burned churches and beat and killed civil rights activists. His own home was bombed and he received many death threats.
King began his activism in Montgomery as a crusader against the nation's racial caste system, but the struggle for civil rights radicalized him into a fighter for broader economic and social justice. As early as 1961, in a speech to the Negro American Labor Council, King said, "Call it democracy, or call it democratic socialism, but there must be a better distribution of wealth within this country for all God's children."
He was proud of the civil rights movement's success in winning the passage of the Civil Rights Act in 1964 and the Voting Rights Act the following year. But he realized that neither law did much to provide better jobs or housing for the masses of black poor in either the urban cities or the rural South. "What good is having the right to sit at a lunch counter," he asked, "if you can't afford to buy a hamburger?"
When King launched a civil rights campaign in Chicago in 1965, he was shocked by the hatred and violence expressed by working-class whites as he and his followers marched through the streets of segregated neighborhoods in Chicago and its suburbs. He saw that the problem in Chicago's ghetto was not legal segregation but "economic exploitation"--slum housing, overpriced food, and low-wage jobs--"because someone profits from its existence."
These experiences led King to develop a more radical outlook. King supported President Lyndon B. Johnson's declaration of the War on Poverty in 1964, but, like the United Auto Workers' Walter Reuther and others, he thought it did not go nearly far enough. As early as October 1964, he called for a "gigantic Marshall Plan" for the poor--black and white. He began talking openly about the need to confront "class issues," which he described as "the gulf between the haves and the have nots."
In 1966 King confided to his staff:
You can't talk about solving the economic problem of the Negro without talking about billions of dollars. You can't talk about ending the slums without first saying profit must be taken out of slums. You're really tampering and getting on dangerous ground because you are messing with folk then. You are messing with captains of industry.Now this means that we are treading in difficult water, because it really means that we are saying that something is wrong with capitalism. There must be a better distribution of wealth and maybe America must move toward a democratic socialism.
Speaking to a meeting of Teamsters union shop stewards in 1967, King said, "Negroes are not the only poor in the nation. There are nearly twice as many white poor as Negro, and therefore the struggle against poverty is not involved solely with color or racial discrimination but with elementary economic justice."
King's growing critique of capitalism coincided with his views about American militarism and imperialism.
After the French withdrew from their former colony in Vietnam, the U.S. gradually took charge of trying to prop up authoritarian governments in South Vietnam in order to keep the nationalist anti-colonial regime based in North Vietnam from uniting the country. America's initial involvement was covert. Between the time of President John F. Kennedy's death in November 1963 and the end of 1964, the number of American military personnel in Vietnam increased from 16,000 to 23,000.
In August 1964, a U.S. destroyer was allegedly attacked by North Vietnamese torpedo boats while on patrol in the Gulf of Tonkin. Johnson used that incident to persuade Congress to authorize him to take whatever action he deemed necessary to deal with future threats to U.S. forces or U.S. allies in Southeast Asia -- a statement called the Gulf of Tonkin resolution.
At the time, few Americans were paying attention. Opposition to U.S. presence in Vietnam was isolated to a handful of small peace groups. Not surprisingly, in his speech accepting the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, Norway on December 10, 1964, King didn't mention Vietnam.
The first major anti-war protests, centered on college campuses but also mobilizing people to demonstrate in Washington, D.C., took place in early 1965. King was clearly paying attention. On March 2 that year, after a speech at Howard University, he responded to a question by declaring that America's entanglement in Vietnam was ''accomplishing nothing'' and called for a negotiated settlement. A week later, as part of the march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama to pressure Congress to pass a voting rights bill, King expressed his concern that ''millions of dollars can be spent every day to hold troops in South Vietnam and our country cannot protect the rights of Negroes in Selma." A few weeks later, while appearing on the TV show Face the Nation, he said that as ''one greatly concerned about the need for peace in our world and the survival of mankind, I must continue to take a stand on this issue."
While King and many others were marching in Selma to gain the right to vote, and being attacked by vigilante thugs as well as the Alabama state troopers, Johnson was escalating the war. That week, he sent 3,500 combat troops to Vietnam.
In early July 1965, speaking at Virginia State College, King made a significant leap in his public statements about Vietnam.
"The time has come for the civil rights movement to become involved in the problems of war. ... There is no reason why there cannot be peace rallies like we have freedom rallies. ... We are not going to defeat Communism with bombs and guns and gases. We will do it by making democracy work. The war in Vietnam must be stopped. There must be a negotiated settlement with the Viet Cong. ... The long night of war must be stopped."
The following month, in his remarks to the annual meeting of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (which he had founded and still headed), King called for a halt to U.S. bombing in North Vietnam and suggested that the United Nations mediate the conflict to reach a peace agreement.
Despite these statements, King was not yet seen as a major voice in the anti-war movement or a significant opponent of American militarism. But he was inching closer to expressing those sentiments. He views were influenced by some of his close clergy friends, especially Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. In October 1965 Heschel spoke at an anti-war rally at the UN Church Center and proposed a national religious movement to end the war. He quickly went to work putting that idea into practice. He, Jesuit priest Daniel Berrigan, and Lutheran pastor Richard John Neuhaus founded the National Emergency Committee of Clergy Concerned About Vietnam in January 1966. Rev. William Sloane Coffin, the Yale chaplain, agreed to be acting executive secretary.
Their first act was to send a telegram to President Johnson, signed by twenty-one clergy -- including King and Reinhold Niebuhr -- urging the president to extend the bombing halt that had begun the previous Christmas and to pursue negotiations with the National Liberation Front and the North Vietnamese. Over the next few months, the group recruited additional clergy and organized rallies, fasts, vigils, and other forms of protest, including a two-day fast to push Johnson to end U.S. bombing of North Vietnam.
Although King signed that telegram to LBJ, he was still reluctant to speak out as part of the anti-war movement. He understood that his fragile working alliance with the president -- who had been an ally in getting the Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act through Congress in 1964 and 1965 -- would be undone if he challenged the president's leadership on the war. He was also concerned that if he expressed his opposition to the war, some would label him unpatriotic or even a Communist, undermining his still fragile reputation among America's political leaders and the general public. (King was still being vilified by parts of the establishment, including the media and the FBI. In August 1966 -- as King was bringing his civil rights campaign to Northern cities to address poverty, slums, housing segregation and bank lending discrimination -- the Gallup Poll found that 63 percent of Americans had an unfavorable opinion of King, compared with 33 percent who viewed him favorably).
So King moved cautiously but steadily in making his views known. In January 1966 he gave a sermon at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta in which he declared his opposition to the Vietnam War and described America's involvement in that civil war as as a violation of the 1954 Geneva Accord that promised self-determination.
In December 1966, King testified before Congress about the nation's spending priorities. He called for a ''rebalancing'' of the federal budget away from America's ''obsession'' with Vietnam and toward greater support for anti-poverty programs at home.
On January 31, 1967, Rabbi Heschel's organization--renamed Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam (CALCAV) to be more inclusive--organized its first Washington, DC, rally. More than 2,000 people, clergy and laity, from 45 states participated, including the leaders of the nation's major Jewish and Protestant denominations, but King did not participate. CALCAV's leaders met with their congressional representatives and picketed in front of the White House. Heschel electrified the audience with his speech, "The Moral Outrage in Vietnam." He said:
"Who would have believed that we life-loving Americans are capable of bringing death and destruction to so many innocent people? We are startled to discover how unmerciful, how beastly we ourselves can be. In the sight of so many thousands of civilians and soldiers slain, injured, crippled, of bodies emaciated, of forests destroyed by fire, God confronts us with this question: Where art thou?"
The next day, Heschel joined a small CALCAV delegation in a forty-minute meeting with Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara. They attempted, without success, to persuade him to suspend the bombing of North Vietnam and begin peace negotiations.
By early 1967, Heschel and CALCAV's other leaders knew that King was preparing to make public his growing opposition to the war.
In January of that year King spoke at an anti-war conference in Los Angeles. His speech, which he entitled ''The Casualties of the War in Vietnam,'' argued that U.S. power should be ''harnessed to the service of peace and human beings, not an inhumane power [unleashed] against defenseless people."
On March 25, 1967, King led a march of 5,000 people down State Street in Chicago to protest the war -- the first anti-war march he had joined. At that march, he made what many view as one of his most pithy and memorable remarks of his life: ''The bombs in Vietnam explode at home. They destroy the dream and possibility for a decent America.'' He was clearly rehearsing for his speech at Riverside Church the following month.
Although some of his close advisers continued to discourage him from giving that speech, King decided it was time to put his influence as a moral voice in the service of the peace movement. On April 4, 1967, accompanied by Heschel, Amherst College professor Henry Commager, and Union Theological Seminary President John Bennett, King spoke to an overflow crowd of 3,000 at the prestigious Riverside Church. The event was sponsored by Heschel's group, Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam.
"I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight because my conscience leaves me no other choice," King said.
He described the war's disastrous consequences on America's poor and on Vietnamese peasants. He declared that the U.S. had a moral imperative to end the war through nonviolent means.
"I come to this platform tonight to make a passionate plea to my beloved nation. This speech is not addressed to Hanoi or to the National Liberation Front. It is not addressed to China or to Russia. Nor is it an attempt to overlook the ambiguity of the total situation and the need for a collective solution to the tragedy of Vietnam. Neither is it an attempt to make North Vietnam or the National Liberation Front paragons of virtue, nor to overlook the role they must play in the successful resolution of the problem. While they both may have justifiable reasons to be suspicious of the good faith of the United States, life and history give eloquent testimony to the fact that conflicts are never resolved without trustful give and take on both sides. Tonight, however, I wish not to speak with Hanoi and the National Liberation Front, but rather to my fellow Americans."
King continued: "There is at the outset a very obvious and almost facile connection between the war in Vietnam and the struggle I and others have been waging in America. A few years ago there was a shining moment in that struggle. It seemed as if there was a real promise of hope for the poor, both black and white, through the poverty program. There were experiments, hopes, new beginnings," referring to President Johnson's anti-poverty initiatives, called the Great Society program.
"Then came the buildup in Vietnam, and I watched this program broken and eviscerated as if it were some idle political plaything on a society gone mad on war. And I knew that America would never invest the necessary funds or energies in rehabilitation of its poor so long as adventures like Vietnam continued to draw men and skills and money like some demonic, destructive suction tube. So I was increasingly compelled to see the war as an enemy of the poor and to attack it as such."
King then observed:
"Perhaps a more tragic recognition of reality took place when it became clear to me that the war was doing far more than devastating the hopes of the poor at home. It was sending their sons and their brothers and their husbands to fight and to die in extraordinarily high proportions relative to the rest of the population. We were taking the black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem. So we have been repeatedly faced with the cruel irony of watching Negro and white boys on TV screens as they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools. So we watch them in brutal solidarity burning the huts of a poor village, but we realize that they would hardly live on the same block in Chicago. I could not be silent in the face of such cruel manipulation of the poor."
King's next words linked the struggle for social justice with the struggle against militarism, in some ways echoing former President Dwight Eisenhower's farewell speech in January 1961 in which he warned the country about the growing influence of what he termed the "military industrial complex."
In 1965, Los Angeles' Watts neighborhood erupted in violence, the first of what would become several years of riots, typically sparked by an incident of police abuse but rooted in the miserable housing, employment, education, and other conditions facing the nation's African American poor. King noted:
"As I have walked among the desperate, rejected, and angry young men, I have told them that Molotov cocktails and rifles would not solve their problems. I have tried to offer them my deepest compassion while maintaining my conviction that social change comes most meaningfully through nonviolent action. But they asked, and rightly so, 'What about Vietnam?' They asked if our own nation wasn't using massive doses of violence to solve its problems, to bring about the changes it wanted. Their questions hit home, and I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today: my own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of the hundreds of thousands trembling under our violence, I cannot be silent."
Moving beyond the Vietnam war, King called for the U.S. to "undergo a radical revolution of values," suggesting that "we must rapidly begin the shift from a 'thing-oriented' society to a 'person-oriented' society." He observed:
When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered.
The crux of his argument came a few paragraphs later: "A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death."
(You can listen to the recording of the speech here and read the entire text here).
King knew that his speech would stir controversy, not only among his enemies but also among some civil rights groups. The NAACP, the nation's largest civil rights organization whose leaders sometimes viewed as a rival as well as an ally, issued a statement criticizing King for linking the civil rights and peace movements, saying, in effect, that he should stick to his expertise in civil rights and not venture into the debate over foreign policy.
Three days after King's speech, the New York Times -- then considered the voice of the nation's moderate establishment -- published an editorial entitled "Dr. King's Error," that blasted him for his comments. It began:
"In recent speeches and statements the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. has linked his personal opposition to the war in Vietnam with the cause of Negro equality in the United States. The war, he argues, should be stopped not only because it is a futile war waged for the wrong ends but also because it is a barrier to social progress in this country and therefore prevents Negroes from achieving their just place in American life. This is a fusing of two public problems that are distinct and separate. By drawing them together, Dr. King has done a disservice to both. The moral issues in Vietnam are less clear-cut than he suggests; the political strategy of uniting the peace movement and the civil rights movement could very well be disastrous for both causes."
The Washington Post declared that King had "diminished his usefulness to his cause, his country, his people." TIME magazine called the speech "demagogic slander that sounded like a script for Radio Hanoi."
Despite the criticism, King was undeterred. On April 15, 1967 -- 11 days after his Riverside Church address -- he joined forces with popular singer Harry Belafonte and famous pediatrician Dr. Benjamin Spock at a march in New York City of 100,000 protesters from Central Park to the United States -- the largest anti-war demonstration up until then. King's wife Coretta participated in another anti-war march that day in San Francisco.
In early 1968 King told journalist David Halberstam, "For years I labored with the idea of reforming the existing institutions of society, a little change here, a little change there. Now I feel quite differently. I think you've got to have a reconstruction of the entire society."
King kept trying to build a broad movement for economic justice that went beyond civil rights. In January 1968 he announced plans for a Poor People's Campaign, a series of protests to be led by an interracial coalition of poor people and their allies among the middle-class liberals, unions, religious organizations, and other progressive groups, to pressure the White House and Congress to expand the War on Poverty. At King's request, socialist Michael Harrington (author of The Other America in 1962, which helped inspire the war on poverty) drafted a Poor People's Manifesto that outlined the campaign's goals.
King continued to commit himself to ending the war. He worked with Spock and others to create ''Vietnam Summer,'' a volunteer project to increase grassroots peace activism to encourage candidates for president and Congress in 1968 to oppose the war. His speeches continued emphasize the need to end militarism in order to address America's domestic problems. He talked about the three major crises facing America: poverty, racism, and the war in Vietnam. At a sermon at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C., on March 31, 1968, King said that he was ''convinced that [Vietnam] is one of the most unjust wars that has ever been fought in the history of the world."
Later that day, President Johnson stunned the country when he announced that he would not seek a second term as president. His escalation of the war without any signs of success had sapped his public support. King's growing involvement in the anti-war movement surely contributed to the political environment that led LBJ to bow out.
In April, King traveled several times to Memphis, Tennessee -- at the invitation of his friend Rev. James Lawson -- to help lend support to African American garbage workers who were on strike to improve pay and safety conditions and to win recognition for their union.
On April 4, 1968 -- exactly a year after his speech at Riverside Church -- the 39-year old King was assassinated while standing on the balcony of his Memphis motel.
King's public opposition to the war had helped shift public opinion against U.S. involvement, giving candidates for office room to run on anti-war platforms. One of them was Senator Robert F. Kennedy from New York. After LBJ announced he would not seek-election, Kennedy entered the presidential race. He, too, had steadily become more outspoken against the Vietnam war. His campaign's two major themes echoed what King had been saying -- that the nation must end its involvement in Vietnam so it could wage a major war against poverty at home.
Kennedy was the favorite to win the Democratic nomination for president at the party's August convention in Chicago. It is likely that King would have embraced Kennedy's campaign, which had a good chance of defeating Richard Nixon, whom the Republicans nominated as their president. Had Kennedy won the presidency, and taken office in January 1969, U.S. involvement in Vietnam would have probably ended within a year.
Of course, history took a different turn. Kennedy was killed in Los Angeles in June on the night he won the California primary. Rather than Kennedy, the Democrats nominated Vice President Hubert Humphrey, who had reluctantly but loyally supported LBJ's Vietnam policy. Nixon beat Humphrey in November, claiming he had a "secret plan" to end the war. Instead, he further escalated the war, although he so by using air power while eventually withdrawing U.S. combat troops.
The last American combat troops didn't leave Vietnam until August 1972, but U.S. advisers and weapons remained in the country for several more years. Nixon was re-elected in 1972 but was soon caught in the Watergate scandal, forcing him to resign in August 1974, replaced by Vice President Gerald Ford. America's incompetent puppet government in South Vietnam continued to lose ground to the North Vietnamese troops. On April 30, 1975, the last Americans, 10 Marines from the embassy, left Saigon, ending the U.S. presence in Vietnam. By later that day, the Viet Cong flag flied from the presidential palace and America's one-time allies surrendered. The war was over.
Fifty years after King's Riverside Church speech, the U.S. remains embroiled in several ground wars as well as a war on terrorism, a war against Muslims and a war against immigrants. President Trump has not only proposed a $54 billion increase the military budget but also recommended massive tax cuts, both of which would be accomplished through draconian cuts to programs that serve the poor and the elderly.
As the resistance to Trump's presidency and his priorities gains momentum, it is worth recalling King's words a half century ago. The United States, he declared, is "on the side of the wealthy, and the secure, while we create a hell for the poor." We cannot solve our domestic problems and help promote global peace until we "give up the privileges and the pleasures that come from the immense profits of overseas investments."
Today, we still need what King called a "radical revolution of values'' that emphasizes social justice rather than militarism and economic nationalism.
Editor's note: The artist's essay that follows accompanies the 'online unveiling'--exclusive to Common Dreams--of Shetterly's latest painting in his "Americans Who Tell the Truth" portrait series, presenting citizens throughout U.S.
Editor's note: The artist's essay that follows accompanies the 'online unveiling'--exclusive to Common Dreams--of Shetterly's latest painting in his "Americans Who Tell the Truth" portrait series, presenting citizens throughout U.S. history who have courageously engaged in the social, environmental, or economic issues of their time.This painting of labor rights leader Ai-Jen Poo is his latest portrait of those who have dedicated their life to to improving worker protections in the name of the common good. Posters of this portrait and others are now available at the artist's website.
"Socrates had it wrong; it is not the unexamined but finally the uncommitted life that is not worth living. Descartes too was mistaken; "Cogito ergo sum--I think therefore I am"? Nonsense. "Amo ergo sum--I love therefore I am." -William Sloane Coffin
When, during the Great depression, the US Congress passed some of the first protections for workers in this country -- largely in response to enormous worker demand, strikes and protests, and the urging of Secretary of Labor France Perkins -- there were many who were still left out. The excluded were included many women and African Americans -- domestic, agricultural, and retail and service workers, who didn't get the benefit of the minimum wage and maximum hours, the right to organize, workers compensation, the end of child labor, and social security. This was no accident. Prejudice against women and blacks was still politically acceptable, and the lobby to exclude these workers from protection was strong.
In fact, it's taken over 70 years for domestic and in-home care workers to win some protections. These workers are still primarily women. They are white, black and immigrants. They are hard to organize because each has a different employer, they are dispersed widely, have little communication with each other, often speak little English, may be undocumented, and are afraid to complain (even if they knew to whom they could complain) for fear of losing their jobs. Many are abused physically, financially and emotionally. Over the past few decades, organizing inside a business where the workers are congregated has become much harder, so it would seem that organizing domestic workers would be damn near impossible.
"Narrative power is the real key to significant change--whose story gets told and how? And, she says, the most powerful way to change a narrative is with love."
Enter Ai-jen Poo. Ai-jen is a Taiwanese-American from scientist parents who instilled in their daughter an ethic made up of equal parts activism and compassion. She learned the power of direct action protest as a student at Columbia University in New York and after college while working for Asian rights. During that time she began to hear the stories of domestic workers, how they were taken advantage of, how they had no recourse. In New York in 2002, she founded Domestic Workers United. She and her fellow organizers went to the places where domestic workers congregate when they are caring for children--parks, playgrounds, churches--and on their way to work--bus and subway stops--and started up conversations. Those conversations led to actions and suits against abusive employers and then to campaigns to change the laws.
Early on Ai-jen realized that not only was she trying to organize workers in an unconventional situation, but that she had to do it in an unconventional way. Typically, worker solidarity has been enhanced by pitting us against them, workers against bosses, the many wage earners against the few salaried folks. But Ai-jen knew that her goal would not be won by opposition. Don't people who employ nannies and care workers want the best, most loving care for their children and parents? Are they going to get that kind of care from people they short change and abuse? Ai-jen's model, she realized, should not be us against them but us with them. Organizing with love, she calls it. She organizes employers to understand how much they gain by treating their employees well. Ai-jen Poo is anything but naive. She knows that in the name of love one often has to provoke conflict, be tough about what you want. When I went to meet her in the offices of the National Domestic Workers Alliance on 7th Avenue in Manhattan, she talked about three kinds of power available to people who don't have the power of ownership and wealth: Political, disruptive, and narrative. Workers, minorities, women and others fighting for social and economic justice have always used all three, but, Ai-jen says, the advances won through politics and protest only hold if the narrative changes, if the larger society embraces the justice of the cause. Narrative power is the real key to significant change--whose story gets told and how? And, she says, the most powerful way to change a narrative is with love.
I have painted a number of labor organizers--Mother Jones, Cesar Chavez, Eugene Debs, Emma Tenayuca--but none quite like Ai-jen Poo. Those others were in great oppositional struggles where powerful interests would routinely resort to violent tactics, usually with impunity, to maintain their power and profit. But those powers aren't calling out the Goon Squad to rough up the beloved nannie of their three year old daughter or the caregiver loved by their infirm mother. Well organized workers can shut down a factory and cut off the flow of profit to the boss. A poorly treated nannie may not read a bed time story to a toddler or keep her patience with a senile parent. It takes a different kind of organizing.
Ai-jen Poo had great success in New York with Domestic Workers United. The New York legislature passed domestic worker standards for overtime pay, paid days off, and protection against discrimination and harassment. In 2007, she went on to help found and direct the National Domestic Workers Alliance, a consortium of 39 national organizations supporting domestic worker rights. And this year the NDWA achieved major successes: California passed a domestic worker protection act guaranteeing overtime pay; and on September 17, the Obama administration announced new rules extending the Fair Labor Standards Act to include the 800,000 to 2 million home healthcare workers.
Ai-jen Poo has also brought together 200 organizations to launch a new initiative--Caring Across Generations. This year is the first year of the "age wave." Every eight seconds, an American will turn 65. In the coming years, more and more members of our communities will need care, just as more workers need dignified jobs. At a time when we desperately need new jobs, new paths to citizenship, and new solutions to persistent crises in care, this broad coalition of people from all walks of life is coming together to push for change that embraces both the elderly and immigrants. Ai-jen has said, "We want to build a movement that brings together people who need care and support with workers who can provide it, and to do it in a way that preserves everybody's choices, independence, and dignity. We want to create quality jobs so that caregivers can support their own families and the elderly won't bankrupt their children."
Most social movements for rights and protections are based on the simple and militant dictum of Frederick Douglass: "Power concedes nothing without a demand; it never did and it never will." But how shall we use that demand? As a part of an ongoing struggle of irreparable antagonisms, or as a negotiation between members of a community who know that they must work together for the common good?
The power of Ai-jen Poo's narrative is that it is the one that heals, the one that finds common ground, the one that builds community, the one that deepens our humanity, the one that gives us permission to not be our brother's keeper, but, as William Sloane Coffin says, our brother's brother, and our sister's sister.
Fraternities, sororities and football, along with other outsized athletic programs, have decimated most major American universities. Scholarship, inquiry, self-criticism, moral autonomy and a search for artistic and esoteric forms of expression--in short, the world of ethics, creativity and ideas--are shouted down by the drunken chants of fans in huge stadiums, the pathetic demands of rich alumni for national championships, and the elitism, racism and rigid definition of gender roles of Greek organizations.
Fraternities, sororities and football, along with other outsized athletic programs, have decimated most major American universities. Scholarship, inquiry, self-criticism, moral autonomy and a search for artistic and esoteric forms of expression--in short, the world of ethics, creativity and ideas--are shouted down by the drunken chants of fans in huge stadiums, the pathetic demands of rich alumni for national championships, and the elitism, racism and rigid definition of gender roles of Greek organizations. These hypermasculine systems perpetuate a culture of conformity and intolerance. They have inverted the traditional values of scholarship to turn four years of college into a mindless quest for collective euphoria and athletic dominance.

There is probably no more inhospitable place to be an intellectual, or a person of color or a member of the LGBT community, than on the campuses of the Big Ten Conference colleges, although the poison of this bizarre American obsession has infected innumerable schools. These environments are distinctly corporate. To get ahead one must get along. The student is implicitly told his or her self-worth and fulfillment are found in crowds, in mass emotions, rather than individual transcendence. Those who do not pay deference to the celebration of force, wealth and power become freaks. It is a war on knowledge in the name of knowledge.
"Knowledge," as C. Wright Mills wrote in "The Power Elite," "is no longer widely felt as an ideal; it is seen as an instrument. In a society of power and wealth, knowledge is valued as an instrument of power and wealth, and also, of course, as an ornament in conversation."
There are few university presidents or faculty members willing to fight back. Most presidents are overcompensated fundraisers licking the boots of every millionaire who arrives on campus. They are like court eunuchs. They cater to the demands of the hedge fund managers and financial speculators on their trustee boards, half of whom should be in jail, and most of whom revel in this collective self-worship. And they do not cross the football coach, who not only earns more than they do but has much more power on the campus.
One of the last great university presidents was James O. Freedman of Dartmouth. His integrity and courage were matched by his deep and abiding love of learning. He arrived in Hanover, N.H., determined to do battle with Dartmouth's entrenched culture of elitism, white male entitlement, fraternities and football. He did not have an easy tenure. The Dartmouth Review published a cover article that depicted Freedman, who was Jewish, as Hitler and wrote that he was orchestrating the "final solution" to traditional conservatism at Dartmouth.
Freedman had told the college in his inaugural address:
We must strengthen our attraction for those singular students whose greatest pleasures may come not from the camaraderie of classmates but from the lonely acts of writing poetry or mastering the cello or solving mathematical riddles or translating Catullus. We must make Dartmouth a hospitable environment for students who march "to a different drummer"--for those creative loners and daring dreamers whose commitment to the intellectual and artistic life is so compelling that they appreciate, as Prospero reminded Shakespeare's audiences, that for certain persons a library is "dukedom large enough."
But Freedman's imprint, once he departed, faded. Fraternity and football culture reasserted itself at Dartmouth. A former Dartmouth fraternity member, Andrew Lohse, who is profiled in an April article in Rolling Stone, was ostracized not only by the students but the university administration for his public exposure of hazing and abuse.
"I was a member of a fraternity that asked pledges, in order to become a brother, to: swim in a kiddie pool of vomit, urine, fecal matter, semen and rotten food products; eat omelets made of vomit; chug cups of vinegar, which in one case caused a pledge to vomit blood; drink beer poured down fellow pledges' ass cracks ... among other abuses," he wrote in the magazine. He accused Dartmouth's 17 fraternities, 11 sororities and three coed houses, to which roughly half of the student body belongs, of perpetuating a culture of "pervasive hazing, substance abuse and sexual assault," as well as an "intoxicating nihilism" that dominates campus social life. "One of the things I've learned at Dartmouth--one thing that sets a psychological precedent for many Dartmouth men--is that good people can do awful things to one another for absolutely no reason," he said. "Fraternity life is at the core of the college's human and cultural dysfunctions."
Harassment and physical violence by athletic teams and Greek organizations on American campuses is real. They use these threats to keep critics cowed and their entitlement secure. Any attack mounted against football programs or Greek organizations becomes an attack against the group identity that gives followers their sense of prestige and empowerment. And all those who question or criticize these organizations are treated as the enemy. When the Rev. William Sloan Coffin led the fight to shut down fraternities at Williams College, someone fired a shot through the window of his house. Vicky Triponey, Penn State's vice president for student affairs, became a nonperson when she attempted to discipline half a dozen football players who had been involved in a brawl in which several students were injured and one was beaten unconscious. Football coach Joe Paterno acidly referred to her in a radio interview as "that lady in Old Main" (the central administration building) who couldn't possibly know how to handle students because "she didn't have kids." The coach angrily told Triponey that his players would not cooperate with any investigation because they would not "rat" on each other. Penn State President Graham Spanier asked her pointedly if she really embraced "the Penn State way." Triponey received threatening phone calls. She was denounced on student message boards. Her house was vandalized. A "for sale" sign was put up in her front yard. She was no longer invited to university events, fellow faculty and administrative staff avoided her, and people turned their backs on her in the supermarket. Spanier successfully pressured her to resign in 2007. Her husband found work at the University of South Carolina's medical school in Charleston, and the couple moved.
Hazing, comradeship and complicity in sexual abuse, including rape, make up the glue that holds campus sports teams and fraternity houses together. The National Study of Student Hazing reports that 73 percent of U.S. fraternities and sororities haze. Since 1970, at least one student has died each year from hazing. Eighty-two percent of these deaths have resulted from alcohol poisoning. Hazing weeds out those with enough self-esteem and independence to stand up to the hierarchy. It ensures conformity and obedience. These groups are, in essence, self-selected. Those who have the fortitude and courage to oppose their own public humiliation and the public humiliation perpetuated with each new cycle of recruits or pledges leave. Those who remain conform. Athletic recruiting parties, like fraternity parties, at schools across the country are plagued by gang rapes and sexual assaults. And these crimes, known by all in the fraternity or on the team, are met, in locker rooms and Greek houses, with the culture of silence, mocking the stated missions of schools they a.
Bernard Lefkowitz captured the sickness of this culture in his book "Our Guys." Lefkowitz wrote about a group of high school athletes in Glen Ridge, N.J., who in 1989 lured a 17-year-old developmentally disabled girl to a basement. The boys sexually abused her with a broomstick and a baseball bat. And when the assault became public, the town rallied, as at Penn State, not around the victim, but "our guys." Athletic prowess was, as we saw at Penn State, glorified above human decency, compassion, respect and the law. But this is true at most schools. As long as athletes perform they are untouchable.
The root of the problem is the culture of big-time athletics and Greek life. And it will not be addressed through NCAA sanctions or the removal of Joe Paterno's statue at Penn State. It will end only when fraternities, sororities and football--along with other professional sports programs masquerading as college athletics--are banished from colleges and universities. These athletes, in the end, also are used. They are unpaid performers, brought to the campus solely for their athletic prowess, who make millions for their schools and their coaches. If you have a son or daughter--especially a daughter--who wants to get an education, look for a school that has banished these organizations.
The corporate world sees football players, fraternity brothers and sorority sisters as prime recruits. They have been conditioned to join the team, to surrender moral autonomy, to accept and carry out acts of personal humiliation, to treat with contempt those who oppose them or who are different, to define their life by an infantile narcissism centered on greed and self-promotion and to remain silent about crimes they witness or take part in. It is the very ethic of corporations.
The ruling elite sees in Greek organizations and football programs the training ground for the amoral class of speculators, bankers and corporatists who pillage the country. Henry "Hank" Paulson, who as secretary of the treasury orchestrated a government payout of more than $12.9 billion to save AIG and Goldman Sachs (where he had been the chairman and chief executive officer), was a member of the fraternity Sigma Alpha Epsilon and an offensive lineman at Dartmouth. The billionaire hedge fund manager Stephen Mandel, who chairs Dartmouth's board of trustees, was, as Rolling Stone points out, in Psi Upsilon. Jeffrey Immelt, the CEO of GE, was a Phi Delt at Dartmouth, as were other trustees including Morgan Stanley senior adviser R. Bradford Evans, billionaire oilman Trevor Rees-Jones and venture capitalist William W. Helman IV. And that is just Dartmouth.
Hazing is also integral to the military, where suicide--including the recent suicide of a Chinese-American soldier, Pvt. Danny Chen, in Afghanistan--is often the result. It is almost impossible to escape your tormentors in the military. Suicide becomes for many the only exit. Chen, who was the sole Asian-American in his unit, endured sandbags being tied to his arms by fellow soldiers. Rocks and water bottles were thrown at him. He was forced to speak Chinese instead of English. And he was taunted with the slurs "gook," "slant," "chink" and "egg roll." Eight soldiers are being court-martialed in his death. A huge percentage of the suicides in the military happen because of hazing. Most of these cases are never investigated. The bodies are just shipped home.
Corporate culture, which now dominates higher education, shares the predatory culture of the military. These cultures are about subsuming the self into the herd. They are about the acquiring of technical, vocational skills to serve the system. And with the increasing budget cuts, and more craven obsequiousness to corporate donors, it will only get worse. These forces of conformity are hostile to the humanities that teach students to question assumptions and structures, that prod them to seek a life of meaning and an ethical code that challenges the blind, utilitarian obedience to power and profit that corporations and the military instill. We will, I fear, continue to turn out the intellectually stunted and maimed, those who know school football records but no philosophy, drama, art, music, theology, literature or history. The goal of an education is not, in the end, to tell students what to think but to teach them how to think.
College and university administrators defund libraries, close foreign language and classics departments and invest staggering sums in gargantuan sports arenas and athletic programs. And the only time the student body protests or riots is when, as at Penn State, something unpleasant happens to the beloved football coach. Pity the student who goes there to learn. The faculty and administration will not help them; they are complicit or intimidated.
William Carlos Williams, author of the poem "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower," knew there was more to life than careers, personal empowerment, the quest for prestige, the roar of the crowd and networking. But many find this out too late. And those attending schools like Penn State will probably never find out at all. Williams wrote:
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.
On August 25, I was arrested in front of the White House along with 46 others in an act of civil disobedience protesting the proposed Keystone XL pipeline.
On August 25, I was arrested in front of the White House along with 46 others in an act of civil disobedience protesting the proposed Keystone XL pipeline.
As these things go, it was a tame exercise. No one turned water cannons on us; no one unleashed dogs, wielded truncheons, or fired at us. We weren't thrown into dungeons. We didn't risk an extended jail sentence as environmental activist Tim De Christopher did. But being arrested is not without some consequences, and some risks.
Why was I willing to take those risks?
Well, the obvious answer is that the pipeline must be stopped, and the tar sands must be left in the ground. This stuff is an ecologic nightmare. It produces 80% more carbon than conventional oil, and it uses prodigious amounts of fresh water and natural gas to process, laying waste state-sized tracts of land in the bargain.
Burning it would literally be the equivalent of detonating a slew of nuclear bombs and watching them explode in slow motion.
But the truth is, I am not optimistic that our actions will change the direction of this particular fossil fueled juggernaut.
So why, then, risk arrest?
The plain fact is, in an age filled with cynicism, I needed to feel hopeful. And let me be clear here: I do not view the concept of cynicism as a pejorative. I see it as a rational response to the events of our time.
Yet it doesn't feel very good. A series of "I knew the dirty rotten scoundrels wouldn't do the right thing," wears thin, especially when we're talking about the future of the planet Earth, and the future of our childrens' childrens' children.
But hope can be an antidote to cynicism. As William Sloan Coffin put it, "Hope arouses, as nothing else can arouse, a passion for the possible."
Not the probable, not the likely, not the expected. But the possible! This is what makes it so much more powerful than optimism. It can persist long after any reasonable expectation of success has been quashed.
Without hope, horizons are shortened, vision is obscured, day becomes night, and the possible becomes impossible.
But with hope, the improbable becomes probable; we can see with a clarity and vision that enables and ennobles.
We live in a time when we desperately need to turn the possible into the probable - but it is also a time when hope is difficult to hold onto.
When you look around, it seems as if the late great Molly Ivins was right when she said:
"It's hard to argue against cynics - they always sound smarter ... because they have so much evidence on their side."
So much evidence.
Indeed, at times it looks like the case for the cynic is a slam dunk, open and shut, straight out, undeniable fact.
Look around.
The litany--global warming; ocean acidification; economic Armageddon; insane wars; burgeoning food shortages; evaporating jobs; an incipient slide from a democracy to a plutocracy ... on and on it goes.
Those elected to solve these problems seem more intent on compounding them. Ideology trumps reason; lies and deceptions are the linga franka of politics, and they pollute the public forum.
And the press - which used to serve as the honest broker of our national discourse - now functions as a blind, mute stenographer, content to repeat lies and truths as if there were no difference.
Indeed, the words of Eric Severied, spoken at another time when hope seemed to have abandoned us, resonate again today.
He said: "Our rigid formulae of so-called objectivity ... have given the lie the same prominence and impact that truth is given; they have elevated the influence of fools to that of wise men; the ignorant to the level of the learned; the evil to the level of the good."
How are we to have hope, when the referee has left the field, when the ignorant and the learned are treated as equals, indeed, when evil and good are treated as equivalents in our national discourse?
Yet now is a time that cries out for the power of hope.
Never before in the short history of humans, has there been such time.
A time, when the possible--a sustainable and just world; a world of shared prosperity for all people's, those living and those yet to be borne--has become ever more improbable and is in imminent danger of becoming impossible.
A time when the ennobling and empowering spirit of hope is most essential, yet seems least rational.
Oh but hasn't every generation said that the world is going to hell in a handbasket? Hasn't every generation bemoaned the state of the world?
But wait... this time - in this time - we are right. This time, it is different. This time we do face epochal choices. Choices that will shape the future in ways more profoundly and more irrevocably than at any time in human history.
What makes this time unique, is that humanity has become a force of nature: as inevitable as the passage of day to night; as inexorable as the winds, the tides, the seasons; as indelible as the march of epochs across the face of our planet.
What we do--or don't do--in the next few years will quite literally influence the kind of planet our progeny live on. Indeed, it will shape the world for hundreds of generations to come.
What an awesome responsibility for a once puny species to possess.
What a challenge to face, without hope.
A few short years. That's all we have to choose the kind of future we bequeath the planet for geologic ages to come.
We can leave a legacy of a world in which hope flourishes and dreams prosper, or we can leave a legacy in which hopes are diminished and most dreams are nightmares.
Those are now our choices. Our only choices. We cannot kick the can down the road--we've run out of road. We've run out of time.
Hyperbole? Radical enviro propaganda? Liberal hysteria?
Hardly.
For the first time in history, humans are fundamentally changing the atmosphere on a planetary scale, pumping in enough greenhouse gasses to heat the planet beyond anything our species has ever seen; beyond what the ecosystems we evolved in can endure.
For the first time in history humans are changing the chemistry of the oceans on a planetary scale. We risk turning the life-giving seas into sterile, acidic, and nearly lifeless crypts.
And these are not temporary changes. If, in the next few years we cross certain tipping points, there will be no do-overs, no second chances. We will have set off positive feedbacks such as methane releases from permafrost and clathrates that will make even the worst forecasts of the IPCC look Pollyannaish. We will have annihilated the carefully wrought balances of nature in ways our descendants will have to live with - and struggle against --for eons.
These are moral choices. These are ethical choices. In fact, they are the most profound moral choices our species has ever faced.
And yet, if you were to ask me to bet on whether Obama will allow the pipeline or not, I'd have to wager he will. And if I were to bet on whether humanity will act in time to avoid the devastation that will surely result if we don't wean ourselves off fossil fuels in the next few years I'd have to bet we won't.
But standing there, on that day, in quiet dignity awaiting arrest with Will, Anne, Bryce, David, Lubchenka and forty other strangers, that didn't matter.
I felt hope.
Not optimism, but hope.
And as Robert Kennedy said, "Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, these ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance."
Hope begets action, but action also begets hope. And who knows. Perhaps the tiny ripples of some 2000 citizens willing to risk arrest are the beginning of a vast tide; a tsunami of change that will sweep away the foolishness that now dominates our country.
One can always hope.
"If you lessen your anger at the structures of power, you lower your love for the victims of power." -- William Sloane Coffin
The old saw about being doomed to repeat your history if you neglect to learn it is a portentous way to advise one to learn from mistakes. Any animal, from a paramecium to a peccary --- even a human occasionally, will learn from mistakes. The real dilemma is what happens to a people who are willfully taught false history so that they will repeat the mistakes --- a people, who can be led fearfully and patriotically into the same disastrous, moral cul-de-sac again and again. Why a government and its media would teach false history is as stupidly obvious as why a person in the car repair business would want half the people taught that red is green.
When Barack Obama proclaimed in February of 2009 that he would not prosecute the previous administration for war crimes, for crimes against our Constitution, and for crimes against humanity so that we could proceed into the future with our "core values" intact, he was condemning this country to have no moral future. He was speaking as a lawyer who had no understanding of the purpose of the law. He was speaking as a politician whose understanding of compromise was not for the common good, but for the next election. He was speaking as a person cravenly obedient to the corporate/military complex. He was, in effect, saying that our core values worth defending are imperialism, unregulated capitalism, and hypocrisy. These values can only flourish in a climate of no accountability. And they all share the similar ethic of necessary collateral damage. People exploited and killed as collaterals share the unique distinction of being martyrs for someone else's policy and profit, sacrificing their lives unwillingly ( i.e., murdered) for someone else's beliefs. We have allowed to prosper a political system whose core value is collateral damage --- which is the core value of empire, not democracy.
We have laws that forbid jailed felons from profiting from the sale of books about their crimes. When there is no accountability, criminals like George Bush and Condoleezza Rice can make millions peddling their self-justifying memoirs, do the white limo thing from talk show to talk show being asked respectful questions about the necessity of torture, preemptive war and unwarranted surveillance to keep us all safe.
Because there was no accountability for the lies that created the Mexican War, the Spanish- American War, the Vietnam War, Iran-Contra, countless incursions into Central America and now the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan, we have become a country whose only transparency is its determination to inflict its power for control and profit.
On Thursday December 16th, war veterans and citizens will gather in protest in front of Obama's White House to demand an end to the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Pakistan. I have no illusion that getting arrested in this demonstration will change all that I decry, but it doesn't have to. Acts of civil resistance are not symbolic. They are proof that conscience still must be acted on. They are part of a strategy for peace and justice whose only success may be to inspire the next action. They are a step in the process of defiant resistance, a process that is, and always has been, the only safeguard of our real values.
Robert Shetterly is the painter of Americans Who Tell the Truth, a series of portraits honoring the words and work of courageous Americans throughout history.
| Abbey | Ali | Anthony | ||
| Baker | Baldwin | Barsamian | ||
| Benjamin | Berry | Boggs | ||
| Bonds | Bourgeois | Burkes | ||
| Butler | Carson | Carter | ||
| Chavez | Chisholm | Chomsky | ||
| Coffin | Corrie | Davis | ||
| Debs | Douglass | DuBois | ||
| Edelman | Eisenhower | Ellison | ||
| Farmer | Gelbspan | Goff | ||
| Goldman | Goodman | Granny D | ||
| Grossman | Guthrie | Hamer | ||
| Hay | Hightower | Hughes | ||
| Humphries | Hurston | Ivins | ||
| Jensen | Jones | Jones | ||
| Keller | Kelly | Kelly | ||
| Kennedy | King | Kozol | ||
| Kucinich | LaDuke | Lange | ||
| Lappe | Lincoln | Macy | ||
| Mann | Mayers | McKibben | ||
| McKinney | Miller | Moyers | ||
| Muir | Munoz | Nader | ||
| Nearing | Parks | Phillips | ||
| Rankin | Robeson | Roosevelt | ||
| Rovics | Seeger | Sheehan | ||
| Simon | Smith | Stanton | ||
| Tenayuca | Terkel | Thomas | ||
| Thompson | Thoreau | Truth | ||
| Tubman | Twain | Waters | ||
| Wells | Wellstone | Whitman | ||
| Wicks | Williams | Williams | ||
| Wilson | Woodward | Wright | ||
| Malcolm X | Yalektit | Yeh | ||
| Zinn | ||||
I did not want to paint these portraits. Over 25 years, I had built up a career as a surrealist painter-enough of a career to pay my bills, work full time, and, it seemed to me, fulfill my societal obligations as an artist. I had never painted a portrait.
Then September 11, 2001... then a war launched not against the perpetrators of the crime but against a country where they had some training bases... then the blatantly false reasons promoted by our government for the preemptive war on Iraq. My sense of obligation as an artist changed.
At first, what I wanted most was to express my grief, cynicism, and shame. But I soon realized that agonizing over my shame for this country would lead me nowhere positive. Why, I wondered, don't I surround myself with people who make me feel proud, people who have insisted that this country live up to its own professed ideals about inalienable rights, equality, and justice? Why don't I invoke their spirits by painting their portraits?
I did not want to support the myth of American exceptionalism, the stories of power and domination that we tell to set ourselves apart from the rest of humankind, but to tell the story of this country's long and courageous struggle for justice. Our revolution did not end in 1787. At the signing of the Constitution, we did not free the slaves, give political rights to freed African Americans, Native Americans, women, the disabled, or poor whites. Our revolution was just beginning.
I decided to portray real, ordinary people who continued that revolution by fighting to extend rights to everyone, whose persistence and courage changed their own lives and provided role models of all of us. "Without courage," William Sloane Coffin said, "there are no other virtues." Any person acting with courage for justice, becomes a teacher, becomes a light in the darkness, encourages all of us to become our own lights. Just as fear is infectious, so is courage.
Think of Sojourner Truth, the illiterate ex-slave, who became one of the greatest leaders for women's rights and the abolition of slavery. Today we remember and admire her, not her rich white owner-not his social status, money, or privilege, but her courage. Colonel Ann Wright's resignation from the diplomatic corps in protest of the illegal invasion of Iraq was not intended to make herself a celebrity. She resigned to better defend the Constitution that she had sworn to protect. Think of Rachel Carson, dying with cancer, refusing to be intimidated by the chemical companies who were using all of their power to humiliate and discredit her when she exposed how their chemicals were poisoning the natural world. What a debt we owe to her courage!
At the same moment that I got the idea to paint the portraits, I knew that the words of the subjects had to be on their portraits. The statements being made about various forms of justice had to be literally spelled out. These aren't just people in paintings looking at you. They are people imploring you to listen and act.
When I began painting, I didn't expect to share the portraits-I imagined a stack in my attic that would make me feel better. I set a goal of 50 portraits, but never expected to reach it. Now there are 150 portraits. They travel to schools, colleges, libraries, museums, and community centers all over the country.
I titled the collection "Americans Who Tell the Truth" to recognize that telling the truth about our nation and its needs is not a small act, but one of great bravery. Marion Wright Edelman, head of the Children's Defense Fund, once said, "What's wrong with our children? Adults telling children to be honest while lying and cheating. Adults telling children not to be violent while marketing and glorifying violence. I believe adult hypocrisy is the biggest problem children face in America." I have repeated that quote to students of all ages all over this country and have yet to find a student who disagreed with it.
I would not classify my decision to give up my former artistic career to paint these portraits as an act of courage, but I would call it an act of defiance, of resistance, of refusal to accept a lie as a patriotic reason for war, of refusal to accept that a country that allows a presidential election to be stolen is the greatest democracy on earth. The portraits are an affirmation that only through persistent courage and dedicated citizenship can we maintain our ideals. If we want to define the destiny of this country as a movement toward enlightenment and justice, we have to accept the responsibility of making that happen.
As Frederick Douglass said, "Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will." He also said, "Find out what any people will quietly submit to and you have found out the exact measure of injustice and wrong that will be imposed on them." For me, those two quotes explain all we need to know about the interests of power and the necessity of citizenship.
Painting the portraits has been an enormous education for me. Cynicism about corruption and hypocrisy is hard to maintain once you have studied the lives of John Lewis, Alice Paul, Diane Wilson, Bill McKibben, Dahr Jamail, Lily Yeh, or so many others. It's daunting to oppose the forces that prefer war, daunting to oppose the forces that prefer economic hierarchy, daunting to oppose corporate media and the control that corporations have on the political process, but it's also exhilarating. And it's right.
A few days ago, a citizen asked the progressive legislator from California, Congressman Henry Waxman why he took his name off the list of about Eighty House sponsors of single-payer health insurance? Mr. Waxman replied: "it [H.R. 676] isn't going to happen."
In early January and last year, Americans who believe in Presidential accountability for constitutional, statutory and treaty violations asked Democrats in Congress-"If not impeachment, why not at least a resolution of censure of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney?" The uniform reply was "It's not practical."
These lawmakers-Democrats all, who are the majority in Congress and who agree with these questioners-keep saying "It's not going to happen" or "It's not practical."
"It's just not practical" to provide a federal minimum wage equal to that in 1968, inflation adjusted, which would be $10 an hour.
"It's not going to happen" to get comprehensive corporate reform at a time when a corporate crime wave and the Wall Street multi-trillion dollar collapse on Washington, on taxpayers and on the economy is tearing this country apart. A little regulatory tinkering is all citizens are told to expect.
"It's just not practical" to give workers, consumers and taxpayers simple facilities for banding together in associations with their own voluntary dues to defend these interests in the corporate occupied territory known as Washington, D.C.
Last year, the excuse was a Bush veto. So the Democrats didn't even try to advance reforms they believe in, knowing Bush and his Republican Party would stonewall. What's the excuse this year with Obama in the White House?
After all, it was only a year and a half ago when nominating and then electing an African-American President was "not going to happen, was not practical."
But since it did happen, why aren't these and many other long overdue beneficial redirections and efficiencies happening for the American people? Why aren't there rollbacks, at least, of the Bush-driven inequities and injustices that have so damaged the well-being of working people?
Why isn't a simpler and more efficient carbon tax more "practical" than the complex corruption-prone, corporatized cap and trade deal driven by Goldman Sachs and favored by most Democrats? The avaricious tax cuts for the super-wealthy are still there.
The statutory ban on Uncle Sam negotiating volume discounts on medicines purchased by the federal government are still there. Taking the huge budgets for the Bush wars in Iraq and Afghanistan off their annual fast track, and putting them a meaningful House and Senate Appropriations Committee hearing process has not happened.
Face it, America. You are a corporate-controlled country with the symbols of democracy in the constitution and statutes just that-symbols of what the founding fathers believed or hoped would be reality.
Even when the global corporate giants come to Washington dripping with crime, greed, speculation and cover-ups, and demand gigantic bailouts on the backs of taxpayers and their children, neither the Republicans nor the now majority Democrats are willing to face them down.
The best of America started with our forebears who faced down those who told them "it's not going to happen," or "it's not practical" to abolish slavery, give women the right to vote, elevate the conditions of workers and farmers, provide social security and medicare, make the air and water less polluted and so on. These pioneers, with grit and persistence, told their members of Congress and Presidents-"It is going to happen."
To paraphrase the words of a great man, the late Reverend William Sloan Coffin, it is as if those legendary stalwarts from our past, knowing how much more there is to achieve a practical, just society, are calling out to us, the people today, and saying "get it done, get it done!"