Dear Mr. President:
A few days ago, Majority Leader Reid made it official: he would not resort to reconciliation, a maneuver that would've deprived Senators Lieberman, Bayh, Lincoln and Nelson of the power to dictate the terms of the health care debate. And, by so doing, Senator Reid deprived Congress of a once-in-a-generation opportunity to adequately address an iniquity that is the shame of the nation.
True: if Senator Reid had resorted to reconciliation, the committee that fashioned the bill would, as now composed, have been the committee that is least compassionate, least concerned for the poor, least attuned to those who suffer.
But it is also true that Senator Reid has such a large majority that he could've made an attempt, months ago, to replace the conservative Democrats on that committee with progressives. He might've succeeded. He might've failed. But it's likely that he would've tried, at least, if the President of the United States had insisted that he do so.
The resulting firestorm would not have been pretty. But as the 20th Century satirist, Plunkitt, wrote, "Politics ain't beanbag."
And what are the consequences of playing beanbag with the most profoundly moral issue of our time?
The litany is too well known.
- A public option -- if it survives -- that will range from somewhere between toothless and tepid.
Given the shackles with which the Senate bound itself, what else does a bill, if passed, forebode?
- The newly unemployed and the working poor unable to afford even a public option.
I do not believe, cannot believe, that this is the bill you wanted. I sensed from the outset of your campaign that you wished to govern in the spirit if not the fashion of Robert Kennedy. "I believe," Kennedy said not long before his death, "that where there is plenty, poverty is evil."
Still, while I may wish that you had taken a bolder approach, I am not among the many who blame you for this lost opportunity. For the great expectations that helped get you elected now do you a disservice. We expect so much of you, far too much, in this age of entitlement and instant gratification. This age of Fast Food Jesus.
Moreover, Mr. President, you are in no way responsible for the hatred running rampant through the land. Nor for the fear that fuels this hatred. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the known. Fear of bearded madmen brandishing box knives who come from far off lands. Men who, in the name of God, made a virtue out of murder.
We saw it without, this perversion of God -- God by whatever name -- with the slaughter of 3000 innocents. But we're blind to the cancer of the fanatic within, and its unleashing is not of your making.
I do not envy you, Mr. President. As a wartime president, you decide who lives and who dies. You are faced with a bad choice-- which is to say an absence of good choices-- in Afghanistan. You must contend with nuclear proliferation and loose nukes. If you don't secure national and international cooperation now, the great extinction that is currently taking place may not spare the human race. And you must provide relief to the people as the Main Street economy continues its downward spiral.
So no, I don't envy you, Mr. President. Nor do I suffer from illusions about the amount of influence you wield. While it's often remembered that the Founders greatest fear was tyranny, our schoolbooks seldom if ever mention the form of tyranny The Founders most feared: Tyranny of the Majority. Hence all those checks and balances that retard the pace of change. A source of maddening frustration if we agree with our president; a source of protection if we don't. And so long as the Constitution survives, a president-- be he brilliant or foolish, compassionate or callous-- wields far less power than we tend to assume.
Of all the perils over which you have little to no control, the most dangerous is not as tangible as the weekly death toll from two wars; not as tangible as an unemployment statistic, but is the intangible weapon the Founders foresaw and feared: words. Mere words. Mere words that when spoken by demagogues who, knowingly or not, are driven by the fear they prey upon, incite the mob mentality.
And it is happening and swiftly at that. We heard inflammatory words from the fringes of the crowds during the general election. But the flames no longer burn at the fringe. They have moved to the center and whipped up as they are by the wind of words, consume our better angels as they fan out.
It has happened before and it can happen again: the demagogues may prevail. They may succeed in depriving "the other" (whoever "the other" is) of a name, of a face, of that which unites us: our common dreams for our children.
And if those who prey upon fear prevail for a season; if they set neighbor against neighbor on your watch? If they manage to rupture the National Soul by artfully wielding the lie?
That is their Cross to bear, not yours.
But what of that pulpit from which you and only you can exert influence?
Now we come to it, Mr. President. What it is that you can do. What it is you must do. And by way of explanation, I ask you to bear with me for a bit.
I am a Reiki healer. Reiki is an ancient healing modality that comes to us, by way of Japan, from the mountainous regions of Nepal and Tibet and dates from the time of Buddha. Which is to say a time when Sanskrit was spoken.
I note this because in Sanskrit there is only one word that stands for "ignorance" and "fear." The language makes no distinction between the two.
Add to this words spoken by Robert Kennedy, referring, appropriately, not to the right or the left but to the place where they meet and become indistinguishable: the extreme: "What is objectionable, what is dangerous about extremists, is not that they are extreme but that they are intolerant. The evil is not what they say about their cause but what they say about their opponents."
Ignorance, fear, demonizing "the other." This is what you are up against. And I say again: this is not of your doing.
But by virtue of the office you hold, there is one thing you do control. Teddy Roosevelt called it the Bully Pulpit. We call it the National Address. That slot is yours, Mr. President, and you have a concomitant responsibility to use it.
I urge you to seize the moment. I ask you to realize your greatness as you did in your speech on race, when you flouted the advice of your political advisors, paid no heed to the polls, and by telling the truth in its many shades of gray, spoke to us as adults.
It wasn't just you who flouted conventional wisdom that day. Media predictions notwithstanding, the people did likewise. We approved of the speech, we approved of you, and the most inflammatory issue in the history of this republic lost some though most certainly not all of its potency.
And now? Now is the time to risk all again. Now is the time to use your unparalleled oratorical skills to address the peril posed by the insidious and as-yet unacknowledged fanatic within. Now is the time to remind us that while no country on earth has the military capability to take us down, we can take ourselves down and in a hurry.
Just as the health care debate has served as a springboard for those who prey upon fear, you must do the same. But for a vastly different purpose: to speak about the nature of the discourse. You must remind us of what we already know: violent thought and violent word lead inexorably to violent deed.
It may prove to be too late in the day to put a stop to the current hate fest. But it's never too late to plant a seed of peace, no matter when it germinates. Hence regardless of whether Congress does right by the people or not; regardless of whether those who speak out of ignorance and fear manage to prevail for a season, such an address would not be in vain. For you will show us and yourself what it truly means to put country first, political expediency be damned. And this, in turn, may touch the soul of the nation, wake us up and remind us that we still have a choice: to acknowledge the path upon which we're treading, reverse course and embrace our neighbors.