Training True Believers

Once again, I am going to try to excavate from the piles of horseshit that have been accumulating since Donald Trump took over the presidency some rational way of understanding what keeps his fans adoring (or at least approving of) him. Because it is simply astonishing to any reasonable person how, after all the blunders and cruelties and death-dealing gaffes he’s made about the corona virus that is decimating both the nation’s healthcare facilities and its economy, Trump’s approval ratings have actually soared to their highest levels. Are these people blind? Have they no critical faculties at all? Are they so determined to frustrate the coastal elites that they will swallow every lie from the Liar-in-Chief solely in order to maintain their gloating and to facilitate the deaths of as many in New York and/or California as possible? Do they not see that they are next? Do they not see that rural hospitals, especially, are going to be overwhelmed (where they still exist) once the rising numbers of infections gets to them? Do they really agree with the Governor of Texas that they, especially those elders among them, should be quite willing to die to save the economy and Trumpism for their presumptive heirs?

            Apparently so. They seem to think that being in the heartland of the nation, they are invulnerable to what assaults and decimates the elites, the big cities, the centers of government and corruption. But whether or not they do feel this, they seem more and more to me to be reflecting the training they have had for generations. That is, they, the fundamentalists among them especially, have been trained by their ignorant preacher-conmen, to not only believe the most arrant nonsense, but to thrive on it; to expect it; to want it. And then to contribute their life savings to the cause of allowing these mountebanks and their nonsense to thrive and grow. 

            Consider just a few statements from some of these creatures recently. From the New Life Christian Center in Indiana, March 12:

On March 12 on their Facebook page, the New Life Christian Center declared, “Due to the recent outbreak of fear — and the resulting raw, unmitigated stupidity — regarding the perceived threat of the ‘corona virus,’ etc., tomorrow night, Friday, March 13th, 2020, we WILL be having a church service here at New Life Christian Center in Austin, Indiana. Anyone who is sick, you are welcome to come to church. We will lay hands on the sick, and the sick shall recover.” (Alternet, Mar. 16.) 

Then from Christian Pastor Rick Wiles came this:

An evangelical pastor is claiming the coronavirus is God’s “death angel” seeking justice for those “transgendering little children” and putting “filth” on TVs and movies…He then suggested the virus started in China because of the “godless communist government that persecutes Christians” and “forced abortions” — and said the “death angel” could have eyes on the US. (New York Post, Jan. 29, 2020)

Then there’s ‘theologian’ John Piper, who cites four ways Christians can understand the coronavirus outbreak. Among them are that “sometimes sickness is God’s mercy,” i.e. that God lets Christians die of illnesses “so that we may not be condemned along with the world.” Another is that, of course, “sickness could come as judgment”, i.e.  that “God sometimes uses disease to bring particular judgments upon those who reject him and give themselves over to sin.” Presumably, that will prominently include many of us wicked coastal elites. (all quotes from The Christian Post, Mar. 2, 2020).

            The assault on LGBTs as the source of the virus continued when Rev. Steven Andrew designated the month of March “Repent of LGBT Sin Month.”  He added, in a press release, 

"God's love shows it is urgent to repent, because the Bible teaches [that] homosexuals lose their souls and God destroys LGBT societies. Obeying God protects the USA from diseases, such as the Coronavirus.” (New York Daily News, March 7, 2020)

            And then there are lots of Christian pastors and writers (like blogger Lori Alexander) who believe that the coronavirus may actually have a silver lining. She wrote recently not only that “abortions are more damaging than a global pandemic,” but also that 

"With the Corona virus [sic] pushing a lot of women back into their homes with their children (which is a good thing, in my opinion), here are some ideas to help you not be bored at home while being productive too." (from her Facebook post, cited in The Sun (UK) Mar. 16 2020).

           And finally, right in the White House sits Ralph Drollinger, a fundamentalist preacher who leads a weekly Bible study group for several members of Trump’s cabinet. As noted by Chris Walker in a March 25 Hill Reporter column, Drolliinger believes, among other things, that “men should be heads of their households and women should be subservient to them, that homosexuality is an ‘abomination’ (and) that climate change is a "secular fad movement.” As to the corona virus pandemic, Drollinger believes that “China is to blame for the current state of things, and that God is punishing the rest of the world for that nation’s mistake.” God is also pissed off because “the LGBTQ community have infiltrated all levels of government” and just as mad at those who engage in “lesbianism and homosexuality,” and at environmentalists too. The people who listen to this drivel are not just a bunch of farmers, either. They are members of Trump’s cabinet, and include some who are on his pandemic Task Force. Among the weekly attendees are Ben Carson (Secretary of Housing and Urban Development), Mike Pompeo (Secretary of State), Betsy DeVos (Secretary of Education), and Alex Azar (Secretary of Health and Human Services). 

          Enough said. Given how millions of Trump supporters have been brainwashed by this kind of horseshit for years, even for generations, is it any wonder that they could sit rapt when a conman of Biblical proportions stands before them and assures them that the crisis is not a crisis, that it is a hoax, that it will soon be over, that we’ve got plenty of medical supplies and test kits (which we don’t), and that the functioning of Wall Street and his billionaire cronies (not his feckless supporters) is far more important than the lives of a few old people? And that he is backed up by the very preacher-liars that have been conning them for years? And that, in any case, they are protected by God; or at least dying according to his divinely-ordained and merciful plan?  

It is not. And we should not be surprised at the stunning stupidity and gullibility of a population that has been trained to believe such bullshit for most of their lives—even as this report of the death of one of those very bullshitters makes today’s news:

One of the first deaths in Virginia from coronavirus was a 66-year-old Christian “musical evangelist” who fell ill while on a trip to New Orleans with his wife. As the Friendly Atheist’s Hemant Mehta points out, Landon Spradlin had previously shared opinions that the pandemic was the result of “mass hysteria” from the media…One of his posts read, “As long as I walk in the light of that law [of the Spirit of life], no germ will attach itself to me.” (RawStory.com, March 26, 2020). (See also ABC news, March 26.)

Lawrence DiStasi

The Nearness of You

Our new reality, the looming threat of the corona virus, or Covid-19, really means one thing. It means that one way or the other, all of us are now facing, up close and personal, the threat of death. And we don’t even know what that means exactly. We see death nightly on our screens, we see someone gunned down and pronounced “dead” in a TV drama, but we seldom actually face the reality of what that word signifies. And I suspect that’s because in our era of remote viewing and quarantining death in hospitals or nursing homes and cremating rather than sitting with dead bodies in coffins, we really don’t quite know what death means, even though it terrifies us. Terrifies us precisely because, in fact, we don’t know what it means. 

            We used to know, or thought we knew, what death meant. It meant for most of us in the West that something called the soul was leaving our body and going somewhere else. Either a lovely place where all would be happy and joyful because we were in the very presence of God and angels—a place usually termed “heaven” or paradise or some variation thereof—or the bad place where we would be punished for our sins, which we termed “hell” or Hades. And that place derived its power from its endlessness, its infinity of flames and suffering that would never end. Any Catholic with an imagination could be terrified by just thinking for a moment about that. Other religions had different scenarios, but all more or less depended on the same idea of an afterlife: be good and be rewarded, or you will be punished in what is to come after death. As Hamlet so enduringly puts it, “For in that sleep of death what dreams may come/ When we have shuffled off this mortal coil/ Must give us pause.”

            In our time, however, there are few people who still subscribe to this view. Oh yes, there are still fundamentalists or those who still adhere to the faith of their childhoods, who are quite sure that they will be taken up bodily into “heaven,” but I have nothing to say to such people in any case. I am talking about the mass of modern, so-called ‘civilized’ people for whom these ideas have taken on the literary aura of fairy tales. They may have been comforting stories ‘once upon a time’ but they are simply that—stories that people used to believe and which can no longer be given credence. For this mass of people, death is something that is terminal, the final stop; which is why they generally are frantic to live as much of life as possible, and as well as they can. ‘You only get to come around once, so you’d better enjoy it,’ is the idea. So death has this one meaning for most of us in our time: the end of the only thing that matters, which is living. Staying alive, for as long as possible. And anything that threatens that, that threatens to end that precious living before its time, is to be avoided at all costs. Shunned. Quarantined in some faraway place and fought off, if at all possible, forever. It should go without saying that Covid-19 is a direct threat to all that.

            With so much freight and weight attached to it, one would think that we all knew exactly what death is. To keep such an adversary at bay for as long as possible, that is, one should really know all about it. Study it. Know exactly what it does, and what it holds in store. But the truth is, we do not. We do not know what death portends for this thing we call our “self”, nor do we know, even scientifically, what it means to die. This is why we have terms such as “brain death.” A person can be “brain dead,” that is, totally unconscious and unaware and unable to maintain even the basic elements of breathing and heartbeat and metabolism, and still be considered technically “alive” by means of breathing ventilators and heart pumps. The body can be kept warm thereby, and the organs of that artificially-kept-alive person can still be transplanted to another live body and used for several more years. Indeed, that is an offered option for many people who are “brain dead.” Their organs, still ‘alive,’ can be cut out and transplanted quickly to another body to keep that other body alive.

            So when is a person “dead?” This question occurred to me personally when my late wife suffered a cerebral aneurysm that left her “brain dead,” though the doctors never used that terrifying term. And it was proposed to us that her organs could be harvested, and donated to others (to begin a new life?). But that isn’t the real point here. The point is, in the face of someone artificially kept alive by a ventilator and heart drugs, when did we, keeping vigil, know she was actually dead? Because at a certain point, she certainly was. There was no doubt about that. From a warm body with color that showed indelible signs of life, she transformed, at a certain point, into something rigid and cold and pale. It is a phase shift as common as it could be. And we all recognize it. But what actually happens? What causes that transition that is feared above all else in our world? The common, inevitable transition from life to death? It happens all the time, so often that we fail to notice it usually: leaves turn brown, wither, and fall. Animals become rigid and begin to waste away. And still, we don’t really know what it is, what happens. And if what is left is really all there ever was to “us.” 

            That is the real question. If we sense that the dead body left to us is not really “her,” that what was “her” in the first place is not there anymore, then what was her? What was the essence of who she was? It’s not a question of movement (the cells and elements that make up a dead body still are made up of atoms and electrons that ‘move’), nor of breath or heartbeat, both of which can be kept artificially active. So what is it then? What is the crucial difference between a living thing and a dead one? This became glaringly obvious to me when contemplating my above-mentioned wife’s dead body. Something crucial had left. Was, as if, gone. We used to call this the “soul.” But that overused term doesn’t quite signify any more. Some religions still use it, but many religions, especially eastern ones like Buddhism, specifically disbelieve in it. It is considered an illusion. So then, what is it that departs, if “departs” is the proper term? We don’t know. We really do not know what the animating principle is that enlivens us and surrounds us. We can identify it without any trouble. We can easily see that machines, computers, though they appear to operate like living things, are not alive. They are dead metal and plastic until they are animated by electric current. And need to be programmed—told what to do—by live beings like ourselves. We know this without question and normally don’t require reasons. But again, what is it, precisely, that animates that which is living? And leaves, or seems to leave when they, we, are dead? 

            We should be able to define this. State it in no uncertain terms. Especially at times like these when death is so near. Especially for those of us who are “old,” because every verifiable opinion says that we are most at risk. Most likely to die as a result of this deadly virus getting into us—whatever that means. We should know, then, what is going to happen to “us” if we should succumb. Which we will, all of us, be it now or later. That precious something that we call “life” will have to depart. And we will be “dead.” But again, what is dead? Am I—my brain, my consciousness, my awareness—what I mean by “me” in the first place, and alone constitutive of that which dies? Or is it my body? Or, are we making a fundamental error here in trying to see the two—body and mind (or brain or consciousness)—as separate? And that there is no discernible element that “leaves” to signify death, but rather that it is all one indissoluble entity that breathes or doesn’t breathe, whose heart beats or doesn’t beat, together. But then, what of “brain death?” What of a body that is still “alive” even though its lungs and heart cannot operate on their own? But whose organs, just parts of them, are still useful, i.e., alive, for and in another body?  

            Science, in other words, has put our language, our intuition, up against a knotty problem. Before life support systems, there was rarely any room for doubt. If a person got to the point where he or she could not breathe, that was it. If the heart stopped, that was it. Death ensued. No organs were discernibly alive afterwards, either. The whole thing was dead. And the soul had, presumably, left for another life. And that was that. Aside from a few alleged ‘miracles’ where a person was supposed to have come back to life, there was no problem telling the dead from the living. 

Now, however, the line has become more obscure, and so has the definition. And that may be the core of the problem after all. Definition. Language. Our language has not kept up with what we see. Or think we see; and want to define, that is, separate. Life and death may not be separable in the way we would like them to be. Consider, for example, the lowly virus that now has us transfixed. As a virus, it is said to hover somewhere between life and non-life. And so is hard to define. So may our own life/death be. It may be that we cannot say what life consists of, what defines it, what separates it from non-life because the dividing line is cloudy. As in quantum mechanics, as in Schrodinger’s cat. Life is life and, more or less simultaneously, it is not. And there is death. And there may be nothing to define or see. And if we analogize it with all other forms of life, we see that life commonly shades into death and then again into life with hardly a by your leave. It’s a closed system. That which dies is immediately or before long  filtered right back into the system (whatever that is), to become part of the living again, and so on. Leaves become humus, animals become food for bugs and other animals which eventually die to become nitrogen and other chemicals, all of which nourishes the plant life around it, to in turn nourish the animal life around it, and nothing is lost. Life and death shade into each other and the cycle simply (it is by no means simple) continues. And no one asks where did life go, where did death come from, where will I go when I die, and will I be happy there? It simply never occurs as a question. Language and thought and trying to frame the unframeable are what create the question and the problem. Trying to make an open system, an escape hatch to keep us from recycling back into the whole mess (hence our mania to bury our dead and preserve them from decay and merging with all else), is what creates the problem. 

So does that mean we should simply forget about it? I think not. Otherwise, why did I write this whole discourse in the first place? No, we ought to at least be aware of what we’re doing. What we are—these creatures that are terrified of something that we cannot figure out, cannot place in a frame that will suit us, that will ease our anxious minds. When really, a better thing to do is just see: how hopeless is our endeavor, how basically unnecessary. We simply cannot know, in the way we would like to know, what will happen. Not only after death, but in the next two seconds. And the idea that we can, the idea that we somehow should know is what gets us into trouble in the first place. Life and death are inextricably intertwined, like night and day, like front and back, and like them always will be. And however much we would love to separate them, however much it discomfits us that we can't, however desperate is our need to know, doesn’t really matter in the end. What matters is seeing what we do; and how we are; and how the entirety is all we can and always do see, even if we don’t realize it. 

Lawrence DiStasi 

Invasion of the Viruses

People are thronging stores from tiny corner markets to giant Costcos and snapping up everything in sight, especially—and I can’t for the life of me figure this out—toilet paper. Schools are canceling classes, from college to grade school, with expectations that schools nationwide will all be shut down by next week. Airlines have almost come to a halt, and layoffs are mounting everywhere. Virtually every large gathering has been canceled, as has spring training in baseball, the NBA, and college basketball’s March Madness. Broadway shows are suspended and so is nearly everything else where people normally gather. States and the national government have declared national emergencies. What the hell is happening? One would think that an alien invasion is taking place, or is imminent. 

            In a way, it has. But the invasion is not comprised of strange little men with one eye in the middle of their bulbous foreheads. The invasion this time is by these miniscule things called viruses. And so, it probably behooves us to know just what these creatures (if that’s the right word) are. To find out, we have to look to science—something that the current administration has contempt for; which is why their response has been so pathetic and dismissive and infuriating and ultimately catastrophic for us all.  

            Viruses, to begin with, are tiny. As an example, the polio virus, just 30 nanometers across, is approximately 10,000 times smaller than a grain of salt! Even bacteria—which are as small as we can possibly imagine—are large comparatively, the common lab bacteria E. Coli being 40 times larger than the hepatitus virus. But size is only the beginning. Viruses seem to occupy a place somewhere between life and non-life. That is, they seem to exist as life forms, having nucleic acids and DNA or RNA. But they can’t use this genetic information to replicate themselves on their own. As Jacqueline Dudley of the University of Texas at Austin puts it, “A minimal virus is a parasite that requires replication (making copies of itself) in a host cell.” That’s because a virus doesn’t have the machinery to perform this trick of self-generation (i.e., is it possessed of life, or not?), and so therefore, must “hijack” a real cell’s machinery to reproduce itself. That is, the little devil is able to use its host’s equally tiny machinery to make RNA from its DNA, and thereby make the proteins it needs to self-generate. And that’s the central formula we use to define life: DNA to RNA to the proteins that are the building blocks of new little organisms. 

            This, then, is what viruses must do. Their primary role is to deliver their DNA or RNA genome into a host cell so that that viral genome can thereby be expressed (transcribed and translated). It’s really a literary problem for the poor virus. It can’t express itself on its own, it’s a kind of half-live mute, so it must find another cell (usually one in a living plant or animal like us) it can slip into, and get it to afford it expression and, thereby, real life. One almost wants to sympathize with the mute little buggers. One almost wants to open up one’s passages—respiratory passages, or perhaps an open wound—so the hapless little viruses can sneak in and find their voices. Trouble is, as with all hijacking, this is not a nice process. Because once inside the host cell, viruses disrupt the cell’s normal activity, halting the synthesis of any RNA and proteins that the host cell might use for itself, and get it to produce viral proteins, which it can’t use. And, of course, in the process often crippling the larger organism, often mortally so. 

            One of the things that has occurred to me in the last few days is wondering just how and why these nasty little creatures have been allowed to mess up our lives. Where did they come from in the first place, and what has allowed them to thrive? There are, after all, millions of different kinds of viruses (though scientists have been able to describe only about 5,000 of them), and they are not only found everywhere, but they outnumber by far every other biological entity on our planet. Surely, anything that numerous and ubiqitous must have some use or value, as we assess it—that is, evolutionarily. And indeed, viruses are now said to be an important means of horizontal gene transfer—the process whereby bacteria, say, are able to acquire new properties that allow them to resist our antibiotics without having to go through the normal reproductive process. Viruses help them do this. And this, in turn, increases genetic diversity, always supposed to be a good thing, without the usual method of sexual reproduction. The bacteria just get novel properties by sideways insertion. Just by being in the vicinity of that new virus-carried genetic improvement. So viruses are of some value to bacteria, at least in allowing them to resist our attempts to kill them (hence the proliferation of antibiotic-resistant superbugs). 

            But what of the why? Are they at all critical to life itself? Apparently so. Viruses may be the first organisms to have mastered the art of self-assembly (though not self-reproduction). The so-called ‘virus-first hypothesis’ proposes that viruses may be the first proto-life form to have evolved from complex molecules of protein and nucleic acid that initially appeared on this earth. At the very least, viruses are now seen as an ancient form that probably appeared before life split into its three main domains: archaea, bacteria, and eukaryota (micro-organisms with a nucleus, like the cells from which we are made.) So they may well be the ancestors of us all. 

            Still, in the current state of things, they’re mainly nasty little buggers that bring us ills like cancer and polio and now Covid-19, which is driving our human world nuts. And of course what makes this threat so panic-inducing is that we can’t see something that’s 10,000 times smaller than a grain of salt, and can’t even be called fully alive. Indeed, we can hardly imagine how such a tiny entity could even exist, much less threaten us. But science, through the magic of electron microscopes, tells us that that’s precisely the case. They tell us that these miniscule things, sprayed out into the air by the thousands when someone sneezes, and thence into our own nostrils and via them into our very cells, can then multiply exponentially, and compromise our cells, our lungs, and our very lives. And though most of us feel completely safe within our normal day-to-day lives, and tend to want to scoff at the supposed dangers, also and equally we sense some unseen cloud of terror lurking just beyond our ken, waiting to envelope us like a nasty dark cloud of miasma, or maybe invisible radiation. And the worst part is that most of us will never see it coming. It’s too small. Too well disguised. Too well integrated into what looks normal and harmless.

            And that, of course, is the genius of viruses, and in the larger sense, of life. Life is composed of the very tiny that assembles and assembles and grows and grows some more into things that are finally visible and self-organizing enough to keep going on their own. And eventually taking over the earth. Such as humans. Assemblages of the very tiny we are, of bacteria and cells and organs and selves that come to see everything solely from our own point of view, so that anything that interrupts our race to the top of every chain so that we can rule supreme over all the flora and fauna of the planet is a mortal threat. And cause for widespread panic. Threatening our lives, our toilet paper, our vacations and our stock market. 

            And perhaps, just perhaps, that’s what viruses are for (we won’t ever know for sure, of course, what the virus actually means, or even what we mean in the end). To bring us a tiny inkling of the balance that is at play here, the calling in of the accounts that must eventually invade our fond dreams of domination. And tell us, in no uncertain terms, that we are not really the monarchs of all we survey. That, in fact, we are just one end of a chain that stretches back eons to before self-reproduction to mere self-assembly and perhaps before that too, and that our supposed reign here is very much temporary and conditional and dependent on so many things we can’t see or even imagine that our hubris in this regard is laughable when it isn’t dangerous. For there is some evidence and speculation recently that most of the pandemics that seem to be threatening us in our time are the result of our reckless disregard for balance in our tearing apart of the very ecosystems (to build our roads and farms and dams) that have kept such pandemics in some check for thousands of years. That, in short, we are bringing on these threats to all humanity ourselves, by running roughshod and unthinkingly over all else. 

            So even though, in the short run, I personally want to stomp out the little buggers that make up the Covid-19 threat, (if only they were big enough to stomp on) and hope desperately for a vaccine that will prevent them from entering my cells, and a medication that will kill them by the zillions, in the longer run I can see that even they, these half-alive miniscule organisms, have their critical role to play in the drama of which I am a part. And, horror of horrors, may be in the end more crucial to that story than I am. I devoutly hope that is not the case. But just the fact that they’re so small and seemingly insignificant seems not to matter anymore. So who really knows? 

Lawrence DiStasi 

Warren in Defeat

My title is not quite accurate: Elizabeth Warren wasn’t really defeated in her race for the presidency, but rather threw in the towel when she failed to win a single state on super Tuesday. But the word ‘defeat’ scans well; and besides, victory or defeat is not the point here. The point is that Senator Elizabeth Warren seems to be garnering more love and emotion after her withdrawal from the race than while she was actively campaigning. It sort of reminds me of the late Adlai Stevenson, who tried for the presidency three times, in 1952 and 1956, (both times defeated by Dwight Eisenhower) and in 1960, (defeated for the nomination by John F. Kennedy) but never succeeded, despite being clearly the most qualified and brilliant contender. But he was a beloved public figure (serving as Illinois governor before running, and ambassador to the UN afterwards), even in defeat. Warren seems to be headed in the same direction.

            The question, in Warren’s case, is why? Why, despite a clear lead in the early days of the campaign, did she falter so badly thereafter, and do so miserably on super Tuesday? There have been all sorts of post-mortems addressing this. Her gender for one. Warren is a highly intelligent woman (she would seem to qualify for the term “egghead” which, not coincidentally, was used as a term of opprobrium for Stevenson). And not a mandarin either. As she was fond of pointing out in speeches, she came up from poverty in Oklahoma, became a teacher, won scholarships to study law, and ended up specializing in banking law at Harvard. From there, she began testifying about banks starting in 2005, and especially after the 2008 financial crisis made her name as chair of the Congressional Oversight Panel of the Troubled Asset Relief Program under President Obama, and set up the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau which she both established and watched over as Special Advisor to the President. On the strength of this reputation as a fighter for the “little guy,” she then ran successfully for the Senate from Massachusetts in 2012, and announced her candidacy for President in 2019. 

            But again, after an early stint as the frontrunner, she faded, and finally withdrew last week. She is a woman after all. And a very smart woman. One who came up with so many policy proposals, all well thought out and detailed, that her proposals themselves became fodder for late night comedians. “I have a proposal for that” became a way to ridicule her. And therein lies the first problem for someone like Warren. She’s too damn smart. Like Stevenson, she is super qualified. She knows what she’s talking about, and makes that clear. And in America, no one likes a smartass—especially a woman who’s a smartass. Unlike most other democracies, we seem to like presidents who keep their intelligence under wraps (or don’t have it to begin with). Stevenson’s main flaw was that he was an egghead. Eisenhower, no dummy himself, came across as an avuncular and plain-spoken guy next door. As was said of George W. Bush often, ‘he seems like someone you could relax and have a beer with.’ Few could imagine doing that with Stevenson or Warren. She just seemed to know too much, especially for a woman. Would she even know how to do the dishes, or the laundry, or change a diaper? Now if this seems stupid and beside the point as a qualification for president, it is. But that appears to be the way American candidates, female candidates, have to at least present themselves if they wish to be seriously considered for the highest office in the land. 

            Then there is her chosen role as defender of the average consumer. One would think that this would endear her to the masses of people in this nation, who know they are being gouged by banks who own their credit cards and mortgages and cars and everything else worth owning. One would think that her proposal to control the banks and tax the ultra-wealthy would appeal to their sense of fair play, or their resentment if nothing else. One would think that average people who are struggling to afford health care would appreciate her stance on bringing a single-payer system into affordable existence. One would think that her proposal to cancel student-loan debt would be perceived as a godsend for students and parents both struggling to afford an education. And that her honesty and precision where all of these programs are concerned would satisfy the budget-conscious bones of average Americans. But no. Too detailed. Too smart. Too aggressive. It is as if Americans prefer someone who is obviously pulling the wool over their eyes—like the current con man in the White House. ‘At least we know he’s a selfish creep,’ seems to be the view. But a woman who’s honest about what she’ll do? How can one ever trust someone like that? And a female egghead to boot. 

            Now, though, now that she’s been defeated, now that she’s shown that she’s resigned to her fate as a beaten woman, well now we can embrace her as one of us. She’s a woman after all. She dared to take on the male establishment, but she’s learned her lesson. Eggheads may be ok in the groves of academe, even a few female eggheads. Maybe even in the Senate. But don’t get too uppity and think you can crack the ultimate ceiling. Because we’ll take you down and show you your real place. And just to show you that it’s the natural order of things, we, the womenfolk, will join in the takedown. 

            And this is where it gets really hard to understand. Warren didn’t even garner the majority of female votes. How could this be? If women actually voted more or less as a block, they would be an absolutely unstoppable force in American politics because they make up a majority of American voters. And yet, at this moment, every woman candidate that started the race for the Democratic nomination has been forced to drop out (except the puzzling Tulsi Gabbard, who has zero chance). And once again, the American voter seems to have closed the door on women for the presidency. And once again, one can only speculate about why. It is clear why men voters, mostly trained in male supremacy, would resist the idea of a woman ruling over them. But what about all those women? Why did so many choose Trump, an avowed sexist pig, over Hillary? Why, this time, did they not support Warren in droves? 

            Perhaps we shall never know. But one obvious thing is her intelligence. Intelligence envy is powerful in America. Another is her refusal to make nice, as a ‘woman’ should. Related to this is that at a certain point in her campaign, her tone became even more strident than usual, prompting one news commentator to admit that he “felt like slapping her.” He actually said that. And he obviously expressed the sentiment of many of his male viewers. But is this the way most women, too, feel about assertive women? That maybe they’re drawing too much fire? And putting all others at risk? Because in a way, Warren did that, taking on the banks, for god’s sake, taking on the wealthy and the powerful—which in the end perhaps puts too many others at risk. At least, that is, until she gives up and gives in and goes along with the program. At which point we can all hug her and love her and express our thanks and camaraderie and welcome her back into the fold of those who know their place, and don’t rock the damn boat so much. Yes. Now we can acknowledge her as one of us again. And wish her well on her next try. When maybe she’ll tone it down some, and people will like her more. And agree that maybe, just maybe, this brilliant woman who cares about real justice for real people deserves a chance to actually make a difference for the rest of us for a change. Maybe. 

Lawrence DiStasi