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The New York Times Just Provided a Massive Platform for Transphobia |
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Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=25345"><span class="small">Zack Ford, ThinkProgress</span></a>
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Tuesday, 18 October 2016 08:29 |
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Ford writes: "The New York Times published an opinion piece that, on its face, attempted to portray both sides of country's debate over transgender inclusion. In doing so, it took for granted all of the false assumptions made by opponents of transgender equality, doing nothing to debunk them, and thereby reinforcing them."
A demonstrator holds a sign at a transgender rights rally. (photo: National Center for Transgender Equality)

The New York Times Just Provided a Massive Platform for Transphobia
By Zack Ford, ThinkProgress
18 October 16
Transgender people are the latest victims of the newspaper’s false balance.
his weekend, The New York Times published an opinion piece that, on its face, attempted to portray both sides of country’s debate over transgender inclusion. In doing so, it took for granted all of the false assumptions made by opponents of transgender equality, doing nothing to debunk them, and thereby reinforcing them.
Columnist Judith Shulevitz takes on the task of sorting out the great bathroom debate, seemingly with no previous experience writing about transgender issues. She opens by framing the debate as a “clash of values?—?gender inclusiveness versus bodily privacy,” already buying into the notion that when it comes to transgender people’s bodies, the two are in conflict.
She then poses a scenario about a trans teen and a cisgender teen changing together in the girl’s locker room. Ignoring GLAAD’s guidelines about how to respectfully identify transgender people, she refers to the trans teen as having been “born with” a boy’s body, while the cisgender girl is described as a “girl-born-a-girl.” The cis girl does not want to change next to the trans girl, the trans girl does not want to be banished “like some sort of freak,” and “the standoff will end only when one retreats to a stall to change in private.”
Setting aside the reality that locker rooms are not the naked parades that skeptics of trans equality claim them to be, Shulevitz never considers why the cis girl doesn’t want to change next to a trans girl?—?the belief that her classmate isn’t actually a girl. Instead, she reinforces this assumption. “People have a right to privacy,” she opines, adding that “courts have largely agreed that no one should have to undress unwillingly in front of a member of the opposite sex, or see that person naked.” Physical modesty, she suggests, “has a more legitimate basis” than other forms of stigma like racism.
She worries that the federal government’s guidance that trans students be respected for their gender identity could impose violations on that cisgender girl who feels “that the transgender girl is invading her privacy in a discomfiting way.” In other words, Shulevitz actually agrees with the notion that simply by existing in a space, a transgender person is a threat to the non-transgender people around her. Reading between the lines is not really required to see the transphobia here.
After recounting several lawsuits challenging transgender inclusion filed by the anti-LGBT Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF), which she politely describes as “a Christian legal advocacy organization with mostly evangelical clients,” she comes to the anonymous plaintiffs’ defense. “You can’t dismiss the plaintiffs’ concerns as mere intolerance,” she insists. “Religious pluralism requires accommodation of the demure as well as the less inhibited.”
Chase Strangio, staff attorney with the ACLU’s LGBT & AIDS Project, took strong exception to Shulevitz’s shilling for intolerance in a stream of tweets on Sunday. Calling the article “garbage,” Strangio outlined the false portrayal of locker rooms and the puff-piece portrayal of both ADF as well as trans-exclusive radical feminist groups known for their anti-trans rhetoric.
Astonishng response to my piece https://t.co/U6ohV74DWz. From a lawyer yet! As if acknowledging clash of values=threatening trans survival. https://t.co/4w0cy46kE2 -@judithshulevitz
And when further confronted by just how anti-LGBT ADF is known to be, she doubled down on defending them using “religious freedom” rhetoric that could well have come straight from one of the organization’s pro-discrimination court briefs.
We will lose freedom of religion in this country if we don't understand that religious views are often hard to take https://t.co/GgufjVv2p1 -@judithshulevitz
And even groups that espouse odious views may make arguments (about privacy, freedom of conscience, what have you) that may have merit https://t.co/GgufjVv2p1 -@judithshulevitz
Shulevitz’s endorsement of the notion that trans people should be treated according to the bodies they have instead of the people they are is problematic enough as it is. But her solution is also just wrong.
“Schools working with transgender students must take into account complicated group dynamics,” she explains, apropos of nothing. “Perhaps we should trust our educators to exercise their own judgment.” Letting those who would discriminate do so is an anti-LGBT argument repurposed from the state-by-state marriage equality, and it’s one that, by design, ignores the actual harms of discrimination. The whole reason the federal government took a stance is because schools were repeatedly treating trans students like lepers who deserved to be ostracized. Allowing that to continue only maintains the status quo of stigma against transgender people.
Shulevitz, it seems, remains more concerned with making sure that cisgender girl never has to respect her trans classmate’s identity.
If it seems like Shulevitz’s tweets are displaying oddly, it’s because she actually deleted them since this post was published. The text is preserved here.

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Hillary Clinton Has a Power That No Man Can Take Away |
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Monday, 17 October 2016 13:15 |
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Bell writes: "Here is what I've learned from watching Hillary since 1992: She refuses to be defined by what has happened to her or by what other people have done. Again and again, she changes the subject back to what she wants to do, to what she can do, to the work at hand. She insists that what she does is who she is. And that gives her power no one has been able to take away, no matter how hard they've tried."
Hillary Clinton speaks to reporters on the tarmac at Westchester County Airport, on Sept. 8, in White Plains, New York. (photo: Justin Sullivan/Getty Images)

Hillary Clinton Has a Power That No Man Can Take Away
By Katherine Bell, Slate
17 October 16
n the fall of 1992, when I was a freshman at Yale and Bill Clinton was running for office, the best thing that happened to me was meeting Hillary Clinton. The worst was being raped by a fellow student who said he was going to run for president one day.
I tell the story of meeting Hillary all the time. I almost never tell the other one.
I’d turned 18 right before school started. This was the first election I’d paid any attention to, and I knew just enough about Bill Clinton to find him slightly disappointing. I was a lot more excited about Hillary. It’s easy now to forget how different she was from other candidates’ wives. She’d been a working mom and a working first lady in Arkansas. She was famously outspoken, and Bill said if he were elected we’d get two presidents for the price of one. When she came to campus to give a campaign speech, I signed up to volunteer, even though I’d have to postpone my first big exam.
After the speech, the campaign staffer in charge of the volunteers told us that Hillary would be coming by to thank us for our help. I couldn’t stay; I had to take that exam. I was so disappointed I almost started to cry. And then I did something uncharacteristically bold for me at the time: I found the staffer and told him about the bind I was in. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, “but meet me in front of Battell Chapel ?at 4 o’clock.”
I raced through my test and made it there just before Hillary’s car pulled up. Her staff arranged a receiving line: the dean of the law school, a couple of suited-and-tied professors, and me, still wearing my Clinton/Gore T-shirt and cutoff jeans. She greeted each of us and thanked me for helping with the campaign. Then we all sat together in the front row while she spoke to a roomful of lawyers about how, while studying law, she’d figured out which of the world’s problems she wanted to help solve. She was 44 and had already accomplished a lot, but she talked as though she was just getting started.
People say that Hillary is an uninspiring speaker, that she’s not a good storyteller, and that she fails to emotionally connect with her audience. But as a young woman, I was moved by her matter-of-factness and resolve. Choose a problem and do the work, she said. That was something I knew I could do.
When I thanked her campaign staffer afterward, he said, “One day, you’ll be in a position like mine. Just remember this, and give people opportunities whenever you can.”
* * *
Let’s call the guy David. He was extremely smart and extremely conservative. He’d taped a Bush/Quayle sign to his dorm-room door, which was right next to mine.* We disagreed about everything except that we both loved Paradise Lost, one of the first things we’d read that semester. On a few nights after studying together, we stayed up late arguing about politics, and it was exactly how I’d imagined college would be.
One ?Saturday night, David walked me home from a party and then he raped me. Afterward, he left so quickly he forgot his underwear beside my bed, leaving me to figure out what to do with it.
I thought the whole thing was my fault. I told a couple of my friends what had happened, and that was it. I tried hard to move on.
But it didn’t stop there. One night he trashed his room after seeing me talking to one of his friends. He told me he knew that what he’d done to me was wrong. As the winter wore on, he became increasingly threatening. He returned my copy of The Fountainhead with all of the rape scenes and misogynistic speeches highlighted. (Why had I even brought it to college in the first place? It was such an awful, disturbing book.) He came into my room when I wasn’t there and poured bleach into my fish tank. On Valentine’s Day, he nailed a dead mouse to my door by the tail, a “Roses are red” poem attached to it.
None of that was enough to make me report him. I felt ashamed. And I was scared of what he’d do next, if he found out I’d told anyone.
I found myself thinking about Anita Hill a lot. It had been only a year since Clarence Thomas’ confirmation hearings. I imagined coming forward to testify, 30 years in the future, if David actually ran for public office—if that ever happened, I’d need to be able to corroborate my story. I knew this was dramatic, but I also believed it was possible. Then–President Bush had gone to Yale. Bill and Hillary Clinton had graduated from the law school. So had Clarence Thomas and Anita Hill.
I told my counselor I just wanted her to know, in case anything worse happened, but I didn’t want David to find out I’d said anything. She believed all of it, which was a surprise and a relief. But she was only a senior, not much older than us, and this was 24 years ago. She agreed not to tell our college dean, but she did tell David’s counselor, who talked to David, who denied everything. Our counselors tried to help as best they could but ended up in a proxy war of “he said, she said.” I decided I had to go to the dean.
The dean told David he could finish the semester, as long as he stayed away from me. And sophomore year, he had to agree to live off-campus, so that I wouldn’t have to live in the same building as him again. My counselor told David privately that if she found out that he’d come anywhere near me, even once, she’d go straight to the New Haven Police, and they would not be nearly so lenient.
David never talked to me again. But not long before I graduated, one of his former roommates told me that he’d assaulted at least one other woman after me. By then, I understood that what he’d done to me wasn’t my fault. But if I’d been braver about speaking up, if I’d asked the university for more support or gone to the police myself, I might have been able to prevent what he’d done to another woman, or women. I spent a lot of time regretting that.
* * *
As I grew older, I saw that Clinton’s campaign staffer had been right. I was privileged to find myself in jobs where I had power to give other people opportunities, and I took that responsibility seriously. The more I accomplished at work, and the more generous I learned to be, the more confident and purposeful I became. I stopped trying so hard to make sense of everything that had happened to me—not just David, but all the things I couldn’t control—and focused on what I was capable of instead.
Meanwhile, I watched Hillary Clinton move on from standing by Bill in humiliating circumstances to become a senator, a presidential candidate, secretary of state, and then the first woman nominated to be president of the United States.
The fact that the first female nominee has had to endure the indignity of running against a man as hateful and incompetent as Donald Trump is embarrassing and sad and terribly frustrating. But the longer this campaign goes on, the more inevitable all of it seems. I’m an editor at Harvard Business Review. Every week, I see new evidence of how difficult and profoundly unfair many workplaces still are for women. And yet, power is finally beginning to shift. Many American men see rights as a zero-sum game, and they now feel that they’re the ones facing gender discrimination.
Threats of sexual violence—including comments like the ones Donald Trump and Billy Bush made on the Access Hollywood bus, and the ones recounted by Trump’s seemingly endless wave of accusers—aren't just a consequence of the system that has kept men in possession of nearly every form of public power for hundreds of years. They are integral to that system.
So it makes sense that we are talking about rape and sexual harassment this much. It makes sense that this showdown is so sickening and painful. Of course Hillary has to remain composed and gracious in the face of Trump’s misogyny and Bill Clinton’s sordid past, and patiently remind us of everything she’s achieved. All professional women have to do this at times, to some extent. But Hillary Clinton is a master of the form. She’s had more practice at it than any of us.
Here is what I’ve learned from watching Hillary since 1992: She refuses to be defined by what has happened to her or by what other people have done. Again and again, she changes the subject back to what she wants to do, to what she can do, to the work at hand. She insists that what she does is who she is. And that gives her power no one has been able to take away, no matter how hard they’ve tried.
Every year or so, I Google David’s real name. I have never found any evidence of him on the internet, which means as far as I’m concerned he might as well not even exist. I hope he isn’t still hurting women, wherever he is. But at least I know that he’s never going to be president.
Hillary Clinton is.

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FOCUS: Why Fighting for Justice Is Like Surfing |
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Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=31568"><span class="small">Rebecca Gordon, TomDispatch</span></a>
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Monday, 17 October 2016 10:29 |
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Gordon writes: "Sometimes I think the politically engaged life is like surfing. You expend an enormous effort paddling past the breaking surf. Then you sit on your board breathing hard, scanning the horizon for the wave. Sometimes you sit out there for a long, long time, but when that wave comes, you have to be ready to grab it - and enjoy it."
Black Lives Matter activist Jazmine Richards. (photo: Gary McCarthy)

Why Fighting for Justice Is Like Surfing
By Rebecca Gordon, TomDispatch
17 October 16
Consider it justice (of a sort): he who lives by the media dies by the media. I’m talking -- as if you had a scintilla of doubt -- about Donald Trump. If the Washington Post’s release of a video of his lewd conversation with Access Hollywood’s Billy Bush (that family again!) on his way to the set of Days of Our Lives proves to be the beginning of the end for him, there could be no more appropriate way to go. After all, we’re talking about the man whose greatest skill may be sensing the proximity of a camera and attracting it; about the man who, despite his recent denunciations of the use of unidentified “sources” in reporting his campaign, spent the 1970s, ‘80s, and ‘90s calling reporters as “John Miller” and “John Barron” to offer the latest scoop on one Donald J. Trump; about the man who launched his political career in part by citing an “extremely credible source” claiming Barack Obama’s birth certificate was a "fraud"; about the man whose boasts of routinely assaulting women were caught on camera.
He was always a media-made man. In return, he's had an uncanny ability to glue eyeballs -- never more so than in this unending Super Bowl of elections that has included a level of public crudeness once unimaginable and now the purest of cash cows. As CBS head Les Moonves put it earlier this year, speaking of The Donald’s performance: “It may not be good for America, but it's damn good for CBS... The money's rolling in and this is fun... Sorry. It's a terrible thing to say. But, bring it on, Donald. Keep going.” And keep going it has.
So if, in the last week-plus, the media finally said to him, “You’re fired!” and started him on his presidential death spiral, who better? And of course, all the unavoidable questions of our moment follow, ensuring through-the-roof ratings for a few more lucrative weeks until November 8th: How far will he go down? Can he recover? Who will he take with him? And what about the Republican Party?
Until now, it’s been such a close relationship. The Donald has played a significant role in transforming the news into the strange, obsessive, 24/7 creature it is today, and in return the media made him. That it can now unmake him should surprise no one but does highlight the basic asymmetry between them, since he’s incapable of unmaking them. In this context, stop thinking of the mainstream news as “the fourth estate.” It, not the Libertarians or the Green Party, is now the true third party of the present infotainment version of American politics. Get used to it. Les Moonves and his associates aren’t going anywhere. And count on it: election 2020 starts on November 9th. These are, after all, the days of our lives.
Luckily, not everyone has been glued to the screen, eternally watching The Donald. From Black Lives Matter to the climate change movement, activists have, as TomDispatch regular Rebecca Gordon points out, never stopped working to make this a better world and, as she indicates, if we can take our eyes off the media spectacle-cum-circus for a few moments, they offer us a kind of hope for our future that shouldn’t be ignored.
-Tom Engelhardt, TomDispatch
Learning to Claim Our Victories Or Why Fighting for Justice Is Like Surfing
n these dismal days of climate change, imperial decline, endless war, and in my city, a hapless football team, I seem to be experiencing a strange and unaccustomed emotion: hope. How can that be? Maybe it’s because, like my poor San Francisco 49ers who have been “rebuilding” for the last two decades, I’m fortunate enough to be able to play the long game.
But what exactly is making me feel hopeful at the moment?
For one thing, we seem to have finally reached Peak Trump, and the reason why is important.
Calling Mexicans rapists and drug dealers didn’t do it. Promising to bring back waterboarding and commit assorted other war crimes didn’t do it. Flirting with the white supremacist crowd and their little friend Pepe the Frog didn't do it. But an 11-year-old video tape of Trump bragging about grabbing women “by the pussy” seems to have been the drop of water that finally cracked the dam and sent even stalwart Republican leaders fleeing a flood of public revulsion.
In the midst of the most frightening and depressing presidential election of my life, the reactions to this latest glimpse into the Mind of Trump have actually lifted my spirits. Not that many years ago, an exchange like the one between Donald Trump and Billy Bush would hardly have been news. Sexual harassment was an expected part of the lives of working women -- par for a Trump golf course. I remember, for instance, paging through my family’s New Yorker magazines and coming across a Whitney Darrow cartoon about a lesson at a secretarial school. A businessman is chasing a woman around a desk as the teacher explains, “Notice, class, how Angela circles, always keeping the desk between them...”
There you have it: the devaluation of women’s work (secretarial skills reduced to techniques for evading the boss’s advances), the trivialization of sexual predation, and in Angela’s knowing smile, admiration for the woman who keeps her sense of humor while defending her virtue.
What’s most surprising about the response to Trump’s hot-mic moment is the apparent national consensus that speaking -- or even thinking -- about sexual assault the way Trump did on this video is neither normal nor amusing. This shared assumption that women are not trophies for the taking marks an advance toward full personhood that we have achieved only in my lifetime. When you stop to think about it, it’s an extraordinary cultural shift. And once people figure out that women are, after all, human, it’s pretty hard to stuff that genie back into the bottle.
Of course, there are still a lot of men who have a hard time with the woman-human being equation. Paul Ryan, for example, responded to the Trump video release by opining that “Women are to be championed and revered” -- a view that suggests we are either helpless creatures to be saved by a “champion” or other-than-human creatures belonging on some Victorian pedestal.
Then There’s Hillary
In her first debate with Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton actually said the words “systemic racism.” Never in our history has a mainstream presidential candidate described our country’s racial institutions in that kind of language. Indeed, one of the biggest political problems the movement for racial justice has faced in the post-Civil Rights era has been how to account for the fact that, absent legal segregation, people of color, and especially African Americans, remain disproportionately represented among the poor, the unhoused, and the incarcerated. Institutional, or systemic, racism describes the mechanism at play.
Here’s what Clinton said in that debate:
“And it’s just a fact that if you're a young African-American man and you do the same thing as a young white man, you are more likely to be arrested, charged, convicted, and incarcerated. So we've got to address the systemic racism in our criminal justice system.”
She’s right of course. And she deserves credit for saying it, but it’s the analysis of groups like RaceForward, the organizing skills of the young activists of Black Lives Matter, and the moral voice of older leaders like the Reverend William Barber II of the North Carolina NAACP who created the atmosphere in which she had to say it.
We are, in other words, witnessing a sea change in how people in mainstream politics talk about racism. Of course, there’s been pushback against Clinton’s rhetoric, but the idea that actual institutional structures exist that deeply constrain the lives of African Americans has now been admitted to the grown-ups’ table.
Black communities have long known that they, and especially their young men, are at risk of police violence. That’s why sooner or later so many black parents of every economic class have “the talk” with their children about how to try to stay safe (or at least safer). But in the two years since the murder of Trayvon Martin by a self-styled vigilante, Black Lives Matter has focused national attention for the first time on the repeated deaths of unarmed black men and women at the hands of those who are meant to protect and serve. Now, even the mainstream media no longer treat such deaths as isolated incidents unworthy of coverage. Instead, it is recognized that they form a systemic pattern, and even presidential candidates have to respond to that pattern. That is a victory and it was almost beyond imagination even a few years ago. Of course, the real victory will come when police stop shooting unarmed people, but at least now the country generally admits that it happens.
Similarly, many of us on the left have long known that wages in this country began to stagnate in the mid-1970s. We’ve watched the minimum wage (once intended to be for a family’s “breadwinner”) shrink to a poverty stipend. We’ve seen income and wealth inequality swell to the greatest levels since the Gilded Age of the nineteenth century. But it took the Occupy movement to remind us that the 99% could reclaim political power. It took organizations like OUR Walmart and the Fight for $15, lifted by Bernie Sanders’s run for the Democratic nomination, to bring that discussion into the mainstream.
For the first time in years, the words “working class” have slipped back into public discourse. CNN now runs stories with headlines like “Working class white men make less than they did in 1996.” A few years ago, as far as anyone could tell from the mainstream media, we lived in a country populated by a vast, undifferentiated “middle class,” and a few wealthy or impoverished outliers. Now, both the Trump and Clinton campaigns have found that they must address the pain of working people. We may not agree with their proposed solutions, but they have to talk about it. That, too, is a change and a victory of sorts.
Wait! You Mean We Won Something?
For many years I’ve noticed that my corner of the political world, roughly the American left, has had a very hard time recognizing and claiming our victories. Maybe that’s because it’s cost us so much to understand all the ways in which the standard American narrative is a lie, to grasp how little the American Way -- whatever Superman may have believed -- has had to do with truth and justice.
From birth, Americans normally swim in an ocean of heroic mythology about American exceptionalism, and for many of us it’s been difficult to make our way out of its riptides. So our knowledge has been hard-won. Figuring out that the United States is not the international defender of liberty we learned about in school wasn’t easy.
It took work to realize and accept, for instance, that our country routinely supported dictators and torturers. We opposed U.S. efforts to prop up strongmen like Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines and Augusto Pinochet in Chile, and called out the hypocrisy when the U.S. government was shocked! shocked! to discover what they actually were.
Having invested so much effort in recognizing the lies of the American exceptionalist narrative, we find it difficult to acknowledge when our government does something right.
The Paris Agreement on climate, signed by 190 countries, comes into effect this November 4th. That’s because on October 5th, the world met two key criteria: ratification by at least 55 of the signatory countries, and ratification by countries responsible for producing 55% of the planet’s greenhouse gases. It’s fair to say that, without the Obama administration, this agreement to confront the extinction-level threat that climate change represents would not have come into being. Like any compromise, it’s by no means a perfect accord, but it’s the best chance we’ve seen in a long time that the Earth will remain the habitable and welcoming place for human beings (among many other species) that it’s been these last tens of thousands of years. This victory belongs to environmental activists around the world, and we should claim it!
It’s almost as if, having worked so hard to understand the role and power of the United States on the world stage and of a ruling elite at home, we’ve imagined this country as a far greater powerhouse than it is. It’s almost as if recognizing any cracks in the edifice of American power might endanger that hard-won worldview. It’s almost as if the possibility that we can sometimes push our country to do something right, that our side can sometimes win, seems to rattle us. Faced with that disorienting possibility, I suspect it’s sometimes easier to believe that, while we must always fight the good fight, our adversary is too strong for us ever to expect victories.
On the domestic front many of us, both people of color and white Americans, have struggled to recognize our personal implicit racial biases. We’ve likewise taken the time and effort to reexamine what we were taught about U.S. history so that we could grasp the enduring and shape-shifting longevity of systemic racism. Knowing this history so well seems to make it harder for some of us to recognize and claim victories when they come. When, in front of 80 million Americans, Hillary Clinton says that “implicit bias is a problem for everyone, not just [the] police,” that is a victory, and we should take it in and savor it.
When President Obama responds to mass incarceration by commuting the sentences of federal drug offenders, that is a victory, however modest. It took half a decade for the ideas in Michelle Alexander’s groundbreaking book The New Jim Crow to penetrate to a mass audience. Now, the country has finally begun to recognize what prison activists have been saying for years: there is something very wrong when the “leader of the free world” has the largest prison population on the planet. An outrage that, a decade ago, was invisible to just about everyone except the affected communities and a small number of activists is now known to all. Our prisons are a national and international scandal and the spread of that knowledge -- and the urge to do something about it -- is also a victory, one worth celebrating, however provisionally.
Who’s Most Likely to Be Hopeful?
In the 1980s, I spent six months in Nicaragua’s war zones at a time when my government, the Reagan administration, was supporting the Contra armies against the Sandinista government. Together with many sectors of Nicaraguan society, the Sandinistas had thrown out the U.S.-supported dictator, Anastasio Somoza. Over and over I was struck by how living in the midst of war was like being stretched between two temporal realities.
In the morning, a Nicaraguan in the town of Jalapa might help dig a communal refugio to shelter children from airplane attacks. In the afternoon, she might risk attack or kidnapping by the U.S.-backed Contras to plant trees that would take years to mature on mountains that had been clear-cut by American lumber companies during the Somoza dictatorship. You always had one eye on the present and the other on a better future.
The Nicaraguans I knew seemed eternally ready for a party under the worst conditions imaginable. One day, in the city of Estelí, I remember running into an American friend who told me this story: she’d been feeling bummed recently because the Contras had attacked a little town near where she was living and killed seven children. It seemed to her as if this miserable war would never end. The family with whom she was staying was going to a fiesta that night and asked her along.
“I don’t feel like it,” she said. “I’m too depressed.”
“You can afford to be depressed,” they told her, “because you’re going home soon. We are the ones who will still be stuck in the war, so we have to have hope for the future. We have to dance. Now, get dressed, we’re going to a party.”
What group in the United States is most optimistic about the future? Surprisingly, according to a recent Gallup Healthways poll, it’s not the billionaires among us, but poor African Americans. A Brookings report on the poll suggests a number of reasons for this, and adds,
“[T]he optimism of black Americans -- especially the poorest -- is a reason to be a little more hopeful. The second term of our first black President is nearing its end, but a renegade political candidate with open disdain for minority groups is enjoying rising support. At such a moment in history, it is noteworthy that it is black Americans who seem to be keeping faith with the American Dream.”
Another poll, commissioned in 2015 by the Atlantic, found that “African Americans and Latinos are far more likely to be optimistic than their white counterparts, both about their personal station in life and the future of the country more broadly.”
Such people are anything but stupid. They know that their communities are confronting terrible challenges, but they know, too, how important it is not to forget to dance.
Why Doing Politics Is Like Surfing
How do outrageous ideas -- for example, that women are human beings, or that the U.S. locks up way too many people, or even that gay people should be able to get married if they want to -- suddenly morph into everyday commonsense? It’s rarely an accident. It almost always involves dedicated people working away for years on an issue, often unnoticed, before it seems suddenly to surge into general awareness.
Sometimes I think the politically engaged life is like surfing. You expend an enormous effort paddling past the breaking surf. Then you sit on your board breathing hard, scanning the horizon for the wave. Sometimes you sit out there for a long, long time, but when that wave comes, you have to be ready to grab it -- and enjoy it.
Even when the wave looks like a sinking Donald J. Trump.
Rebecca Gordon, a TomDispatch regular, teaches in the philosophy department at the University of San Francisco. She is the author of American Nuremberg: The U.S. Officials Who Should Stand Trial for Post-9/11 War Crimes. Her previous books include Mainstreaming Torture: Ethical Approaches in the Post-9/11 United States and Letters from Nicaragua.
Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and join us on Facebook. Check out the newest Dispatch Book, Nick Turse’s Next Time They’ll Come to Count the Dead, and Tom Engelhardt's latest book, Shadow Government: Surveillance, Secret Wars, and a Global Security State in a Single-Superpower World.

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FOCUS: Hillary Clinton, Paul Ryan, and the Crisis of American Capitalism |
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Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=39255"><span class="small">Robert Reich, Robert Reich's Website</span></a>
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Monday, 17 October 2016 10:26 |
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Reich writes: "Big money has corrupted our democracy, resulting in laws and rules that systematically favor big corporations, Wall Street, and the very rich over everyone else."
Former Clinton labor secretary Robert Reich. (photo: Steve Russell/Toronto Star)

Hillary Clinton, Paul Ryan, and the Crisis of American Capitalism
By Robert Reich, Robert Reich's Website
17 October 16
illary Clinton won’t be the only
winner when Donald Trump and his fellow haters are defeated on Election Day (as looks increasingly likely). Another will be Paul Ryan, who will rule the Republican roost.
Democrats may take back the Senate but
they won’t take back the House. Gerrymandering has given House Republicans an
impregnable fortress of safe seats.
This means that in order for President Hillary
Clinton to get anything done, she’ll have to make deals with Speaker Paul
Ryan.
While the Clinton-Ryan years won’t be marked by the same kind of petulant gridlock we’ve witnessed over the last eight, the ascendance of Ryan and Clinton will mark a win for big business and Wall Street over the strongest
anti-establishment surge America has witnessed since Great Depression.
Clinton might be able to
summon Ryan’s support on a “Buffet rule” for the highest-income taxpayers – an
effective minimum tax of 30 percent on top incomes. She might also be able to
wangle some additional spending on infrastructure and paid family leave.
But the price Ryan can be expected
to exact will be lower corporate tax rates, along with a tax amnesty on
corporate profits repatriated to the United States. And to offset the added
spending and tax cuts, Ryan will probably want Clinton to trim Social Security
(perhaps reviving the terrible idea of a “chained” CPI for determining cost of
living increases), and slow the growth of Medicare.
None of this will do much to remedy
the central economic challenge of our era – reversing the declining incomes and
wealth of most Americans.
Although incomes rose in 2015, the
typical household is still worse off today than it was in 2000, adjusted for
inflation. The assets of the typical family today are worth 14 percent less
than the assets of the typical family in 1984. And the typical job is less
secure than at any time since the Great Depression.
These trends are not sustainable – neither
economically nor politically. They generated the fury that’s
undergirded Trump’s ugly campaign, and fueled the anger that propelled Bernie Sanders’s
insurgency.
They’ve fed a growing sense that
the political-economic system is rigged in favor of those at the top.
And it is. Big money has corrupted
our democracy, resulting in laws and rules that systematically favor big
corporations, Wall Street, and the very rich over everyone else.
Consider, for example, the growing
market power of leading pharmaceutical companies, private health insurers, the biggest
Wall Street banks, giant cable providers, four major airlines, and five largest
high-tech companies. And the decreasing market power of unions.
The resulting imbalance is transferring
money out of the pockets of average Americans directly into the pockets of
major shareholders and top executives.
A similar upward distribution is
occurring through bankruptcy laws that allow giant corporations and billionaires
to avoid paying what they owe, yet don’t allow average people overburdened with
mortgage or student debt to renegotiate those obligations.
Mandatory arbitration clauses in
contracts with giant corporations are forcing people to give up rights under a
wide variety of consumer and employment laws. Meanwhile, workers classified as
“independent contractors” are losing whatever rights they once had under the
nation’s labor laws.
In all these respects, the American
political economy has become radically imbalanced.
The reforms Hillary Clinton and Paul
Ryan are likely to agree to are miniscule compared with the scale of this imbalance.
Hopefully, the leaders of big
business and Wall Street – the true winners of the 2016 election – will realize
that although they avoided Trump’s authoritarian populism and Sanders’s
“political revolution” this time around, they won’t for much longer.
The forces that gave rise to both
will grow unless our political economy is rebalanced to work for everyone and
not just for those at the top.
There is precedent. In the first
decades of the twentieth century, enlightened business leaders joined with progressive
reformers to rebalance American capitalism – thereby rescuing it from the
savage inequalities and corruption of the Gilded Age.
If they understand what happened in
the 2016 election, enlightened business leaders will do so once again.

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