I can’t watch regular TV anymore. It drives me crazy.
This morning was as good an example as any. My husband flipped on ‘Face the Nation’ just as Paul Ryan was telling David Gregory–with a straight face–that the Occupy Wall Street demonstrators and President Obama are “dividing Americans.” He made a great show of sadness at this clearly unwarranted state of affairs, while I had to be physically restrained from throwing something at the screen. I changed the channel as David Gregory was suggesting that perhaps, just perhaps the GOPs insistence on protecting their wealthy base at all costs while refusing to pass anything the administration suggested (even, he should have added, when the proposal had originally been theirs) might also be considered “divisive.”
It wasn’t a half-hour later that a Ballard commercial aired. The spot showed “citizens” (females–have you noticed that all Ballard’s attack ads feature women doing the negative messaging?) criticizing Melina Kennedy (no relation!) for tax increases that occurred when she was deputy mayor, and saying that property taxes have been lower under Mayor Ballard. The fact that property taxes are raised and lowered by the state legislature hasn’t kept Ballard from benefitting from them–he won election in the first place by blaming Bart Peterson for taxes that were levied primarily by the legislature. He obviously assumes that people aren’t any better informed about who does what than they were four years ago, and he can get away with claiming credit for something he had nothing to do with.
Two brazen lies within the space of an hour, and I was ready to see a kitchen remodeled or a yard crashed. I may not approve of those cherry cabinets–I may not like the fire pit installed in the patio–but I do enjoy the lack of mendacity, hypocrisy and self-importance. And after all, if the designers screw up the bathroom, it doesn’t affect my life.
When Congressmen sell the Republic to the highest bidders while ignoring the critical problems faced by so many Americans, it does affect me. When Mayors take credit for all manner of things that are either untrue (crime is down) or unwise (selling city assets to political cronies) or that they had nothing to do with (lower property taxes), it gives me ulcers.
I wonder where House-Hunters International will film next….
I recently introduced a panel on social justice.When I was asked to introduce that discussion, I realized that I had never really thought very carefully or systematically about the meaning of the terms “justice” or “social justice,” and I certainly hadn’t considered the ways in which social justice might differ from simple “justice.”
Many of us, of course, take our definitions of social justice from our respective religions: The word “justice” is a recurring theme in Judaism, for example. When I was growing up, I often heard biblical and Talmudic admonitions like “Justice, justice shalt thou pursue,” and “Do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with the Lord.” I later learned that the concept of social justice is a foundational aspect of Catholic theology, and that virtually every religious tradition addresses both the nature of justice, and our ethical obligations to the people with whom we share this planet.
But social justice isn’t simply a religious concept. Our constitutional system also incorporates a particular approach to justice issues, and as a recovering lawyer, I have usually tended to view justice issues through the Constitution’s “due process” lens: justice is fundamental fairness. (I do realize that “fairness” is like “pornography”–one of those “I know it when I see it” words.) In the legal system, we approach justice as a matter to be decided by looking at the facts of an individual case—did person A take unfair advantage of person B, and if so, what must person A do to set things right? What does fundamental fairness require?
Social justice also begins with the concept of fundamental fairness, but social justice is concerned less with how individuals behave and more with how society is structured. Social justice is aspirational, and its elements are subject to debate, but at its heart, the concept is concerned with mutual obligation and the common good. In its broadest outlines, a just society is one that meets the basic human needs of its members, without regard to their identities or social status—a society that does not draw invidious distinctions between male and female, black and white, gay and straight, religious and atheist, Republican and Democrat, or any of the other categories into which we like to sort our fellow humans. It is a society that recognizes and respects the inherent dignity and value of each person.
A country that exhibits social justice is one in which there is respect for human rights, recognition of human dignity, and an equitable distribution of social goods. (What is equitable, of course, is a matter of considerable debate: right now, many of us believe that social justice would require higher tax rates for the wealthiest Americans; others believe that “taxing success,” as they put it, is decidedly inequitable.)
Why does social justice matter? Why should we try to make our neighborhoods, our city, and our country more just? Let me suggest a couple of reasons why a more equitable society is in the best interests of even those people who don’t care about other people’s poverty, who don’t feel any obligation to feed hungry children or find jobs for ex-offenders or educate the children of undocumented immigrants.
First, of course, is the resource argument that most of us have heard. In order to remain competitive in the global economy, America needs to make use of all its talent. Social injustices that prevent people from contributing those talents cost all of us in lost opportunities and unrealized promise.
It’s obvious that many Americans don’t much care about this waste of resources, but the second argument is harder to dismiss. History makes a pretty compelling case that democracies require stability in order to survive. In countries where there are great gaps between the rich and poor, in countries where some groups of people go through their lives being marginalized or despised while others enjoy privileges and respect, in countries where some people are exploited while others benefit—that stability is hard to come by. A wealthy friend of mine once put it this way: “I’d rather pay more in taxes than spend my days worrying about angry mobs rioting in the streets or desperate people kidnapping my children.”
If that sounds more like social blackmail than social justice, it isn’t. It’s recognition of human nature. At the end of the day, after all, we are all in this thing we call a political community together, and we each benefit from the efforts of others. Elizabeth Warren, the Harvard professor and architect of the new federal consumer protection agency, who is running for Senate from Massachusetts, recently said it best.
“There is nobody in this country that got rich on his own. Nobody. You built a factory? Good for you. But I want to be clear. You moved your goods to market on roads the rest of us paid for. You hired workers the rest of us paid to educate. You were safe in your factory because of police forces and fire forces the rest of us paid for. You didn’t have to worry that marauding bands would come and seize everything at your factory…Now look. You built a factory and it turned into something terrific or you had a great idea—God bless! Keep a big hunk of it. But part of the underlying social contract is that you take a hunk of that and you pay it forward for the next kid who comes along.”
That statement conveys the essence of social justice. Warren recognizes—as far too many of us do not—that even in highly individualistic America, no one succeeds solely by his own efforts. There is a social and physical infrastructure supporting and enabling entrepreneurship and wealth creation, and we taxpayers have built and maintained that infrastructure. And that’s fine. That’s what it’s for. We all benefit when someone builds that better mousetrap, or improves on the other guy’s widget. But social justice means we should also support those for whom the existing infrastructure just isn’t sufficient or accessible.
There’s a credit card commercial that says “Membership has its privileges.” Membership in society should have its privileges as well. That’s not an argument for socialism, or for massive redistribution of wealth. It’s an argument for fundamental fairness, an argument that recognizes that we all benefit when our social structures operate in the interests of all of our members.
From time to time, greed and fear obscure the reality of our human interdependence. Unfortunately, we seem to be living in one of those times–an era characterized by an intentional refusal to recognize that there is such a thing as the common good, and a willful ignorance of the importance of mutual social obligation.
Addressing that willful ignorance is what social justice requires.
According to media reports, in last night’s debate between Melina Kennedy (no relation!) and Greg Ballard, the Mayor strongly defended his record. He cited crime reduction (a claim that can be considered true if you count only certain crimes, and ignore those annoying statistics about aggravated assaults and the like) and the privatization of parking meters.
Excuse me? Let’s deconstruct that. We are supposed to re-elect Ballard in gratitude for his decision to give away control of our parking infrastructure and some 60% of the fees we would otherwise earn for the next fifty years?
The ability to control meters may seem inconsequential, but it isn’t. Decisions about parking are a significant element in all sorts of development decisions; the ability to “bag” meters without penalty during downtown construction is a cost-control measure important to developers and others. It has been estimated that the city’s deal–which requires compensating ACS when more than a certain number of meters are bagged–added over a million dollars to the construction costs of the Cultural Trail.
When many of us protested the decision to contract away the lion’s share of parking revenues that would otherwise flow to the city, we were told that we needed the “expertise” of ACS–that the city couldn’t finance and manage its meters without the help of a sophisticated mega-corporation. (Evidently, the disastrous experiences of cities like Chicago that had entered into similar deals was considered irrelevant by Mayor Leadership.)
The bottom line, according to the Ballard Administration, was that it was necessary to trade a lot of city control and money for competent, experienced management.I thought that was a bad deal, but I assumed we would at least get the competent management. Evidently, I was naive.
Yesterday, in my Media and Policy class, a student raised the issue of how poorly local media had covered the administration’s privatization of the water company and parking meters. That led another student to complain that she had received a ticket despite having paid the fee–and was helpless to prove her payment since the meters don’t dispense receipts.
Her complaint opened a floodgate. Out of the 23 students in class, no fewer than 8 of them reported similar problems. Several had attempted to complain–complaints that, as one put it, were “blown off.” One student who had paid with a credit card was told the only way she could get a refund was to bring in her Visa bill. Another reported that her credit card was charged twice; when she tried to get the improper extra charge removed, the response was “how do we know you didn’t park twice?”
So, Mayor Ballard, let me understand this: I am supposed to vote to re-elect you, not despite the fact that you gave control of our parking and millions of our dollars to a company that is doing a crappy job, but because you did so?
As the Wall Street sit-ins spread, we are hearing more accusations of “class warfare.” Those accusations come from both ends of the political spectrum: the wealthy–particularly those whose wealth comes from the financial sector–accuse the protestors of enmity aimed at the “haves,” and the protestors and their supporters respond that corporate “fat cats” started the conflict by engaging in unethical practices motivated by greed that harmed “the other 99%.”
I actually don’t think what we are seeing is class warfare. I doubt if many of the protestors really have animus toward all those who are better off. They are just really, really angry at the increasingly successful efforts of bankers and others to shield themselves from the consequences of their own (mis)behaviors.
Nor do I think that corporate bigwigs are motivated by a desire to harm the (dwindling) middle class or poor. I doubt they even think about what their “Masters of the Universe” game-playing does to other people. (This lack of awareness–let alone concern–is in fact one of their most distasteful characteristics.)
Rather than dismissing these demonstrations by mislabeling them, I think they are general expressions of discontent with a political system that increasingly favors the well-positioned and well-resourced over other Americans.
The “other 99%” don’t hate rich people. They hate a system that increasingly takes from the poor to give to the rich.
Last night, Bob and I drove to Bloomington to see Jon Stewart at the IU Auditorium. This was no simple trip, since apparently every single mile of street, road and highway in Indiana is undergoing reconstruction requiring huge, slow-moving machines; we didn’t make it in time for our dinner reservations, but we did get to the show. And it was worth it!
Why don’t we have a high-speed train between Indianapolis and Bloomington? We own the right-of-way and it would seem to be a no-brainer. But I digress.
Jon Stewart is not only whip-smart and a close observer of the human condition, he has a great sense of timing, and the audience was constantly in stitches. (Bob began to worry about the woman sitting in front of us, who was laughing so hard he thought she might hurt something.)
At one point, Stewart explained that since he is Jewish and his wife is Catholic, they’ve decided to raise the children to be sad. During a riff on technology, he recounted his trip to the computer store where the 17-year old clerk yammered on about gigabytes and RAM; Stewart translated: “your current computer has 4 magic gerbils inside, but this new one has 8.”
The IU Auditorium is huge, and it was packed for the first of the two sold-out shows. Given that this is Indiana–albeit Bloomington, Indiana, which is slightly ‘bluer’ than, say, Greenwood–I was really surprised by the crowd’s reaction when, during his introductory remarks, Stewart said he’d met Indiana’s Governor. The Auditorium simply erupted in boos.
I have been under the impression that Mitch’s approval numbers remained fairly high; certainly, his press has been somewhere between favorable and fawning. Political nerds (like yours truly) have serious concerns about some of his policies, but our numbers are small. So I don’t know what to make of this unexpected crowd reaction, and from his demeanor, I don’t think Stewart expected it either.
All together, an interesting and enjoyable evening, except for the drive. Can we talk about the virtues of high-speed rail?
