The Anger

There is an insidious anger seeping through our collective discourse, the likes of which is somewhat common in the history of our republic, but which is peaking in the present. We are losing sight of the humanity of those we disagree with.

I am not very old or very wise, but I do know this: if you are capable of treating a stranger as a non-person, as sure as the sun rises in the east, you will treat your brother the same way when an invisible line is crossed.

"Community", like "love", "liberty", and "dignity", are not bromides. They are not slogans. They are real, albeit intangible, forces that make us what we are. We, in America, are one people.

How do I know this? I know this logically, since all Americans cede a considerable portion of their belongings to the state. I also know this as sure as I know how to breathe: people are people, and anyone who would deny another another person's humanity is a scourge upon the earth.

The history of the world is, among other things, the history of warring tribes, with grievances and mentalities that ring pathetically petty from earth orbit.

It is still too soon for the earth to move and think and act as one, but what of the United States? Why is it that we are still incapable of recognizing our common "American-ness"?

There is an anger. An anger and a fear. It is held by many. When people are angry and afraid, they look for people to lash out at. Jilted lovers, unappreciated artists, and 1930's Germans know exactly what I'm talking about.

In America today, this anger, which at its root is about a loss of control, threatens us in a dire way, a dire strait, which is based upon a crooked premise.

The American working class defeated Hitler and Tojo. The American government was sufficiently appreciative and intimidated that they subsidized the rise of the most powerful middle class in the history of the world, the perfect bulwark to both communism and fascism.

There was a time, in my father's adolescence, when a high-school graduate could smoke a pack per day, drink a six pack per night, own a house and two cars, put two kids through college, and have a wife that did not have to work unless she chose to.

That time is over. And therein lies the rage. The memory of what was. The question now is, "who will we scapegoat?" Will we scapegoat the immigrants, for taking our jobs? Will we scapegoat the poor for not "paying their way"?

The only hope that the republic has is the public. If we form a circular firing squad of poor folks, of single moms shopping at Wal-Mart that look at the Hispanic cashier at that Wal-Mart with misguided but very genuine hatred, then we are finished.

Immigrants are not the problem. They are human beings. And, if human beings are the problem, then suicide for the holder of such thoughts is the only logically consistent option. I defy any American to deny that they would sneak into Mexico if they could earn 5 times their current wage by doing so.

Law is not the problem, either. Those who clamor for immigration enforcement, such as myself, are not driven by racism or hate. I am driven by love and a sober appreciation for American limits.

We should let anyone into the United States, but not unless and until we can guarantee that they have full protection of the law, proper documentation, and adequate housing. I don't want to live in a country with 20 million non-persons.

I diverted into an unintended specificity with this piece; I did not mean to delve into the immigration issue, but it serves as an example of the larger issue. We must keep mind of our common humanity. Most of us want the same thing. Pity on the nation that loses sight of that.

When We forget that we are We, anything is possible. That's how Hitler started, and that's not hyperbole. When the We ceases to be the We, all the me's in the world don't add up to a God-damn thing.