Obama, Guantanamo, and Being American

When the news about Guantanamo broke, I lost faith in my country. I didn't even know I had faith in my country until I lost it: but the notion that in America we would have a gulag -- that we would run this gulag in Cuba because American soil wouldn't have it -- this got to me.

It's a terrible thing for a man to lose faith in his country. I'm not disposed to be sentimental about the US: it's a legal agreement among its citizens which is meant to allow us to get on with our daily business, and that's it. Generally those we hire as stewards to that legal agreement turn out to be crooked patriots who promise us 150% and compromise 140 of it to deliver 10, and when that turns out to be the 10% that gets them re-elected we say they're good men and women.

The first time I felt like an American was in college. I was dating a young Chinese lady who loved my eyes: and it may sound foolish relating this to you, but I simply could not understand why that was -- after all, she was the one with the Asiatic fold -- until I made the intuitive leap and realized that she was used to seeing only people who had Asiatic folds. To her, my eyes were exotic.

We were sitting in her car in one of those long silences that young couples look at each other in, and she was just so pretty that I winked at her. Wide-eyed, she blinked back: eyes closed, eyes opened. Puzzled, I winked again; and again, she blinked: eyes closed, eyes opened. She didn't know about winking. It was invisible to her.

It was in that moment, winking at a girl and not being understood, that I first felt very, very American. And I had no idea how to understand that feeling.

Not approving of the President is familiar to me; so is thinking that the President should stop hiding behind the Bible, behind the flag, and behind children; I've often thought that the President should stop feeling our pain and get down to business. Being scared of fundamentalist whack-o's who believe nuclear Ragnarok will bring the Second Coming is nothing new either. I'm used to feeling dutifully appalled at the dirty tricks our government has played on other nations -- killing a few natives here to make big business a fast buck; subverting a democracy there because they're leaning toward the kind of government held by that bastion of evil, Sweeden -- sure. But I never really felt ashamed until Guantanamo; until the gulag.

I am not sentimental about Barak Obama; I hope he will be a good steward, because we need to give him a free hand. And it's complicated: because we need to keep an eye on him while understanding that the Republican attack machine is right now studying how to take him down. This is what will happen:

President Obama will be followed in the news like a rock star. After one year, Times and Newsweek will start asking why he hasn't accomplished anything. After a year and a half, some idiotic manufactured scandal will hit -- he'll be found in bed with a dead moose, killed by Sarah Palin; or whatever. He'll reply, no, it was only a mounted set of antlers, and we were snuggling on the couch. And, appealing to our moral rectitude, to our love of our children and the blood of the men and women who fought and died for this country, the Republicans will accuse him of cowardice, of deviance, of corruption, of conspiracy, and of anything else they think might work:

Because although most Republicans are good people, they listen too much to people who want nuclear Ragnarok to bring the Second Coming; and although they are good people, they are too ready to be used by the financial leeches who created this terrible economy: by the people who thought the economy was great until last month, who want the bailout to restore the economy we had in August.

Obama needs to have a free hand; we need to protect him against these people. You voted -- but that's not enough. Get the phone number of your Senator; of your Congressman; get their email; and in these coming years, hassle them mercilessly. Call them once a week and demand to know what they're doing about the economy; about the war; call them while you're doing dishes; call them while you're drunk. Next time you call Mom set it up as a conference call. When they send you fliers, write them nasty emails demanding a more specific, less superfical description of their stand. Accuse them of patronizing you, because they do; accuse them of insulting your intelligence. Invite them to a town hall meeting in your neighborhood and make it happen: You hired these people, you are paying them, and you can't just show up once every four years and bellyache that things aren't how you want them. And--

Write a letter welcoming Obama to the Whitehouse, and outline in one page what it is you want him to do. And mail it now. Write on the envelope: "To be opened January 21, 2009." Let W. hang on to it for you.

For my part -- I didn't think I'd see a black President until I was a very old man. This redeems us -- we still have the present nightmare to deal with, but the old nightmares which have so troubled our past can be laid to rest. And for that, and the chance to participate in that, I am deeply grateful and proud.

-FreeClench