The Republic is quietly, emotionally bleeding. The wounds are open and infected. The more I commute from project to project the more I become aware of the subtleties of America’s version of democracy coming apart…step by step, cut by cut…an existential aloneness in the midst of crowds. A hidden angst that thrusts itself into the spotlight now and then.
I don’t know to what extent comparing the country to a Banana Republic (e.g., Honduras) is applicable, exporting only bananas. It’s more complex than political instability. The complexity is political/economic and psychological sifted through the debilitating serrated knife wound of populism and disinformation, with a Republican establishment not being able to look beyond their own reflection in the mirror. Fear, money and power are intimate partners.
The Republic has achieved oligarchy status. The richest dominate the political, economic and social-psychological landscape. The so-called increase in jobs has been one of low paying signifying a master servant mentality and relationship. The states are not united.
There are minutes that feel like an hour and an hour like a minute…this sounds like an excerpt from a novel but commuting for me is a designed wayfaring not unlike trekking across the landscape of the country and of the mind. I get glimpses. And the glimpses are increasingly unsettling. The damage from the last four years profound. The disinformation is massive…the polarization has filtered through all aspects of life. Families and friends have increasingly split off from each other. There are murmurs. Gossip. What is new under the sun?
When I stop and listen carefully to an unfamiliar person and voice the angst is noticeable. Fear breeds anger. Anger strikes out aimlessly like Don Quixote fighting windmills. Even those I have known for years have changed in a darker manner than they might realize even though they may deny any change. “I am the same person I was 30 years ago.” Silence and a sigh follow.
There are those that I have met that hold on to a past that never was quite like they remember.
Follow the money. It’s an ancient phrase that has stood the test of time. Consider yourself a fortunate son or daughter if you were born into wealth and were able to make socially responsible use of your inheritance.
I drive and listen…the deep sadness is palatable. How long can an educated people be kept ignorant of truth?
The bleeding Republic is acknowledged. Actions have occurred both to clean the wound and repair it…filibustering does not repair…it aggravates and deepens the wound. Power is a jealous mistress.What does bipartisanship realistically mean? Who stands to gain the most? A standard contract or agreement or negotiated policy does not exist until names are signed on the bottom line…then it becomes the standard. Trust?
