Propaganda Versus Journalism

Manufactured consent is essentially the end result of propaganda; the conformity of thought that exhibits itself in a nationalistic dogma.

Obtaining Consent in the Digital Age

The disease of the liberal class is the specious, supposedly ‘professional’ insistence on objectivity. Before the rise of commercial newspapers, journals of opinion existed to influence public sentiment via arguments–not to stultify readers with lists of facts. Our oldest universities were formed to train ministers and inculcate into students the primacy of the common good. Labor unions had a vision of an egalitarian society that understood the inevitability of class struggle. Artists from Mark Twain to John Steinbeck sought not only to explain social, political, economic, and cultural reality, but also to use this understanding to fight for a social order based on justice. Movements that defied the power elite often started and sustained these liberal institutions, which were created as instruments of reform. One by one, these institutions succumbed to the temptation of money, the jargon of patriotism, belief in the need for permanent war, fear of internal and external enemies, and distrust of radicals, who had once kept the liberal class honest. And when it was over, the liberal class had nothing left to say.”

− from “Death of the Liberal Class” by Chris Hedges

The above is a cynical sentiment, if ever there was one, because it speaks to the failure of the liberal establishment in the past tense. In Death of the Liberal Class, Hedges reserves his venom for those who should know better: the liberal elite who, by design, are supposed to act as a buffer to the establishment; what Thoreau called “counter friction to stop the machine.” Instead, as a nation, we have submitted to the masters of the corporate state by handing them our thoughts. Even those who retain them–the liberal class of clergy, scholars and journalists Hedges speaks of–have either tempered or fully vanquished these thoughts for fear of systematic retribution, which is to say, loss of freedoms and livelihoods. Speaking out against corporate America or the government is to risk losing everything.

The indoctrination of an idea or of a complete ideology into the people of a nation happens in one of two ways. The first is by force. Noam Chomsky describes this authoritarian methodology of “consent without consent” as prescribed by the 19th century American sociologist Franklin Henry Giddings, who reasoned that an imperialist agenda–whereby a conquered nation is forced to adopt the ideological systems of the conqueror–could be a noble pursuit. According to Giddings, this validity of consent without consent is rationalized afterward when the conquered people “see and admit that the disputed relation was for the highest interest.” This was the imperialist rationale used in Southeast Asia and Latin America by the United States and in India by Britain. It’s nothing new.

But the world no longer buys in to American consent without consent. Our missions abroad have been too transparently imperialistic in the eyes of the world, which is why we are so routinely, yet cautiously, chastised by other nations. Selling wars that were waged abroad in the 20th century relied on this form of posthumous “consent” from people in nations we deigned to conquer. Obtaining consent at home proved far more difficult as Americans began to understand the specious, unconscionable motives behind our “democratic” efforts in Vietnam, in particular. But the rise of anti-war protests had less to do with American sentiment toward the people of Vietnam and more to do with conscription. The era of genuine protest ended with the discontinuation of the draft in 1973.

Undaunted, our belligerence has overcome the loss of faith entrusted in us by other nations after World War II and spurred America toward the “go it alone” philosophy adopted over the past few decades. This was best exhibited by George W. Bush’s “you’re either with us or against us” attitude in the months leading to our war in Iraq. Despite having the world’s sympathy after 9/11, America bullied other nations into a tepid alliance in support of our hostilities against Iraq–a country that simply had nothing to do with the terrorist attacks of 9/11, and was ruled by a regime more repressive of Islamic militants than any Western nation in the alliance.

Yet bullying the world into complicity was one thing. Gaining support among Americans was a different matter altogether. Americans were not going to be forcibly cajoled into supporting an invasion in Iraq. Thus began an explosion of anti-Islam and pro-war propaganda within the United States concealed in the language of jingoism. “When the resources of violence are limited,” writes Chomsky, “the consent of the governed must be obtained by the devices called ‘manufacture of consent.’”

Corporate media fell in line almost immediately with the government narrative after 9/11. Spreading democracy became the euphemism for sacking regimes. Caskets containing the bodies of U.S. soldiers were shielded from public view. The field of battle became known as “theater.” Despite sending our troops into harm’s way for undemocratic purposes, the phrase “support our troops” became ubiquitous and was spoken without irony. Laws that stripped Americans of civil liberties and privacy were passed in the name of “Homeland Security,” which itself has become more than a cottage industry. To wit, the Homeland Security Research Corporation, a D.C.-based research firm, estimates that just the U.S. market alone will “grow from $74.5 billion in 2012 to $107.3 billion in 2020.”

Journalists who spoke out against the war, such as Chris Hedges, were smeared and tarred as unpatriotic. Artists who criticized the war, such as the Dixie Chicks, were ostracized and threatened. Americans were whipped into a frenzy by a government that warned of imminent destruction in the homeland by radical Islamists. Officials spoke with urgency about “weapons of mass destruction.” Before anyone could process what was happening, we were at war, overthrowing Baghdad, the capital of Iraq, 1,500 miles away from Afghanistan, where we were told the jihadists had planned 9/11—1,500 miles away from another war we already started and soon forgot. A war that would eventually become America’s longest engagement in “theater.”

In his book Crude World, Peter Maas, who was reporting from Baghdad at the time of our invasion, wrote, “President George W. Bush insisted before the invasion that it had nothing to do with oil, that it was about weapons of mass destruction and, to a lesser extent, democracy. He was not being honest.” Maas describes how “in Baghdad, the Ministry of Oil turned into the Ministry of Truth… While most government buildings, including the National Museum, were looted of everything from artwork to computers and light bulbs, after which the remains were often set alight, the Oil Ministry…was untouched.” He quotes a ministry official who told him, “The Americans will not steal the oil but they will control it; they will pull the strings.” And indeed we do; we have.

Manufactured consent is essentially the end result of propaganda; the conformity of thought that exhibits itself in a nationalistic dogma. It comes from the repetition of twisted logic delivered through mainstream media channels, logic that somehow turns our authentic subconscious into synthetic reality. Blood for oil under the pretense of spreading democracy. Tax cuts for the wealthy as a way of helping the poorest among us. Corporate campaign contributions protected as free speech. Less regulation as a way to stabilize the financial markets. Bollox, every bit of it.

Manufactured consent: backward logic and nonsensical ideas sold as pragmatic solutions to social ills and economic misfortune bought hook, line and sinker by a public pounded into submission by a relentless barrage of misinformation from seemingly credible sources. Robert McChesney, in his introduction to Noam Chomsky’s People Over Profit, observes that “proponents of neoliberalism sound as if they are doing poor people, the environment, and everybody else a tremendous service as they enact policies on behalf of the wealthy few.”

Maddeningly, we have so much of the right information at our fingertips. As much as the digital age has given malevolent propagandists the ability to more easily disseminate false information, the same holds true for quality. Unfortunately, great information and quality journalism tend to be crowded out on social media by “listicles,” memes and pictures of cats. The world is complex and therefore the great stories (and there are many) take time to produce and time to digest. And time is slipping away from all of us.

Gun Control: Something Bigger

We define ourselves by our singular identity, instead of in the context of community. That makes it easier to shoot those neighbors, and to stomach it when they shoot each other.

It seemed unfair and even cruel to open brightly wrapped presents by the fire this past Christmas when there were twenty sets of parents in Connecticut grieving and devastatingly un-merry.

With the gun control debate taking over the national conversation, l’ve forced the writer in me to look at the issue critically, to reconcile the far-left idea of gun control with conservative fears of a too far-reaching government.  But it was the mom in me who “liked” The Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence and as such, has been drawn into debate with right-leaning friends through social media.  “It’s not the gun laws,” I’ve been chastised.  “It’s the culture.”  A culture of violence based on a departure of religious celebration in deference to political correctness, a culture of video games that have taken over parental duties in what are now the new normal: broken families.  And a culture that celebrates violence in song lyrics that brags about gun murder and echo misogynist sentiments of “hoes” and “bitches.”  It’s the natural progression of the deterioration of this country, so I’m told.

It would make theoretical sense that exposure to violence in films and the pretense of shooting people in violent video games would desensitize children to violence in actual reality.  In practice, however, the research suggests otherwise. A ten-country comparison reported by the Washington Post shows little correlation between video games and gun murder.  In fact, the countries that tend to have the highest rate of video game consumption rank lowest in gun murders, seemingly because these countries are richer and more fully developed.  So the economy tends to affect the purchase and use of video games, but that statistic doesn’t carry over to gun violence.  Simply put, video games don’t create killers. As a friend recently told me, “I’ve been playing Grand Theft Auto since I was ten and I’ve never had the urge to pistol whip a prostitute.”

We know that the Japanese play violent video games, yet their fire-arm related death rate is the second lowest in the world. Violent movies like Trainspotting, Hellraiser, and the slew of Guy Ritchie films originate in the UK. The British are a violent people as well, as their history and crime rate will show you, but due to strict laws, gun violence is not an issue there.   It’s embedded in us here.  In our culture.

It must be something bigger.

Is it in the parenting?  In Nancy Lanza’s case, that certainly seems to be a fair assumption.  She bought semi-automatic assault weapons, introduced them to a child of nine who seemed to have been showing signs of disturbance, and had them within reach of that son. Yet, this wasn’t the case with the parents of the Columbine shooters, or others.  My  own son unwrapped a Nerf Hail-Fire rifle this Christmas.  It shoots out 200 foam bullets at lightning speed.  He was nothing less than ecstatic at uncovering this bounty.  But it made me feel uncomfortable, in light of recent events.  Am I complicit in the expansion of this violent culture?  Is this how it starts?  What exactly is the appeal of such a toy gun?  What is he thinking in his mind when he aims it at his little sister, who screams in delight for at least having captured his attention for a few spare minutes, even if it is only to be his target?

If I had withheld the toy guns, might this have fostered an obsession, something like forbidding sweets to a child who grows up to be a Type-2 diabetic candy fiend?  How can you know?  These are the complexities of parenting, the second-guessing, the regret and the unknowing.  But as parents we move forward, and if we are lucky, we get to learn from our mistakes.  We allow ourselves to build on the successes of our past and learn from the missteps of others.

Can the disintegration of “family values” be the source of the corrosion of society? Or is it dangerous to mark non-traditional families as a pock on society? I know families with gay parents that are filled with the same love and discipline that I strive to have in my own two-parent heterosexual home.  Single mothers have raised two of the last three Presidents. And only heterosexual parents have ever bred American mass murderers. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say that heterosexuality is the cause.

Pop music today has some blatant sexual references, designed to shock parents, but if you think that’s a new phenomenon, ask your grandparents about what their parents thought of their music.  The modern equivalent of the chicken or the egg conundrum seems to be the question of whether violence in our art is the cause or the reflection of what we see.  And although we can find examples of how art and literature can change the world (Catch 22, for example, or the writings of the Harlem Renaissance that helped to spur the Civil Rights Movement), the answer seems to lie in the after.  Like Monet’s water lilies or Van Gogh’s sunflowers, the artists of the world are painting what they see before them, in the mediums that are available: television, film, song writing – especially rap lyrics. And it’s there on Twitter, on Facebook, in blogs and advertising and gaming.

So how did it get there?

Michael Moore cites one of the main problems with this country to be the “Me” syndrome, a culture that translated from “pull yourselves up by your bootstraps” to a separation where we don’t care about our neighbors’ problems: poverty, lack of healthcare, education.  We blame the poor for their own missteps and misfortunes, their lack of success.  We define ourselves by our singular identity, instead of in the context of community. That makes it easier to shoot those neighbors, and to stomach it when they shoot each other.

That gun owners are motivated by fear is apparent.  The argument for unrestricted weaponry appears to be the threat of a government overcome by tyranny.  Background checks and registration lists that can be cross-checked inspire a fear that the government is compiling a master list from which to work when they come to confiscate all guns (and then enslave us.)

But what if believing that this is fear motivated is too charitable?  What if it stems from our uniquely American sense of ownership and entitlement, reflected and distorted by US policy?  Noam Chomsky chronicles the attitude that has informed the American zeitgeist since World War II, when the United States was the global power that we pretend it is today. In his book “Power Systems: Conversations on Global Democratic Uprisings and the New Challenges to U.S. Empire,” Chomsky discusses an event in 1949 in which the U.S. “lost China.” That China’s emancipation was independent of the U.S., who in fact, cannot “lose” something it doesn’t own, was lost on American leaders. It bred fear that we might “lose” the Middle East or Latin America. Our ownership of the entire planet, its resources, people, economies is so engrained in our collective psyches that it informs so much of who we are as people, and what we tolerate from our own government. Is it possible that our tacit consent to the United States throwing its weight around the world, under the guise of “nation building,” informs our domestic egos and our intolerance for dissenting opinions?

Our rights have become our righteousness.

We infringe our notions of “freedom” and democracy in the world unilaterally, at gun point, in oil-rich deserts only because of this sense.  This is how we justify indefinitely detaining prisoners in Guantanamo without due process, though we pride ourselves on due process as a distinction from other countries and as a way to prove how civilized we are.  This is what allows us to justify unmanned drone strikes that don’t have nearly the precision we’d like to believe they do, that cause death and destruction to people in countries we cannot pronounce, yet we bow our heads and cry when one of our schools gets shot up.

We laugh about global warming.  We ridicule Al Gore and his wishy-washy environmentalism, preferring our version of badass representatives who kill, sometimes without provocation. We gobble up the resources of the planet as our birthright. That sense of entitlement – the we “lost China” syndrome – is uniquely American. The fear that the government is coming to take our guns – to take away our rights to protect ourselves with high-capacity rifles, shotguns, AR-15s, our right to shoot someone thirteen times without reloading, stems from this American ideal.

My right to kill you is stronger than your right to live.

From foreign policy to individual rights, we hail from the promised land, the chosen country whose rights supersede all others.  It makes sense that who we are as a country informs who we are as citizens. This naturally includes our attitude about immigration, global warming, and gun ownership. This is the culture from which mass murder is committed – atrocities far and wide. Blaming video games, rap lyrics, and divorce is lazy. And dangerous.

What divides us from all other countries?

Both the writer and the mother in me fear that it just might be good PR.

Gun Nuts and Chilled Speech

When Daniel Ellsberg, Chris Hedges and Noam Chomsky, along with a handful of the world’s most prominent political activists, join together to bring suit against you in U.S. federal court it’s fair to say you have a problem.

Okay, so now we’re all armed. Present company included. Great job, America. Now what?

The debate over gun control would be uproarious if it wasn’t so pitiful. In typical American fashion we have taken to the streets and airwaves in the aftermath of Sandy Hook to engage in an irrational debate that, once again, places misguided ideology over common sense and humanity. If we’re going to have this conversation, let us at least place the discussion within its proper historical context so we may raise a more troubling question:

Why bother taking the guns when you can indefinitely detain their owners? 

Lost in the emotion surrounding the debate over the Second Amendment is a far more insidious assault on the First Amendment. In no way am I diminishing the consternation over our right to bear arms as citizens; rather, I’m making a pragmatic case for a far more clear and present danger than the idea that federal agents will show up at our doorstep to commandeer our weapons. Before we get to this larger and more important point, let us dispense with the ridiculous.

Of course, we shouldn’t sell guns to crazy people, just like we don’t give a driver’s licenses to  blind people. Of course, citizens shouldn’t own military-style weapons with enough ammunition to wipe out a village. Newsflash: the government has neither the authority nor the desire to seize our guns. We hold the dual distinction of being the planet’s most armed nation and its biggest dealer of arms. What does this mean? The gun culture is here to stay because it’s profitable as hell.

And another thing: Stop yelling sanctimoniously about what the Founding Fathers would say. Find out what they did say. Media pundits insult our intelligence by twisting the meaning of the Constitution and the rationale behind it. So instead of arming yourself with high-capacity weapons, arm yourself with knowledge and learn about the Second Amendment from those who wrote it.

Founding Father Knows Best

During the two short years between the ratification of the Constitution and the introduction of the Bill of Rights, three of the greatest minds in America publicly explored the rationale behind the country’s founding document. A trio of intellectual giants writing interchangeably under the name Publius—Alexander Hamilton, John Jay and James Madison—produced a collection of essays now known as The Federalist Papers. They are essentially crib notes to the Constitution left behind by the Founding Fathers.

These are treasured breadcrumbs of reasoning that lead us to understand that the great military concerns of the day were whether or not to allow a standing army and how to prevent one state from acquiring military dominance over another. (The nascent nation could ill-afford Virginia to sack Rhode Island.) This dilemma was at the heart of the federalist argument for a centralized authority. At the same time, the Founding Fathers knew that the great balancing act of the day was in maintaining enough military force to defend against external foes while simultaneously preventing armed insurrections from within.

Publius reasoned that neither citizens nor tyrants should have the ability to circumvent our legal system, therefore arms and force should be evenly rationed but employed by a central government when necessary. (For the politically impaired, this is the part about a well-regulated militia.) The framers of the Constitution were dubious when it came to having full-time, professional soldiers. After all, these men were revolutionaries themselves who intimately understood the danger of uprisings. Moreover, America was also flat broke and could never have paid for a standing army. They did, however, believe Congress should have the ability to organize a militia when necessary.

It was Hamilton (as Publius) who offered the most succinct viewpoint on the military. “To render an army unnecessary will be a more certain method of preventing its existence than a thousand prohibitions on paper.”

To have an army or not? If so, how best to regulate it? This was the debate. The easiest way to raise a militia was to call upon the armed citizenry should the need arise. (This is the right to bear arms part.) More importantly, it was cheap. The ability to compensate servicemen would become one of Hamilton’s central arguments in favor of a national bank—a far more delicate subject at the time than the right to bear arms would ever be. 

It’s fair to say even the Founding Fathers could never have imagined modern warfare and the rise of the military industrial complex. Nor could they have imagined the destructive capability of assault weapons in the hands of citizens. This much is clear from their writings: the Founding Fathers would have punished any idiot who attempted to stockpile enough weapons to take on the government long before they tolerated government prohibition of speech.

On several occasions our founders saw fit to violently quell popular uprisings in order to preserve the central authority of the union. In this there was great philosophical unity among them. They argued more about banking than guns and cared more about protecting speech than organizing militias. It was John Adams who created a divide among them when, as president, he passed the Alien and Sedition Acts, jarring both Thomas Jefferson and James Madison out of retirement; not because they were fearful of his demagoguery with respect to force, but because these acts took away a more sacred right: free speech.

This brings us to the larger issue at hand.

Just as Jefferson and Madison recoiled at the behavior of Adams once in office, the great intellectual giants of our day have come together to challenge President Barack Obama’s authority. 

The man who released “The Pentagon Papers” and forever changed the way in which we view our involvement in Vietnam. The award-winning multilingual journalist who quit the New York Times because it was too tepid and conservative. America’s foremost dissident who has influenced generations of thinkers and helped shape liberal intellectualism. When Daniel Ellsberg, Chris Hedges and Noam Chomsky, along with some of the world’s foremost political activists such as Jennifer “Tangerine” Bolen – the organizing force of the plaintiff’s team – join together to bring suit against you in U.S. federal court it’s fair to say you have a problem.

Such is the predicament Obama finds himself in today. The above group has brought suit against the government for infringing upon free speech as defined by the Constitution. Thus far, and thankfully, they are winning. Their lawsuit (which I refer to herein as the Hedges suit) not only challenges the government’s unconstitutional behavior, it casts a light on a dangerous trend in America and exposes a surprising secret weakness in the White House and the Justice Department.

Incarceration Nation

“There are now more people under ‘correctional supervision’ in America—more than six million—than were in the Gulag Archipelago under Stalin at its height.” —Adam Gopnik, The New Yorker, 2012.

The woeful mash-up of Conservatives, Libertarians, Tea Party loyalists and Democrats who wouldn’t know a liberal idea if the ghost of Gore Vidal whispered it to them, are so busy deconstructing America’s gun culture they have ignored a more alarming cultural trend: the culture of incarceration.

In addition to being the most armed nation in the world, America also has the greatest percentage of its population behind bars. While this trend has steadily risen over the past few decades, it has gained a level of acceptability in the post-9/11 era. Perhaps, this is why so few bristled at the passage of the provision the Hedges suit aims at. 

The plaintiffs in this suit have made the case in federal court that the Obama administration and Congress violated the First Amendment with the signing of the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) of 2012. The Act is a routine bill that organizes defense spending for the year and typically garners little attention from citizens and the media. But the 2012 Act contained a new provision authored in secret by Sen. John McCain—known as Section 1021—that was so alarming it prompted the above suit.

Essentially, Sec. 1021 expands the scope of existing law that allows the government to hunt terrorists in connection with 9/11 to include anyone seen as providing “substantial support” of terrorism. Ever. Anywhere. The provision offers vague language that attempts to couch it within existing statutes but its very existence is evidence that the government is seeking more expansive authority.

In September of 2001 the White House put forward several provisions that gave the government the power to prosecute those responsible for the terrorist attacks on 9/11. The joint resolution—the Authorization for Use of Military Force (AUMF)—passed Congress quickly and included nearly everything the Bush Administration requested. Everything, that is, except a provision that could have been interpreted as granting the government the ability to militarily detain U.S. citizens. This denial was subsequently upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court.

The Hedges suit argues that the broadness of Sec. 1021 and vagueness of the “substantial support” language endanger journalists and activists and theoretically expose U.S. citizens to indefinite military detention.

Katherine B. Forrest, district judge in the U.S. District Court Southern District of New York, presided over the opening salvo of the Hedges suit and delivered a resounding victory to the plaintiffs, and an injunction against enforcement of Sec. 1021, excoriating the government and its case in the process. In her decision she states, “The Government was unable to provide this Court with any assurance that plaintiffs’ activities…would not in fact subject plaintiffs to military detention.”

For its part, the government’s sole defense seemed to be inaction: If no one has yet been detained, then obviously there is no cause for alarm. Basically, their defense is that even though Sec. 1021 says that the government can punch you in the face if it doesn’t like your shirt, it hasn’t done it yet; therefore we must assume it won’t. Judge Forrest wasn’t buying it. Her decision examines various laws pertaining to what the government defines as criminal statutes related to terrorist activities of behavior in “material support” of such activities. In each case, laws are clearly designed to honor due process. She further argues that the plaintiffs are rightly concerned that Sec. 1021 falls outside the scope of constitutionality with respect to habeas corpus and is therefore not consistent with any legal precedent.

This is where it gets really, really interesting.

 Judge Forrest: “Section 1021 appears to be a legislative attempt at an ex post facto ‘fix’: to provide the President (in 2012) with broader detention authority than was provided in the AUMF in 2001 and to try to ratify past detentions which may have occurred under an overly broad interpretation of the AUMF.”

Whoa.

President Obama doesn’t have a journalism problem. He’s not afraid of liberal scholars, protests, or homegrown terrorism on the rise because of access to Jihadist websites. Barack Obama has a Guantanamo problem.

Ah, Guantanamo. Hundreds of suspected terrorists or their affiliates have been brought here for questioning. Scores have been indefinitely detained. Recall then-candidate Obama’s assurance that Gitmo would be closed. Upon becoming president, it didn’t take long for the political reality to set in that the remaining prisoners weren’t coming ashore to stand trial anytime soon.

On the one hand, the government makes the case that Sec. 1021 is no different than existing authority granted under the AUMF. On the other hand, the government stands by the need for this provision to continue its mission to find and prosecute suspected terrorists, as though AUMF isn’t sufficient enough. Judge Forrest barely shields her disdain for this conflicting stance and rightfully concludes that “Section 1021 is, therefore, significantly different in scope and language from the AUMF.” She goes on to wag her finger at the attorneys for the government, saying, “Shifting positions are intolerable when indefinite military detention is the price that a person could have to pay for his/her, or law enforcement’s, erroneous judgment as to what may be covered.”

Back to Hedges et al. for a moment. Stymieing the government’s continued attempt to cover up potential war crimes at Guantanamo may have been an incredible, yet unintended consequence of the Hedges suit. Remember, the plaintiffs in the Hedges suit aren’t suing over Guantanamo. That’s a different fight. Rather, they take issue with the inherent danger of the language to citizens, activists and journalists. Nevertheless, Sec. 1021 is still on the books as the suit is pending appeal. And regardless of whether or not any U.S. citizen has been specifically detained as a result of its passage (and how would we know?) it must disappear.

For his part, President Obama issued a signing statement distancing his presidency from Sec. 1021. But actions speak louder than words and in many ways he has been far more active in assaulting civil liberties than President George W. Bush ever was. Whether through the wide use of drone strikes in Pakistan, Yemen and Somalia or numerous examples of prosecutorial overreach—most recently the tragic case of “hacktivist” Aaron Swartz—or the failure to speak out against the alphabet soup of dwindling liberties (SOPA, PIPA, FISA) Obama has given the public little evidence that he cares about this issue. Perhaps even more troubling is that his tenure as a constitutional law professor has been touted so often that one can only assume he understands the complexity of the issue but has chosen to ignore it, or worse take advantage of it. Bush was able to play the no-nonsense (you’re either with us or against us) cowboy card. Obama has chosen to play the steely intellectual card, and in doing so has created legitimate cause for alarm.

All of which brings us back to the gun debate. As much as I am sympathetic to the right to bear arms, I refuse to capitulate to the cheap argument that it includes the right to possess combat-style weaponry. Furthermore, I’ve grown weary of the ignorant protestations from right-wing figures who poison the words of the Founding Fathers and miss the bigger picture altogether.

The more we divorce ourselves from the notion of liberty, the more abstract it becomes; the more divisive our discourse, the more perilous our future. The vociferous gun debate obscures the very real, current and existing assault on our civil liberties. And know this: Were they alive today, not only would Hamilton, Jay and Madison have joined Ellsberg, Hedges and Chomsky as plaintiffs in this lawsuit, they would challenge every right-wing blogger, talk radio host and television pundit who twisted their words to a duel.

With a pistol, not an assault rifle.

 

Illustration: Jon Moreno

 This version has been updated from the original that appears in the February edition of the Long Island Press.