During the primaries, Michael Chabon wrote a beautiful piece called Obama and the Phobocracy. I stumbled on that tonight when I went strolling through my old diaries from the campaign.
I was looking for some personal inspiration. Organizing can be really hard, painful work at times, and I went back to the moment when we didn't know how it was going to all turn out yet. When I had to trust that what felt like a lonely journey into an unknown future against big odds with the stakes as high as they get -- would turn out to be the right thing to do.
I had to stop listening to the Phobocracy - the voices of fear and distrust, the expectation of failure, the certainty that Americans would once again fail when faced with a critical choice. I had to trade all that in for Hope, one little four letter word that had all but vanished from our politics. Against all odds, we brought it back. Time to dust it off again.
I've been watching the discourse here, and wondering how so many of the loudest voices seem to have forgotten so quickly the lessons we learned about power, faith, reason and change. The healthcare debate on both sides right now is all about trafficking in the phobocracy.
The Republicans spin lies about "death panels" and "socialized medicine" because they want to use fear of change to make themselves relevant. It's all they have left. They want to foster distrust. They want us to forget that we as a nation made a new commitment on November 4. We aligned ourselves to the belief that what brings us together is more powerful than what divides us. We allowed ourselves in that moment to imagine an America where we fought against fear and hatred instead of against the government and each other.
And yet on our own side, people are giving into fear. Fear that we have already lost, despite the fact we have gotten further than ever before. Fear that we will be betrayed, despite the fact there is greater opportunity for success and cooperation to advance a liberal political agenda than we have known in more than a decade. Instead I see nothing but the pre-emptive declaration of disappointment, the expectation that nothing good can come of the change we voted for.
And lately, listening to all of it, I feel a lot like Chabon did back in early 2008, trying to listen and understand and rise above it, even as if it kills me:
Because Obama appears to be a patient, forbearing man with a gift for listening, I figured I owed it to him to play the thing his way. So I have nodded and looked into their eyes and hummed sympathetically as people gave their reasons and made their excuses and generally offered up, as if they were golden ingots of profound wisdom, the handful of two-penny nails with which they plan to board up the windows of their hopes for themselves, their families, their country and the world. . . .
But the most pitiable fear of all is the fear of disappointment, of having our hearts broken and our hopes dashed by this radiant, humane politician who seems not just with his words but with every step he takes, simply by the fact of his running at all, to promise so much for our country, for our future and for the eventual state of our national soul. I say "pitiable" because this fear of disappointment, which I hear underlying so many of the doubts that people express to me, is ultimately a fear of finding out the truth about ourselves and the extent of the mess that we have gotten ourselves into. If we do fight for Obama, work for him, believe in him, vote for him, and the man goes down to defeat by the big-money machines and the merchants of fear, then what hope will we have left to hold on to?
Thus in the name of preserving hope do we disdain it. That is how a phobocracy maintains its grip on power.
It is actually really hard to have hope. It is somehow easier to disregard the real, concrete evidence that Americans across the nation are rising up to say "enough" to a system that leaves families bankrupt, 47 million people without insurance, and everyone with the uncertainty that just when they need it most, a faceless bureaucrat at the insurance company will tell them they aren't covered.
Because we've been fooled before, right? We will just expect the worst and sit back and watch it happen. If we don't hope for something better, we won't have to work for it. As Chabon said:
To support Obama, we must permit ourselves to feel hope, to acknowledge the possibility that we can aspire as a nation to be more than merely secure or predominant. We must allow ourselves to believe in Obama, not blindly or unquestioningly as we might believe in some demagogue or figurehead but as we believe in the comfort we take in our families, in the pleasure of good company, in the blessings of peace and liberty, in any thing that requires us to put our trust in the best part of ourselves and others. That kind of belief is a revolutionary act. It holds the power, in time, to overturn and repair all the damage that our fear has driven us to inflict on ourselves and the world.
When Congress left for recess without sending a bill to the floor, it seemed like a huge letdown. It felt like the campaign might have stalled. And the finger-pointing and fretting began. The phobocracy took hold.
But we had to deal with these pesky Signs. Of Hope. And Change.
Congress came came back to their Districts and found out this wasn't going to be a vacation for them -- that something different was happening this time.
We have seen Americans rising up in unprecedented numbers to tell them they haven't finished the peoples' business. In just a few weeks, 60,000 Americans have actually visited their member of Congress in their home District offices. We are showing up to be counted at townhalls, events, canvasses, and phonebanks. And it is starting to get noticed:
OFA boasts 1.5 million active members who organized 11,906 local events across the country and collected 231,572 personal health care stories. Perhaps the most impressive statistic, and possibly the one with the greatest long term impact, concerned elected officials: OFA members have made 64,912 visits to their local Congressional offices, far outnumbering the protesters screaming at town hall meetings.
And now, as the closing days of recess tick away, events across the country will let us literally stand up for healthcare. For the public option. For covering 47 million uninsured people. For banning insurance companies from dropping you when you get sick. For making insurance affordable for families and small businesses. For putting an end to a system that isn't fair, costs too much, and is full of loopholes, exclusions and limitations.
We have no choice - we have to win. This is too important. (Find out how to stand up here, and read the daily Rally Report diary tomorrow morning).
Right before the inauguration, I wrote that Hope is a Four Letter Word. After I found the Chabon piece, I remembered this one, and went back and read it again. And it says exactly what I am feeling tonight:
Many people underestimate this simple four-letter word. "Hope" seems soft, aspirational, nice. It sounds overly simple, if not downright naïve. An unrealized, unrealizable, vague wisp of a wish. The refuge of the very young and the ungrounded idealists of all ages. Smart people will tell you: don’t waste your money on Hope. You will be left with nothing but your wasted energies and shattered dreams.
Hope is not for everyone. It is only for those strong enough -- or desperate enough -- to embrace it. It is cruel, harsh and demanding. Belief in change will break your heart almost every time. Hope won’t let you sit on the sidelines. You can’t take the easy way out. The disillusioned can safely withdraw. The Hopeful are driven to engage.
***
Here’s the kicker: Hope is what makes change possible. In my time out here in the ivory tower I have been reading the work of social movement scholars, and research on what draws everyday individuals to fight tough battles against the status quo. It seems very likely that Hope is an essential ingredient. Unless you believe things can be better, you cannot sustain the sacrifices required to make that happen.
You don’t need to be an expert to see this. Leaders who inspire us to act can offer righteous anger, and devastating critiques. But the greatest offer Hope as well -- not just as a rhetorical flourish, but as an active demand that we step up, supported by the reassurance that our efforts will not be wasted.
And so it is no accident that after losing in New Hampshire, despite being predicted to win, after the second-guessing and the finger-pointing had already begun, a politician who is steeped in the values of organizing and movement politics had this to say:
We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that nomatter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can withstand the
power of millions of voices calling for change.
We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics who will only grow louder and more dissonant in the weeks to come. We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope.
But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope. For when we have faced down impossible odds; when we've been told that we're not ready, or that we shouldn't try, or that we can't, generations of Americans have responded with a simple creed that sums up the spirit of a people.
Yes we can.
Disclaimer: I am a volunteer with Organizing for America in California. Writing here I speak for myself and not the organization. This diary, and all the words in it, are my own.