Recently Kathy Sullivan, past chair of the NH Democratic Party, tweeted:
“I really get offended when Bernie Sanders says what is wrong with the Democratic Party. He is a guest in our house.”
This got me thinking. What is she really saying here? I think that this tweet may help make visible the substance of the deep divide I am seeing between some of those Democrats who support Hillary and some of those who support Bernie.
For those who feel that the Democratic Party is a club in which they may hold seniority, Bernie’s walking into what they see as “their house” and telling the truth about what he sees going on is quite rude.
For those who feel that the Democratic Party is an organization that should be open to all in sympathy with its stated goals, and especially to those who espouse its historic tenets of support for working people, Bernie’s arrival is a breath of fresh air. I can hear the dinner table conversation now:
“Close that door! And how did that guy get in here?”
“Close it? No, we want it open wider! Welcome, and please tell us more about what you think is really going on!”
No wonder feelings are running high.
This story has an additional resonance for me, because I grew up in a family which included alcoholism and violence, along with their good friend, denial. The conjoined hope and fear that someone might come in and presume to speak truth about what was really making our lives unlivable was always on the edge of consciousness.
One set of voices would say: Wouldn’t that be a mess? And nothing would be gained by it, really. No one must know. It really is not worth speaking about or thinking about. We are just as normal as the rest of the people on the block, aren’t we? Get your happy mask back on and go back to trying to get through the day.
And on the other side: “But it hurts! I can’t stand it! I don’t want to live like this, not one more day! I’m tired of lying, hiding my bruises, tired of getting by, walking on eggshells, I want someone to come and say no! We need to stop this violence, at once, it is wrong, and we need to take action for everyone’s safety and healing.”
Mostly, though, the family lives in a way that ensures that inconvenient truth tellers don’t show up. You wouldn’t want to rock the boat, or bring in someone who does. You might be the one to drown.
So here we have the Democratic Party, which has gotten used to the intake of ever larger amounts of campaign cash. Like alcohol, an amount that was sufficient last time around isn’t enough this time. It feels good in the short term. You can buy ads, you can beat your opponent. You tell yourself that you can still keep your relationships, you can still hear the voters, you can still do your job. You don’t have a problem, really, do you? Down the bar the Republicans are drinking more than you are, and they’re still standing, right? If you went cold turkey, well, you’d lose the elections, and it would all be over, right? You really have no choice, you tell yourself. It’s not that bad. Yet.
And now along comes Bernie, saying things that add up to: this kind of money in politics, this is a disease, which is on the point of killing American democracy. We have to stop this.
Which is like saying to an alcoholic: you have to stop drinking. Now.
Rude! Rude! Nothing could be more rude than telling an alcoholic they must stop drinking. Addicts are very good at destructive, distracting attacks on anyone who is rude enough to try to get them to step away from the bottle.
We have many reasons why we can’t change things just now. It’s not practical! Why, the cure would be worse than the disease! (Repeat chorus: It’s not that bad. We’re still OK. It’s those guys, those guys over there who are bad, really bad.)
Fortunately for the industry that lives on those ever larger sums of campaign cash, Bernie can’t stop anyone from drinking. He’s just one guy, right?
But wait. He’s one guy — who loves you. And who is smart enough to realize that he can’t get you to stop all by himself. He appears to be gathering a whole lot of people. Maybe, just maybe, it will be enough people to stage an intervention. And finally get you the treatment you need.
We know it won’t be seamless or painless, and parts of it probably will not be pretty. But the thing is, we love you. And we’re not going away. We’re ready to support you through this process. It’s time to pour the booze down the sink and start getting sober. Step away from that high priced bottle of campaign cash and into the sunshine. We might have a life together that you’ve forgotten to dream of.
Read More
