'Only a Paper Moon' or 'Look This Way and Smile'

When watching the news, do you ever find yourself asking, "OK, but what's the REAL story?" (No? Wow! I'm coming over to your house--your reception must be different from mine!) Of course, by the way I've asked the question, it's obvious that I have had experiences of doubt, and I'm not saying it's just the fault of the media. Certainly, there's faulty and incomplete reporting, but sometimes I have the feeling that, no matter how accurately journalists record events, what's shown is little more than a badly written skit complete with props, flimsy backdrops, and bad actors. ("OK, Senator McConnell, you stand here and look mean, and I'll stand there, and it'll look like we're fighting. Meanwhile, Rand will be shaking his fist." "Sure, Mr. President, glad to help.")

This is especially true when the news emanates from the rarefied vicinity of Washington, D.C. There are exceptions, of course. I certainly don't believe everyone in Washington is a lying coxcomb, but I do believe a lot of them are. I won't put a percentage on it, but let's just say I think it's alarmingly high. There, I haven't said anything you would probably disagree with yourself, since it's a truism that politicians lie. My question is, why aren't we more upset about it? Why aren't we angry? Are we uninformed? Is it mere apathy (which may be understandable but is still, by the way, bad for democracy)? Or don't we care if someone lies as long as their lies coincide with the ones we tell ourselves? I've come very reluctantly to believe that the latter is often true, which certainly doesn't reflect well on us as a people.

This is how bad it is: Last week I read the article by investigative journalist Seymour Hersh alleging that the story told to the public about the killing of Osama bin Laden in 2011 is largely false. Shocking, right? Mr. Hersh alleges that the Obama administration not only lied to the public about what happened but also double-crossed the Pakistanis. I certainly have no trouble believing that the true version of events is different from what the public was told, but Mr. Hersh's whys and wherefores didn't convince me either. He suggests that Obama's version of events may have been politically motivated (which I have no trouble believing). What I don't believe is that Mr. Hersh's article gives an accurate account of what transpired any more than Obama's did.

I don't know what happened in Abbottabad, but, personally, I wouldn't be surprised if U.S. officials had always known where bin Laden was. It always seemed strange to me that despite all the apparently strenuous efforts to find him, he managed to elude detection. The United States can apparently do anything from bug Angela Merkel's cell phone to spy on the phone calls, emails, and who knows what else (library accounts? hotel records?) of its own citizens, but it couldn't seem to zoom in on the allegedly low-tech, out-numbered bin Laden.

I don't believe that all the connections between the Bush administration, the Saudi government, bin Laden, and other players in this game--including the current administration--have ever fully come to light. There's simply too much paranoia from the administration in its stance toward the media and its own citizens, too much willingness to disregard the Constitution (allegedly for our benefit, isn't that a neat trick), for me not to conclude that something's fundamentally wrong. Eleven years ago, I was reading Craig Unger's House of Bush, House of Saud on my lunch hour at work and noticed the way the atmosphere in the office turned perceptibly colder after I discussed it with someone else. Mr. Unger's book does nothing but document the (by now, I think) well-known closeness between the Bush family and the Saudi royal house. My life was never quite the same in the office after that, so from my own experience, I know what an unpopular topic this is with some people.

My knowledge of what's happening in the world comes from reading, watching current events, and trying to think things through. I have the same sources as other people but often seem to come to different conclusions. My distrust of President Obama (someone I voted for twice) is based on his own actions, including his administration's interference with the press, his attempt to slip such serious deals as the TPP past public scrutiny, and, quite frankly, his seemingly obsessive concern with being ubiquitous on the talk show circuit and any place else that'll take him. It's all polish and no substance, a bit too Big Brother-ish for me. Nobel Peace Prize? Are you kidding? I don't believe he's really that different from some of the biggest hawks and warmongers out there. Some of these highly publicized political spats are, in my opinion, mere disguises for a mutual agreement to present the "facts" in a certain way to the public while a vastly different story goes on behind closed doors.

You may say things have always been this way. Maybe, but I think we've come to a critical point in the life of our democratic experiment (and remember, it is an experiment; it's only as good as we make it) where we have to decide how serious we are about our founding principles. Do we still think taxation without representation is tyranny? Do we still believe in certain inalienable rights? (Chris Christie evidently thinks it's hard to enjoy them in a coffin. Whatever happened to "Give me liberty or give me death"?) Do we still believe in government of the people, by the people, and for the people? Do we still think the government is privileged to work for us and is obliged to tell us the truth about the things it does in our name?

Are we still Americans? Or are we now something else? Inquiring minds want to know.

Dramatis Personae

Last year I wrote about the State of the Union address and tried to analyze it in terms of John J. MacAloon's anthropological categories of spectacle, festival, ritual, and game. Having concluded that it was largely spectacle and game, without much substance, I wasn't sure I even wanted to watch again this year--I mean, why bother? If it's just yadda, yadda, yadda, what's the point? I'm in the middle of a Great Courses DVD on "Philosophy in the Middle Ages" this week, so wouldn't it be more profitable just to spend the evening with Saint Bonaventure?

After an inward debate, I concluded that possibly it was more responsible, as a mythologist, to watch the address and make a few cultural observations. So I decided to watch with the volume turned down. You might think I'm being facetious, but I'm not. I knew the speech would consist of a lot of well-considered, carefully sifted words, and I wasn't going to believe more than one or two of them, all told. More interesting to me was to watch the people in the room, see their reactions, and observe how the President conducted himself.

You may dismiss this as missing the point of an address, especially if you believe that the important information is always in the words. But don't forget, non-verbal messages are often just as important as the verbal ones, and maybe more so, especially if they conflict with the person's statements. In this case, I figured I could dispense with words. I've found it very useful to carefully observe people, whether they're speaking or not. Are you with me so far?

I didn't see the President looking directly at the camera much--he addressed his remarks largely to the people in the chamber. I didn't think he looked especially relaxed, though, as he neared the exit after the speech. Of course, the Vice President and the Speaker of the House were really in the hot seat since they were on view most of the time the President was speaking, and I have to say they both looked remarkably uncomfortable last night. As the camera picked out various people present, I was struck by how self-conscious some of them seemed. I noticed a range of reactions, from intent listening, to smiles, to amusement, to tension, to frowns, to sadness. I saw people who seemed to have tears in their eyes.

I admit that my own attention was not undivided. I decided the speech needed some musical accompaniment, so I played Grateful Dead's "Touch of Grey" and the theme from Star Wars, among others. I did a little interpretive dancing. I talked back to the screen and made faces (if you can't do it in your own living room, when can you?). I ended up watching a video of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech while the President was finishing and the GOP Senator was giving her response. I was really wondering what Dr. King would make of it all.

This is as much to say that I'm not pleased with the President, many of those in his administration, some members of the Supreme Court, and a number of our Congresspeople. I know there were hard-working, dedicated public servants in the room, and my annoyance is not directed at them. But, seriously, how do you expect me to take sitting down the remarks and stated goals of a President under whose leadership the United States has fallen to number 46 (as of 2014) in the World Press Freedom Index by Reporters Without Borders? (That's right, folks, we were ahead of Haiti and Taiwan--just barely--but behind South Africa and El Salvador.) It's fine for the President to smirk while Chinese president Xi Jinping apparently refuses to answer a reporter's question (on 11/12/14), but he really should be more concerned about the dismal showing of his own country on issues of press freedom and constitutional rights. (Aren't you shocked at that ranking? If you aren't, you should be!)

With all this in mind, I've decided that the way to view the State of the Union is not as a straightforward outline of things to come but as theatre, pure and simple. If we're talking Shakespeare, I'd say it was most like Macbeth. It's not an exact fit, perhaps, but the rapacious, overriding ambition and hubris of that play's characters fit my idea of what I saw last night more closely than anything else I can think of. My only fear is that there might not be enough bad guy roles to go around for Joe Biden, John Boehner, John McCain, etc.

Let's see, the President as Macbeth, and that would make the First Lady, well, Lady Macbeth, and for the three witches, we have Dianne Feinstein, Barbara Boxer, and Nancy Pelosi, and well . . . you get the idea. Just use your imagination.