Divided We Stand

What is the point of remembering the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001? I don't ask that question rhetorically. Is to remind us that we live in a state of insecurity? Is it to remember those who perished on that day? Or is it to inspire a unity among Americans?

Just as his predecessor George W. Bush repeatedly did, Barack Obama has consistently referred to the national unity that existed following the attacks orchestrated by Osama bin Laden. On the night that bin Laden was killed, the president concluded his brief statement asking Americans to "think back to the unity that prevailed on 9/11." The tracking down and killing of the world's most notorious terrorist came as a result, the president suggested, of "American determination"--not Republican or Democrat or Northern or Western determination but American. Obama has desperately wanted to appeal to a sense of the American, to declare without irony or cynicism that the United States is "one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

As sociologist Robert Wuthnow wrote in 1988, that phrase captures a division within America rather than the unity of the nation. Wuthnow suggested that a conservative civil religion sees a nation under God, while a liberal civil religion propounds a nation that promotes liberty and justice for all. The point is, the nation stands divided; even though both sides appeal to the same Constitution, and "pray" to the same national god, the prayers of both will never be answered.

For Obama, that fact appears to be endlessly frustrating. In his inaugural address he made a forceful demand: "On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord. On this day, we come to proclaim an end to petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas that for too long have strangled our politics. We remain a young nation. But in the words of Scripture," Obama declared, "the time has come to set aside childish things." In short, let's move beyond the culture wars.

Bush offered a similar appeal in his first inaugural: "Sometimes our differences run so deep, it seems we share a continent but not a country." On that day, Bush pledged to "work to build a single nation of justice and opportunity" and appealed to Americans to find unity of purpose in "ideals that move us beyond our backgrounds, lift us above our interests, and teach us what it means to be citizens." Like Obama, it was September 11 that provided the touchstone for national unity. In his first major address to Congress following the attacks, Bush delivered many statements to rousing applause, but among the most well-received was when he declared: "as we act to win the war, protect the people, and create jobs in America, we must act first and foremost, not as Republicans, not as Democrats but as Americans."

Of course, both presidents pine for national unity. And it is not surprising that both look almost wistfully at 9/11 as a moment that seemed to place selflessness above selfishness. But 9/11 unity, as Ben suggested in his recent post, is contested (to say the least). What I find interesting is the way these two presidents view 9/11 as point that separated an era defined by the culture wars from an era that would be defined by a unity that rose above them. And the projects of David Sehat and Andrew Hartman, two USIH colleagues, are quite relevant here. David's book made me consider that for Bush, 9/11 was suppose to bring an end to a dispute over the moral authority governing the nation and make possible a evangelical Protestant order that rhetorically placed America under the judgment of a God whom only Bush and his supporters understood. Andrew's work helped me understand that for Obama, 9/11 was suppose to make it possible for the nation to take stock of the progress made during the culture wars but then move beyond them to an understanding of America that no longer needed to fight (or re-fight) battles of race, class, gender, and faith.

That neither president has had his hopes realized is clear. I wonder, though, how we then see 9/11 amidst the culture wars. And whether, despite Obama's statements, we are a better nation divided for then at least we know where we stand.

Divided We Stand

What is the point of remembering the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001? I don't ask that question rhetorically. Is to remind us that we live in a state of insecurity? Is it to remember those who perished on that day? Or is it to inspire a unity among Americans?

Just as his predecessor George W. Bush repeatedly did, Barack Obama has consistently referred to the national unity that existed following the attacks orchestrated by Osama bin Laden. On the night that bin Laden was killed, the president concluded his brief statement asking Americans to "think back to the unity that prevailed on 9/11." The tracking down and killing of the world's most notorious terrorist came as a result, the president suggested, of "American determination"--not Republican or Democrat or Northern or Western determination but American. Obama has desperately wanted to appeal to a sense of the American, to declare without irony or cynicism that the United States is "one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

As sociologist Robert Wuthnow wrote in 1988, that phrase captures a division within America rather than the unity of the nation. Wuthnow suggested that a conservative civil religion sees a nation under God, while a liberal civil religion propounds a nation that promotes liberty and justice for all. The point is, the nation stands divided; even though both sides appeal to the same Constitution, and "pray" to the same national god, the prayers of both will never be answered.

For Obama, that fact appears to be endlessly frustrating. In his inaugural address he made a forceful demand: "On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord. On this day, we come to proclaim an end to petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas that for too long have strangled our politics. We remain a young nation. But in the words of Scripture," Obama declared, "the time has come to set aside childish things." In short, let's move beyond the culture wars.

Bush offered a similar appeal in his first inaugural: "Sometimes our differences run so deep, it seems we share a continent but not a country." On that day, Bush pledged to "work to build a single nation of justice and opportunity" and appealed to Americans to find unity of purpose in "ideals that move us beyond our backgrounds, lift us above our interests, and teach us what it means to be citizens." Like Obama, it was September 11 that provided the touchstone for national unity. In his first major address to Congress following the attacks, Bush delivered many statements to rousing applause, but among the most well-received was when he declared: "as we act to win the war, protect the people, and create jobs in America, we must act first and foremost, not as Republicans, not as Democrats but as Americans."

Of course, both presidents pine for national unity. And it is not surprising that both look almost wistfully at 9/11 as a moment that seemed to place selflessness above selfishness. But 9/11 unity, as Ben suggested in his recent post, is contested (to say the least). What I find interesting is the way these two presidents view 9/11 as point that separated an era defined by the culture wars from an era that would be defined by a unity that rose above them. And the projects of David Sehat and Andrew Hartman, two USIH colleagues, are quite relevant here. David's book made me consider that for Bush, 9/11 was suppose to bring an end to a dispute over the moral authority governing the nation and make possible a evangelical Protestant order that rhetorically placed America under the judgment of a God whom only Bush and his supporters understood. Andrew's work helped me understand that for Obama, 9/11 was suppose to make it possible for the nation to take stock of the progress made during the culture wars but then move beyond them to an understanding of America that no longer needed to fight (or re-fight) battles of race, class, gender, and faith.

That neither president has had his hopes realized is clear. I wonder, though, how we then see 9/11 amidst the culture wars. And whether, despite Obama's statements, we are a better nation divided for then at least we know where we stand.

Symmetry (or Complementarity)

Since it's the end of the semester and I'm otherwise occupied, here's a video that I thought worth passing along.

Symmetry (or Complementarity)

Since it's the end of the semester and I'm otherwise occupied, here's a video that I thought worth passing along.

The Death of Osama bin Laden: V-J Day or Glorious Victory Over the Forces of Eastasia?

The death (or is it "killing" or "execution" or "assassination"?) of Osama bin Laden seems like a significant enough event that those of us in the American historical profession ought to give some space to it today.  But I struggled a bit whether or not to do so...and if so, how to touch on whatever intellectual history content one might find in yesterday's events.*

Ultimately, I decided to put together this rather post in part because I was so struck by the public memory conversation that began even before President Obama spoke last night.   I found out about bin Laden's death in a perfectly 21st-century fashion: a push notification from the New York Times on my iPad at around 10:15 pm CDT alerted me to the upcoming White House announcement, so I turned on MSNBC (which had the regular NBC news team's coverage) and waited.  As crowds gathered outside the White House, singing "The Star-Spangled Banner" and chanting "USA! USA!," one of the network talkingheads opined that this was going to one of those moments about which you'll always remember what you were doing when you heard the news.

If bin Laden's death is going to one of those moments (and with the media's declaring it to be one, it may be well on the way there), how will we remember it? Will this be the end of a period in our history that began on 9/11/01?  Or will this be just another great triumph in the neverending Global War on Terror (or Whatever We're Calling It This Week)?

Much like the immediate aftermath of 9/11, this great moment of national unity is (perhaps predictably) featuring a number of important political actors jockeying to attach their particular spin to what has happened.  The most obvious source of controversy so far seems to involve claims that bin Laden's death vindicates George W. Bush's foreign policy. At least in a narrow sense (that Bush, as opposed to Obama, somehow deserves credit), this argument seems doomed to fail. But I expect the broader idea that yesterday's killing of bin Laden vindicates the broad, bipartisan consensus around the War on Terror (or Whatever) will go largely unchallenged in mainstream American public discourse.

But there really are questions to be asked here:  could another approach have captured bin Laden more quickly?  was an (apparent) assassination (as opposed to actually bringing bin Laden, alive, to justice) the right goal?  how much was this success the result of the broad, new powers that the national security and surveillance state accumulated for itself in the aftermath of 9/11? will the rest of the world be as giddy about what this operation's success says about the United States as our pundits think they will be (Donny Deutsch, for example, was crowing about how good this will be for America's "brand" overseas)? and what, ultimately, is the relationship of Osama bin Laden (and the now-concluded hunt for him) to the larger post-9/11 role of the US in the world?

Watching the crowds in New York and Washington, DC on tv late last night, I was filled with mixed emotions. On the one hand, there was a certain America, F**k Yeah! quality about the celebration that seemed to reduce the whole thing to a kind of sporting event.  Given the direction that it took, I have no nostalgia for our immediate post-9/11 bout of national unity and have no desire to relive it.  I remain suspicious of a civil religion built around the notion that (in the words of a fellow Normanite) "we'll put a boot in your ass / It's the American way."

On the other hand, the American people have been through a decade in which our nation has fought two wars (and numerous side conflicts) that have cost billions of dollars and hundreds of thousands of lives (including thousands of American ones).  The toll on military families, in particular, has been severe (and in very military states like Oklahoma, you can really feel the strain on those around you).    And though we'd spent twice the length of World War II doing so, before last night, we had yet to achieve our most clearly articulated goal: getting bin Laden, in the words of our last President, dead or alive.   This is one of the few moments in this long conflict in which Americans might tell ourselves, "finally, it's over."  Of course, that's absolutely not the message that our leaders are conveying this morning (even as they are congratulating themselves on the operation). But I find some hope in the desire of our nation for this to be the V-J Day of the Global War on Terror. 

_____________________________
* At times this task feels like being a Daily Worker reporter and having to find a class angle on, say, a high school basketball game.

The Death of Osama bin Laden: V-J Day or Glorious Victory Over the Forces of Eastasia?

The death (or is it "killing" or "execution" or "assassination"?) of Osama bin Laden seems like a significant enough event that those of us in the American historical profession ought to give some space to it today.  But I struggled a bit whether or not to do so...and if so, how to touch on whatever intellectual history content one might find in yesterday's events.*

Ultimately, I decided to put together this rather post in part because I was so struck by the public memory conversation that began even before President Obama spoke last night.   I found out about bin Laden's death in a perfectly 21st-century fashion: a push notification from the New York Times on my iPad at around 10:15 pm CDT alerted me to the upcoming White House announcement, so I turned on MSNBC (which had the regular NBC news team's coverage) and waited.  As crowds gathered outside the White House, singing "The Star-Spangled Banner" and chanting "USA! USA!," one of the network talkingheads opined that this was going to one of those moments about which you'll always remember what you were doing when you heard the news.

If bin Laden's death is going to one of those moments (and with the media's declaring it to be one, it may be well on the way there), how will we remember it? Will this be the end of a period in our history that began on 9/11/01?  Or will this be just another great triumph in the neverending Global War on Terror (or Whatever We're Calling It This Week)?

Much like the immediate aftermath of 9/11, this great moment of national unity is (perhaps predictably) featuring a number of important political actors jockeying to attach their particular spin to what has happened.  The most obvious source of controversy so far seems to involve claims that bin Laden's death vindicates George W. Bush's foreign policy. At least in a narrow sense (that Bush, as opposed to Obama, somehow deserves credit), this argument seems doomed to fail. But I expect the broader idea that yesterday's killing of bin Laden vindicates the broad, bipartisan consensus around the War on Terror (or Whatever) will go largely unchallenged in mainstream American public discourse.

But there really are questions to be asked here:  could another approach have captured bin Laden more quickly?  was an (apparent) assassination (as opposed to actually bringing bin Laden, alive, to justice) the right goal?  how much was this success the result of the broad, new powers that the national security and surveillance state accumulated for itself in the aftermath of 9/11? will the rest of the world be as giddy about what this operation's success says about the United States as our pundits think they will be (Donny Deutsch, for example, was crowing about how good this will be for America's "brand" overseas)? and what, ultimately, is the relationship of Osama bin Laden (and the now-concluded hunt for him) to the larger post-9/11 role of the US in the world?

Watching the crowds in New York and Washington, DC on tv late last night, I was filled with mixed emotions. On the one hand, there was a certain America, F**k Yeah! quality about the celebration that seemed to reduce the whole thing to a kind of sporting event.  Given the direction that it took, I have no nostalgia for our immediate post-9/11 bout of national unity and have no desire to relive it.  I remain suspicious of a civil religion built around the notion that (in the words of a fellow Normanite) "we'll put a boot in your ass / It's the American way."

On the other hand, the American people have been through a decade in which our nation has fought two wars (and numerous side conflicts) that have cost billions of dollars and hundreds of thousands of lives (including thousands of American ones).  The toll on military families, in particular, has been severe (and in very military states like Oklahoma, you can really feel the strain on those around you).    And though we'd spent twice the length of World War II doing so, before last night, we had yet to achieve our most clearly articulated goal: getting bin Laden, in the words of our last President, dead or alive.   This is one of the few moments in this long conflict in which Americans might tell ourselves, "finally, it's over."  Of course, that's absolutely not the message that our leaders are conveying this morning (even as they are congratulating themselves on the operation). But I find some hope in the desire of our nation for this to be the V-J Day of the Global War on Terror. 

_____________________________
* At times this task feels like being a Daily Worker reporter and having to find a class angle on, say, a high school basketball game.

My Ambivalent Relationship with the Nation

By my title, you might expect to read something deep about my vexed relationship with the American nation. In the midst of end-of-semester grading, something as interesting as that will have to wait. Instead, I briefly offer you an example of why this long-time subscriber to the Nation magazine has what might be termed a love-apathy relationship with that bastion of American left-liberalism. On the one hand, as the last left-ish weekly newsmagazine, it's an important institution. On the other, I've grown tired of the stale predictability of its editorials, which critique the Democrats from the left until it comes to election time, when the specter of Republican rule disciplines Katrina vanden Heuvel's editorial board to step into line. I've become weary of most of the Nation columnists, who harp on the same issues over and over and over: Naomi Klein on the immorality of corporate rule, Katha Pollitt on the constant threat to women, Gary Younge on how weird American racism seems to a black Brit, Eric Alterman on the lack of liberalism among the so-called liberal media punditry. It's not that these writers are always or even often wrong, it's just that dead horses can only be beaten so many times. The only Nation columnist whom I still enjoy reading is that eclectic old Marxist Alexander Cockburn, which speaks to my own interests, but also to the fact that he mixes up his topics enough to keep me coming back. And because he slays conservative and liberal orthodoxies. He even makes counterintuitive, almost deranged arguments denying human-made global warming that I can't help but laugh at.

Keeping such ambivalence and apathy in mind, I was on the verge of letting my subscription lapse, but decided to re-up based on four wonderful essays that appeared in recent issues. I guess my faith has been restored, for now. Here are links and very brief synopses to these four essays. Enjoy! (I can access the entire articles at the Nation website, but I am unsure if this is because they are free to everyone or if I can get behind the pay wall due to being a subscriber).

1. Corey Robin, "Reclaiming the Politics of Freedom." In this essay, CUNY political scientists Corey Robin criticizes how liberals misidentify the source of conservatism's appeal. The article is generated from his forthcoming book, The Reactionary Mind: Conservatism from Edmund Burke to Sarah Palin. He writes: "Confident that no one short of a millionaire could endorse the right's economic ideology, everyone from Clintonite centrists to radical populists has treated conservatism as essentially a politics of distraction and delusion." Instead, he argues that conservatism is appealing because it has best tapped into the deep well of American rhetoric on freedom. He wishes the left would follow suit, and make the case that big business thwarts freedom, not government. We should argue for an empowered government to enlarge freedom, instead of as a source for security and equality, which endorses a passive conception of politics.

2. Joshua Clover, "Swans and Zombies: Neoliberalism's Permanent Contradiction." This is a highly entertaining review of two books on neoliberalism. I quote Clover's concluding sentences: "The current catastrophe is a rare creature, to be sure. But it is not a black swan; it is a zombie. It is the last crisis come calling, and the one before that and before that again—not just returned but fortified by the intervening years and the deferral of a reckoning. This crisis that keeps returning, now dressed in finery, now in rags, is evidently not a monster sprung from one particular deviation. Global crisis is, increasingly, the unnatural natural state of modern capital. It will not be laid to rest by fiddling with the alignment of parts, much less returning to a previous mode—these parts, these modes, are what set it shambling forward, hungry, blindly grasping, in the first place."

3. Martha Nussbaum, "What Makes Life Good?" Nussbaum, University of Chicago philosopher, uses empirical, on-the-ground evidence from her studies of women in south Asia to make the case that "measurements of economic growth fail to capture many facets of well-being." It's not a novel argument, but the essay puts it in line with what she describes as a new theory of social justice: the "Capabilities Approach." She describes this approach: "Unlike the dominant approaches, it begins with a commitment to the equal dignity of all people, whatever their class, religion, caste, race or gender, and it is committed to the attainment, for all, of lives that are worthy of that equal dignity. Both a comparative account of the quality of life and a theory of basic social justice, it remedies the major deficiencies of the dominant approaches. It is sensitive to distribution, focusing particularly on the struggles of traditionally excluded or marginalized groups. It is sensitive to the complexity and the qualitative diversity of the goals that people pursue. Rather than trying to squeeze all these diverse goals into a single box, it carefully examines the relationships among them, thinking about how they support and complement one another. It also takes into account that people may need different quantities of resources if they are to come up to the same level of ability to choose and act, particularly if they begin from different social positions."

4. Vivian Gornick, "History and Heartbreak." This is a review of The Letters of Rosa Luxemburg that is beautifully written and will be of interest to anyone who even remotely agrees with Luxemburg's basic philosophy: "From earliest youth, Rosa had looked upon radical politics as a means of living life fully. She wanted everything: marriage and children, books and music, walks on a summer evening and the revolution. Personal happiness and the struggle for social justice, she said, shouldn’t be mutually exclusive. If people gave up sex and art while making the revolution, they’d produce a world more heartless than the one they were setting out to replace."