Last Year Was a Bad Year

We all thought that 2020 was the worst it could ever get. Holy smokes.

Have you been watching the news? Of course you have. What a stupid question. I suppose I could ask which network’s broadcast you usually watch, but that’s a whole different kettle of fish. What the hell is going on in our country? We had what many have described as an attempted coup on Wednesday; insurrection in America. Thousands of Trump supporters marched down the street from a “Save America” rally, where they were called to action with such phrases as “Trial by combat” and “fight like Hell,” some of which were uttered by a sitting American president moments before from the speaker’s platform. This mass of shouting, angry people marched down the street to the Capitol and forced their way into the building, with the purpose—at least—of keeping congress from certifying the election results as submitted by the Electoral College in December. We’ve seen a lot of images of that incursion by now, but it looked bad enough on Wednesday, as far as I’m concerned; I don’t ever want to see something like that again. Doors were forced open, windows smashed, people climbing and crawling up anything that stood against them, and no matter who tried to stop them. It felt like I was watching another country, but it wasn’t: it was ours. Insurrection; not a march or a protest, but a mass of people who forced their way in to stop the action of our legislative bodies.

What. The. Heck.

Most years, this annual action by the joint session of congress is a mere formality; there have been a couple of instances in our lifetimes of such events being more intense, but never have we seen the kind of rhetoric employed by senators, representatives, “news” organizations, or even the incumbent president himself, and January 6 is now a day which we in this country will long remember as a near breaking point of our government. A day, if you will, of infamy. We had to know it was coming a long time ago; I predicted it, as a matter of fact, though I don’t recall if I did so in writing anywhere. Even though I expected it, however, that does not change the fact that I am in complete shock that it took place, first of all, and how bad it actually was. Some might consider it hyperbole, but it sure looked like we were one right turn away from some very bad things taking place in our Senate chamber on January 6; they certainly didn’t need any firearms to hurt anyone, as evidenced from one person who was trampled by her fellow rioters or the police officer who was pretty much beaten to death with a fire extinguisher, amongst other things. Several insurrectionists were photographed with zip-ties in their hands, so one can imagine what they might have been thinking; one rioting individual built some kind of a gallows out front, so perhaps they were going to hang the members of Congress who had no intention of going along with their demands. People were actually heard talking about getting Mike Pence and hanging him. Unreal, no?

Was It a Real Gallows?

We don’t know if that construction was real and could bear the weight of a human being hung by the noose; there has been no report regarding the solidity of the construction, so we’re left to wonder. Does it matter? I don’t know that it does, but it might. I’ll have to give it some more thought before I can answer that question. If it was “just” symbolic, it would be bad enough; if real, it makes one ask how far these people were planning to go. For the purposes of my essay, I’m going to assume it was symbolic, because I don’t know if I’m ready to face the possibility yet that it was designed to be a working hangman’s noose. All the vitriol we’ve seen over the past ten years would suggest that one noose would not be enough, as there are at least six one could consider as targets, according to the stated intentions on various platforms over the past decade. I can’t face the idea that people are at that point, so perhaps I’m part of the problem. It has become evident as time has passed that I’m not liberal enough for many on the left, but I can’t help but draw on the lessons I learned growing up in southeast Michigan in the 60s, 70s, and 80s; things I was taught at church, in school, and at the elbows of my mother and father.

Many of the people running excitedly through the Capitol building on Wednesday were just caught up in the moment; still wrong, but at least they weren’t there to tear the place down. It is becoming clear, however, that many were not only there to cause chaos and destruction, they were prepared to make that happen, and they had been trained to do exactly as they did, bringing along tools with which to complete the job. Some brought wrist restraints, some carried items that could be used as truncheons, and many wore variations on battle armor to protect themselves “if it got rough.” (Foolishly, some also wore body cams to broadcast their actions live to their “followers,” thereby giving law enforcement agencies the wherewithal to prosecute them with the evidence of their video stream.) One situation involved a Capitol Police officer who was thrown to the ground and pretty much beaten to death with various things, one of which was a fire extinguisher; how those on the right can justify that, especially in light of their adherence to a code of “Blue Lives Matter,” is completely beyond the imagination. Someone even used a flag pole to strike at the officer, who would later die as a result of his injuries, though I don’t recall now if it was attached to an American flag or a Thin Blue Line variant—doesn’t really matter, I guess, just as it doesn’t matter whether that gallows was real or not.

I can’t imagine how Mike Pence is feeling, knowing that they had that noose out front, and that a group of people were shouting out that they should find Mike Pence and hang him. He had his family with him, too, so they all had to be pretty concerned. This is not to suggest that I think Pence didn’t deserve some animosity; his blind, sycophantic allegiance to President Trump has earned him some serious anger from many of us, but I would never suggest that he be harmed in any way, even though his boss has no qualms about putting he and his family in harm’s way, apparently. Donald J. Trump put Pence at risk with a few things that he said to his crowd of loyal followers, and it doesn’t appear that he even called Mike Pence to check and make sure he was all right. Mr. Trump was apparently too busy calling members of Congress DURING the unrest to ensure they used the riot to delay the process of certification, and Mike Pence’s safety was not a priority; the president’s aides have reported that Trump was confused as to why more of his staff weren’t excited to see the riot taking place. Mike Pence had to be completely dumbfounded to become the target of such abject hatred, and his family put at physical risk.

What About the Family?

Mr. Pence’s family was kept safe, thankfully. After law enforcement and national guard troops had secured the Capitol—sure sounds like a coup, doesn’t it?—Mike Pence returned to chambers along with his colleagues, and stayed most of the night to complete the process of certification, despite the unfounded objections raised by a sizable contingent of members of congress, led by Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley, two gentlemen whose rhetoric in the days leading up to the insurrection had seemingly revved up the people who stormed our Capitol on January 6^th, and they should be ex-senators when everything dies down. After powerful statements of political grandstanding, we have still not seen any evidence whatsoever of any sort of election fraud, though there have been numerous lawsuits stating that there was widespread fraud. Despite the Supreme Court refusing to side with their claims, these two men and many of their congressional colleagues decided that they didn’t need any proof; saying that there was fraud was all they needed. Their statements and their actions put the family—not just of Mike Pence, but at least one other member of Congress, whose daughter was attending in the gallery—at risk, and the mob that they raised through their actions put the families of many others at risk.

But there is more than one kind of risk; there is physical risk, and then there is emotional risk. The police officers and national guardsmen and political figures on the “wrong side of this” were all at risk, physically; many of us are at risk emotionally, as our families are now often divided by this political extremism fomented by various “news” organizations, or right wing websites/social media applications, or simply “someone I follow on Facebook,” people who get us fired up to the point that we have shouting matches with friends and family members, regardless if those sources have been vetted or not. These days, one does not need proof—one only needs the right words or images to make the point desired, despite the inconvenience of truth, to quote a former Democratic vice president. We have all watched our family and friends become more and more divided, and at a time when we are already feeling more and more isolated by the need to be cautious in the face of the virus that is currently confronting the entire world. Perhaps it was for the best, in one way: if I can’t stand to sit at the table with you for Thanksgiving because of your obnoxious and misguided political views—or simply your volume and finger-pointing—then I am not in danger of increasing the spread of this highly opportunistic virus; if you don’t invite me to your house to celebrate Christmas, then you don’t have to listen to my own political or social beliefs, and you don’t have to take the chance of being exposed to transmission when I come to your house. Maybe the vitriol saved a few of us; looking at the numbers, though, it would seem that it had no impact in that regard. Never mind.

And now, when we clearly saw our president inspire (encourage? instigate? drive?) his followers to assault our Capitol, when even fellow Republicans have stated that this same president should resign or be impeached, when we have watched day after day after day of this same president’s exhortations that we should all “Stop the Steal” and “Fight for our Country” and seen that president’s Twitter account be shut down to halt any more attempts to fire his base up enough to attack anything in the next couple of weeks, suddenly the friends we saw and interacted with on Twitter and Facebook, even if we disagreed with each other’s views, suddenly those same friends and family are abandoning those same platforms, and expressing their loyalty to their president—who has lost his bid for reelection—by leaving Facebook and Twitter, and migrating over to other platforms that do not “limit their thought.” They may still have accounts with Facebook and Twitter, but it’s clear that they are not really posting there anymore, and one can only assume that they are now using another platform that isn’t obstructing their ability to talk together in some “Orwellian” manner of subjugation that they imagine Twitter and Facebook are directing toward them (they clearly have never read “1984”)—they are now rarely speaking up on Facebook, after they had previously been posting memes or comments several times a day. They want you to join them at MeWe or Parler or Gab or whatever other sites they might be using, but which most of us know are often sites that have no administration whatsoever; guys like Steve Bannon can call for violent revolution over there, now that he’s had his channel shut down at YouTube.

And now, when I need my family most, we aren’t talking. The family I grew up with, that taught me that our bonds would never break or even bend, who taught me that we might have differences, but we would always be there for one another. Now we’re not talking. We haven’t agreed that we’re not talking, mind you, but we barely converse. Part of it is my fault; I’m terrible at correspondence, and hate speaking on the phone—I had one or two jobs that absolutely destroyed any joy I might have speaking on the phone. I have enjoyed staying in touch with text messages, though, or following posts we might make on social media; perhaps they just haven’t appreciated it the way that I have, after moving away in 1983, and not being around for so many family events over the years. As people have become more and more radicalized, however, social media has become a trap, and has led to many instances of fighting and snarking. I was accused of being a “Facebook fact-checker,” whatever the Hell THAT is, and have watched as fewer and fewer of those persons that I know are in support of this current administration SOMEHOW—even yet—are interacting with me.

No Idea Which Path to Take

I’m guilty, too, of backing away from everything. I used to get up every morning and see whose birthday was on that day, quickly visiting their page to wish them a happy day. As time has progressed, however, I’ve begun pulling away, and I have tried to be less a user of things like Facebook—people were just too angry. People I grew up with, friends and family alike, had totally bought into this way of thinking that I absolutely could not understand. How do you maintain a conversation when people are nearly shouting at you that what you just said is fake news? I don’t know if what I just said is right or not—that’s why I want to talk about it. I read something, and then I thought about it, and then someone else commented on it, so now I want to see what you think of it so I can tell if I’m right or not. If I’m not right, who is saying that? Is there more than one source? Does that SEEM accurate? I try to follow the money and pay attention to the motive of the person who is saying whatever it is…just like we were taught. I grew up in the same house with these people, if we’re talking about my family; same neighborhood if we’re talking about friends. How can we be SO different now? Mom taught me about Jesus, and then the church reinforced those ideas (give to the poor, treat others as you wish to be treated, love thy neighbor—right?), and teachers along the way demonstrated those same ideals. I ask you again: if we had that same training and experience, how can we be so different now?

But we are. We’re not on the same page; perhaps not even on the same planet. We’ve lost the ability to converse with each other, and we no longer know how to listen. There is a big bunch of people at the far right of the political spectrum, another big group at the far left, and then me toward the middle; I can’t be the only one who listens to differing viewpoints. Have we forgotten we’re all on the same side? That we’re all more alike than we are different?

Apparently, we have. And I don’t know where to go with that.