President Obama and the Notre Dame “Controversy”
May 9, 2009 by Julia King · 7 Comments
I keep thinking of Lyle the Crocodile. Remember him — the lovable reptile from the late 1960s that lived in a Manhattan row house with a middle class family? He was irresistibly kind and funny and oh-so-scaly. All the kids in the neighborhood wanted to play with him because… who WOULDN’T want to play with a giant, tame crocodile!
Then one day the kind, good-hearted Lyle got an anonymous hate letter. A HATE letter. He was sad. Why did someone hate him? He got another, and then another… until one day he heard a noise on the front porch and somehow, despite the fact that he was a crocodile, he managed to quickly open the door and catch a little girl leaving a note. (Disclaimer: This is the way I remember one of my favorite childhood books, and this is the way I want it to stay.) Lyle confronted the girl and it turned out that her mother didn’t like crocodiles and wouldn’t let her play with Lyle (poor little girl!). Naturally, she had no alternative but to hate him. But then some plot was hatched to win over the girl’s mother, and it worked (hooray!); so everyone was happy, especially the little girl who got a brand new friend.
Fort Wayne/South Bend Bishop John D’Arcy is the character match for the little girl’s mother, because D’Arcy refuses to play with President Obama when he comes to Notre Dame and he’s telling all his Catholic “children” to do the same. Poor children!
And Obama, he’s Lyle the Crocodile. Of course, Lyle and Obama are different in many significant ways (Obama is a human being who went to law school, wrote two books, was elected president, and his spirits remain high even when people send him hate letters; conversely, Lyle is an affable, but emotionally needy, uneducated crocodile). But they are the same in that they share an underlying decency that translates into a mysterious, charismatic quality. An American president who displays gentleness is like a crocodile that chooses not to bite, because both temper their inherent power with self-restraint and discipline. There is something captivating about that, about being able to relax in the face of strength.
We had a slightly twitchy tough-talking, war-launching president for almost a decade. The world saw (and felt) what it meant to be constantly on-guard – and most of us didn’t like it. Some of us did, but if we are to believe the polls (and why wouldn’t we?), most people around the globe found it disconcerting. It’s still early in Obama’s presidency, early enough to celebrate the novelty of a man who reaches out to the world, a man who demonstrates our nation’s ability to shift direction, to grow beyond an array of old and destructive notions.
What a shame that some Catholics (the “good” ones?) are being called upon to forego any ownership of the progress Obama represents. And on what grounds? On the grounds that Obama doesn’t respect life. The man who condemned the Iraq war, who seeks health care for all people, who put an end to the American use of torture, the guy who wants to protect the entire population of the planet from the scourge of climate change… this man is being accused of lacking respect for life. Whatever.
It’s reasonable to critique a sitting president, to voice opposition to bad policies (and EVERY president has some) — but it just can’t be any fun to hate on Obama. Poor Bishop D’Arcy. It’s got to be lonely.
Anti-tax “Tea Party” in Goshen
April 11, 2009 by Julia King · 5 Comments
It’s so much more relaxing visiting a protest than actually organizing one. As a visitor to a protest, all those people who wear the wrong clothes or make signs that are distractingly ill-conceived are entertaining. As an organizer of a protest, the goal is as much message cohesion as possible; but as a visitor, the presence of opposing political currents (like right-wing Christians and Libertarians, for instance) provides a nice undercurrent of interest. On the political Left, there are frequently too many drums and white guys with dreadlocks; on the political Right, there are too many flags and dirty baseball caps (and when I say “dirty,” I mean that they need to be washed, not that they are embroidered with naked ladies).
And so this morning I stood on the Elkhart County Courthouse lawn in Goshen as several hundred people (some with baseball caps, some with flags, and some with church flyers) threw a local version of the national anti-tax “Tea Party” that’s become all the rage on the Right. A lot of people who didn’t notice our dept or deficit or war expenditures when George W. Bush was in office are suddenly counting our collective pennies now that we’re talking about health care.
Have I mentioned that I like democracy? I do. I do like democracy. I love that Americans can congregate in public spaces and say anything they want (except “fire!” or “kill!” of course).
“Cut the fat!” read one sign (cleverly shaped like a pig). I approached the sign holder and asked her what, exactly, did she not want to pay for. She said she didn’t want to pay for things that “aren’t really necessary.” When I asked her about health care, she paused for quite a while. She wasn’t sure about that. Since she didn’t have insurance, she was iffy on that one. But she did not want to pay for some study about bird migrations, she said.
Midway through our conversation the prayer started, so we silenced ourselves to bow our heads and listen. The pastor at the microphone invoked Deuteronomy 28 and at one point mentioned “heathen nations” and at another point said we should be living as an “unabashedly Christian nation.” It was a long prayer.
I moved on through the crowd, taking note of a man’s “No Taxation without Representation!” sign. Was he from Washington, D.C. (where they really are taxed without representation)? Or was he just confused? Either way, the man (and the crowd) heard from Indiana state representative Wes Culver.
Culver speaks in sweeping terms, the way most good politicians do, but he isn’t afraid to utter specifics. Today he was the only one brave enough to make the real-world connection between taxes and government services. “If you don’t like taxes, don’t complain about potholes or the brush not being picked up on your street,” he said. (It would have been fair to add more items to that list of things not to complain about, including, but not limited to: your poorly educated kids, or when you have to file for bankruptcy because your health insurance runs out, or tainted milk products from China that end up on your table because regulators have been “cut back” along with the budget).
The people who congregated at the courthouse were there for a range of reasons, but they more-or-less agreed that taxes were too high (and that those taxes pay for things that “aren’t really necessary”). Some of them seemed like reasonable people who had done their homework, like the man I spoke with from a group called “FairTax;” (he was nice enough, but I’ll need to read more about it before I comment on the actual plan) but others just wanted to hang their ideology somewhere – and the “taxes” hook was the most convenient place. “Don’t use my tax dollars for abortion,” demanded one sign.
It was a crisp and sunny spring day, perfect weather for a Tea Party. There was plenty of energy and determination. But there was no clear winning argument.
Obama’s Town Hall Meeting
February 9, 2009 by Julia King · 1 Comment
I wasn’t there in person this time when President Obama came to town, but I was talking to a friend on her cell phone as she watched Air Force One land at the South Bend Regional Airport… AND I did get to watch on TV while a couple of my neighbors shook his hand. So, like millions of others, I heard the president’s words from the comfort of my living room instead of from the bleachers in the Concord High School gymnasium.
In short, Obama delivered. He used the office of the presidency to highlight our community as an example of a place that especially needs help, but also as an example of a place that needs to be willing to see this hardship as an opportunity. He reminded us all what this stimulus package is really about. It’s about moving forward with a new, greener and more socially equitable economy. He stressed the fact that when something is already in disrepair (like our local and national economy), that’s the best time to make important shifts, to rebuild better and smarter.
The roughly 22 percent of Americans who stood by George W. Bush until the end showed us that no matter what, some people will stand their ground. Let them stand. The rest of us better get moving…
Obama Puts Elkhart County in Economic Spotlight
February 8, 2009 by Julia King · 9 Comments
When President Barack Obama comes to Elkhart tomorrow (Monday, Feb. 9), he will presumably hear not only from the many average citizens who stood in line for hours to get tickets, but also from 3rd District Rep. (Republican) Mark Souder (my representative) and 2nd District Rep. (Democrat) Joe Donnelly (the neighboring district’s representative). The two northern Indiana lawmakers have joined forces to protect the flailing (failing) recreational vehicle industry, long a staple of the local economy.
As representatives of a hurting community, Donnelly and Souder are doing something right. They are trying to help their ailing constituents. So, too, is Obama – who recognized Elkhart County as a place that truly needs some tender loving care (also known as “jobs”).
I don’t yet know what Obama plans to say, but I hope it’s different from what Souder and Donnelly are saying. Our northern Indiana guys are looking to boost demand for RVs by requesting that Troubled Assets Relief Program (or TARP) funds be available for loans for RVs (these are funds that were initially established for the housing crisis).
Am I a spoilsport if I say I’m less-than-inspired? Getting people to buy recreational vehicles with stimulus money seems about as creative and forward-thinking as investing in home coal chutes. Maybe there’s more to the plan, but if there is, the details aren’t easy to come by.
Once upon a time a recreational vehicle was a brilliant idea (For real. It was.). But that was before we knew about global warming and before we sampled life with gas prices approaching $5 a gallon. Even if an RV niche can survive, it will have to be much (MUCH) smaller, meaning it cannot be expected to anchor our local economy.
Now, it would be different if Donnelly and Souder were pushing for a complete overhaul of the industry, looking to run RVs on vegetable oil, or hydrogen, or outfit every new RV with solar panels or portable windmills (Okay, I don’t know what I’m talking about here. I’m just throwing ideas out; you get the general picture.). But they aren’t. They’re thinking small when it’s time to think big.
The point is that the stimulus money should be used for the future good of our community – and the country as a whole. As sad and frustrating and scary as it is, not every industry will make it to the other side of this economic crisis. And not every industry should.
Northern Indiana desperately needs jobs, jobs that support families and send kids to college — and jobs that tread lightly on our water and our air and our land. The RV industry is not necessarily that industry. It might be, with massive adjustments. But it might not be.
So, when Obama is here, I hope he listens carefully. I hope he hears all the voices and all the possibilities that exist here. And most important, I hope he brings with him fresh ideas for our hurting home. We want to work. We want to grow. But to do that we need an economy that will survive for the long haul, not one that will limp along temporarily before finally tripping over itself and landing on its face.
Where (Oh, Where?) Will All the Obama Supporters Go?
December 9, 2008 by Julia King · 7 Comments
Here in freshly Blue Indiana, Obama supporters are doing what Obama supporters are doing everywhere. We are trying to figure out how to best capitalize on our success. So last week, a handful of local dynamos who helped put Indiana on the political map invited area residents to a brainstorming meeting at the public library.
There were jumbo-sized papers taped to the walls and magic markers and a room full of people eager to “organize for change” as the invitation had said. The attendees that night were probably much like attendees at other Obama-inspired meetings across the country: a longtime mayor, a city council person here and there, the head of the local Democratic Party… and plenty of people still new to the political scene, many of them initiated into the democratic process during the 2008 presidential campaign.
In no time, fat, colorful words were scrawled on the newsprint: “health care,” “war,” “education,” “environment,” along with the categories, “local,” “state,” “national,” “international.” There was even a list of ideas for specific service projects (something the Obama campaign is encouraging, clearly as a means to keep the energy and newly forged political relationships alive until he gets into the White House). There was talk of possible monthly meetings, of leadership within the group, of civic education. Finally, there was a paper with the heading, “Organizational Structure,” or something to that effect. This meant that when all the ideas were put into words (even spelled correctly, which truly says something about the caliber of the people running the meeting), there was still one enormous question remaining: HOW?
If you are an idealistic sap (like me) you’ve been in a room like this before, one crackling with human electricity, full of capable people and good intentions. And if you’ve been in a room like this before, you’ve encountered the question sitting in the middle of the room, the question of HOW.
How do we usher in this change? Real change? You know, Change We Can Believe In?
We could begin by acknowledging that if it was very, very simple (like taking a nap or eating ice-cream), we probably would have done it by now. The fact is that creating significant societal change is much more like trying to cook a butternut squash in the toaster.
The beauty of Barack Obama’s campaign was that it (he) inspired and attracted new and unusual voters to the political process. People who never dreamed they would do such things wrote letters to newspapers, knocked on doors, and made phone calls for a candidate, actually spoke aloud about… politics. The catch is, now that the election is over many of them are reverting to their old ways, hesitant once again to embrace a system they see as inherently dirty (or at the very least, broken). Some of them prefer the speed and flexibility of small-scale, private sector projects and others prefer the safety and intimacy of congregational life to the rough and tumble nature of political parties. And the real rabble rousers root for the Ralph Nader route (why couldn’t his last name be “Rader”?), an end of the two-party system.
In this small community, it’s easy to catch bits and pieces of conversations – and even e-mails – that weren’t necessarily intended to be public. It’s easy to know that some people are talking (and typing) in favor of serious change, but against involvement in “politics.” I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I think it means that things go back to the way they were before we elected the first African-American president, with each of us flitting about in our separate-but-equal realms doing what feels good.
Somewhere along the way Americans took the word “politics” and rolled it and squeezed it until it turned into an unrecognizably small thing, sort of like what children do to slices of white bread. Then we put it in a box and closed the lid.
“Oh, I’m not interested in politics,” is both a familiar and popular American refrain, but one that never ceases to surprise me, particularly after 8 years of George W. Bush, two wars, a flailing economy, soaring education and healthcare costs. Is there really a way to work through any of these problems without an interest in “politics”? Politics is about power and influence. It’s about keeping watch over our elected officials, about encouraging the good ones and putting road blocks up when the bad ones go astray. It’s about local government budgets and state budgets and national budgets, about police and firefighters, the justice system, about school boards and what’s served in our kids’ cafeterias, about pot holes and bike paths and traffic and literally anything you can think of. To claim a disinterest in politics is to claim general disinterest in the human condition. Staying out helps no one but your ideological adversaries.
So, where to from here? What sort of structure could provide a place to explore and pursue varied interests, but also nurture a shared sense of purpose? How can we duplicate our Obama success and move toward the ideals that inspired us in the first place?
We can make something all our own, something from scratch (like anchovy cookies with mint icing – no one’s done THAT before), or we can follow in the footsteps of a grassroots community organizer turned leader of the free world. He knew what many of us still need to learn, that sometimes the most radical place to be is smack in the middle of the establishment. The point is that big change takes a big organization. And, seriously, how does one clean a house from the outside? If we pack up all this energy, all our brilliant ideas and our commitment to social change and to hard work… we can transform the Democratic Party (unless someone thinks it would be easier to change the Republican Party).
“Oh, you SHOULDN’T have!” Sen. Lieberman’s Unearned Gift.
November 19, 2008 by Julia King · 2 Comments
Sen. Joe Lieberman, Independent and outspoken champion of the Iraq war, will retain his powerful chairmanship position on the Senate Homeland Security Committee. Apparently Lieberman has the consummate unifier, President Elect Barack Obama, to thank for this gem of a gift.
Next time, Mr. President Elect Obama (I still love writing that), when you’re trying to make nice with political foes — may I suggest a fruit basket?
Obviously, within the halls of Congress gifting positions of power is seen as a way to smooth over the bumps, but down here with the little people it feels different – maybe a bit too much like being the monkey in a game of monkey in the middle. Try as I might, I just CANNOT reach that ball when the guys tossing it are so far over my head.
Throughout Obama’s campaign he talked about disagreeing without being disagreeable. That notion was (is) popular with the American electorate in part because after five years of war, many of us are just too tired to fight anymore. Civility is the perfect antidote to suicide bombs and death and soldiers with post traumatic stress disorder. Obama’s campaign was pitch-perfect for the times, just like his personality.
But from where I sit, there is nothing disagreeable about removing Lieberman from the Homeland Security Chairmanship, considering that he’s a man who represents a failed and unpopular approach to national security. The people have spoken. We don’t hate Lieberman; we disagree with him. We worked hard to elect Obama because we don’t want people like Lieberman (or John McCain) steering the agenda.
A fruit basket. Yes, that’s what Lieberman deserves.
Race Relations and an African American President
November 17, 2008 by Julia King · Leave a Comment
Since Barack Obama’s presidential win, I have been thinking a lot about a woman I used to know. I haven’t seen or spoken with her in years, but we were both members of a racially diverse steering committee for a project called Study Circles on Race Relations (the national organization has since changed its name, but its mission still involves encouraging small group discussions around difficult social issues).
It was an intense years-long experience, one that drains me to recall in too much detail. There was genuine friendship within the group, but also some genuine strife. A handful of us met regularly for long lunches to hammer out recruitment plans and explore funding possibilities; and to try — to the best of our abilities — to confront our groups’ own inter-personal challenges, some that were a result of personality differences, and others that no doubt stemmed from race. We presided over workshops and discussions together, sometimes gracefully and sometimes clumsily. However imperfect, we were a team.
During those years I witnessed moments of uncommon interracial dialogue, moments that included accusations, defensiveness, tears, apologies. But there were just as many moments in which everyone stayed well within the carefully constructed boundaries of polite society. Either way, as a discussion facilitator, I usually went home with a headache.
The incident I’ve been thinking of since Obama’s election, however, wasn’t from a formal discussion session; it was at a steering committee lunch meeting that happened just a day or two after a racially motivated murder occurred in town. The tragic coincidence was that one of our members knew the victim. Not only did she know him, he was on his way to her house on the evening he was shot and killed. The details are fuzzy in my mind; it’s possible I’m remembering things incorrectly; but what I do remember clearly was this woman’s grief, the way it hung on her face and her shoulders.
At some point during lunch, she began telling us a story about a man (black) who knew another man (also black) who worked for a white man who seemed like a wonderful guy. It was the sort of story where the black man and the white man ran through fields together giggling and catching butterflies.
Then one day the black man was looking for a roll of tape (or paper clip) in the white man’s desk drawer, when he discovered the truth. There it was, plain as day… a Klansman’s mask.
I doubted the story at the time (as I still do today), but didn’t say so. This woman clearly not only believed it, but needed to tell it, needed to give shape to what she was feeling – that all white people, no matter how kind or cooperative or sincere they might appear – have a Klansman’s mask hidden in their desk. It was not an unreasonable thing for her to believe on that day, but it hurt to hear her speak it.
And so she has been on my mind, this woman who lost trust, who lost hope.
Blindness
October 26, 2008 by Ed · Leave a Comment
By Edward C. King
A man in a car at a stoplight suddenly is stricken blind. Another man drives the blind man to his home, but then steals his car. The doctor who examines the blind man becomes blind the next day. The “good Samaritan” who stole the car also goes blind. It appears the blindness is spreading, possibly from a virus. The authorities decree that those who have become blind must be isolated from society, lest they infect those who still have sight. The original blind man, the doctor, the doctor’s wife, the car thief, and many others are taken to a former prison and left. Guards are stationed outside the prison to prevent escape, but no one is stationed inside the prison and the occupants are not examined or treated in any way to avoid exposure. The guards periodically deliver food to the gate of the prison, but otherwise leave the afflicted to fend for themselves.
Blindness continues to spread. Blinded guards become prisoners. The guard ranks thin; and before long, the food stops coming. Within the prison, the most aggressive people gain control and extract gross actions from the others in exchange for small shares of food.
Eventually, those imprisoned find their way to the outside and learn that everyone is blind. There has been a complete societal breakdown. Businesses have been abandoned, as have hospitals and all social service systems. There are no cars or transportation systems, no sign of government. Sewage systems do not work. People find food by scavenging. Many are homeless because they are unable to find their homes, or have been ousted from them. Some die in the streets. When they do, dogs preserve themselves by devouring human remains.
This is Blindness, a novel written in 1995 by Jose Saramago, the 1998 winner of the Nobel Prize for literature. While reading the story, one questions whether the scenario is realistic – until grasping that Saramago is describing not literal blindness, but a failure of leadership. In Saramago’s tale, there is no measured national dialog. The afflicted are immediately treated as outcasts with no regard for the fact that blind people are capable of playing useful roles, even exercising leadership, in society. Nor is there due process. The doctor and his wife are picked up and taken away without prior notice and without choice or the opportunity to be heard. The people themselves are so swept up by events and fear that reflection seems impossible. There is prompt and resolute governmental action, but it is born merely of impulse. There is no reflection, no sophistication, no search for alternatives, no governmental vision.
I read Blindness several years ago. It is a powerful and profound book. Yet, I did not recommend it to my wife, to my kindred spirit adult daughters, to my thoughtful and highly literate older grandchildren, or to friends. This in part was because the descriptions of what happened to people are as horrific, disturbing, and disgusting as anything I have ever read. I also felt the book’s importance was somewhat diminished by what then seemed to me its unrealistic premises. At that time, I doubted that such a catastrophe would or could occur in any society, and I was unwilling to consider carefully whether it would be possible for a body of people to abandon civilized institutions, values, and actions so quickly and heedlessly. On the basis of those rationalizations, I decided I could not justify putting my loved ones through the experience of Blindness.
Yet, in recent years, we have all seen several instances of unthinkable, catastrophic events, followed by governmental blindness. First, there was 911. The tragedy of that day was unthinkable. The aftermath, though, was in many ways even more disturbing. Instead of carefully considering alternatives and working with the many friendly and empathetic nations who wanted to cooperate in a united response, our government worked in isolation to fashion its own response, then insisted that other nations join the approach or stand aside. We attacked Iraq, although that country played absolutely no role in causing the 911 attack on this country.
Also–even more shocking to me as a lawyer, former judge and teacher of law–we chose not to tailor our response to our own country’s proudest historic possession, our constitutional safeguards, or to the international protocols we and other nations had agreed to in the Geneva Convention. Instead, we sought to minimize and avoid those bulwarks against inhumanity so that we could torture and hold prisoners indeterminately without counsel or an opportunity to be heard.
Then Katrina. We knew a hurricane was coming, but government showed no vision and failed to prepare. Many with disabilities or without cars were unable to leave New Orleans and were simply abandoned. The televised scenes were eerily reminiscent of Blindness: desperate people waving from roofs; bodies floating in the water; looters raping households and people; all with no effective governmental response. Congratulatory statements such as, “Great job, Brownie,” confirmed that our highest officials were blind even to their own failures.
Now we face one more stunning, unanticipated and potentially catastrophic event — a financial crisis.
This time governmental blindness–failure to regulate–has played a role in creating the crisis. And governmental insistence on immediate action has exacerbated it. Secretary of Treasury Paulsen put forward a $700 billion rescue package but he and President Bush insisted that it must be enacted immediately. Although neither was able to articulate what the government would do with that vast amount of money, both resisted efforts within Congress to consider alternatives and permit a modicum of reflection and fine tuning. The resulting massive governmental action does not seem to represent any vision. The market is un-assured, and the economy remains at risk.
In the midst of this financial crisis, with New Orleans still unrecovered, and with the nation still struggling with the effects of our unilateral and misguided decisions in response to 911, we have the opportunity to choose new leadership. Plainly, we should attempt to choose vision, not blindness.
Senator John McCain, a war hero in the sense that he persevered through five years of harsh imprisonment at the hands of the enemy during the Vietnam War, surely is an honorable man. But has he shown any signs of genuine vision? Senator McCain is a member of the party in power during all
the events described above, and has supported the government in its response to those events. A recent article by Jeffrey Goldberg in The Atlantic gives us a clue as to why this has happened. The article, Why War Is His Answer, describes McCain and his father, Admiral John S. McCain, Jr., as true believers in the Vietnam War and in the notion that America’s failure to do what was necessary to win that war was at great cost to our national honor. The article concludes that Senator McCain’s approach to the war in Iraq also is driven by his concern for national honor.
Honor, a laudable and perhaps even necessary quality, is not sufficient. An effective president must have vision. A decision-making process based on honor can be short sighted and lead to disastrous results. Throughout history, millions of soldiers and civilians have killed and been killed in the name of national or personal honor.
Evaluating the outcome of the Vietnam War exclusively on the basis of national honor is a form of blindness. When one looks at Vietnam as that country exists today and recognizes how fundamentally erroneous was the domino theory that impelled our nation during the Vietnam War, it is difficult to imagine that anybody could mourn The United States’ refusal to add additional deaths to our efforts to win that war. Indeed, one can more reasonably think that to fight on in Vietnam to save face would have led to more needless deaths and would have been the ultimate dishonorable act.
More to the point now, if a President McCain were to become fixated on “honor” and “victory” in Iraq, this would lead to many more deaths and cause us to lose sight of numerous other important considerations, such as Afghanistan and the need to develop cooperative approaches with other nations.
Similarly, Senator McCain’s opposition through the years to more efficient automobile fuel standards, and his calls now to, “Drill, baby, drill!,” suggest that a President McCain would not be a man of vision, looking for alternatives and new ways, but instead would be rigid, clinging to old ways without regard to the peril.
The alternative is Barack Obama. Although many politicians, including Senator McCain in the past year, have pronounced themselves to be candidates of change, Senator Obama has been calling for change since he first appeared on the national stage. With his mixed racial heritage, his years in Hawaii and Indonesia, and work with the poor as a community organizer, followed by his exceptional achievement in becoming president of the Harvard Law Review, his ten years as a scholar and teacher of constitutional law, then his service in the Illinois legislature and the US Senate, Obama himself is a symbol of change and openness for America. He has demonstrated a remarkable capacity to draw to him the wisest advisors, like financier Warren Buffett and law scholar Laurence Tribe, to help him identify and analyze key issues and determine the best course of action.
I see now that I erred in failing to bring Blindness to the attention of my family and friends. I now understand that the book’s premise was realistic, that civilized society is fragile and must be nurtured and protected, and that in a time of emergency or crisis, lack of governmental vision can be fatal.
We now have before us two candidates. One represents vision, change, and a search for new ways. The other, a supporter of the policies that have put us where we are, holds himself out as a man of experience and honor. What would Saramago say?
