2005 wasn't supposed to start like this. The new year was going to bring a fresh start. At least that's how I'd lived my life for most of last year. On the afternoon of November 2nd, 2004 I wasn't just counting my chickens before they were hatched, I was knitting each unborn chick its own cute little sweater and booties. But around 8PM PST that evening, the crushing implications of a Bush victory were already weighing heavily on my spirit. At least there was Corona in the fridge. Beer got me through the night. But what was going to get me through the next four years?
And yes, I joined the chorus of disgruntled liberals who suspect that Bush's cronies manipulated his latest photo-finish electoral win. While I'm not persuaded that the machines were rigged, it's evident that the Republicans played dirty. One of the downsides of focusing on those fishy Diebold machines, spoiled ballots and election "irregularities" (legitimate and unanswered questions, all) is that it took attention off of the more blatant ways in which Bush stole the election.
It was, in fact, stolen in plain sight. The "Swift Boat Vets for Truth" (an old school anti-commie group of far right ideologues) launched a slanderous campaign against John Kerry. The media treated it like news. The polls show that it worked. The Swift Boat tactic was only one of many in Rove's arsenal.
While it's smart to raise the kinds of questions that John Conyers, Jesse Jackson, Greg Palast and many others are posing, let's not forget that most of the nastiness in this election was right there for all to see. The Bush folks lied about John Kerry. They lied about Iraq and 9/11. They lied about Afghanistan and Abu Ghraib and the economy and social security and "No child left behind." They manipulated heartland fears about terrorism and fags. And they eked out a small win. That's how they stole the election.
Was Kerry kind of a stiff? Yes. Would he have been more inspiring if he'd been anti-war? Absolutely! Is the Democratic Party out of touch? Uh huh. But, let's not deceive ourselves. Bush had the upper hand. He picked America's pocket and Americans, by and large, looked the other way.
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The first thing I did on New Year's Day 2005 was take a hike in Runyon Canyon, in the hills above Hollywood. It was a cold, clear afternoon and I was feeling optimistic, energetic, caffeinated. At one point in my walk, I looked up and noticed something black and ominous gliding across the sky. I almost did a double take, as there above me was a sleek, black B2 bomber. Yes, the legendary stealth bomber. That $2.2 billion Cold War relic that must have kept entire zip codes in Southern California employed through the better part of a decade.
Seeing the B2 fly silently overhead (on its way, I'm told to an annual Rose Bowl appearance), I was struck by how oddly beautiful it looked. Beautiful and terrifying. Any appearance of a military plane over civilian skies carries an implicit kind of threat. On New Year's Day, perhaps because I was looking for signs wherever I might find them, the B2 seemed as good a symbol as any for America at this moment. (It has after all been dubbed the "Spirit of America" Bomber.) We have such tremendous wealth. We have talent and imagination. We have vision. The B2 is a thing of awesome grace. It looks like a winged metal dinosaur, both futuristic and ancient.
It's also a depressing signifier of what we value. (That the B2 is also a pork barrel by-product, so much bacon fat for the Northrup-Grumman lobby is one small irony. The B2 has precious little military value today.) And yet there it was: $2.2 billion worth of American know-how on display, soaring proudly over a town famous for producing big-budget, enervating, useless spectacles. Southern California is damned proud of its B2 bomber. It's like a hardware version of a Bruckheimer movie: expensive, state-of-the-art, shiny and violent.
It's also an expensive relic. The B2 won't win the ground war in Iraq. It won't be instrumental in rooting out the next Al Qaeda cell in Pakistan or in the US. It won't win the hearts and minds of ordinary Muslims around the world. It probably won't even turn up much, except at annual parades. But it is a symbol of what America has come to represent to so many. A country of great power, great ingenuity and imagination (design, engineering) and also great hubris. Though our military is large and well-armed (and better funded than every last country combined) it is ill-equipped to fight the enemies we now create on a daily basis.
The B2 is also a symbol for what we value. $2.2 billion dollars could buy a lot of school lunches. It could buy even more good will in desperate, disaster-stricken nations like Indonesia and Malaysia (countries with strong extremist Muslim factions.)
Even if Kerry had won. Hell, even if Nader had won, we'd have to reckon with the fact that for so long we've invested so much energy in conceiving, designing and producing expensive machines designed to kill many people at once. That's what America makes best. Weapons like the B2 are one of our biggest exports.
Looking ahead to 2005, to be an engaged American means to confront the grim realities of American militarism. Bush bashing isn't enough. We'll have to ask ourselves why there's very little uproar about civilian casualties, war crimes and systematic torture of prisoners. We'll have to ask how this administration could even consider locking up human beings without charge or trial for life.
The dominant mode of protest at Bush's inauguration this month is a curiously disengaged one. Turn Your Back on Bush is an organized direct action to collectively deny recognition to the man most Americans picked to be their president. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I think it may be a mistake. If anything, we should be learning never to turn our backs on Bush again. He can't be trusted.
I'm heartened to see that the Senate Dems are planning a showdown at the confirmation hearings for Torture King Alberto Gonzales. Engagement, not turning our backs: This seems to be the only way to confront a President who makes reckless, senseless war in our names.
