The Political Stage

Politicians: n. a person who is afflicted with ambition while lacking character.
     It's time for the quadrennial celebration of American politics and all that it stands for. (Disclaimer: I am aware of the cliche of the blogger who is complaining about politics and to that let me just say that this blogger has yet to fulfill that requirement so just bear with me. Or don't, because this is America, the choice is yours) Day after day, hour after hour, we are bombarded with falsities, misrepresentations, skewed data, and biased judgements. Every election cycle sees increased amounts of money going to finance campaigns and they are starting earlier every cycle. It seems that elections bring out the worst in America, cynicism, disillusionment, avarice, ignorance, anger, what have you. Candidates stand for hours speaking while never saying what they stand for. They are not making a case for their qualifications for the office they seek so much as they engage in sycophantic behavior to gain the approval of the most voters they can. This is simply the way it is in our electoral process. Every candidate is the messiah and every opponent is the anti-Christ. This is the role they are meant to play in the stories they are writing for themselves. For instance, no matter what one can not attribute success to one's opponent. One can agree publicly even in the areas in which they might agree with their opponent as this does not follow the archetype established in our minds. And I attribute this pattern to our childhoods.  
     When you're a kid all of the stories you read are simple and black and white.  They have to follow the hero/villain archetype established thousands of years ago in stories like Beowulf. There's the hero and it's clear who the hero is. And since we know who the hero is, his opponent is obviously the villain. Why else would that person be opposing the hero if not for the fact that he is evil? And indeed this thinking makes a lot of sense as it carries into our society. Ours is an adversarial and competitive one. Winners and losers are what define our heroes.  Look at sports for example. Die hard fans vehemently support their teams and one way in which they show their support is to despise and demonized the opposing team. Just as politicians and their supporters do. My team/candidate/view is righteous and good, so the opposing team/candidate/view must be wrong. Politicians and their advisers understand this and behave accordingly as they make themselves out to be the hero to their supporters and heroes need villains.      Now on some level I can understand their desire to be/stay in political office. It's a very kush gig. A six figure salary plus awesome benefits are what most working class citizens aspire to achieve. Not to mention all of the fringe benefits that come with political privilege. I should also mention that there are some people in governance who seek political office because they genuinely give a damn. And while these people are rare and their convictions and passion are tested daily, not all succumb to cynicism and temptation. There are leaders in our Congress. The difference between a leader and a politician is simple but it is also very subtle. A politician is willing to do whatever it takes to keep his job, whereas a leader is willing to do his job. The same applies to voters, the readers of the stories. An informed voter bases their decision on more than which candidate is most like them. But this thinking is appealing because if ones hero is like them than one must have heroic qualities. And it's this sort or facile cognition that poses a challenge to a healthy democracy in which ideas and problems are identified and addressed with rationality and compassion. Now I am aware that this could be very easily dismissed as nothing more than the nonsensical ramblings of some blogger. And to a certain extent one would be justified in disagreeing with me. If one were to completely dismiss my ideas purely because they do not agree with their own, than you missed the point. I am trying merely to engage your critical and analytic abilities in a political context which I hope you would then apply to the election. Be your own hero.

Inaugural Post

Welcome to the first post of my blog, The Red Mud. This will be a forum of discussion and expression of all manner of things that catch my eye and piqué my interest. Who am I? why should my opinions matter? Valid questions that I will answer thusly. I am a college educated person with an internet connected device. And in this day and age, that means that I have a voice and the opportunity to express my opinion in a public forum, thereby joining the discussion. The topics covered will be limited to the thoughts that occur within the parameters of my mind, which range from the permeability of public memory to the merits of chocolate covered gummy bears. Or thoughts such as the observation that is responsible for the title to this blog.  It was last week. I had to go up to Rutgers University to see a man about a horse. After my meeting I decided to go see some of my professors whom I had not seen since I had graduated last may. I hopped on a F bus at college avenue just as I had done a million times before on a million different days for a million different reasons. I immediately settled back into my old ways when I used to ride these buses as a student. As the bus creeped along Route 18 towards the Cook/Douglass campus I looked around the bus. Observed the people. You could always tell who was going to class and who was coming from class. Some were reading. Most were listening to music. Surprisingly few were talking. This is not what caught my interest however. My eyes were drawn down. To the floor to what looked like dried blood.  I saw it in smudged streaks and in smudged footprints all over the floor of the bus. All of a sudden, this sight elicited such a sense of familiarity and nostalgia that I once again truly felt like I was a student on my way to class. This kids sitting next to me were my compatriots. We were on the same plane. No longer was I a visitor I was a resident once again. All because of this red mud. And anyone who has been to Rutgers knows of this red mud, which makes its appearance after mostly after it rains. The red mud follows the rain at Rutgers as sure as moon follows the sun. Turns out this red mud is an example of continental drift. The red mud is also seen in Morocco, which was connected to northern New Jersey eons ago, and this is why the soil composition is somewhat distinctive and extraneous to this region of the state.  This got me thinking, if one were to write about Rutgers, they would have to include the red mud in some way. It would be a reference that would only be picked up by those who are familiar with Rutgers yes, but it would lend the story an air of credibility and authenticity, and therefore make it good. Ultimately this is true of all stories. All stories need the red mud. Some aspect that assures the reader that the writing is coming from some place real. It does not necessarily have to be a physical detail, such as the red mud, it could be word or phrase, an attitude, an emotion, whatever. David Simon was able to write authentically about Baltimore because he lived in Baltimore. Bret Easton Ellis was able to write about the American dream because he lived it. Taxi Driver so aptly captured the crippling and maddening isolation that can come of living in a city because it was written by someone who felt that isolation and madness while living in the city. Basically what I am trying to say is that the difference between an actual story and just plain bullshit is authenticity. Write what you know. That is what I will bring with this blog. I will write what I know. Whatever that may be.