Wisdom can be found in many places. I was watching Professional Bull Riding today, and the announcer (didn’t catch his name) dropped this pearl of wisdom:
Professional bull riding is not a sport based on hope. It’s a sport based on belief.
I caught his meaning. When you’re preparing to ride a bull, you can’t “hope” you’re going to stay on its back. You have to believe you’re going to do it. And even when you believe, often the bull is still going to win.
What does this have to do with Trump and the Democrats? Consider Trump as an intemperate bull. Sure, he’s ageing, but he’s got plenty of kick left. How do you “ride” this bull and defeat him? Not by bringing a weak case of impeachment that you know is going to fail in the Senate. Not by giving Trump several big victories, such as a massive defense budget and a new trade bill, so-called NAFTA 2.0. Not by offering only the most tepid objections to his warmongering with Iran.
Consider the DNC and its preferred presidential candidate, Joe Biden. Is a corporate Democrat who’s both compromised and fading really the best candidate to ride Trump out of office? As Joe Biden himself might say, give me a break.
You can’t hope you’re going to ride Trump out of office in 2020. You have to believe it. And you have to give the American people a candidate with some balls, with firm and principled beliefs, a bull rider like Bernie Sanders or Tulsi Gabbard.
Hope may have been important to Barack Obama’s success in 2008, but it’s not going to defeat Trump in 2020. To ride that bull, you have to believe.
A few thoughts on violence and military idolatry in America
If you believe the polls, America is a nation of believers. A nation of faith. But is our faith truly in a pacific god of love? Or do we instead worship a god of war? Current and past events suggest that too often Americans place their faith in war and the military. We continue to believe despite the evidence our belief is both wrongheaded and destructive.
We have a cult-like affection for war and the military. It drives what we see — what we perceive. Believing is seeing. The military confesses to believe in “progress” in Iraq and Afghanistan, for example, so we invent metrics that show how we’re winning (which is exactly what we did fifty years ago in Vietnam).
We are not a rational society. We are a faith-based society. And our temples and crosses are military bases and weaponry, which we export globally. The U.S. has 800 overseas bases, and America dominates the international trade in arms. Meanwhile, our missionaries are our Special Ops troops, which we send to 130 countries, spreading the American gospel. The gospel of war and the gun.
The icons of American militarism are our weapons. Our warplanes, our drones, big bombs (the MOAB), the list goes on. They have become the iconic symbols of an idolatry of destruction.
A xenophobic form of patriotism exacerbates a religion of violence. Exclusive rather than inclusive, it sets the boundaries of “us” versus “them.” Critics and dissenters are cast out and exiled.
Meanwhile, in far-off foreign lands, we reject the reality of ruins and rubble. We couch it instead in terms of salvation: “we had to destroy the village to save it.” It’s another aspect of our evangelical approach to war. It’s like being born again. You must tear yourself down before you’re born again in the spirit of Christ. We seem to believe cities must be ruined before we can declare victory over the enemy.
Consider 9/11/2001. An inward-looking people may have kept the ruins of 9/11 as a monument to the victims. But not us. That’s expensive real estate, and on those ruins we were born again, building Freedom Tower, exactly 1776 feet in height. Thus our fall was reinterpreted as rebirth, our defeat as victory, tragedy as triumph. Even 9/11 itself is now celebrated as a day of patriotism.
Yes, we can reconstruct our own rubble, as we did after 9/11. But will foreign rubble ever be reconstructed? Cities like Mosul? Well, who cares? They are not of the body. They are not us. They are outcasts. Let them survive in what’s left of their blasted buildings and homes.
Our TV shows reinforce our belief in violence and militarism. New ones include “The Brave” on NBC, which begins by focusing on a pretty White female doctor kidnapped by Muslim terrorists and “brave” efforts to rescue her; “Valor” on the CW channel, featuring lots of helicopters and flags and automatic weapons; and the rather obvious “SEAL Team” on CBS, with elite Navy SEALs standing in for the superheroes of the past. If you get tired of watching military heroics on TV, there’s always military-themed “shooter” video games. Indeed, the military experience is everywhere, even in Madden football, where in “story mode” you can play against quarterback Dan Marino on an Army base in Iraq. (The field is surrounded by a fortified fence, rocky hills, and a helicopter pad, among other exotic military features.)
America is being consumed by a religion of violence and mayhem. We’re trapped in a dark maelstrom of death and destruction. Yet how can we repudiate our god of war when we are so busy feeding him? When we talk of “thoughts and prayers” after each tragedy, do we truly know which god we’re calling upon?