Anonymities Anonymous

The New Neo Posted on by

One somewhat-less-than-a-household-word blogger I like to read sometimes is The Anchoress. One of the things I like about The Anchoress is that she’s anonymous, and unapologetic about it. In this post she explains why.

I, too, am anonymous, not to mention obscure—a great deal more obscure than The Anchoress. It seems that, for the time being, I intend to remain anonymous, although lately I’ve been trying to do a thing or two to make the obscurity a little less profound. At one point I had an offer to be quoted by one of the rather well-known blogs, but the blogger told me he didn’t link to anonymous bloggers, and so I’d have to reveal my true identity before I’d get the spotlight. Although his link wasn’t quite up there with the BBC gig The Anchoress was offered, still, for me, it was a relatively Biggish Deal. So I thought long and hard about whether to reveal my identity for a chance at my 1.5 seconds of blogger fame.

But I declined. Overall, I’ve found that the whole idea of celebrity, however fleeting, has never seemed attractive to me. I’m interested in trying to achieve something–communicating ideas, or trying to perform work I can be proud of. I’m not a social recluse, but I have never wanted to be well-known to a large community of people I’ve never met—although, honestly, at this point, it’s not as though I’m in any grave danger of that.

I don’t know how commonplace such a feeling is, but I see from her post that The Anchoress appears to share it. I have always preferred to be behind the scenes, and in fact, as a therapist-in-training, my very favorite place to be was always behind the two-way mirror, making suggestions to another therapist who was the one actually working with the clients. And one of the reasons I like to write is an attraction to the anonymity of it, the once-removed quality. I think many writers are drawn to this paradoxical element of writing—of allowing them to reveal themselves while simultaneously not really revealing themselves at all, or at least controlling the revelations. Of course, some writers are hams, and feed on celebrity, and many love to do readings in front of an actual public of living and breathing people. But others like to stay far away from that sort of thing.

In the blogosphere, I have nothing but admiration for those who use their names and jump unveiled right into the very thick of it. But some of us—including even such blogger luminaries as Wretchard—prefer, for a multiplicity of reasons, to proffer observations from behind the shelter of a nom de plume. Nom de plumes have an old and illustrious history, and are really nothing to be ashamed of, although there are those in the somewhat macho atmosphere of the blogosphere who probably think they are evidence of cowardice, and are somehow less-than-honorable.

In addition to these already-discussed matters of temperament (not as simple as, although related to, introversion vs. extraversion), I think that many of us who choose to remain anonymous are interested in setting boundaries between the different aspects of our lives. My other activities (“real work”?) are totally apolitical and done under my real name, and I’ve decided I want to keep those worlds very separate from my blogging.

So, call us cowardly, call us shy, call us macaroni—we anonymous bloggers have rights, too. I hereby invite all other anonymous bloggers to assemble as a new support group: Anonymities Anonymous (AA). Shout it loud: we’re anonymous, and we’re proud!

Blogswarms, meet press-pass

The New Neo Posted on by

The term “blogswarm” (as in blog-swarm, not blog’s warm) is being applied to the Eason Jordan affair. An interesting phrase, with its insect connotations. Bees swarming around a hive, worker ants on automatic.

The idea is that the blogosphere’s fierce discussion of Jordan’s Davos remarks is, to coin a few other cliches, a tempest in a teapot, a mountain out of a molehill. Nothing to see here, move along please. After all, he retracted his statements, so anyone who doesn’t just accept that is a hate-filled attack dog (whoops, another animal metaphor) out to get him for no reason.

I’ve discussed Jordan in three posts preceding this one, so I guess I’m just one of the swarmers. So I’ll not discuss the substantive issues here–just the phenomenon of accusations of a blogswarm.

It’s a pejorative, of course, designed to belittle the concerns of the swarmers. I doubt very much the accusers would consider it a swarm if it’s a topic that interests them; it’s a term reserved for a topic on the other side. When the mainstream media went ga-ga over Al QaQa right before the election, that could have been defined as a media swarm, but I don’t recall that it ever was.

One of the many things driving the blogosphere’s focus on the Jordan story is the perception (and a correct one, I believe) that the press is ignoring it because it appears to reflect poorly on one of their own, and might even end up embarrassing CNN. At best, Jordan was guilty of a sloppiness with words astounding in someone in his position, and remarkable in its capacity–although limited to “mere words”–to do harm to foreign perceptions of the US military. At worst, well…let’s just wait for that tape….

So, the press is ignoring the story. The blogosphere is not. If the bloggers are guilty of swarming, what is the press guilty of here? Is there a word for the opposite of a blogswarm? I’ve been trying to think of an animal metaphor, in the interests of symmetry, but I confess I’m stumped. All I can come up with is a “press-pass” (well, at least it’s a pun). Suggestions, anyone?

UPDATE 2/14: Actually, I’m starting to like “press-pass.” Of course, now that Jordan has resigned, the blogs are being blamed. No press-pass for the pajamahadeens, apparently.

In the eye of the beholder–Sambrook reports on Jordan

The New Neo Posted on by

I’ve been following a fascinating discussion on Jay Rosen’s blog of the Jordan affair, in which Davos eyewitness Sambrook of the BBC participated for a while. Unfortunately, Sambrook didn’t seem used to the somewhat heated give-and-take of a blog “comments”section (after all, he’s only a journalist!) and he departed somewhat abruptedly from that kitchen, sweating rather profusely.

But I’d like to defend him, if only a little bit, from accusations that he’s lying in his recall of Jordan’s Davos pronouncements. I don’t think he’s lying at all–as in “deliberately misrepresenting what he believes to be the truth.” But I don’t necessarily think he’s correct, which is why the videotape is so important. But, since we don’t have it–and perhaps never will–we have to rely on eyewitness tesimony of those such as Sambrook who were there.

The problem is that eyewitness testimony is notoriously inaccurate This fact isn’t generally known by the public, but lawyers know it well, as do psychologists. People’s perceptions are skewed, often wildly, by their previous set of beliefs, among other things. So Sambrook may indeed think he is reporting accurately what Jordan said, and yet he might be very wide of the mark. And he himself wouldn’t have a clue that this is so, and would be outraged at charges that he is lying. Which is understandable, since in fact he is probably not lying. But there is a good chance he is incorrect, nevertheless, and only the videotape can tell us.

Far more compelling is the fact that someone such as Barney Frank, a liberal Democrat, was outraged and troubled by Jordan’s comments. Since Frank’s pre-existing bias might have been more likely to have gone in the direction of supporting someone like Jordan, I find his reaction good evidence that Jordan did in fact say something that a reasonable person would perceive as an inflammatory and unsupported allegation.

And, speaking of videotapes and eyewitness reports: I used to work in a clinic that videotaped all therapy sessions for training purposes. I saw many couples (oh, couples therapy–now, there’s a mighty hot kitchen!). Over and over, I thought I heard one or the other member of the couple misrepresenting what had been said in a session. And, in such cases, I had the extremely satisfying option of saying, “Well, shall we look at the videotape to see what was actually said?” It was often a real mind-blower for the client to see how he/she had misperceived statements made only a few moments earlier. We all do this to a certain extent, constantly editing our memories in one direction or another. But some people do it to a much greater extent than others, and some people do it much more in one situation or another.

So, the videotape: bring it on!

Eason Jordan and the risky shift

The New Neo Posted on by

Way way back in college in the 60s, when I was a psych/soc major, I was required to take many courses–many more than I actually cared to–on group behavior. One of the more tedious among them featured research, and the culmination of the semester was an original research project each of us students was required to design and perform on his/her own. Ugh! To make matters worse, I wasn’t even allowed to choose the subject of my own research–it had to be, just had to be, an exploration of the phenomenon known as “the risky shift.”

Well, at least the name had a certain panache. “Risky shift”–what could it be? I found out that it refers to a tendency in homogeneous groups (bear with me here; it’s going to become relevant, I promise) such that, in the process of making decisions, members will tend to make riskier and rasher statements and judgments than they ordinarily would. It’s a form of groupthink that is common in gatherings of like-minded individuals.

I think the risky shift may be behind Eason Jordan’s recent remarks about the US military “targeting” journalists. Emboldened by his presence in the bosom of this simpatico group, he probably couched his accusation in even more extreme terms than he otherwise would have. No doubt Jordan was absolutely stunned that Gergen and Frank voiced any objections whatsoever, because he had counted on them, as members of the group, to support his assertions. And he certainly wasn’t counting on ever having to prove them or produce any evidence to back them up. Perhaps he didn’t even think that anyone present would betray him–and the group–by telling the outside world what he’d said.

UPDATE: Some possible corroboration of my theory, from a Michelle Malkin interview with Gergen: “Gergen, who has known Jordan for some 20 years, told me Jordan ‘realized as soon as the words had left his mouth that he had gone too far’ and ‘walked himself back’….Gergen also told me that he was under the impression that the panel was off the record.”

Eason Jordan, wordsmith extraordinaire

The New Neo Posted on by

You may be familiar with the newest flap around some remarks made by Eason Jordan of CNN. Basically, he is reported to have accused US troops of “targeting journalists” in Iraq–as in “purposely killing” them.

Now Jordan has issued an explanation of his statement: he was merely responding to someone who had called these journalists’ deaths “collateral damage”–which, according to Jordan, they were not. But he didn’t mean to imply that the US military had targeted them knowing they were journalists, or because they were journalists.

As a journalist himself, Jordan is expected to be even more careful with words than the average person. When he says that journalists have been targeted by the US military, it has a generally accepted meaning, and it’s not the one he’s trying to claim. He can’t get away with saying that what he actually meant to say was, “People who turned out to be journalists were shot in a combat zone by the military under the mistaken impression that they were terrorists or enemy combatants.” That is simply not what the word “targeted” means, and Jordan should know that. If he doesn’t, he deserves to be relieved of his position.

I guess it could be true that, technically, as Jordan says, this type of thing doesn’t exactly fit the definition of “collateral damage,” either, which might be something like “People killed by stray gunfire or explosives because they happened to be nearby when the military was targeting another person.” Does the term “collateral damage” apply to mistaken identity, such as appears to have been the case with the journalists? I don’t know. It’s hard to get a good definition of the term “collateral damage” (I’ve looked, and the best I can find is “inadvertent casualties and destruction inflicted on civilians in the course of military operations.”)

So, technically, Jordan may or may not be correct in saying that “collateral damage” is not the best terminology here, either. But it certainly is closer to the mark than “targeted,” since at least it gives the impression that there is something accidental about it rather than intentional. Jordan’s semantic nitpicking is a classic case of the cure being worse than the disease.

These journalist deaths should more properly be filed under the heading of, “Tragic cases of mistaken identity during the fog of war.” Jordan, writer and journalist, must know this.

Elections and connections

The New Neo Posted on by

I felt deep joy watching the Iraqi people dancing in the streets on election day. Part of the intensity of my joy was because the path to that moment had seemed so long. The First Gulf War. The long buildup to this war–the intensely frustrating UN stalling, with the inexplicable (and, post-Oil-for-Food scandal revelations, suddenly all-too-explicable) behaviour of nations such as France.

And the fear. I was afraid of a guerilla war that would last for years and resemble the Vietnam War–in actuality, not just in Democratic and MSM rhetoric. I was afraid hundreds of thousands or even millions of people would be killed–in actuality, not just in some biased statisticians’ claims.

But most of all I think what I feared was failure. The consequences of that failure seemed to me to be the emboldening of terrorists all over the world, not to mention the continued suffering of the Iraqi people, and the gloating of America’s enemies. And that idea was the main reason why, on November 2, 2005, I had gone into the voting booth and cast the first Republican vote of my life.

Now, I’ve always been emotional when voting–although I’ve never danced in the street. There is something corny but moving about voting–and, this year, more than ever before. When I voted, I did so with a fervor I’d never felt before, both because it represented a break with my long liberal Democrat past (although I still see myself as a Scoop Jackson/Zell Miller type of Democrat), and because I felt that more was riding on this vote than ever before.

And when I saw the Iraqi people on their voting day, so filled with the joy of long-enslaved people finally tasting freedom, I felt a connection between my vote on Nov. 2 and their votes on January 30.

And I see other connections, too. I think of the Exodus from Egypt–a celebration of freedom if there ever was one–and the Civil Rights movement. I think of all the young US servicemen and women (and those of other countries) who died in Iraq, all the foreign workers beheaded, all the dark dark days, and all those who said during those dark days that this election day would never come, or, if it came, that it would be a disaster.

I think of the people on the doomed flights of 9/11–people whose last sight was the skyline of New York, from a plane flying way too low and way too fast. Or people in the WTC whose last decision was whether to jump or whether to be burned alive. Or people, on another 9/11 flight, whose last decision was to rush the cockpit and take the plane down before it destroyed more people.

All of those people are heroes. But they could not possibly have foreseen that their deaths that awful day would somehow lead to this other day, bringing hope to so many millions who had lived with horror for so many years. The connection between those who died on 9/11 and those dancing Iraqi voters may be circuitous–but the connection is there, nonetheless.

Running out of suicide bombers? Let’s hope

The New Neo Posted on by

Is is possible that the world of extremist Islamic/Baathist terrorism could have gone any lower? Apparently, yes, if the news in this article is true, and they are now drafting handicapped children for the privilege of becoming suicide bombers in Iraq.

Traditionally, when wars are going on, the side that is losing starts running out of able-bodied young men, and conscripts younger and younger and less and less fit men/boys to be cannon fodder. So, this is as good a sign as any that the terrorists might be running out of eager volunteers to blow themselves up and attain the “height of bliss” in the act of murdering others.

Why might this be happening? I can think of two reasons. Firstly, it must hard enough, even among fanatics, to recruit people for the task of exploding themselves–but still, somewhat easier when the cause seems to be going well. And I would imagine that recent events in Iraq are not going as well as that combination of nefarious factions (foreign and domestic Al Qaeda members, and out-of-work Baathists) that our MSM insists on calling the “insurgency” and Michael Moore considers the “Minutemen”–had hoped. The Iraqis seem to be going about their business in defiance of the fact that they could be blown up at any moment by these murderers.

Secondly, it is likely that there is actually a finite number of people fanatic enough to be recruited in this endeavor. Even in a culture that glorifies death, the human drive towards life is difficult to override in most people, and it takes a special sort to be willing to strap on a flotilla of bombs and detonate it. One of the good things about suicide bombing (perhaps the only good thing?) is that, by the very nature of the thing, each volunteer only gets one chance. So unless there is something to strongly motivate new recruits, the pool of potential volunteers for such an activity is going to shrink.

I just thought of one more good thing about suicide bombers. Their acts are so egregiously repulsive to all right-thinking people that they tarnish any cause with which they are involved.

What’s up with this “escalating violence” meme?

The New Neo Posted on by

On CNN, NPR, and in the MSM in general, you hear it nearly every time there is violence in Iraq–in other words, every day–“the death toll increases as…”; “in escalating violence,…”; and so forth.

So I have a simple, modest question–how could a death toll ever decrease? Short of discovering that they’d previously counted wrong, that is?

Note to the MSM: death tolls can’t decrease. They will always increase. And the word “escalating” ought to be reserved for a change in the rate of the killings. I’ve never seen this sort of analysis done by the MSM, although Belmont Club did something similar a while back for American forces and discovered that, at the time, the unrest wasn’t “spreading” (which was the meme of the day).

Now, it’s possible the death rate has gone up recently in terms of attacks on Iraqi civilians prior to elections–after all, that’s been a stated goal of the terrorists (I refuse to call them “insurgents”) who are out to terrorize Iraqis into staying away from the polls. The MSM, as usual, are playing right along by this “escalating” business, but why should I expect anything different, at this point?

And yes, of course, I deplore and detest the violence that is going on there, and one death at the hands of these murderers is far too many. But I’d like the media to put it in the proper perspective, historical and otherwise (well, I can dream, can’t I?)

The fine art of insulting half your audience

The New Neo Posted on by

It happens nearly every time. I’ll be reading a short story, let’s say, enjoying myself, lost in the experience—when suddenly, there it is: the gratuitous and mean-spirited and out-of-context slap at Bush, or at those who support him. It’s not as though the story is even tangentially about politics, either; it can be about anything at all, it doesn’t really matter.

The Bush-dissing will be thrown in when you least expect it, just to let the reader know—well, to let the reader know what, exactly? To let the reader know that the author is hip, kindly, intelligent, moral—oh, just about everything a person ought to be. And that the reader must of course be a member of the club, too—not one of those Others, the warmongers, the selfish and stupid and demonized people who happen to have voted for Bush.

Back when I was one of the gang, too, back when I was in with the in crowd (“if it’s square, we ain’t there”), did I notice when authors dragged in their political credentials from left field? Or perhaps it wasn’t quite as commonplace back then for them to do so?

At any rate, now it seems positively obligatory. I’m reading along, sunk deep within the story, bonding with the characters—and then, suddenly, it’s as though the author has reached a hand out of the pages of the magazine (OK, I’ll confess, sometimes it’s the New Yorker—yes, I still read it for the fiction, just as some people claim they read Playboy for the interviews) and slapped me across the face.

Authors, do you really want to do this? Because, with a single sentence, you’ve managed to alienate and offend (not to mention insult) up to half your audience.

I don’t think this even occurs to you. I think you just assume that anyone perceptive and intelligent and downright nuanced enough to be reading your fabulous work couldn’t possibly—no, say it isn’t so, Joe!!—support that disgusting, repulsive, lying POS Bush. Or maybe you just don’t care. Maybe you don’t want people like that for your audience.

It’s not just authors. It’s plays, concerts, performances of all kinds, even those given by friends of mine, people I know and otherwise respect, people with good hearts. It’s poetry readings most particularly. It’s gotten so bad that I go to all cultural events girding my loins and waiting for the blow to fall, waiting for my intelligence and judgment and ethics to be insulted. And this from people who consider themselves culturally and morally superior, although this sense of superiority doesn’t seem to reside in their needing to prove themselves to be well-informed or logical or knowledgeable about the issues—just in letting the world know that they’re on the right side of them (which would be the left side, naturalment).

The tsunami and the forgetting

The New Neo Posted on by

We hardly hear about the tsunami anymore, although for a while it dominated the news. The tsunami was videotaped in a staggering variety of manifestations: from the tall towering waves of Japanese art, to rolling swells that almost resembled a normal tide coming in–except for the fact that this particular tide just kept coming and coming and coming. We viewed forlorn beaches where villages had once stood, and saw keening mourners whose anguish was almost unbearable to watch even on the small screen.

Over and over, newspeople, relief workers, politicians, and officials declared this to be an unprecedented catastrophe. But in the annals of history there have been far greater catastrophes (at least in terms of number of deaths), and many of them have been almost utterly forgotten–although some of these have actually occurred relatively recently.

Why did this particular tragedy grip us so–at least, for a while–and why have so many of the others been forgotten, or nearly forgotten?

Only those of a certain age might remember the massive 1970 floods in Bangladesh which killed 300,000 people (see here). An earthquake in the city of Tianjin in China in 1976, in the bad old days when almost no news emerged from that country, was reported to have killed at least 255,000, and more likely 655,000. How many of us have even heard of the city, much less the earthquake? Those with longer memories than I might even recall the flooding of the Yangtze in 1931 that caused at least three million deaths–and this was in a time when the world’s population was far smaller than it is today.

Stranger still is the lack of common knowledge about the 1918-9 influenza epidemic that disrupted most of the world (with the exception of Africa and South America) at the same time WWI was ravaging Western Europe. It was an event medieval or even Biblical in its apocalyptic scope. How many people died worldwide? Estimates vary, but the most conservative state that the death toll was 25 million. Oher estimates go much higher, up to 70 million or even 100 million. And, as this transcript from a fascinating PBS documentary on the pandemic relates, “As soon as the dying stopped, the forgetting began.”

“The forgetting;” yes. Virtually forgotten by all but scholars or epidemiologists, although it happened within the lifetime of many people still living today: more US soldiers dead from flu than were killed in WWI, many US cities running out of coffins and burying the dead in mass graves, homeless orphans wandering through the streets, schools and factories closed, wild rumors (“the Germans started it”) and familiar theologic explanations (“it’s a punishment for sin”). Read the links to get an idea of the all-encompassing horror of the thing and then tell me, if you can, why my history courses (and perhaps yours?) failed to even mention it.

Although the tsunami caused far fewer deaths than these other natural disasters, it represented a rare concurrence of factors that have caused it to be perceived–at least for now–as more dramatic:

1) It was widely recorded in riveting images, and those images were played almost endlessly on the 24-hour news cycle.

2) It affected an enormous swath of the world over vast distances, but happened very suddenly. This makes it different from an earthquake (sudden but relatively localized) or a pandemic (widespread but occurring more gradually).

3) Most of the places it affected were described as having been like “paradise”–picturesque fishing villages, or lush tropical resorts. The medium was the ocean, a force of nature that the villagers traditionally connected with sustenance, and the rest of us connected with beauty and relaxation. Thus, the tsunami involved a nightmarish reversal of perception: from food-giving life force to death-dealing enemy; from scenic wonder to horror.

4) There were so many children who died, and so many people who lost vast numbers of relatives, as well as whole towns in which the majority of inhabitants perished. The tragedy of the survivors seemed even more intense for that reason–so many of them had lost so much.

5) A tsunami is inherently dramatic, like a tornado. Tsunamis also have the horrific elements of action at a distance; how could one imagine that an earthquake off the shore of Indonesia could wreak such havoc in Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, and even Somalia only a few hours and so many miles away, its ferocity nearly undiminished? It seems magical and demonic, even when the science is explained.

6) Events of recent years, especially 9/11 for us Americans, have made people think more apocalyptically.

So, will this disaster follow the course of so many others, in which “as soon as the dying stopped, the forgetting began”? And why, in fact, does that sort forgetting happen?

The transcript of the aforementioned PBS program on the influenza epidemic offers the following explanation:

CROSBY: It is in the individual memory of a great many of us, but it’s not in our collective memory. That, for me, is the, is the greatest mystery: how we could have forgotten anything so horrendous, so massively horrendous, as this, this epidemic which killed so many of us, killed us so fast and our reaction was to forget it.

FANNIN: Why? Why wasn’t that part of our memory? Or of our history. I think it’s probably because it was so awful while it was happening, so frightening, that people just got rid of the memory. But it always lingers there. As a kind of an uneasiness. If it happens once before, what’s to say it’s not going to happen again.

What they are saying is that we don’t like to remember how vulnerable we are, and that perhaps that is the most significant reason for this “great forgetting” of seemingly unforgettable catastrophes. There is also the fact that large numbers of deaths are simply too overwhelming for the human mind to encompass. As none other than Joseph Stalin–one of the greatest experts on (and instigators of) such carnage–once remarked: “A single death is a tragedy; a million is a statistic.” What makes the tsunami deaths a tragedy to us right now is that videotape allowed us to see so many of the sufferers as individuals, and thus as tragedies. But years from now, when that memory is blurred, the deaths will probably come to seem more like statistics. That process appears to be well underway.

But, even if barely remembered or totally forgotten, truly cataclysmic events can cause changes that still ripple and reverberate down the ages. Our stongest memory of the European Black Death of the Fourteenth Century may now be the children’s rhyme it bequeathed us (“ring around the rosie”). But the Black Death, causing the death of between one-third and one-half of Europe’s population, sparked major and lasting changes and realignments in European society, including the decline of feudalism. How many remember anything about the great Lisbon Earthquake, fire, and tsunami of 1755, which struck at 9 AM on All Saints’ Day and virtually destroyed a city that was one of the major capitals of the world at the time, collapsing churches filled with worshippers, and filling Europe with horror? The earthquake struck not only at the city and its inhabitants, but at the attitude of optimism that had characterized the first half of that century, and caused many to question their previously unshakeable faith in divine providence, advancing the Enlightenment and the science of seismology.

Will the recent tsunami have similar far-reaching effects, even if “the great forgetting” reduces this enormous event to a tiny and nearly-forgotten footnote, as has happened so many times before? All we can safely say is that the 2004 tsunami will have devastating–and, it is hoped, short-lived–local effects on the countries that have been particularly hard-hit, and will no doubt result in the installation of some sort of tsunami warning system (long overdue) in the Indian Ocean. For the rest, we will have to await the judgment of history, and of time.

The health care is always greener on the other side

The New Neo Posted on by

This review of the book Miracle Cure, appearing in Commentary, reminded me of something I’ve long thought: that the Canadian health care system isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I used to be active on a forum that dealt with health issues, and over and over again I heard the same complaint from Canadians—unconscionably long waits for testing and treatment, and often-inadequate treatment even when it finally arrived. This was especially true of chronic pain patients, who usually waited through months or even years of intense suffering for a precious MRI, diagnosis, and treatment. When I would hear Americans touting the wonderful Canadian health care system, I would wonder where they were getting their information.

But, as the Commentary article states, I think it’s a classic case of “the grass is always greener on the other side of the border.” It’s nice to think that top-level health care could be had by all. But it just doesn’t appear to be realistic. It’s easy to see the flaws of one’s own system, and to ignore the flaws of the system across the border, especially when one doesn’t have personal and bitter experience of those flaws.

Socializing anything, including health care, tends to lead inexorably to wider availability of a more mediocre service. I am reminded of the drab high-rises of eastern Europe under the Soviets, the norm of tiny apartments shared by multiple families, the hackneyed art, the lack of variety in the stores, the dullness of reduced expectations for everyone. Everyone, that is, except the elites.

For, as even a casual observer of human nature is forced to admit, ye shall always have the elites with you. The Soviet elites got whatever they wanted, Communism or no Communism–spacious apartments, fancy clothes, plentiful food, dachas on the Don (or wherever dachas are). In the US, the rich certainly get better health care, which is one of the many reasons people want to get rich—to have access to better food, clothing, shelter, vacations, and health care. And in Canada, the rich also get better health care—the only difference is that they have to travel to do it, mostly to the US. And travel they do. As Miracle Cure points out, the Canadian health care system might not be able to function even at its current level if not for the safety valve afforded by the exodus of the rich to the US for their health care.

In the US, we don’t lack for proposals to solve our health care system’s problems, but my guess is that all of them are flawed because they all involve difficult choices about allocating resources. I think most people would agree (although not the most extreme Social Darwinists) that we need to have some sort of bottom line health care for everyone, although we don’t agree on how to provide it, how much is enough, or at what point it would kick in (at death’s door, or preventatively, or somewhere in between?). The answers to these questions depend on the answers to the larger questions: how far are we willing to go towards health care equality, and how low will our standards of general health care have to dive in order to attain it (and isn’t it the case that the rich will always find a way to get better care under any such system–and, might that not even be a good thing in some ways, since it provides motivation and energy for work and achievement )?

FAQs

The New Neo Posted on by

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Well, maybe not so “frequently.” And maybe not “asked,” exactly. But they are questions.

1) Why do you call yourself “neo-neocon?”

See here.

2) Why are you anonymous?

See here.

3) What’s up with that green Granny Smith apple you’re holding in front of your face in your photo?

The apple is meant to be a reference to this painting by Rene Magritte. According to UCSF, the painting was “the closest he was willing to come to answer a request for a self portrait. That tells us how little this marvelous artist cared for self-promotion and publicity, even though he was delighted to sell his work widely.” Well, I may not be a “marvelous artist,” but I share the desire to maintain my privacy while simultaneously wishing to have my work read. I also happen to like the color of the apple, although I couldn’t find one with a similar stem and leaves, and I couldn’t get it to float in front of my face the way his does. Bummer. I also decided to dispense with the bowler hat and the overcoat.

4) Are you a practicing therapist?

As I wrote in my profile, I have a Master’s degree in Marriage and Family Therapy. In the interests of clarity, I want to add that I am not at present practicing as a therapist. When I began this blog I had tentative plans to open a private practice, but I’ve been concentrating on my writing and free-lance editing instead.

5) What is your e-mail address?

It’s also in my blogger profile: jaybean33@yahoo.com.