Monday, February 20, 2017

Sports, Politics, Tactics, and the Emotional Mind: A National Conversation

Warning: This will be a necessarily long essay, because there's a lot to process one month into the Trump presidency. Whether you like it or loathe it, this presidency marks a rare, urgent point in our nation's history. We've never elected someone like this before -- again, that point stands whether you're happy about the occasion or absolutely crushed.

Warning No. 2: In case you haven't noticed, political discussions tend to get very heated very quickly (which is a big reason this essay is being written). This essay will not attempt to litigate various political matters through a frame of right or wrong -- not in terms of making declarations, at any rate.

Liberals will generally believe X. Conservatives will generally believe Y. No one needs to be told what they think is right or wrong -- you wouldn't believe something if you thought it was wrong. You all come to this text -- or any text you read on anything -- with your own set of strongly-held beliefs. 

So: In THIS essay, statements of political affiliation, ideological leanings, or emotional tendencies are not meant to convey approval or disapproval, nor are they meant to convey that one side is inherently better or worse than another. They are meant to simply lay out broad and generalized positions of adherence/inclination/aspiration on the parts of the two competing parties and ideologies in this country. Yes, individual voters and sub-groups naturally proliferate within these two larger umbrellas. Referring to only two ideologies and parties does not represent endorsement of a two-party system. Similarly, references to only two ideologies and parties do not represent an intent to ignore more granular and real differences within the parties and our larger framework of American polity.

Audience Note: This is primarily intended for those who are politically liberal, because I am a liberal and am more emotionally vested in seeing liberalism flourish. However, being a child of God and a citizen of the world before (and above) being a liberal, it's important to represent my values in a way which includes conservatives and various people I disagree with on matters of pure policy. Conservatives can read this as interested onlookers who very much have something of value to say to liberals... and ought to be heard by liberals.

Conservatives merely need to know that liberals are my primary audience here.

The preamble is over. Let's begin...


One of the greatest things about sports is that they represent one of the few remaining socially cohesive pursuits for large communities of people who otherwise wouldn't want to have anything to do with each other.

Rooting for your favorite tennis player; supporting your favorite school basketball team; roaring with delight at a football game (or match, for international readers) -- these communally shared passions transcend politics. You might not know it -- how would you? -- but that fan sitting three seats away from you in the stadium holds political views that are 180 degrees opposite yours. Yet, when your team scores, you both yell like banshees and high-five, because that's what fans do at the stadium.

YOU'RE ON THE SAME SIDE IN SPORTS, in ways you'd never be in other theaters of existence. 

Speaking from personal experience, I am not a fan of sports (not the ones I cover), but a journalist. Yet, when I write about American college football -- a sport loved predominantly by people in the South and the industrial Midwest, with cultural views and orientations much more conservative than mine -- who cares? We're all lovers of college football, with a passion for sharing knowledge and conversing about the topic. Sports overpower politics -- my readers and Twitter followers would rather have fun than be ideological purists... as it should be.

That's one thing sports teaches me about politics, but that's just the surface of a much deeper and larger reality.


The image of being at a sporting event (and on Twitter, though we're not "in the stadium," we're all essentially gathered around the field/court/arena anyway) is particularly instructive because it strips us of our particularities and inequalities. 

The spiritual masters offer this as an exercise for building empathy and strengthening our "spiritual muscles": 

Look into the eyes of the complete stranger next to you at a restaurant or on a bus or in any public setting. You're not being creepy. Look into the eyes of that stranger and hold the gaze for at least 30 seconds. When you do that, simply think, "This person is made of the same stuff as I am. I don't know what is going on in this person's life, but we both look out at the world from these eyes every day. I want the best for this person, just as I'd want the best for everyone else, for every other pair of eyes which tries to make sense of a confusing, difficult world on a daily basis."

A particular realization to make on the heels of that spiritual exercise flows from a story which recently made the rounds: A man who professed to have hated Muslims experienced a change of heart when he personally met Syrian and Afghan refugees.

This is not meant in any way to shame conservatives. It is meant to express a simple and universal emotional truth of human life, one which happens to have a heavily spiritual undercurrent: The power of the personal encounter is supreme in its ability to change hearts.

We argue with each other on Twitter or Facebook or other realms of the internet, and our interactions are generally very distant. Yes, many of us make friendships online, but the cross-boundary conversation -- with someone who holds diametrically opposed views or comes from a substantially different life background -- is extremely hard to pull off. The personal encounter is the best way to break down barriers. This applies to any person, regardless of ideology or creed. 

Sports certainly have their flaws -- and to be sure, subsections of sports fans display the same kind of tribalist instincts which corrode American politics -- but sports remain better than most at helping us connect with people from different backgrounds. A fundamental reality of American sports is that most of the ticket-buying public is white, while the large majority of professional athletes is black.

Sports are not this tension-free oasis of joy where everything is sunny and just and right, but the purity of competition enables winners and losers to walk away from a game by shaking hands, the loser waiting until next year and the winner acknowledging that the losing fan's team put up a good fight.

Our politics........ do not exactly operate this way, to say the very least. 

This is a different kind of competition. It's far more consequential than sports... which is why the Trump-Clinton election was and continues to be such a psychically resonant event across the spectrum of emotional reactions. The stakes of the 2016 American presidential election -- now being fought for on a daily basis in the midst of a remarkable 24-7 news cycle -- were so large that, with perfect reasonableness, many Americans have plunged into depths of emotions they might not have known they were capable of.

This is not a value judgment of any American, merely a reflection of reality: Many Americans treated the result as a death, a cause for mourning and grieving the way one would lament the loss of a friend or beloved family member at a relatively early age. My mom suffered a heart attack before the election and needed about 10 days to emerge from a state of shocked misery after November 8. When Stephen Colbert (whom I like, and whom I know many conservatives dislike) did his Election Night special on the Showtime cable network, he saw members of the audience -- who gathered expecting a Clinton victory -- weeping when it became apparent Trump was going to win. Colbert later remarked that he had nothing to say to or for an audience which was so emotionally set on one outcome. The freight train of what felt like death to many American liberals had just hit them full force. People I talk to in Seattle -- my normal city of residence and one of America's most liberal cities -- won't shy away from saying that yes, they've been grieving over the election. Their words, not mine.

Therefore, if the outcome of Clinton-Trump felt like death, Trump and his voters are -- in the eyes of many American liberals -- murderers. Murderers of a dream, murderers of political norms, murderers of various ideas previously felt too sacred to violate. On an emotional level, it is completely understandable that most liberals view Trump voters as "f***ing sexist misogynistic racist scumbags," which -- for the sake of brevity -- will henceforth be referred to in the acronym "FSMRS."

This brings us not to the final point of this essay (there will be a section on tactics later), but to its central ground: If guided by the spiritual exercise above -- looking into the eyes of another person for 30 seconds and wanting the best for that person, regardless of his or her circumstances or views -- it is imperative for American liberals to not regard Trump voters as FSMRS.

As I have remarked on Twitter to liberals unwilling (very understandably, I might add...) to listen to Trump voters, "Empathy might seem like capitulation to or approval of an opponent, but it is nothing more than respecting the whole of the individual person." To amplify that remark, one can empathize with any person even in the midst of intense disagreements or conflicts. Moreover -- and getting to the very center of this essay -- the spiritual masters would tell us we SHOULD do precisely that. Empathy with and for opponents -- those different from us -- ought to be one of our fundamental aims as spiritual beings... at least if we value spiritual fulfillment and self-actualization as a core goal in our lives.


Here comes the source of a great deal of tension and dissonance, flowing from the above point: Many American liberals possess an agnostic, if not outright secular, identity on the spectrum of religious views and beliefs. Plenty of American liberals are ex-Catholics; moreover, the numbers of ex-Catholics exceed many individual mainline Protestant denominations in America. Ex-Catholics, if they ever wanted to form a church community as a bloc, would constitute one of the nation's larger mainline denominations. The sex abuse crisis, combined with decades of narrow-worldview preaching from old white European men, have caused a substantial exodus in American Catholicism. (Again, this is not a value judgment, merely a notation of the demographic shifts and their causes.)

Many other American liberals didn't need the sex abuse crisis to push them from a churched background and into an unchurched or unaffiliated position. They were always skeptical of religion itself or appalled by atrocities committed in the name of religion (or both). Purely in terms of what liberals and conservatives say they believe (again, we're not going to judge sides or assess their levels of fidelity -- that's for you, as individuals, to resolve on your own terms...), liberals occupy the vast majority of secular-or-atheist ground. It's not exclusively their terrain, but much more prominently so.

Why mention this if speaking primarily to a liberal American audience? Forget about whether people live up to their values or not -- that's a different essay for another writer to compose. This much is true: The language of spirituality -- which connects to values and principles -- has a lot to say to American liberals in terms of how to handle Trump voters on an emotional level. Thus begins a difficult but necessary (pretty much all necessary tasks in life are difficult, right?) walk through the complexities of interaction with opponents. They're harder to do in an online setting than in person, but in person, they're still extremely difficult because of the directness of personal encounter.

A key point: This is not (yet) a matter of pragmatic politics or effective tactics. I am remaining in and focusing on the realm of spirituality before going to the political and tactical realms, because I locate and value spiritual work as the most important work a person will ever do. Phrased differently -- and for a more secular audience -- I value treating people well as sufficient religious expression (which is something I know will meet with disagreement from theological conservatives). 

Why? As a number of wise priests have told me over the years, "Spoken prayer is irrelevant without meaningful action and behavior toward others." 

Private faith and private piety, if not ever translated into a loving embrace of the very people it is hardest to love, aren't worth a dime. That's not an attack on faith -- it's an attack on a poor and incomplete representation of what faith is supposed to be, and what it is supposed to create in the believing individual.

Let's then explore why the language of spirituality has much to say to American liberals (especially in that secular-or-agnostic range of cohorts) in terms of how to handle Trump voters as persons.


First off, yes, I think religion in the United States is taught very poorly. If you look at the post beneath this one on this blog's homepage, you'll find an essay on the very topic. The reality (my opinion, of course, not a fact in the way 2 plus 2 equals 4...) that religion is taught very poorly does not mean, however, that central concepts of how religion (and more precisely, a generally Protestant and evangelical Christianity) is taught should be ignored. One must use the structure of language to realize the deeper meaning behind words and concepts.

Sin is a big and central concept for evangelical Christians -- probably in any land, but my focus is on America. Within an evangelical Christian framework, Jesus died as atonement for the sins of human beings -- he died for our sins. Easter -- the Resurrection -- is a victory over not just death, but sin itself. The language of evangelical Christianity in America is founded upon the idea that "I can do nothing, but God can do everything." As the Pauline letter to the Galatians says (chapter 2), "I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." Personal acceptance of Jesus Christ as one's Lord and Savior washes away the stain of sin symbolized by the blood sacrifice of the Lamb of God on the cross. Alone, men and women are flawed and imprisoned by sin; once they accept Jesus, they have salvation. It's a highly personal testimony to the need to be freed from sin and obedient to God. 

While portions of these beliefs represent the bedrock of Christianity in virtually any denomination, other specific details do not flow across all denominations. Yet, this concept of sin forms the bridge to an understanding not just of how the evangelical mind works, but to how American liberals and Trump voters can at least stop hating each other in the wake of months of entirely understandable venting.


A good and honest catechist (someone who teaches the doctrines and precepts of the Christian religion) will tell you the following about evil and sin:

Evil is a force which people can strengthen or perpetuate in spite of good intentions or innocence in terms of personal conduct.

Example: Person A tells a lie to Person B with the full intent of preserving some dark secret or larger truth. Person a tells the lie because s/he thinks Person B, if knowing the full truth, will commit an act of violence toward Person C. However, Person B somehow learned the truth before Person A told the well-intentioned and protective lie. Person B murders Persons D and E, this other couple which got entangled with Person C.

Person A meant to protect Person C, but through a well-intentioned act, unleashed forces which led to the deaths of two people (D and E), not just one.

Person A wasn't evil. Person A didn't do something most reasonable people would identify as evil. Yet, Person A contributed to evil, and moreover, to more evil than what s/he had hoped to initially avoid.

Sin is something much more focused: Sin, in its purest catechetical definition, means "knowing something is wrong and doing it anyway." To put a finer point on this definition, this means "having a full grasp, with a fully-formed and developed conscience, that an act is wrong and, without sufficient/careful/prolonged re-examination of conscience, committing the act."

In secular language, we'd call this "snapping" or "losing it." Sin, though, necessitates full and true awareness of the wrongness of an act and diving headlong into the act, damn the consequences.

This brings us to the gulf -- the yawning, endless chasm -- between American liberals and Trump voters. How does the concept and language of sin enter into it?


Trump voters can be viewed and dissected in many ways and from many angles, but of interest here is the fact that 81 percent of American evangelical Christians voted for Trump. This fact is itself a strong reason why so many American liberals can't stand religion and/or left a church community, but what gets lost for many American liberals (though hardly all of them -- many are very deeply rooted in a more liberal expression and awareness of Christianity...) is that the motivations of evangelicals are not their own.

This is how the immediate inclination to label ALL Trump voters "FSMRS" can be softened and ultimately (over a long period of time) broken down. 

If you've ever taken a class or attended a retreat which in some way focused on conflict resolution or conflict negotiation -- whether marriage counseling or business communication or anything else under the sun -- you will hear this principle if the therapist or the leader of the seminar is any good: 

In communication, the primary (not exclusive, just primary) burden lies with the sender to convey the message in the way s/he wants the receiver to absorb it. The two parties -- sender and receiver -- do not have to agree on the correctness of what is being said, but they must share an understanding of both the point AND its intent.

People on opposite sides of ANY political divide have always tried to rip each other's throats out because they always stand on opposite groundings, opposite foundations from which their language and their subsequent framing of issues flow.

American liberals looked (and still look) at the whole of the Trump candidacy, and all the appeals to abhorrent behavior, and conclude that it is 100-percent unacceptable for anyone to vote for this man under any circumstances, and that a vote for Trump makes a person -- inherently and immediately -- an FSMRS.

American evangelicals probably want Trump to speak more politely, and they certainly don't approve of his sexual assault, but as Democrats did under Bill Clinton during the Monica Lewinsky affair, they make the point that personal conduct and fitness for the presidency are two different things. (Again, I'm not here to litigate this, only to explain what both sides think and why...)

Evangelicals then make the point that ending abortion -- which they see as a profound and central moral evil in this country -- justifies voting for Trump in spite of his abhorrent personal conduct and all the other unsavory aspects of his candidacy. For evangelical Christians, at least those of a conservative bent in red states throughout this country, it is -- both literally and figuratively -- a matter of Gospel truth that abortion is the biggest reason to vote for or against political candidates in the United States of America.

Right or wrong, liberals and evangelical Christians largely (there are some liberal Catholics who oppose abortion and evangelical Christians who don't regard the issue as the all-important litmus test) perceived Trump through entirely different lenses, just as they do in most elections for most candidates. 

This is the gap in communication which reflects our nation's deep and -- I fear -- deepening divide. 

Both sides in America's political war think the other side is living in sin. Evangelicals would use the term "sin"; American liberals use FSMRS or other variations. However, neither side is, because one has to KNOW something is wrong and then do it in order to sin. 

Votes are value judgments in which people weigh various factors against each other and try to choose the best representation (or in many cases, the "not as bad as the other guy" representation) of their views. If processing information and context the way an American liberal would -- in an upbringing belonging to many liberals (urban, coastal, unchurched, watches MSNBC daily) -- that person would almost certainly not share the same thought process of many American evangelical Christians, who live in states with starkly different demographic profiles (rural, inland, a house church or evangelical worship center 10 blocks from home, watch FOX News daily). 

Life experiences; the information pumped into our brains; the kinds of people we do and don't meet on a daily basis; the environments we inhabit and the contexts they supply to inform our value judgments -- these and other fundamental parts of life are so dramatically different for The Two Americas. Even if one side is inherently more moral and correct and knowledgeable than the other, purely as a matter of relationship to facts (which both sides, of course, think of themselves), the other side isn't sinning -- NOT THE PEOPLE ON THE GROUND WHO STRUGGLE WITH LIFE EVERY DAY.

I realize this is a brief departure from the larger flow of the essay, but it's necessary to make the distinction: POLITICIANS AND ELITES, people in positions of great wealth and power, and with unfettered access to all manner of resources, can be said to sin when they do things that cause harm. (This applies to Democratic politicians as well as Republicans. Who sins more? That's not my concern -- this is not an attempt to litigate or make pronouncements on "false equivalences" or like terms.)

The single heroin-addicted mother of three on the sidewalks of New York, or the meth-addicted parents of a single child in Idaho, certainly made bad life choices, but their actions are properly understood as just those -- bad choices -- and not sin... at least if they were poor all their lives and turned to selling and using drugs as both their only financial catapult and their only emotional escape. Their bad choices were the products not of a knowing intent that their actions were wrong; their actions flowed from the tangled intertwining of several life factors that oppress people: lack of education, lack of communal support, lack of good job prospects, lack of awareness on where to attend a parental instruction class at the community center. (If you're in a rural area, is that the first thing which comes to mind? Clearly not for anyone who struggles with life on that profound a level.)

The point of this persistent focus on sin is not just that Americans sin less often than they think their opponents do; it's that much as sin requires fully-formed knowledge and awareness of the wrongness of an act, communication between opposing groups must involve a basic understanding of (not agreement with) the intent of what the other group is trying to say. 

The FSMRS label might feel good and cathartic, but it can't be applied to whole groups of people, because every individual person -- that one pair of eyes on the bus or in a sports stadium -- masks internal thoughts and individual life experiences we can't know about... UNLESS, of course, we sit down in a coffee shop and really listen to that person's life story.

That is the spirituality of respect for the other person. That's the bridge in communication Americans have to walk. That's the understanding of different kinds of language, different cultural framings, different undergirdings of worldviews and thought processes, which so deeply divide Americans. Purely on a spiritual level, it is INHERENTLY GOOD to be more in communion with one another, and to fight less with one another. Moreover, this spiritual good is always emotionally healthful for us. 

Less anger -- living less out of an angry center, that place which makes us want to label opponents "FSMRS" all the time -- makes us more likely to avoid heart attacks and cardiovascular stress. 

Less anger and more peace trigger different chemical reactions in our brains. We become calmer and more measured in our thinking. We generally make fewer mistakes compared to when we are consumed with anger. We make fewer knee-jerk decisions, which correlates to a decrease in mistakes. We sleep better -- physically, yes, but also in the more metaphorical sense of regretting fewer things we say and do.

Ah, but I haven't really addressed the politics and tactics of any of this. That's the next -- and last -- subsection of this essay.


Let's go back to sports to provide a good way of framing effective tactics in politics or anything else we engage in.

Roger Federer has won 18 major tennis championships for many obvious reasons. One essential way of framing his excellence is that he can hit any kind of shot really well. His backhand might be his worst shot... and it has been one of the 10 to 15 best backhands in tennis over the past 13 years. Without getting too deep into tennis for those who don't follow it regularly, let's cut to the chase: Federer is far more adept than most of his peers at hitting any kind of ball. For the non-tennis folks in the crowd, Federer can hit topspin, drive, sliced, chipped, drop, inside-out, inside-in, forehand overhead, backhand overhead, T-serve, wide-serve, kicker, or flat shots with well-above average effectiveness. The constant variety of Federer's game -- as a server or when hitting groundstrokes from the back of the court -- makes opponents unsure of what kind of shot is coming next. Is it the heavy topspin? Is it the hard low drive backhand? Is it the teasing slice or the craved drop shot?

The uncertainty of an opponent -- constantly on his heels -- enables each Federer shot to be more effective. The collective, the presence of abundant variety, becomes not only a weapon, but THE weapon.

Isn't it great to know that on a day -- or against a specific player -- when spins and angles don't work, a pure power approach can? Isn't it great to know that if groundstrokes aren't working great, a good net-rushing attack supported by well-placed serves can do the job? Federer naturally wants to do a few things better than his opponents so that he can win without added stress or complications, but if he's dragged into that long and grueling match, does he have a Plan B when Plan A fails? He often has a Plan C or a Plan D -- not against Rafael Nadal, but against virtually everyone else. This is why he's been so incredibly successful.

The simple question I pose to American liberals, whether identifying with the Democratic Party or not: Why shouldn't political tactics be like this?


This is not a value judgment of Republicans and conservatives, merely an attempt to frame politics and ideology in America: William F. Buckley of National Review (one of the signature conservative publications in the country) once said that he and his magazine had a duty to "stand athwart history, yelling, 'STOP!'" 

This next statement doesn't mean conservatives are "negative" people with fewer ambitions or inferior motives compared to liberals; it is merely meant to frame how our ideologies see the world: Conservatives, for the most part, care about saying "no" more than liberals do. 

This is not about Trump-versus-Clinton so much as the larger debates which occur in matters of finance and culture, setting aside the question of whether politicians in Washington live up to those stated ideas or not.

I'm a Bernie Sanders voter. I believe Bernie when he says we can make college free for all Americans. (The point here is not whether he's right; it's only to frame liberalism relative to conservatism in very broad terms.) More money and resources for more disadvantaged populations -- that's basic liberal framing and thought. It's an oversimplification, but the core truth remains. For conservatives, financial matters are more about cutting taxes and reducing spending. Get more money by being more responsible and saving resources. Reduce regulatory burdens on citizens and businesses. Liberals -- at least in terms of outwardly stated views -- want government to do more, while conservatives want government to do less. 

Realizing that these questions can be flipped in ways which switch the answers, I still think that liberalism is broadly a "YES" philosophy, conservatism a "NO" philosophy within the theater of politics. No liberal should feel superior for this reason, and no conservative should feel s/he is being talked down to -- this is merely a representation of views and orientations surrounding the subject matter.

Because liberals and conservatives are different, and because the presence of only two electorally viable parties undeniably means that competing strains of political worldviews fight within both the Democratic and Republican Party structures (the party machinery at the top and the grassroots underneath), it seems important to have a bigger toolbox of ways to connect with voters, purely as an extension of politics (and removed from the spirituality and emotional health which attach to better relationships with ideological opponents).

This is where language comes into play, and moreover, where Democrats (liberals) need to realize that for all the ways in which they think they are different from Republicans (conservatives), they have been the same in one basic way: They get just as angry at Republicans (FSMRS!) as Republicans get at them!

It is a profound irony, one which is hard to face up to for liberals, but an irony which -- if ever dealt with in the right way -- could create an electoral colossus which would be hard to break for a very long time.


Culturally -- I don't even think any liberals would disagree on this -- liberalism is winning in America. 

Gay marriage. More non-traditional families. Erosion of mainline religion. Shop owners have to sell gay wedding cakes. Millennials and younger evangelicals who believe in climate change. The larger undercurrent of mass culture -- naturally channeled through densely urban areas and in highly commercialized contexts -- is liberal in nature. 

Given these larger underlying pulls, one might think that most of America has Democratic governors and Democratic state legislatures.

Nope -- roughly two-thirds of both are controlled by Republicans.

Well, okay, then, at least there's a Democratic Presi--


House, if not the Sen---

Nope -- not the presidency, not the whole Congress, and not even one chamber of Congress are in the Democratic column, even though mass culture is generally in a much more liberal place compared to the Reagan years.

How can this be? Republicans and conservatives -- while dumb (in my opinion) in terms of shrinking their demographic windows of opportunity with blacks, Latinos, and other minority groups -- have long been a LOT smarter about language and framing situations than Democrats and liberals. 

Moreover, what Trump and (President) Steve Bannon are doing right now -- while presenting a surface picture of incompetence to liberals and independents (and, I think it's reasonable to say, actually BEING incompetent on at least some fundamental levels) -- is nevertheless a masterful way of not just retaining, but increasing support among their voter base.

The very naked LACK of carefulness, of cautiousness, of nuance, in the Trump/Bannon message is a profoundly cathartic release -- for Trump voters, but even conservatives who didn't vote for Trump or support Trump during the election. Why? Because the media -- in their opinion -- was dramatically one-sided during the Obama presidency and is now complaining about how it is being treated. Conservatives, even those of the non-Trump or never-Trump variety, can still appreciate and gain inner satisfaction that the liberal media are getting their long-needed comeuppance. 

Liberals don't have to like any of this, but they need to see it for what it is.

When Trump/Bannon frame the press as the enemy, they -- fully cheered on by their supporters -- are telling the media, "NO! SIT DOWN! YOU BLEW IT! YOU LOST! EAT SOME HUMBLE PIE! MAYBE START DOING YOUR JOB ALL THE TIME, NOT JUST WHEN A REPUBLICAN IS PRESIDENT!"

This is the "NO!" of Republicans in action.

Of course, Hillary won roughly 3 million more votes than Trump. A natural and understandable reaction is to say that "There are more of us than them!" Mathematically, yes, but not in the right states or among the portions of the population who were either unsure about whom to vote for; uncertain of whether they wanted to vote in the first place; or unsure of whether their vote really mattered, given their distrust of Hillary.

Why Hillary lost can be picked apart in a million different ways, such that no one line of analysis can be allowed to exclude various others. However, if forced to choose a particularly prominent reason, Hillary -- though being quite rational about it -- framed most of her campaign as a NO to Trump and his awfulness. (There was so much awfulness to point out, and again, that inclination was rational.)

Hillary needed more of a YES -- not to the many people Obama helped in urban centers, but in areas of the country which needed more convincing and didn't feel the full benefit of the Obama years. Case in point: Youngstown, Ohio, documented by the instructive must-follow Chris Arnade.

To be clear here: It's not that Hillary shouldn't have said NO to Trump. She needed to. It made sense. The larger point is that for liberals and Democrats, a specific NO has to be situated inside a larger YES. This speaks to having a variety of tactics -- like Federer in tennis, or like the New England Patriots in football -- and finding ways to increase the options one has in reaching voters.


Even conservatives listening in on this conversation would probably acknowledge the following: If Democrats can get non-traditional voters (chiefly those who didn't vote in 2016) to the polls, they have a very good chance of winning in 2018, 2020 and beyond. Naturally, many Democrats are confident that Trump has awakened many millions of these Americans, with most falling in the millennial camp (those in their 20s). 

Logically if not inherently, it is unassailable to point out that Democrats, if they turn out a large percentage of 20-something voters, are likely (not guaranteed, but highly likely) to win more elections. I can't imagine any politically astute person disagreeing with such a claim.

It has long been the case that people in their 20s don't vote as regularly as older people. Being in one's 20s means experimenting, seeing the world, trying to find one's niche. It is not a negative commentary on 20-somethings that they don't vote as much as other older demographics; it just IS. That's the reality. Accordingly, while reaching these voters should obviously be one point of emphasis for Democrats, it can't be the one basket the party throws all its eggs into.

Variety. Federer. Sports tactics. Run the ball if the defense dares you to pass the ball. Use headers in soccer if long kicks outside the penalty box are wildly inaccurate. Pass the basketball into the low post if your 3-point shots aren't falling.

Have a Plan B if not a Plan C. This doesn't mean junking Plan A, merely having more ways to reach people.

Democrats should pursue their Plan A, but in the meantime, what about the need to at least: 1) Get Rust Belt voters to NOT vote for Trump in 2020, and for Republican congressional candidates in 2018? 2) Getting those same voters to vote FOR Democrats in those two upcoming election cycles?

How can understanding Trump voters -- with empathy, with better language, and with a common ground/frame of reference -- NOT be a major part of the Democratic playbook? To focus only on non-voters and millennials would be like hitting only backhands, or running the ball three times into the middle of the line, or shooting only 3-pointers without dribbling to the basket. 

Democrats might say, "Hey, the Tea Party didn't empathize with us in 2010!"

Yes, that's correct... and Obama strolled to re-election two years later. Meanwhile, though, what about candidates in state legislatures and governorships? At these more localized levels, the support for Obama which exists in big urban centers didn't -- and doesn't -- matter. Democrats are woefully out of touch in terms of connecting with voters (and running linguistically conversant YES candidates) in states and legislative districts without built-in demographic advantages. 

One can perhaps allow that Democrats don't need to connect with Trump voters on the presidential electoral level and stick to the non-voter/millennial strategy, but remember: If Republicans win several more stage legislatures in the coming years, they could amend the Constitution without / over Democratic opposition or votes. Democrats -- with the culture war flowing their way -- should not be in this position, but local Republicans have been effective at rallying their more traditionally reliable voter base to:

A) vote!

and B) voice that NO against what they see as this surging liberal tide overtaking their way of life. 

Democrats need to be serious about empathy as an urgent political tactic, They need to read up on George Lakoff (a Berkeley linguist who is on Twitter) and centrist Jon Haidt (a social psychologist at the University of Virginia who is on Twitter), who authored a very important book called The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided By Politics And Religion.

These are great jumping-off points for the conclusion of this essay -- all Americans (not just liberals) would do well to read these two thinkers, especially Haidt's book -- but they underscore a key point which neatly ties together this whole essay.

Democrats -- as briefly hinted at above -- might wonder why the Tea Party didn't try to make nice with Democrats in 2010 or future election cycles. Once more, this is not a value judgment, merely an explainer: Liberals and conservatives don't share the same grounding in terms of their worldviews and assumptions. Therefore -- it is the irony at the heart of this piece -- why should liberals rail at Republicans at all? Purely as politics -- not morality or as a gateway to emotional holistic wellness -- it is counterproductive, because it feeds into the conservative NO and heightens the emotional temperature in the room, when reptilian-brain insta-reactions (often our least healthy and accurate actions) are committed. 

Purely as politics, Democrats need to tone down the temperature in the room while steadily appealing to a positive vision. For all the other reasons Hillary was victimized by unfair events -- the Comey letter, the Russian influence, and other legitimate gripes Democrats have -- her remark about "deplorables" will go down as one of the great mistakes in the history of American politics, because it revealed a huge NO, unmasking what conservatives understandably saw as loathing which destroyed the notion that Americans are "Stronger Together," or that -- as Michelle Obama said, "When they go low, we go high!"

Yes, the Obamas -- both of them supremely skilled politicians, gifted with an ability to create empathy around a positive message, much like Bill Clinton ("Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" and "Build a Bridge to the 21st Century!") -- went high whenever Trump went low.

Hillary? She held her tongue on many occasions -- goodness knows she received scrutiny disproportionate to what Trump merited during the campaign -- but her one slip of the tongue was more than enough to motivate the conservative base (and probably some undecideds from more rural areas) to vote against her.

Democrats have to be relentless -- not in telling Trump voters that they are FSMRS, but that they have much to learn from Trump voters; want to see life through those two eyes on the bus or in a sports stadium; and will work to create a positive message which truly influences those Trump voters' lives, instead of shouting a NO across the political chasm in this country.

Yes, empathy is most important on a spiritual level. It's also very good for holistic human health; but it's also good politics, part of the variety of tactics needed to meet every person in every circumstance across a very divided, very complicated country with a quirky Electoral College system and state legislatures that need to be turned purple, if not blue.

Democrats can't win elections the way Republicans can. Democrats and liberals, after all, see themselves as being different from Republicans and conservatives.

Ironically, if Democrats really did seek a different path -- the road which leads away from FSMRS -- and really did live outside the fear which currently leads them to lash out at opponents (treating Trump voters as the enemy the same way Trump views a free press as the enemy), they might create the most formidable electoral coalition the 21st century will ever see.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

The 2016 election and the scandal of American religious education

Roughly two weeks before Election Day, I submitted a column to the Seattle Times, the paper in my city of residence. The op-ed was rejected simply because op-ed spots are scarce in metro daily newspapers. You will note the percentages of the vote assigned to Catholics and white evangelicals. I left those numbers blank until the results came in on Election Day. 

You will also note, of course, that I presumed Hillary Clinton would win. Well, we all know what happened to that prediction. 

The larger point of the essay would have remained intact even if Clinton had shifted small numbers of votes in Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin her way. It’s one of the points worth emphasizing after a shattering, devastating moment in American history.

Following this original version of the op-ed are some added remarks meant to magnify in-group-versus-out-group tensions.



While this embarrassing campaign is done and Donald Trump lost it, Americans should hardly be celebrating. There’s a big difference between a shining example of conduct and, at the other end of the spectrum, barely avoiding a disaster of massive historical proportions.

Take a look at the election results. Hillary Clinton won, but it should be a point of national embarrassment and shame that people who represent themselves as Christian voted for Donald Trump in the numbers they did.

52 percent of Catholics and 81 percent of white evangelicals pulled the lever for someone who displayed appalling conduct – ugly, bigoted, misogynistic conduct – in dozens of different contexts. Christians, as a large nationwide bloc, might not have supported Trump as vigorously as past POTUS candidates, but they certainly did not abandon him.

Let’s quickly clarify: It’s not (automatically) embarrassing that many failed to vote for Hillary, only that they actively chose Trump. Not liking what Hillary offered – especially from a conservative Christian viewpoint – is understandable in a vacuum. In a similar vein, not voting for either candidate – which many Christians surely did – represents a reasonable response.

Voting for Trump, though, when being exposed to his unquestionably disgusting behavior in this election campaign? There is no defense for it. None.

It’s bad enough that he became a major-party nominee, but once he was exposed to a general election campaign, a sane country – especially after the worst October for a U.S. presidential candidate since radio and television were invented – would have dealt Trump a Reagan-Mondale Electoral College loss, and an 80-20 popular-vote defeat. When four of five citizens speak against a demagogue and a clown, it’s easier to brush off the remaining 20 percent as an irrelevant minority.

Given the election numbers – nationally, and especially among Catholics and evangelicals – we don’t live in that kind of country.

How did we get here, then? How did people who claim to follow Jesus of Nazareth – a champion of the poor and outsiders – actively choose Donald J. Trump in such substantial numbers?

We are left with only one grim answer: The quality of religious education in America has never been worse.


This is not about whether abortion or war should be the central Christian litmus test of politicians. The quality of religious education as conducted in churches and at schools is far more a matter of one basic tension American Christianity is largely failing to handle: the in-group-versus-out-group tension.

Imitating Jesus is extremely difficult. It’s not supposed to be easy. However, this reality immediately reveals where religious education has gone so horribly wrong.

The difficulty of the Christian project leads many Christians to celebrate how “they” have the truth and the rest of the world doesn’t. Christian expression becomes a constant battle to resist the world, which promotes – in attitude, word and deed – a “Christian Exceptionalism” which feeds into American Exceptionalism. Being the “in group” – owning the truth while others don’t – is a badge of honor.

Religion is always supposed to promote the opposite attitude.

Being the “in group” should create a wellspring of humility, connected to the experience of grace and the powerful awareness of the need to share the Good News with others – the “out group.”
Truth before profit and power is the essence of the prophetic tradition. Acknowledging one’s limitations in a spirit of humility – rather than lording knowledge over other supposedly less enlightened groups – is the posture of the properly-oriented religious believer. God is supposed to elicit awe at grace, an increased awareness of one’s own smallness even in the midst of one’s infinite, precious value. Such is one of many paradoxes which lie at the heart of authentic religion.

Yet, any church which values the collection plate over the truth takes the opposite view. Keeping the in-group (the donor base) happy instead of being completely vulnerable in service to marginalized people is not authentic religion. It’s a form of being beholden to the power motive and the profit motive. It’s the linear thought process which goes against the paradoxes and counterintuitive truths which undergird the authentic practice of religion, in which God’s ways are not our ways.

Donald Trump has always been concerned about power and profit above all else. A POTUS candidate could not be less Christian. A POTUS candidate – in actions past and present, in his personal life and his public life as a businessman (and then bigoted candidate) – could not represent a profile more perpendicularly opposed to the life and example of Jesus.

That Christians voted for him to the extent they did is all we need to know about the quality of religious education in America.




The reasons WHY those Christians voted for Trump are politically easy to discern, but the complicated part lies in how no one in their lives ever seemed to tell them that racism, religious intolerance, and misogyny are abhorrent to the Gospels and to the God of all creation, not just some of it. Surely, pastors and ministers tell young kids, then adolescents, then college students that treating others with kindness and respect is essential to the Christian life. How do those general exhortations not translate into the various specific components of ethics, morality and integrity in the modern world?

I carry some blame toward individual Christians who voted for Trump, but with that having been said, only a little. The true focus of my anger today is toward religious leaders and teachers across the country, the people who didn’t do a very good job (and still aren’t) of teaching their flocks how to be responsible citizens in the public square, including and especially at the ballot box.


Briefly consider previous POTUS elections in which the United States Catholic Bishops made a very public display out of condemning Democratic Party nominees such as John Kerry (2004) for supporting abortion rights. It’s not that the bishops were wrong to criticize a candidate who was Catholic and opposed Catholic teaching on that issue; the problem was that the very same bishops didn’t devote anything close to the same level of stern criticism to George W. Bush for violating Catholic just war teachings. Many liberal Catholics, within the clergy and among the laity, developed a firm belief that for Catholic leaders in the United States, abortion was the only relevant issue, the only litmus test of a person’s morality, the only basis for assessing candidates in accordance with Christian principles and values.

That inclination – namely, that American religious leaders care only about abortion – has been thunderously validated in the 2016 presidential election.

Yes, the Catholic bishops and megachurch pastors (remember Rick Warren?) were not up front in condemning Hillary’s abortion rights stance. Some might perceive that as enlightened and evolved.

Not really – not to any meaningful extent.

The genuinely disgusting and appalling content of Donald Trump’s campaign made it hard – virtually impossible – for pastors to trumpet an anti-Clinton message from the rooftops. If any relatively conventional Republican candidate (Ted Cruz possibly being the only other exception alongside Trump) had won the nomination, that lack of silence probably would not have existed.
The test of courage and integrity for American religious leaders in this past election season was to be firm and forthright in denouncing everything Donald Trump stood for. Trump did not hide his appeals to base and savage attitudes. Religious leaders did not have to work hard to voice a simple but authoritative line of opposition to his ugliness.

Yet, they chose not to even try.

Catholic or protestant, megachurch or institutional church, mainline or new age, the relative silence from American Christian religious leaders was deafening.

Those pastors, ministers, bishops and other prominent religious figures didn’t have to avoid mentioning Hillary’s stance on abortion if they personally opposed it. They simply could have acknowledged it but then said – as any religious leader ought to have done – that Trump’s pervasive, sustained and fierce appeals to a large number of prejudices and hatreds had absolutely no place in the American public commons and the nation’s political conversation.

If religious leaders were truly guided by the teachings of Jesus, this was not a close call. It was the easiest decision to make.

Barely any prominent Christian group, pastor or shepherd – especially those in positions of institutional ecclesial power or those with evident media visibility – spoke up. Any that did were not given much of a megaphone by a media collective obsessed with the theater of Trump and the bread-and-circus aspect of the political horse race.

It’s a profound scandal. Religious leaders failed the American people. Again.


One thing has to be said about this idea that Christian leaders bear the unique and substantial share of the burden for what has just happened in America, far more than individual Christians who pulled the lever for Trump.

Human beings are not cookie-cutter creatures. We all came from a unique pair of parents, from a unique set of circumstances. Growing up in Seattle and growing up in Lexington, Kentucky – even if in the same income bracket and with the same ethnic profile – will lead to profoundly different life paths.

Many groups make similar journeys in terms of income, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, but the various cross-combinations of those identities instantly add many layers of diversity to the human experience. Even for those who share extended lists of characteristics, however, they do not (with the sole possible exceptions of identical twins who live virtually identical parallel lives and somehow travel very similar paths) possess cookie-cutter thought worlds… because no one does.

Human beings are powerfully individual. We share experiences, but how we process them – and instructively, when those experiences come to us – are different. Some people learn life-changing lessons at age 12, some at 18, some at 23. There is no one speed or setting for human life. Many people can and do live a long time without grasping lessons others understood very early on.
Leaders – preachers, priests, pastors – entered the ministry knowing what they wanted to do and knowing the enormity of the mission they undertook. THEY bear supreme and profound responsibility for the education of their flocks.

The individual people in those flocks – say, for example, a low-education 27-year-old white woman in rural Tennessee who was raised by very conservative parents – might never have had a family figure or a pastor who modeled authentic Christianity and stressed the need to be compassionate. For this (hypothetical) person and many others like her, Christianity was very likely framed as a purity test, a measurement of doctrine and owning the truth other (inferior, unchosen) people lacked. Christianity was a point of pride to be held against the rest of a heathen world, not as a source of humility which leads to a life of serving the vulnerable, frail and marginalized.

As a liberal Catholic, I feel sorry for this person. My heart breaks for this person. Hatred is not felt. Empathy is.

This is not easily arrived at, but I have been fortunate in my life to receive good religious teaching from my parents and religious leaders such as Franciscan priest Richard Rohr. They taught me about humility and the accordingly profound need to realize that if I was that 27-year-old evangelical white woman in rural Tennessee – who received a very different line of religious education from the one I received – I might have voted for Donald Trump, too… and thought I was doing exactly what I should be doing: opposing abortion, valuing the Supreme Court, and opposing those “heathen godless liberals.”

It is not to my credit or honor that I got a great education or hit the jackpot with my parents and had some remarkably thoughtful religious voices in my life through books and retreats. Being equipped with the resources to not vote for Donald Trump and to be in a position to serve the less fortunate (I worked at a soup kitchen for several years before becoming a full-time sportswriter and editor) is not my virtue, but a product of life circumstances I did not earn. In the parlance of Christian faith, I received a lot of grace.

This grace, though, comes with a realization of gratitude... not with hatred toward those in very different circumstances who participated in forces which oppose justice and goodness and moral courage.

The very white evangelicals who put Donald Trump into office largely think that liberals such as myself are wayward souls, enemies of change and morality. The idea of embracing them might seem abhorrent at first glance, but their immersion in an entrenched “us-versus-them” mentality, in which “we are good and THEY are evil,” is what enabled Donald Trump’s politics of resentment and anger to triumph. White American evangelical Christians view religion – Christianity – as a religion of the in-group. Those outside the in-group are hostile forces not worth time, care, service or investment.
The solution to this horrifying event – the way to ensure it won’t happen again – is not to throw hatred back at Trump voters, but to soften those rough edges, to take away the ferocity of the anger of those who voted Trump in the misguided belief that it was the Christian thing to do.

Someone has to model empathy – embracing the out group, not just the in group – to those people if Donald Trump (or anyone who campaigns in the manner he did) is to be refuted and silenced at the ballot box in America. Religious leaders have to teach American Christians in churches and schoolhouses throughout the country that if a “we’re good, they’re evil” mentality exists when one party or group is in power, the other group will be equally inclined and motivated to throw it right back in the face when that party reclaims the presidency, as Trump and the Republicans have.

The cycle has to be broken.

Feeling that “the other side” is an enemy perpetuates the resentment-fueled identity politics which led so many people on one side of the American divide to rebel against the other. When those (white evangelical women) lose their resentment and anger, though, what will the Republicans have left as a motivating reason to inspire their voters? What happens when the sting of in-group Christianity is removed, and “out-group Christianity” – based on the welcoming and embrace of the alien, the foreigner, the LGBTQ person, the mixed-race couple, the Muslims – becomes ascendant?

American Christian religious leaders have not stood up against hatred and bigotry and sexism and misogyny. As a result, it is no surprise that individual evangelicals and Catholics failed to exhibit moral courage. That’s a little bit on the individuals, but it’s profoundly and predominantly on the leaders. It’s reason to be very angry at leadership structures, powerful pastors, and entrenched religious institutions.

It’s reason to be empathetic toward individual Christians who have not been given the guidance and help they need.

This is the full extent of the scandal of American Christian religious education in the year of 2016, the year which elevated a bigot to the United States presidency.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Jameis Winston and the Impossible Resolution

Human beings are different. They - we - are different in so many ways, amidst our similarities.

Different in terms of ideology.

Different in terms of regional heritage, national identity, and cultural comfort zones.

Different in gender. Different in terms of sexual experience. Different in terms of educational background, role models, parental figures, siblings, and socioeconomic status.

The phrase is worn enough to make the significance fade from sight, but verily, every life is a story. Similar forces visit many lives, but the precise order and combination of forces is unique to every person. These combinations of forces and events - and our responses to them - make us who we are. Each successive parade of events and responses continues to reshape the person we become.

It is therefore no surprise at all, and may I hastily add, no defect or flaw, that the Jameis Winston story has created, is creating, and will continue to create sharply divided and highly emotional reactions from many people. I experienced this a week and a half ago, two days before the ACC Championship Game between Florida State and Duke. Upon voicing the opinion that, on balance, it would be a good idea for FSU head coach Jimbo Fisher to not play Winston against Duke, I ran into quite a bit of resistance from Florida State fans on Twitter, aka, "FSU Twitter." Such a clash was, realistically, unavoidable. Now, a few days removed from Winston's much-deserved Heisman Trophy victory, it is both safe and appropriate to visit this issue in greater detail. It's also appropriate to continue to examine the Winston story removed from College Football News pages, in a personal space where pageviews and web traffic aren't the sought goals or motivations (and FSU readers can see as much).

Not a dollar is being made or sought in this post. It's an attempt to continue a necessary conversation, the kind of conversation we different human beings ought to have every now and then in our brief lives. If we can't discuss the weighty stuff, what's the point of discussing whether a catch really is a catch, or whether a timeout was used wisely in the final two minutes of regulation? At CFN, I've talked about the need for players' on-field accomplishments to be given the respect they deserve. Here, I'll talk about the need for off-field considerations to receive the primacy they deserve.


The first thing I need to say is that as a participant in a Twitter conversation, tweets rapidly exchanged in response to polarizing or highly debatable statements often come across as being presentations of facts, when in reality, they are exchanges of opinions. Most pieces of authoritative speech carry the feel of a fact, when they're merely forceful attempts to advance a line of thought, one person's sense of a deeper and more unknowable or inexact truth. I realize that in my initial tweets from Dec. 5, I gave the impression at times that Jameis Winston had in fact engaged in imprudent behavior. I had meant to stress that I believed it was likely that Winston engaged in imprudent behavior, but I can see how that line got crossed. Since I was the sender of communication and am therefore responsible for conveying specific meanings, I must step back from that errant and excessive point of emphasis, FSU Twitter, and acknowledge that I pushed a point too hard, to the extent that a line was blurred. I apologize for crossing that line.

As for the other important distinctions I sought to make, I can say with clarity and confidence that I didn't overstep any important boundaries. I never said or even hinted that I felt Winston was guilty of a crime, or that he deserved to be seen/treated/handled as a criminal. I made an unambiguous distinction between criminal behavior and imprudent behavior, stressing the point that legal behavior is not equivalent to the complete absence of any wrongdoing.

This is where my discussion with you, FSU Twitter, left off, so this is where it should continue.


As said at the beginning of this essay, people are different. This is a necessary and not unpleasant part of life. Differences give color to life, imbuing our existence with a necessary measure of balance and proportion. The best governing philosophies incorporate elements of multiple approaches, not just one. The best leaders appeal to people from all walks of life, not just one segment of the population. The best preachers are able to reach congregants or seekers from various backgrounds, not just one. Any intimate relationship is an attempt on the part of two people from two different starting points to come together and share their lives with each other. This stuff is difficult, but it all flows from an acknowledgment that differences are not (inherently) bad things. They make resolution and reconciliation the beautiful things that they are.

Yet, differences - on a topic as explosive as alleged sexual assault or rape - are hard to bring together, and that's the obvious yet difficult truth of this case.

Many (though not all) Florida State fans will obviously see this story in one way. SEC fans and other people outside the FSU community will view (and have viewed) this story in a different way. It's no surprise that tweets critical of Winston or supportive of the accuser's attorney get retweeted by SEC or non-ACC fan bases, while tweets supportive of Winston get retweeted and shared by Florida State fans.

It's also no surprise that many men will see this story one way, and women another, although that division demands further segmentation. Many men convinced of Winston's guilt will react just as sharply to this as the men who think Winston was wronged and falsely accused in this situation. On an even more granular level, men who were collegiate athletes are likely to be particularly sympathetic to Winston. Athletes who were in fact wrongly accused of sexual misconduct of some sort (or to some degree) will be even more inclined to see this issue through Winston's eyes, and not the eyes of the accuser. These are all magnifications of the role our own life experiences play in shaping our views - on larger issues and on the stories that thrust said issues into the public spotlight.

Whether you're a member of FSU Twitter who thinks Winston did nothing wrong (which is possible) or a woman who thinks that there are still questions about this process that the accuser deserves to have answered (also a valid position), let's establish one thing right now: It is not wrong, in the sense of being a failure of morality/ethics/the exercise of one's conscience, to have a given viewpoint. 

Florida State fans who forcefully disagreed with me on Dec. 5 were not and are not wrong to have argued their case as they did... not when they're mindful of the fact that a former FSU player, lineman Travis Johnson (as reported in a story by Dan Wetzel and Pat Forde of Yahoo! Sports on Nov. 21), was charged with sexual battery by Willie Meggs (yes, the same man who decided not to charge Winston a few weeks ago), only for the case against him to be nonexistent.

If Johnson and other athletes (think of the Duke lacrosse players) were wronged, it is perfectly natural for FSU fans to come to Winston's defense, just as it is natural for women and advocates of sexual assault/rape victims to promote the need for the accuser's voice to be heard.

The persistent and inconvenient question at the heart of this discussion - the one I attempted to develop on Dec. 5 - is this: What do you do when a high-profile athlete is cleared of legal wrongdoing, professes to have done nothing wrong, but nevertheless resides in a situation in which full and perfect knowledge of the events of a given night (or time period) does not exist?

Can that player's word to his coaches and administrators -- "I did nothing wrong" -- be taken as gospel truth? Accordingly, should the accuser's version of events be dismissed or diminished to the point that it should not be seen as sufficiently credible to warrant further exploration?

These are tough questions. Moreover, I certainly realize that FSU administrators and coach Fisher - if fully convinced that Winston really did nothing wrong - would regard his exoneration in the legal realm as proof that he was and is fully free and clear, thereby meaning that suspension against Duke wasn't ultimately necessary. It is a legitimate, reasonable, valid view for an FSU fan or anyone sympathetic to Winston's situation (former athletes, especially those cleared of sexual battery/assault charges that were wrongly brought against them) to say that he shouldn't have been suspended for the Duke game, even after being cleared of criminal charges on Dec. 5.

Yet, providing leadership and - moreover - a full resolution to a contentious situation is found not just in satisfying one constituency or one set of concerns on one side of a larger landscape. What about the message sent to society by an (ostensibly) educational institution when Nationally Known Football Star escapes any sort of genuine sanction over here, and Anonymous Female Accuser watches that situation in the shadows over there?

Let's take Florida State (and the BCS championship chase, and the Heisman Trophy) out of the equation for a moment. If specific names were removed/redacted from this scenario, and we were left with a generic scenario ("What if Star QB on No. 1 Team X became immersed in Controversy Y surrounding allegations of rape, just before the final game of the regular season, which had BCS title implications?"), what would a larger community of reasonable human beings think about the way in which the situation should be handled?

Yes, the timing surrounding the emergence of the case was and is suspicious in ways that did not help Florida State at all. Yes, there were all sorts of questions about the way the Tallahassee Police Department processed this case. Yes, there have been problems with the way in which the press has reported on this case. Yet, those particulars are part of a larger and recognizable situation:

He said/she said. Details were murky and confused. The accuser had some alcohol in her system, but not enough to be legally drunk. How many times does this kind of situation play out in a dark corner of a bar, a room, a street, in America?

Of course the various constituencies in a case such as this would rush to defend and argue their particular point of view and the interests attached to them. That's not in dispute, and that's also not being criticized here.

What's difficult in a human life surrounded by differences is that the adult decisions have to consider all viewpoints, not just one.

Is Jameis Winston innocent not just in a legal sense (criminal behavior), but in a full moral sense (imprudent, advantage-seeking behavior)? Possibly so. Could it be that Winston was falsely accused? Possibly so.

Is his accuser not wrong, but telling the truth instead? Possibly so.

Most (though probably not all) people who have taken the time to comment on this larger series of events would conclude that, "We don't currently know everything that happened; we might not ever know the full story; legally, though, Winston has not been charged and should not be viewed as a criminal or somehow predatory figure, especially not as some 'big, black guy' with all the racial undertones such a label has carried and can still carry to the ears of a neutral observer." Such an interpretation of events is reasonable (not indisputably correct/true/accurate, but reasonable).

What's just as reasonable? This view: "Knowing that we don't know - in other words, knowing that the full version of events is still somewhat elusive - should the legal realm and its decision on this case confer the benefit of the doubt on Jameis Winston on a more personal and internal moral level? Does the winning of a legal victory mean that, in actual fact, Winston did nothing wrong?"

Yes, FSU Twitter, it really could be that Winston did in fact do nothing wrong.

Yet... there is a chance that he did something wrong.

What tells us this? A woman and her family have sought to continue to press their case in public, appealing to various authority figures in a larger politico-legal framework.

Yes, the mere act of appealing to authority figures does not automatically mean that the content or quality of a given claim/protest/media push is somehow legitimate or proveable. Yet, there is an obvious emotional consideration to be contemplated here: Just exactly why would a person and her family do what the accuser and her family are in fact doing?

This isn't what one would call a "normal" course of action. There is not evidence of calm acceptance of the way in which this case has been handled. There is not evidence that the accuser's family has escaped some sense of trauma, some degree of pain, in this case. "Injury" is not just a physical thing. It is and can be an intangible, psychological, deeply penetrating organism. Why is the accuser acting like an injured person, a wounded soul?

Is it mental illness?

Is it jealousy or vindictiveness or some such combination thereof?

Or is it a cry of pain after an experience that genuinely and legitimately wounded a young woman?

In a situation governed by a lot of "It's possible" answers and very few "We know  this with 100 percent certainty" kinds of answers, what would a reasonable person be left to conclude? What would a sexual ethicist say? What would a moral theologian offer? Should there be a default assumption or inclination to believe one person entirely, to the exclusion of any and all blame or sanction against the other?

FSU Twitter, you  are quite free (and, I hasten to add, reasonable) to think that Jameis Winston should be regarded as 100 percent right, especially when one realizes the extent to which Travis Johnson was wronged a decade ago during his playing days as a Seminole.


Yet, FSU Twitter, it is just as reasonable - in the absence of complete evidence - to assess at least some degree of responsibility and/or blame to Winston for what happened, and to therefore have him miss one football game as a result.

This is a view with which Seminole fans might (legitimately) disagree, but if one football game (against Duke) was to be the price paid by Winston for a perhaps-fractional or moderate display of imprudent behavior, so that other women could feel confident in the future that their voices will be heard by a football program on the other side of a deep and wide situational chasm, that seems like a small price. This all gets back to the original tweet that started it all, from @BPredict.

Indeed -- wouldn't it still have been quite a noble, positive, socially and communally enriching thing for Florida State to have sat down Winston for one game -- not even as punishment, but as a powerfully affirming message to vulnerable women across the country?

Yes, FSU Twitter -- and male athletes wrongly and/or falsely accused by women -- such an act risks taking something away from Winston that never should have been taken away in the first place. This is true. I do not dispute or seek to ignore this.

Yet, what are we talking about here? One. Football. Game.

If it was known to an absolute certainty that Winston was 100 percent innocent of any kind of imprudent behavior (not just criminal behavior), yeah, not a single bit of sanction or public politics would be necessary here. Yet, we don't have that 100-percent level of certainty. Ergo, making a public statement on behalf of vulnerable women seemed - and still seems - like the kind of thing an educational institution (as opposed to a football factory) should not only undertake, but be proud to undertake.

It's a question of values and points of emphasis. It's not objectively superior or more correct than other conclusions. It is debatable. It is not a statement of fact, but merely one opinion among many. Point conceded.

Yet, it's certainly a reasonable claim, one to be discussed and given as much weight and consideration as other options.

That's what Florida State was left with on the afternoon of Dec. 5. In the absence of even more facts and hard evidence, the Jameis Winston situation was - and is - a situation that defies easy resolution to the satisfaction of all parties in a world governed by human beings and their manifold differences.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Advanced Box Score: Air Force 79, Army 68

Conventional basketball box scores give you a lot of familiar stats. Here's an attempt to go deeper and tell the fuller story of a basketball game. Look at the advanced numbers from Army's season-opening loss to Air Force.



Adjusted free throw shooting incorporates one-and-one free throws into overall team percentages.

EXAMPLE: Team A makes 14 of 18 free throws (77 percent shooting), but it misses two front ends of one-and-ones. Because a missed front end results in the denial of a second foul shot, Team A essentially made 14 of 20 free throws (70 percent). Team A took 18 shots, but it lost the right to take two more shots due to front-end misses. This is adjusted free throw shooting. Naturally, this is something that applies to scholastic basketball, not professional basketball.

Free throws made/attempted for AFA

Front ends of one-and-ones: 2 of 4

Overall makes and attempts: 17 of 26, 65 percent

Adjusted FT shooting totals: 17 of 28, 61 percent

Free throws made/attempted for ARMY

Front ends of one-and-ones: none attempted

Overall makes and attempts: 10 of 13, 77 percent – no adjusted total



12-0 from 10:53 to 8:46 of the second half

Score change: 49-44 Army to 56-44 Air Force

8-0 from 6:33 to 3:32 of the second half

Score change: 60-55 Air Force to 68-55 Air Force


7-0 from 16:46 to 15:03 of the first half

Score change: 6-2 Air Force to 9-6 Army


3:03, from 18:06 to 15:03 of the first half.

Score change: 6-2 Air Force at the start of the drought, tied 9-9 when the drought ended.

3:46, from 12:12 to 8:26 of the first half.

Score change: 15-11 Army at the start of the drought, 18-14 Army when the drought ended.

7:18, from 6:05 of the first half to 18:47 of the second half

Score change: 24-21 Air Force at the start of the drought, 33-30 Army when the drought ended. Air Force did make four free throws during this field goal drought.


3:04, from 19:50 to 16:46 of the first half

Score change during the drought: 2-0 Army at the start of the drought, 6-4 Air Force when the drought ended.

3:34, from 12:47 to 9:13 of the first half

Score change: 15-9 Army at the start of the drought, 18-11 Army when the drought ended.

3:04, from 4:53 to 1:49 of the first half

Score change: Tied 26-26 at the start of the drought, tied 28-28 when the drought ended.

3:30, from 11:11 to 7:41 of the second half

Score change: 49-44 Army at the start of the drought, 58-53 when the drought ended. Army made one free throw during this field goal drought.

4:46, from 7:41 to 2:55 of the second half

Score change: 58-53 Air Force at the start of the drought, 68-58 Air Force when the drought ended. Army made three free throws during this field goal drought.


AFA second-chance points: 6 points

ARMY second-chance points: 7 points


--Player-control fouls: 2 by AFA, 1 by ARMY

-- Air Force twice made three-point shots while getting fouled. The Falcons missed the ensuing foul shot after the first three-point basket, but they completed the four-point play the second time.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Mad Men Season 6 Review: Wants And Needs

Last year, I reviewed the Season 5 finale of Mad Men.

I'm not a TV critic by trade, and I wouldn't want the job of having to identify every nuance of a show within a context of taking copious notes. I like to watch shows for the meanings they can evoke, for the lessons they can offer, for the ways in which they tap into the fullness of the human experience. TV critics certainly watch shows for meaning, but they must pay attention to the technical aspects of a series - of the craft of television storytelling - with equal vigilance. They must absorb the content of a series and exhibit full command of the subject matter within the workings of the television industry when conversing with readers. That's a very difficult thing to do for a living; what you're about to read is definitely not intended to be a critic's professional review of Mad Men Season 6.

This is -- like last year's effort -- an attempt to make sense of a season as this treasured part of my cultural life approaches its endpoint in 2014. This review of another Mad Men season is an attempt to come to terms with the messages conveyed by this uniquely powerful show, one that has captured a piece of my heart and soul like none other.

What to make of Season 6? Through the first 10 installments of this 13-episode season, I was -- frankly -- underwhelmed. Yes, Don Draper had problems with women, drink, his marriage, his sense of self, and all the other usual demons. Tell us something we, the loyal viewers of the show, didn't already know.

Immediately, one must confront a nuance that lies at the heart of not just Season 6, but Mad Men itself: It's easy to think that the repetitive (and not disguised) dynamics at work in the first 10 episodes of Season 6 constituted creator Matthew Weiner's way of giving viewers what he felt they needed, not what they wanted. There's a difference between satisfying plot developments and necessary plot developments. A show needs to be authentic to its characters and, more specifically, convey moments and twists that register as emotionally and situationally honest. Being honest with viewers matters more than giving them a feel-good moment which somehow feels cheap, hollow, or hastily designed. Yes, the first 10 episodes of Season 6 gave viewers something other than what they wanted, but the way in which Weiner executed each episode seemed to be unnecessary.

The injection of a vitamin-based energy stimulant into the members of Sterling Cooper's workforce - the basis for a trippy, mindbending episode in which characters arrived at unexpected places under the influence of chemicals - created an engineered plot and the overpowering awareness of the presence of metaphor. Mad Men ceased to be subtle, searing and superb in such a moment. Chemical alterations of mind was a device that had been used in prior seasons (Roger Sterling's LSD trip in Season 5 felt much more organic and, instructively, honest), so the act of "dusting off" this device smacked of gimmickry. It felt - no, not necessarily lazy; it felt forced.

Similarly, Don's period of drift in his relationship with Megan - something which carried weight and poignancy in Season 5, punctuated by Don's "Carousel-"style look of Megan's film slides late in the season finale - lost its juice as a storytelling vehicle in Season 6. Critiques by Mad Men viewers that Megan's character was empty in Season 5 didn't seem to hold merit at the time. Don existed in newfound territory in Season 5, and for that reason, his new marriage held out the promise of new directions in his life... and his character. It's in Season 6 that Megan became what the critics said she was in Season 5: little more than a mirror for Don, a reflection of problems and patterns that were noticeable from a great distance but not a robust character in her own right.

Yes, the repetitive nature of Season 6 - especially as it applied to Don and Pete - naturally had a point behind it. Don and Pete, the characters who have most centrally grappled with their own self-loathing on the show, were unable to dig out of long-established tendencies. This is the stuff of life in its most urgent dimensions: We are given problems and challenges that are unique to our selves, to our deepest identities. It often takes many years of repetitions, many years in which we reunite with the same issues (perhaps clothed in slightly different situations), to finally solve them. This is one of the great dramas of Mad Men and - to expand the conversation - any show that establishes a deserved track record of creating unflinchingly honest moments for viewers, moments that announce something to the effect of, "We're not merely aiming for entertainment in the telling of this story. We're trying to reach into the deepest part of what it means to be fully human, in all its flaws and glories."

It's not satisfying to see characters continuously fail to solve their most urgent problems, many years after first being introduced to an audience. Yet, it's necessary to show as much when that's the most honest way to pry open those characters. Mad Men has excelled in that very art, but for most of Season 6 - despite the brilliance of "The Flood" and "For Immediate Release" (its two best midseason episodes) - the willingness to show characters continuing to fail (one of Mad Men's greatest virtues as a piece of storytelling and exposition) was overwhelmed by the inability to give viewers bracingly honest situations. I can't speak for every Mad Men fan, but I personally felt that the injected stimulant and Don's smoking of hashish robbed the show of its layered honesty and authenticity. Devices work when used selectively and sparingly. The use of mind-altering substances - while perhaps fitting into the late 1960s (we get that, Matt Weiner...) - was still just a bit too obvious, a bit too transparent... and a bit too frequent in the first three-fourths of Season 6.

Then, however, just when some momentum was leaking out of this remarkable show - creating that awful feeling in which a storied television run loses the ability to carry an audience to the finish line with a maximum of impact - Weiner and Co. found their fastball again in episodes 11, 12 and 13.

The final three episodes of this season - especially Sunday night's finale - showcased Mad Men at its best. The show's highest level of art from prior seasons wasn't surpassed in these episodes, but it was certainly matched.

Chemical alterations were not part of the formula in this trilogy of marvelous episodes. The marrow of Ted Chaough's life - and how it related to the people around him (his wife, Nan, and co-workers Don and Peggy) - served as a central foundation for organic yet complicated sequences of dialogue and action that took something very familiar - Don's penchant for being a nasty person - and used it to create fresh waves of consequence and drama. Real life and its unpredictable convergences of intention, spontaneity, desire, and uncertainty led Don, Ted and Pete to various breaking points. They led Joan to an important lesson (and situational rescue) delivered by Peggy. They led Peggy to yet another crushing realization about the primacy and power of the decisions of the men in her life.

No gimmicks entered the picture, and so, amidst the tumult of 1968, the turmoil of the times was sufficient to convey to viewers the inner turbulence of flesh-and-blood people trying to make sense of not only the bewildering world beyond, but the even more confusing reality within one's own heart and household. Various characters encountered either transformations or new challenges that promised substantial fork-in-the-road moments in Season 7 next year. What had been the muddle of chemically-altered or imagined drift for much of Season 6 became a different sort of jumble after the final three episodes of Season 6: Everything - every possible life trajectory, every set of choices and movements, for better or worse or anything in between - is now on the table for Season 7... and NOT at the expense of the show's honesty in its relationship with viewers.

Naturally, the way in which the final three episodes of Season 6 set the table for Season 7 is most fully reflected in the central iconic character of Mad Men, Don Draper.

Don's awareness of how much Ted needed to go to California (episode 13), coupled with his humiliation not at the hands of an adult, but his own daughter (episodes 12 and 13), brought him to a place where he could no longer keep Dick Whitman hidden before his co-workers and even his clients. A seminal life event - a two-faced character deciding to step out of a double life and fully come to grips with his true self and the shadow side which accompanies it - occurred in a way that felt very natural.

The gradual telling of the story of Young Dick Whitman - in expositional flashback scenes over multiple seasons - has been, at heart, a way of showing the viewer the pain Dick absorbed as a boy. This pain is the basis for giving the viewer an understanding of how Don Draper was a mask for - not a true escape from or solution to - an overpowering sense of inadequacy and self-loathing. What often emerges from these feelings when they surface in an individual is exactly what Mad Men has been showing for six full seasons now: Don's  reflexive pursuit of material and carnal conquest to blot out his pain, his easy inclination to enjoy the beginnings of things but then run away whenever any situation becomes fraught with difficulty. The constancy with which Don fails to break this cycle of painful realizations followed by self-destructive actions is precisely why many TV critics think - especially in the wake of the Season 6 finale - that Don Draper is an irredeemable character. However, the reality of Don's latest and deepest humiliation occurring in relationship to Sally - not Megan or Betty or a work colleague - is the very thing which makes the idea of a Draper transformation emotionally honest, and that's the genius of the final three episodes of Season 6, especially the finale.

The recollections of a shattered boyhood do not, by any means, assure the viewer that Don will figure it all out and achieve an easy redemption in Season 7 as this show rides into the sunset of the 1960s. However, those recollections do make the contents of Season 6 - chiefly, Don's dreary and doomed affair with Sylvia, not to mention his deeper connection with his old wife (Betty) compared to his current one (Megan) - feel relevant to the development of Don's character at a deep level. The floating, miserable drift of Season 6 - always possessing a genuine and evident purpose but not always being conveyed with the nuance befitting Mad Men - was finally turned into not just an epiphany, but a truly different state of mind for Don Draper.

A life history that has been teasingly shown to viewers in small doses over six seasons finally met a moment which led Don Draper to genuinely embrace Dick Whitman. This haunting past - the one Don Draper has been trying to escape since the first time we got to know him six years ago - always needed to be confronted, because the inability to accept that past is what has always prevented Don from being happy with Dick Whitman, his truest innermost self. Dick, the child who never recovered or healed from what he saw and suffered, has needed Don to look at him lovingly and express that love in public, so that Don's double life can become integrated and his masks can fall away.

It was a boy, a child, who carried all this pain  for so many years, and so it took another child's deep and confused pain - marked by a complete lack of understanding toward her father - to call Don Draper to this place of clarity. It took Sally Draper to bring Dick Whitman out of the shadows and into full view. To me, that makes complete sense. It resonates with truth and authenticity.

It also represents a brilliant counterpoint to the final line of Season 5, when a mysterious and alluring woman (one fit for a night of empty and meaningless sex, a reality that has pervaded Don's life...) asks Don, "Are you alone?"

Don, you see, has been alone throughout Mad Men's six seasons. He has needed Dick all this time. More specifically, he has needed Dick to accompany him so that he would no longer walk alone, unloved by his own deepest self at the truest possible level. Don has needed to take to heart the words of the patron saint of Mad Men, Anna Draper, who uttered the central line of the show's entire history in episode three of Season 4, when she says to Don/Dick: "I know everything about you, and I still love you." There is no greater expression of unconditional love than that. There is no greater height of spiritual wisdom, no fuller reach of forgiveness, no purer articulation of the need to accept everyone - including your own self - exactly as you are. Don, in worlds dominated by either power (SC&P) or sex (his household or any location of one of his affairs), has not been able to find a reason powerful enough to get him to embrace Dick Whitman. It took Sally - the reflection of a confused and desperately wounded child - to get Don to look into that mirror and behold Dick, also a bewildered and lost child of wayward and dysfunctional parents. Upon looking into that mirror, Don was finally able to view Dick with affection and a lack of shame.

Don's meeting of Sally's eyes in the final scene of Season 6 was and is a moment that will live on in television history -- not because it was poignant, not because there was something unmistakably hopeful about it, but because the moment was created in a complex, layered, and supremely honest way, with natural connections forging a link between a haunting past and a redemptive present, between the old chains of persistent long-term behaviors and the recognition of the possibility that those chains can yet be broken.

Season 7 might not give Mad Men viewers the happy ending that would be so satisfying to contemplate, but if it does, the foundation has now been laid, enabling viewers to say the following: "If we get said happy ending, it will feel emotionally honest." This brings up an important point about Mad Men that's worth revisiting as this reflection concludes.

One of the show's many hallmarks is that it doesn't deal in (obvious) linear progressions. Characters are not completely virtuous or completely evil. Just when a character seems to be headed over the edge, s/he is brought back from the brink or encounters a situation which brings out his/her best qualities, ones that had been hidden and perhaps didn't have a chance to shine in other circumstances. Just when characters can seemingly do no wrong or dent their reputations, their insecurities emerge - think of the way Joan reacted to Don telling off Herb Rennet earlier in Season 6. (Viewers didn't see that one coming - not most of them, at any rate.) The reality of complex, multidimensional characters is not merely intended to perpetuate intrigue or suspense in Hollywood; it's part of real life, too.

How delicious it is to contemplate, then, that Mad Men - a fundamentally dark show for its six seasons of existence - could give way to a seventh and concluding season in which the characters - especially Don - arrive at a whole and nourishing sense of self. Yes, every character will have to walk over the hot coals of self-doubt and untamed appetite to achieve that happiness, if it does emerge for them, but the grand achievement of Season 6 is that the possibility of happiness seems realistic. If Matt Weiner does bend the arc of Season 7 to the happy side, it would be one final and lasting testament to this show's ability to avoid the predictable path or the easy, preconceived expectation of what is going to (or supposed to) happen.

And if Mad Men retains its dark edge in Season 7? Well, that would certainly be emotionally honest, too...

... as long as there are no unnecessary and clouding gimmicks, of course.