I am not really surprised that we’ve arrived here. Back in 2020, I did a rhetorical analysis of Donald Trump’s “Save America” speech from his January 6 rally. Part of what I find dangerous about that speech is that way it treats “saving” as part of the role of the president.

Now, I really like democracy. I’m glad we get the chance to talk about our government together, whether the subject is taxes and spending or who can end up in jail. But I think that we need to set some more realistic expectations about what politics can do.

People have a tendency to look for a savior. That just seems pretty baked into the human psyche and spirit. But no political party, philosophy, or individual leader can really satisfy that longing. New laws and programs might make life better or worse, but they’re not going to give it meaning. And they’re never going to smooth all the rough edges away.

I spent two years as a missionary living in the formerly Communist parts of Germany. In East Germany, the government spent forty-four years promising that within a generation, life would be transformed and perfected. People looked forward to the age when true communism would be achieved and talked about it very much like Christians talk about the millennium, when Christ comes again and brings world peace and the lion and the lamb are friends.

Personally, I do believe Jesus is going to come someday and the rules of the world are going to change. But I don’t think anything like that kind of change can happen because some political group--communist or fascist, progressive or nationalist--wins an election or stages a revolution. That’s just not inside the scope of what a human government can accomplish.

And guys...bad things happen when a group promises salvation-level changes and then (inevitably) fails. Communist regimes failed to solve all of society’s problems, and so they kept having to find people to blame. They were constantly looking for hidden counter-revolutionaries. By the end of the East German communist regime, the secret police had files on one out of every four East Germans.

That’s not just a communist problem. The Nazis also promised heaven on earth. They explained away the failures of Germany’s superior people by designating more and more groups as fake Germans. The violence against minorities wasn’t a random side effect. It was the excuse that kept the system going.

I don’t mean to be alarmist. I don’t want to leap straight from a bad AI meme to Hitler or Lenin. But I have talked with a lot of people who lived under Nazis and Communists. And we don’t want to go through that. In any form.

My religious response is this: If someone promises to save America, you should watch out for that person.

If you believe in Jesus, leave the saving to Jesus. He doesn’t need to scapegoat anyone to explain why life is still hard. He already took the blame. He already accepted the violence. He died hard so that we have no excuse for lashing out.

And what did he ask of us? He told us to wait.

And he said that while we’re waiting, we can find the people society looks down on and be kind to them. He said that when we serve a foreigner, a prisoner, a person who is sick or starving, we’re really serving him. The lion and the lamb might not be ready to lie down together in peace. But when we see adversaries and choose love, we can remember that hope.

I don’t need my country to be saved. I just need it to be a place where I can serve others. That’s enough. That’s always been enough.

I’ve been telling my friends lately that I feel bad for ICE agents. They’ve got some difficult bosses. They’re expected to meet arbitrary quotas. Strangers look at them suspiciously when they walk down the street and tell them they’re ruining the country.

I can actually kind of relate to that last one. It’s how I felt after 9/11.

The country is definitely divided now, but I’m not sure it’s really over immigration. My sense is that we have our first social-media era Influencer President and that immigration makes convenient enforcement theater. It’s one of many ways the current administration is trying to flex and show off how tough we are.

But it’s tough to watch those efforts hit basically random people. Immigration officials are arresting people who go in to work on their required paperwork. They’re getting grandmas who raised their kids here. They’re getting kids whose parents are here legally and just haven’t worked through the process for the kids yet.

I was telling my sister I wish that I could just sign up to get arrested by ICE once a month so that they could get some numbers to report in to their superiors. I wish they could stick my picture on some report, so they could look busy without needing to pick up people who are going about their lives, taking care of their families, and often doing hard jobs that keep this country going.

I don’t think they’re taking volunteers. But my sister went with me to the proposed new ICE facility in Salt Lake City to make a short video explaining my point of view. We took some footage I'll post in a little while.

I thought this was going to be a moment for me to make something I could share. Just a little reminder for the people I know that we as a community could dream bigger and do better.

I had not expected the experience to impact me. But actually being at the place where our government is planning to keep people hit me pretty hard. It’s a big shipping facility. Right now, there are all these doors designed for semi trucks. There are black vans in the parking lot already, guarding the place. We talked to the guy in one of them. He seemed nice. He’s just a guy doing his job.

I wish he had a better job, though. There are some many good things we could have a guy do. I worry that if we as a state go through with this plan, people in power are going to feel like they have to prove that big facility is worth having. There’s going to be pressure to fill it. And there aren’t enough dangerous deportable people for that. ICE employees are going to end up arresting ordinary people, even people who are working through the immigration process. A building—a big stage—is going to make the cycle of enforcement theater worse.

That's not what I want for anybody. Not for my brothers and sisters who happen to have been born somewhere else. And not for my brothers and sisters who needed a job and found one with ICE.

In a hunter-gatherer society for example, a successful hunter or gather often doesn't trade away extra meat or fruit to other tribe members or neighbors. Instead, it's pretty common for the people who brought in the most food to throw the biggest parties, sharing with friends, neighbors, maybe even some rivals.

This giving, though, doesn't function like one-way charity. It becomes an economy if the next time the hunter or gatherer goes out, some of their past guests (or people who wish they had been guests) volunteer to help. Or if, between trips to hunt and gather, there are more neighbors dropping by with their own little gifts for the party-thrower, either because they want to get invited to the next party or because they want a reputation for being generous themselves. If the old guests start giving too much, though, the successful hunter or gatherer often decides to give a new round of gifts to cement their reputation as a Big Deal person. That then kicks off another round of giving and pretty soon, there's a whole unspoken economy based on gifts and favors.

If you're a Lord of the Rings fan, you might recognize this from the Shire. When hobbits have birthdays, they give away gifts. And Bilbo throws a huge birthday party because he's got some treasure and so he can. Parties like that add to the mystique of his house. And that mystique passes on to Frodo. He probably couldn't hire a hobbit to leave the Shire on a dangerous quest. But there's a reliable group of people who are willing to put their life on the line for a Bag End Baggins, or at least offer some information and a big basket of mushrooms along the way.

Gift economies still exist--and not just in fantasy novels or on remote islands. The average office in America today, for example, does not operate on capitalist exchange alone. There are always some workers who just make a habit of helping other people. And if you share your skills, you often develop a reputation for competence and likeability. People rarely set up a 1-to-1 trade for little helps and gifts, but trust builds. And if you're a cheerful giver, people may want to work with you the next time the opportunity comes up or happily offer you help the next time you're struggling with something.

Gift economies aren't ideal for everything. It's nice that there are some things you can buy with cash instead of needing a circle of friends that includes a baker, a bed-maker, and fifteen different kinds of plastic-refiners, industrial designers, and engineers. But if we think that overt trades are all the matter, we don't understand our own economies. My professional fields of history and creative writing work on hobbit principles of sharing and reputation as much as on the official economy of cash.

Today, I've been thinking about how the world economy is based on the same principles. When people talk about trade imbalances, they're often thinking in terms of an exchange, but things don't always work that way. My friend Christopher Smith pointed out today that you could actually think of dollars as a major American export. That is: we have been so successful for so long that many countries have sent us lots of their physical goods, improved by their people's labor, in exchange for a piece of paper with our name on it. Like a celebrity at Comic-Con selling autographs.

How did we get away with that? Why are people willing to take dollars without asking for more physical goods from us? Well, because the global economy runs on trust and not just trade. And we did a pretty good job in the years after WWII of being the successful hunter who throws good parties. Our military secured shipping lanes and deterred a lot of potential invasions. Our foreign aid rebuilt western Europe after the war and help many countries in the southern hemisphere with various challenges. We didn't always ask for something specific in return. But people came to think of Americans as pretty safe, pretty competent, pretty cool. They bought tickets to our movies and music. They bought into our clothes and technologies. They learned to read and write English, for heaven's sake. The spelling is frankly insane and the vocabulary comes from all over the place, but people learned it on purpose because they thought we were cool and of a lot of them wanted to be part of whatever we were doing. Even if it sometimes pained them to admit it. Even if, like France, they really missed the days when their country was the one throwing the best parties and sharing the most cutting-edge knowledge and showing off the coolest culture.

Anyway, it's sad to me that the current US administration is working so hard to take a sledgehammer to the American-centered system we had going. On some level, I get the desire to have other countries do more. But I think we forgot that it's really valuable to be the one giving favors instead of the one who's asking for them.

I mean, I can see why these felt like tough times even before Donald Trump swept into the center of the American political scene. I get that we were under pressure.

But, c'mon. When Frodo is walking into Mordor, that is not the time for him to turn around and berate Sam for being such a freeloader at Bilbo's birthday party. Frodo's best choice is to keep walking until Sam says, "I can't carry your burden. But I can carry you."

Sometimes, the noble choice is also the wise one.

Resolution
February 26, 2022

I’m going to lay down my weapons
     of culture war:
     the outrage and the provocation;
     suspicion, cynicism, snark.
I’m going to lay down my weapons
    of culture war. Try to
tread softly. Pray for winter wheat.

I've largely kept to that resolution. Obviously, I've been deeply disappointed by the way discussions over topics like the Ukraine war have developed. But I just haven't felt like it's useful to directly denounce the approaches I have concerns about. A lot of people are doing so and I don't feel like my voice would add anything.

Last week, though, I decided that one thing I can contribute may be a Chelm-like perspective on things. I've written two political posts in the voice of a misinformed character, just trying to make sense of what's happening. My personal rule is that I won't fight fire with fire. I'm going to focus on absurdity rather than outrage. I'm going to be honest but gentle. I'm going to try to end each post on a thought a sympathetic reader can smile about.

It seems to be doing good for people. I don't know what would happen if people tried to take a similar approach across the country, but I think it might be interesting if we learned not to rise to the bait when people try to start fights. If we learned to answer goading with laughter instead.

Anyway, I'm going to post the series on Substack. I'm setting it as a separate opt-in category so that people can skip it if they want. We'll see how long I can sustain the voice and feel like I'm still shedding light on things without turning tonally bitter.

Wish me luck,

—James

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You guys. I’m so sorry. When I posted about President Must last week, I accidentally spread some misinformation. I was just trying to be part of the conversation about what’s happening in our country, but I should have seen this coming. If you go marching into the sewers, you’re bound to get a little wet.

Anyway, it turns out that Elon Musk is not actually the President. A couple people brought this up and I was like, “Are you sure? Did you check your sources?” I mean, if he’s not the President, why am I hearing so much about him? But then I talked to my friend Abby, who studies constitutional law, and she pointed me to the original source on US government. If you read the Constitution closely, Elon Musk can’t be president. Article 1, section 9 clearly explains that only the legislative branch has the power to control spending.

To wield the kind of power Musk is swinging around like a six-year-old with a plastic lightsaber, you’re constitutionally required to be Congress. Now, I’m not sure what you call a guy who is serving solo in that capacity. Apparently, it’s not something we’ve tried before. I think it’s maybe appropriate to call him House Musk? To me, that’s got a kinda cool, Game of Thrones sound to it. Which fits the general vibe of the news lately. Then again, my wife said House Musk sounds like what happens when your boys become teenagers and need The Talk about deodorant. Which sounds more Silicon Valley. So the jury--if we still have those?--is out on this one.

Anyway, I’m sorry I said Elon Musk was president. I’m also sorry I said we should send him to Mars. (Even though I still think he’d have a good time there if we told him to build his ideal society and gave him a cloning kit.) But as some of my friends have pointed out, it’s really great that Musk was willing to be Congress for a while. Think about the savings potential. If we could have one guy instead of 535 people run the system, and we only had to pay him in multi-billion dollar government contracts for his private companies, that could turn out really super efficient.

The news about House Musk, unfortunately, leads me to my second mea culpa. (I prefer to apologize in Latin, because it makes “my bad” sound like a Harry Potter spell.) While trying my best to involve you, the citizen, in the political process, I made a suggestion that was deeply insensitive. I never should have told you to write your representatives to get things changed.

Apparently, that’s a “too soon” sort of suggestion, the kind that digs into open wounds. Let me explain. Many of our nominal representatives are talented people who used to have important jobs. They were doctors who saved lives, soldiers who defended our country, teachers who faced our children. Yes, some of them had frivolous careers like astronaut. Some of them were only the sons of competent people. A few were basically influencers. But by and large, they had ideas and they came to Washington thinking that they would get to do something. Imagine doing all the work it takes to get elected only to discover that you don’t actually have any responsibilities at your job anymore. Our representatives are hurting right now.

They’re not technically unemployed yet. My friend Leslie knows a guy who’s on the facilities team at the Capitol and he said they’re still using our representatives—as decorations. Still, it’s got to feel like salt on wounds if you wanted to change the world and the rug got pulled out from under you, and then people at home started writing you nonstop letters asking you to “express an opinion” and “assert yourself” all this stuff that is the opposite of the current job code.

Enough pressure already! What is a representative supposed to do? Haven’t all those letter-writers heard that a bunch of people who physically attacked Congress for doing its old job just escaped from prison? It was deeply insensitive of me to ask you to write them with suggestions about government at a time like this.

This is not to say you can’t write to your representatives. Just be thoughtful about it. Be more considerate about their new relationship to House Musk and whoever the president is. Before you make a request, ask yourself, “Is this something I would ask a potted plant to do?” If the answer is yes, they can totally handle it. Photo op. Listening to Robert F. Kennedy Junior talk. Getting peed on by the pets of the person in charge. All part of the job. But if you give them your opinions on who should be part of the next cabinet or which priorities our country should devote its resources to, that is Constitutionally part of a package of responsibilities that they’re just plain not expected to take on right now.

I don’t mean to suggest you should give up on your representatives. They’re got to feel lonely and bored and utterly impotent. They need to hear from you more than ever. But, I don’t know, maybe focus on something more upbeat and fun? Send your representative a pack of Uno cards. A nice beach read. Give them some streaming suggestions to help them binge their way through the next few years.

Or maybe even—hear me out on this one—a potted plant to rehearse for their new job code with.

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I have not posted about politics since before the last presidential election. Partly this was because the election went on so long that I sort of gave up on it. Partly this is because I am pretty sure that politics has been definitively won by algorithms. That is to say: when people try to write about it, they end up sounding like AI. And I didn't want to get eaten.

BUT it has come to my attention that the election did take place and that we have a president now and that this is going to affect some perfectly lovely people who never did anything wrong to deserve a president. So I'm going to share some thoughts. Feel free to skim.

First, I didn't vote for President Musk. So maybe he doesn't need to care about what I have to say. But I would still like to know why he now has my credit card number and personal cell phone and that most precious of my secrets, my mother's maiden name. It's weird. Some things are very personal and I don't want to share them with a trillionaire and his many baby-mamas.

I'm also tired of getting calls from really competent friends who are now trying to figure out their futures, all because they have the misfortune of working for the federal government. For those of you who don't know any government workers...this is not a career track people pick because they valued things like "fun" or "surprises" or "random threats to quit while you can." President Musk's approach is just not a great fit for our government workforce, which is mostly made of humans.

Don't get me wrong. There's stuff I like about President Musk. Ok, maybe not a lot of stuff. But my personal quality of life has noticeably improved since he heroically sacrificed Twitter. That place was never good for me, but I got algorithmed in. I needed help. Not a lot of people have the money and bulletproof self-confidence to buy a soul-sucking company and run it into the ground. I appreciate how Elon Musk was willing to burn up so much shareholder value, Joker style, and I don't much care whether it was for his own anarchist pleasure or the good of the common man.

I realize, of course, that pretty much the only place to fail up to once you've thrown away that kind of money is the federal government. And it would change the tired old debates about immigration if our new President successfully dissolves the entire sytem, ICE and all.

But I'm getting worried. It turns out that the government can actually print money, and that if you're running the government while also accepting massive contracts from the government, there's a lot of potential for profits/robbery for however long said government is still around.

Are we sure it was a good idea to elect Elon Musk? Can we still impeach him? Throw peaches at him? Offer him another country in exchange for this one?

Or...hear me out...maybe even another whole planet? I think a trade like that would be worth it. Let's contact our representatives or organize a march or buy a cake and send it to the White House. Maybe we could get President Musk to focus on Mars again and leave my mother's maiden name alone.

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