Obama can deliver a speech. Seriously. Though I am admittedly not a fan of his political prespective, and though I think in the end his speech doesn't mean much, I must give him credit for the strategic approach employed in the address.
I think for the first time, the president cast himself as a citizen of America first, and an ideologue second. Of course, it is just a speech, and plenty of pens and minds collaborated to bring it to life. The delivery, though, was excellent.
Ideologically, the presentation stayed true to democratic principles, as the proposed solution to many problems is believed to be government intervention, especially in terms of allocation of money. What stood out to me was that the president spoke in glowing terms of the traits that Americans believe serve as the backbone of the country.
For instance, the focus seemed to be almost Reaganesque in its optimism and praise of self-sufficiency. Entrpreneurial spirit was mentioned in one way or another on many occasions. When the president says that Americans do big things, and when he suggests that improving productivity and prosperity in American manufacturing, I was reeminded of the Gipper.
Where I maintain concern is often the ideological chasm between Obama and me. The plan seems to be to throw money at education, for example. As a career educator, I like the idea of supporting public education. However, as the worst elements of NCLB have shown, federal involvement in education isn't necessarily a great thing. Once the federal governemnt sends money to schools, they understandably want a say in how schools are run. In the broadest sense, that is fine. In practical terms, however, the result is unfunded mandates that actually make schools more expensive, in my opinion.
How does this happen, you might ask? Well, NCLB in broad strokes has been a significant catalyst for change. Educators are being held more accountable for producing results. Because teachers are generally resourceful, imaginative, and hard-working, the call to accountability has driven many schools to improve. The cost to the taxpayer, though, and the cost to the relative health of the teaching staff, has been huge. Federal money has not paid for the increase in teachers that followed the call to action. Likewise, federal money has not paid in full for the increase in money spent for special education teachers and programs, increases that have been necessitated by the programs that demand similar achievement for students with identified barriers to education and the rest of the student population.
The principle and the dynamic replicates itself with all governemnt controlled programs. I know the left-leaning people aren't as sure of this as I am, but in very few cases does a large, unwieldy government agency produce results that aren't much more expensive than they could be.
So the speech, in its call to a blending of private innovation supported with governemnt dollars, might be a positive thing, if the innovators are allowed to profit from their innovations in some way. I like the call to do these things for the good of America, but if the plan is to have the federal officials' oversight and supervision to squelch the spirit, none of the impetus will last.
ADDENDUM: A reader asked why the headline mentions Obama's dilemma? I thought it had been implied. Government intervention and control are at odds with entreprenurial spirit and innovation. A bureaucracy can support those rogue, cowboy type efforts, but it can never create them itself. The two forces are mutually exclusive.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
To Hell In A Handbasket...
Two students in LA are shot when a loaded gun is dropped and goes off. A psychopath shoots a congresswoman and many others, including a nine-year-old girl too young to have ever hurt anyone significantly. The list goes on.
Is American culture going to hell in a handbasket? I never truly understood the source or full implication of that phrase, but I think the present answer might be yes. The constant violence, much of which occurs mostly because it can, is not new. In fact, the history of the country is fraught with violence. The difference, I think, is the effect and the response that we have to it.
In the violent early years, and even up to the 20th century, people were outraged, and then braced for the inevitable vengeance that followed. Such a response wasn't necessarily the right way to handle the outrage, but at least the offender knew his actions would provoke repercussions. Society at large responded forcefully to the events.
Fast forward to the present reaction. When the students at Columbine wreaked carnage on a system that they felt had served them poorly, cultural response was strong, yet often misguided. Schools ratcheted up the faux security measures to create a lie that told parents their children were safer. They weren't and aren't. Fortunately, schools are still among the safest places in the country, but that safety is not because of improved security measures. Instead, schools remain relatively safe because they rarely provoke the rath of our depressed and mentally ill.
Fast forward to the incidents mentioned at the start of this piece. The focal point of public response to the events in Arizona devolved into fruitless finger pointing. For three days, at least, the most often heard message was that the psycho had been inspired by the vitriolic political environment. Only after the boy had been questioned did the false message die out. In the meantime, Sarah Palin and others had spent energy defending themselves.
The point of this is not to defend Palin, the tenor of the political dialogue, or the irresponsible media who manufactured a catalyst for the violence before they knew anything. Instead, I am convinced that the public largely doesn't care. If they really wanted genuine answers to the questions, they would not be so easily sidetracked into baseless discussions. They wouldn't be so quick to adjust their focus.
I maintain that the fundamental goodness that has usually been omnipressent in the country is no longer so evident. Culturally, we want someone or soemthing to blame, quickly, so we can get back to Jersy Shore, or Celebrity Rehab. Only late in the game did any media outlets start asking the why's and how's of the incident. I can't pinpoint proof, but I also feel that when they did so, they were doing it reluctantly.
Don Henley wrote a song, in the late '80's I believe, where he drew an analogy between a young girl's loss of innocence, and the loss of innocence that citizens in America were experiencing. I loved the song, but wasn't so sure that his contention, that the Reagan era was father to disillusionment, was very accurate. I thought the end of the innocence had to have come during the Vietnam era. Regardless, innocnece, and buoyant optimism certainly was compromised.
Now, however, we aren't talking about innocence. I think the loss we are witnessing is a loss of empathy, of altruism, of humanity. Sure, individuals have exhibited a dearth of these traits, but the culture - society at large - usually responded with at least a modicum of caring. We have become inured to the violence, and to the bankruptcy of values.
Maybe it's me, my age, my inevitable slide into the ranks of the older generation. I don't know. I don't think this is just a personal perception. I am concerned that it's pervasive and ubiquitous. And quite frankly, it scares the hell out of me.
Is American culture going to hell in a handbasket? I never truly understood the source or full implication of that phrase, but I think the present answer might be yes. The constant violence, much of which occurs mostly because it can, is not new. In fact, the history of the country is fraught with violence. The difference, I think, is the effect and the response that we have to it.
In the violent early years, and even up to the 20th century, people were outraged, and then braced for the inevitable vengeance that followed. Such a response wasn't necessarily the right way to handle the outrage, but at least the offender knew his actions would provoke repercussions. Society at large responded forcefully to the events.
Fast forward to the present reaction. When the students at Columbine wreaked carnage on a system that they felt had served them poorly, cultural response was strong, yet often misguided. Schools ratcheted up the faux security measures to create a lie that told parents their children were safer. They weren't and aren't. Fortunately, schools are still among the safest places in the country, but that safety is not because of improved security measures. Instead, schools remain relatively safe because they rarely provoke the rath of our depressed and mentally ill.
Fast forward to the incidents mentioned at the start of this piece. The focal point of public response to the events in Arizona devolved into fruitless finger pointing. For three days, at least, the most often heard message was that the psycho had been inspired by the vitriolic political environment. Only after the boy had been questioned did the false message die out. In the meantime, Sarah Palin and others had spent energy defending themselves.
The point of this is not to defend Palin, the tenor of the political dialogue, or the irresponsible media who manufactured a catalyst for the violence before they knew anything. Instead, I am convinced that the public largely doesn't care. If they really wanted genuine answers to the questions, they would not be so easily sidetracked into baseless discussions. They wouldn't be so quick to adjust their focus.
I maintain that the fundamental goodness that has usually been omnipressent in the country is no longer so evident. Culturally, we want someone or soemthing to blame, quickly, so we can get back to Jersy Shore, or Celebrity Rehab. Only late in the game did any media outlets start asking the why's and how's of the incident. I can't pinpoint proof, but I also feel that when they did so, they were doing it reluctantly.
Don Henley wrote a song, in the late '80's I believe, where he drew an analogy between a young girl's loss of innocence, and the loss of innocence that citizens in America were experiencing. I loved the song, but wasn't so sure that his contention, that the Reagan era was father to disillusionment, was very accurate. I thought the end of the innocence had to have come during the Vietnam era. Regardless, innocnece, and buoyant optimism certainly was compromised.
Now, however, we aren't talking about innocence. I think the loss we are witnessing is a loss of empathy, of altruism, of humanity. Sure, individuals have exhibited a dearth of these traits, but the culture - society at large - usually responded with at least a modicum of caring. We have become inured to the violence, and to the bankruptcy of values.
Maybe it's me, my age, my inevitable slide into the ranks of the older generation. I don't know. I don't think this is just a personal perception. I am concerned that it's pervasive and ubiquitous. And quite frankly, it scares the hell out of me.
Monday, January 10, 2011
A Man's Gotta Know His Limitations... [Harry Callahan]
With open eyes, engaged,
we travel through our younger days,
oblivion prevailing
in our narrow passageways.
Acuity is not the blind
as what we see is clear in mind.
Periphery recedes
and limits what we have to find.
Side streets and alleyways
become the vortex of a maze,
Epiphanies abounding
while we shuffle off the daze.
Our cognizance is not the core
of anything we struggle for,
our sentience expanding
as we come of age - unsure.
Then up to, through, our middle age
our certainty turns back the page.
internalization
bars us from objective gaze.
No time for what we do not know,
we hasten where we think we go.
scope degeneration
makes us puppets in the show.
In time, an empty feathered nest,
alerts to where we are bereft.
cumbersome omission
highlights everything that's left.
Thus only once we've run the race
comes consciousness of what we've faced,
illuminating ignorance
teaches Wisdom, Hope, and Faith.
we travel through our younger days,
oblivion prevailing
in our narrow passageways.
Acuity is not the blind
as what we see is clear in mind.
Periphery recedes
and limits what we have to find.
Side streets and alleyways
become the vortex of a maze,
Epiphanies abounding
while we shuffle off the daze.
Our cognizance is not the core
of anything we struggle for,
our sentience expanding
as we come of age - unsure.
Then up to, through, our middle age
our certainty turns back the page.
internalization
bars us from objective gaze.
No time for what we do not know,
we hasten where we think we go.
scope degeneration
makes us puppets in the show.
In time, an empty feathered nest,
alerts to where we are bereft.
cumbersome omission
highlights everything that's left.
Thus only once we've run the race
comes consciousness of what we've faced,
illuminating ignorance
teaches Wisdom, Hope, and Faith.
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