Some readers may have felt I was calling them misers in last week’s column. For that, I apologize.
Unless you are one.
By miser, I mean someone who hoards resources without paying attention to what is lost in the hoarding. The items left unbought that would have improved quality of life or saved time are insignificant compared with what a miserly mind-set does to the miser and everyone else.
The miser’s focus is myopic and self-centered. As Charles Dickens pointed out in "A Christmas Carol," a miser cannot see "the true meaning of Christmas" — or of a life lived in community, to speak more to the point.
Think about the most generous person you know. A miser is the opposite of that.
But my column was less to castigate those focused on scarcity and self-interest than to point out that scarcity is best dealt with, and self-interest best served, when we remember we work together as a community.
Individually, we save for retirement by putting money into 401(k)s or IRAs, mutual funds or by playing the market. We pay into these accounts because we expect to reap the benefits later.
This kind of investment can provide a certain level of financial security, but it can’t lower the crime rates, ensure there are jobs available for American workers or make it safe for anyone to walk the streets at night.
Think of investment in schools as another kind of retirement fund.
If we want to live in the kind of society we can be proud of, we need to take responsibility for building it.
But if that perspective doesn’t help, consider this one.
If we want to be able to complain about children being noisy and sticky and whiny in public — if you want to be able to say "Get off my lawn!" from your porch without a twinge of guilt in your golden years — we need to give them every chance to succeed where it matters. Even the most curmudgeonly among us would admit that if we don’t teach children properly, we can’t expect them to act properly.
After all, "children are our future."
So let’s put our money where our platitudes are.
But not just money — they need our attention, too. Kids need tutors, mentors and opportunities to go new places and see things they wouldn’t otherwise see. Some of this need is filled by parents and some by teachers, but some can only be attended to by an entire community.
Political decisions, for instance, are the purview of the town, state or nation making them. We seem to invest collectively in decisions that affect our individual wallets, such as local board of education budget proposals, but less so in larger-issue legislation.
It’s hardly our fault. In the past few years, more legislation on education has been passed than most senators would know what to do with, let alone members of the public. And the sometimes-sinister implications of federal legislation are often difficult to ferret out even if we did have the time to read each sentence.
So among the pages and pages of legalese, here’s one thing that should concern us, from one bill passed several years ago — the so-called "No Child Left Behind" act: Federally funded schools, such as New Britain High, are required to submit the names and personal information of all students to military recruiters.
Next week, I’ll tell you why this should concern us.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
5/23/08: Spend all we have for an educated society
Town councils throughout central Connecticut are hard at work, proposing and taking votes on municipal budgets. Many towns have rejected proposed budgets at least once, and most residents, given the opportunity, have cited the cost in taxes as “too high,” suggesting that councils cut programs and services rather than passing the budgets. A large portion of municipal budgets goes to public education.
Boards of education and public schools in general have been targeted in much of the criticism leveled against budget proposals. Letters to the editor, calls to Sound Off and word on the street show that some people feel too much is being made of education spending.
I agree.
But where they want to cut immediate personal expenses, I want to increase them — increasing, in turn, our common investment in our schools and students and our ability to look to the future with hope rather than fear.
Cutting education budgets now will widen the income gap between the haves and have-nots a generation from now. It will encourage Americans’ ignorance of world affairs in a time when none of us can afford ignorance. We will become stupider.
We shouldn’t “budget” education. There’s no maximum amount of energy or effort we should spend in educating our students, and there’s no maximum amount of money we should spend.
There is a point after which more money won’t help students to learn better or teachers to teach better, but up until this point, I say we should spend all we have in the pursuit of creating an educated society. Everything else follows from this.
I’ve heard complaints from taxpayers who insist that if they don’t have children, they shouldn’t have to pay for public schools.
This argument sounds reasonable. It might actually be reasonable — if each taxpaying family lived in a self-contained biosphere.
In a world in which we interact with each other on a daily basis, however, and especially in a country as diverse in ethnic and social background, household income and opinion as America, we have to invest in each other in order to secure our personal futures. We can’t go it alone. It’s not only ill-advised, self-aggrandizing and miserly: It’s impossible.
It’s impossible for us to live together domestically — in our homes and America — without depending on one another, and it’s become just as impossible to isolate ourselves from the rest of the world, as well. We need education to be competitive in a global market — but more than that, as educated citizens, we are more prepared to encounter those from other cultures with a priority on understanding, communication and cooperation rather than on one-upmanship, fear or automatic aggression.
Left without the benefits of truly great public schools, students from lower-income areas don’t just disappear. They operate within our society just as the privileged do. If we want to cultivate a society we can be proud of, we need to attend to these members as well.
There are ways to invest in public education without breaking into our personal piggy banks. Teach for America, a nonprofit organization that places high-achieving college graduates in underserved communities across the nation, has recently been shown to have a greater positive impact than expected, considering that Teach for America teachers are novices and usually only spend two years in their assigned locations. The organization’s success is admirable.
But Teach for America teachers are volunteers, and though we can rely on them to teach our children well, they can’t bear the responsibility of an entire country. They can supplement our efforts, but they can’t replace them.
Boards of education and public schools in general have been targeted in much of the criticism leveled against budget proposals. Letters to the editor, calls to Sound Off and word on the street show that some people feel too much is being made of education spending.
I agree.
But where they want to cut immediate personal expenses, I want to increase them — increasing, in turn, our common investment in our schools and students and our ability to look to the future with hope rather than fear.
Cutting education budgets now will widen the income gap between the haves and have-nots a generation from now. It will encourage Americans’ ignorance of world affairs in a time when none of us can afford ignorance. We will become stupider.
We shouldn’t “budget” education. There’s no maximum amount of energy or effort we should spend in educating our students, and there’s no maximum amount of money we should spend.
There is a point after which more money won’t help students to learn better or teachers to teach better, but up until this point, I say we should spend all we have in the pursuit of creating an educated society. Everything else follows from this.
I’ve heard complaints from taxpayers who insist that if they don’t have children, they shouldn’t have to pay for public schools.
This argument sounds reasonable. It might actually be reasonable — if each taxpaying family lived in a self-contained biosphere.
In a world in which we interact with each other on a daily basis, however, and especially in a country as diverse in ethnic and social background, household income and opinion as America, we have to invest in each other in order to secure our personal futures. We can’t go it alone. It’s not only ill-advised, self-aggrandizing and miserly: It’s impossible.
It’s impossible for us to live together domestically — in our homes and America — without depending on one another, and it’s become just as impossible to isolate ourselves from the rest of the world, as well. We need education to be competitive in a global market — but more than that, as educated citizens, we are more prepared to encounter those from other cultures with a priority on understanding, communication and cooperation rather than on one-upmanship, fear or automatic aggression.
Left without the benefits of truly great public schools, students from lower-income areas don’t just disappear. They operate within our society just as the privileged do. If we want to cultivate a society we can be proud of, we need to attend to these members as well.
There are ways to invest in public education without breaking into our personal piggy banks. Teach for America, a nonprofit organization that places high-achieving college graduates in underserved communities across the nation, has recently been shown to have a greater positive impact than expected, considering that Teach for America teachers are novices and usually only spend two years in their assigned locations. The organization’s success is admirable.
But Teach for America teachers are volunteers, and though we can rely on them to teach our children well, they can’t bear the responsibility of an entire country. They can supplement our efforts, but they can’t replace them.
Friday, May 16, 2008
5/16/08: Needed: Whimsical, less dutiful, holidays
I am anti-Mother’s Day.
Mother’s Day isn’t the only holiday I’m against. Father’s Day and Valentine’s Day are just as useless.
Normally what would follow this announcement is a polemic on how mothers, fathers and lovers should always be valued and honored; they shouldn’t need special days for us to show them we care. Every day should be Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and Valentine’s Day.
I actually think Mother’s Day should be abolished — and here’s why.
We should, of course, be mindful of each other, and several civic holidays remind us of those we might not normally think about: Veterans Day and Presidents Day, for instance, are set aside for the sake of those in the armed services or history to whom we owe a national debt. Obviously, mothers, fathers and significant others contribute to society, too, but the situation is different. We don’t need reminders to focus on them. They are around us, or else conspicuously absent, on a daily basis.
Their holidays’ celebrations reflect this. We don’t play taps, salute the flag or even take off work for Mother’s, Father’s or Valentine’s Day. We buy things instead. Moms get flowers or dinner out. Dads get neckties. Sweethearts get candy and to see each other dressed to the nines. We purchase, plan and prepare these gifts outside of work and outside of our roles as citizens — as we should. Personal relationships deserve personal recognition, not national attention.
Imagine a nationally choreographed celebration of Mother’s Day. The president might give a speech to a stadium full of people, probably mostly moms. The most-honored mothers, chosen for their fortitude and motherly acumen, may flank the president and select members of the Senate. The echo would reverberate through the stadium, making the speaker’s words difficult to hear, but the crowd would stand and cheer at every instance of the word “mother,” anyway.
Imagine how inappropriate it would be, in other words, to celebrate our moms the way we celebrate a political event or a civic remembrance of national heroes.
We honor each other in personal ways, daily. We kiss, hug, comfort, listen. We accommodate each other, make concessions, compromise. We trade our fantastic dreams of who we would or could be for the more mundane realities of dealing with other people — in families, at work, in the elevator or in line at the grocery store. We dutifully offer gifts to each other on appropriate occasions.
There’s nothing wrong with doing one’s duty. But Mother’s, Father’s and Valentine’s days, being expected and therefore obligatory, have become dutiful remembrances of dutiful people, a la Veteran’s Day or Memorial Day.
I propose we head in the opposite direction.
We need more whimsical holidays. I understand that whimsy is impossible to legislate — I don’t have any delusions of creating national policy — but I propose that we jettison Mother’s, Father’s and Valentine’s Days for a sense of wonder and glee. We could give the new holiday a name, if that would help. I might call mine Surprise Day.
On Surprise Day, which will fall on whatever day it seems most needed, I plan on devoting myself to generous and genuine giving, of all of those intangible indicators of affection that elude Hallmark no matter how “sincere” the card or odoriferous the candle. These are the things I wish to be mindful of — and apply to whomever needs them.
That’s mine. Now your turn: Here’s your chance to think outside the gift box. Let me know what you come up with.
Mother’s Day isn’t the only holiday I’m against. Father’s Day and Valentine’s Day are just as useless.
Normally what would follow this announcement is a polemic on how mothers, fathers and lovers should always be valued and honored; they shouldn’t need special days for us to show them we care. Every day should be Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and Valentine’s Day.
I actually think Mother’s Day should be abolished — and here’s why.
We should, of course, be mindful of each other, and several civic holidays remind us of those we might not normally think about: Veterans Day and Presidents Day, for instance, are set aside for the sake of those in the armed services or history to whom we owe a national debt. Obviously, mothers, fathers and significant others contribute to society, too, but the situation is different. We don’t need reminders to focus on them. They are around us, or else conspicuously absent, on a daily basis.
Their holidays’ celebrations reflect this. We don’t play taps, salute the flag or even take off work for Mother’s, Father’s or Valentine’s Day. We buy things instead. Moms get flowers or dinner out. Dads get neckties. Sweethearts get candy and to see each other dressed to the nines. We purchase, plan and prepare these gifts outside of work and outside of our roles as citizens — as we should. Personal relationships deserve personal recognition, not national attention.
Imagine a nationally choreographed celebration of Mother’s Day. The president might give a speech to a stadium full of people, probably mostly moms. The most-honored mothers, chosen for their fortitude and motherly acumen, may flank the president and select members of the Senate. The echo would reverberate through the stadium, making the speaker’s words difficult to hear, but the crowd would stand and cheer at every instance of the word “mother,” anyway.
Imagine how inappropriate it would be, in other words, to celebrate our moms the way we celebrate a political event or a civic remembrance of national heroes.
We honor each other in personal ways, daily. We kiss, hug, comfort, listen. We accommodate each other, make concessions, compromise. We trade our fantastic dreams of who we would or could be for the more mundane realities of dealing with other people — in families, at work, in the elevator or in line at the grocery store. We dutifully offer gifts to each other on appropriate occasions.
There’s nothing wrong with doing one’s duty. But Mother’s, Father’s and Valentine’s days, being expected and therefore obligatory, have become dutiful remembrances of dutiful people, a la Veteran’s Day or Memorial Day.
I propose we head in the opposite direction.
We need more whimsical holidays. I understand that whimsy is impossible to legislate — I don’t have any delusions of creating national policy — but I propose that we jettison Mother’s, Father’s and Valentine’s Days for a sense of wonder and glee. We could give the new holiday a name, if that would help. I might call mine Surprise Day.
On Surprise Day, which will fall on whatever day it seems most needed, I plan on devoting myself to generous and genuine giving, of all of those intangible indicators of affection that elude Hallmark no matter how “sincere” the card or odoriferous the candle. These are the things I wish to be mindful of — and apply to whomever needs them.
That’s mine. Now your turn: Here’s your chance to think outside the gift box. Let me know what you come up with.
Friday, May 9, 2008
5/9/08: 'Supporting our troops' is more than a slogan
I do not have a “support our troops” sticker or magnet on my car. I never have, and I never will.
I have a lot of reasons for this, including the fact that I have never supported the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan. I realize that supporting the war and supporting the soldiers we send into it are two separate things but to this I say that putting a magnet on my car and actually actively supporting the soldiers are also two separate things.
Thus my main reason for not having a sticker — we need to stop saying we support the troops and actually do it.
We’ve had a lot of talk about supporting the troops, most of which is limited to sincerely thanking them for their sacrifice.
The word “sacrifice” implies that something has been freely given, offered on our behalf by strong and self-sustained individuals and, for the most part, the word accurately describes what soldiers in the Iraq, Afghanistan and other past wars have done. They have sacrificed.
But the word has become a euphemism for what our soldiers have really done.
It covers over the reality of the physical and emotional wounds they’ve sustained in battle.
It covers over the reality of wounds they have caused in the name of our country and how knowing they caused those wounds affects their lives after the war. Solemnly thanking them and their families, then sending them back to their homes has come to stand in for providing the support that they — that anyone, having made these kinds of sacrifices — need after being at war.
Thanking soldiers for their sacrifice has become a way for us to shirk our responsibilities to them.
It should not be “their sacrifice.” It needs to be “our sacrifice.” We sent them. In doing so, we have made ourselves responsible for them. And we have failed them.
We sent the “surge” of troops that was to win us the war in Iraq while we reduced funding for veterans and planned to collapse Bethesda Naval Hospital and Walter Reed National Army Medical Center into one facility. We seem unconcerned with providing for even the physical rehabilitation of wounded soldiers — this in a war with relatively low mortality, but more terrible injuries than ever.
Dr. Atul Gawande, in his book “Better,” writes about the dramatic drop in mortality rates in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, which had gone down to 10 percent — from the 24 percent mortality of Korea, Vietnam, and the Gulf War — thanks to doctors’ focus on perfecting existing in-the-field triage and surgical techniques. On-site surgeons traveling with the troops have been able to save more wounded soldiers by getting to them more quickly and immediately sending them on to better-equipped facilities once the most severe wounds have been controlled.
More people surviving war is a good outcome and one we should be happy with. Certainly those whose family members have gone to war and returned, in whatever condition, are grateful to have their loved ones back.
But as Dr. Gawande points out, the quality of life for the soldiers now returning to the States, some with injuries that would have been “unsurvivable in previous wars,” is still “an open question.”
“We have never faced having to rehabilitate people with such extensive wounds. We are only beginning to learn what to do to make a life worth living possible for them,” Dr. Gawande says.
It’s our job, as people who “support our troops,” to find out what can be done — and do it.
I have a lot of reasons for this, including the fact that I have never supported the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan. I realize that supporting the war and supporting the soldiers we send into it are two separate things but to this I say that putting a magnet on my car and actually actively supporting the soldiers are also two separate things.
Thus my main reason for not having a sticker — we need to stop saying we support the troops and actually do it.
We’ve had a lot of talk about supporting the troops, most of which is limited to sincerely thanking them for their sacrifice.
The word “sacrifice” implies that something has been freely given, offered on our behalf by strong and self-sustained individuals and, for the most part, the word accurately describes what soldiers in the Iraq, Afghanistan and other past wars have done. They have sacrificed.
But the word has become a euphemism for what our soldiers have really done.
It covers over the reality of the physical and emotional wounds they’ve sustained in battle.
It covers over the reality of wounds they have caused in the name of our country and how knowing they caused those wounds affects their lives after the war. Solemnly thanking them and their families, then sending them back to their homes has come to stand in for providing the support that they — that anyone, having made these kinds of sacrifices — need after being at war.
Thanking soldiers for their sacrifice has become a way for us to shirk our responsibilities to them.
It should not be “their sacrifice.” It needs to be “our sacrifice.” We sent them. In doing so, we have made ourselves responsible for them. And we have failed them.
We sent the “surge” of troops that was to win us the war in Iraq while we reduced funding for veterans and planned to collapse Bethesda Naval Hospital and Walter Reed National Army Medical Center into one facility. We seem unconcerned with providing for even the physical rehabilitation of wounded soldiers — this in a war with relatively low mortality, but more terrible injuries than ever.
Dr. Atul Gawande, in his book “Better,” writes about the dramatic drop in mortality rates in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, which had gone down to 10 percent — from the 24 percent mortality of Korea, Vietnam, and the Gulf War — thanks to doctors’ focus on perfecting existing in-the-field triage and surgical techniques. On-site surgeons traveling with the troops have been able to save more wounded soldiers by getting to them more quickly and immediately sending them on to better-equipped facilities once the most severe wounds have been controlled.
More people surviving war is a good outcome and one we should be happy with. Certainly those whose family members have gone to war and returned, in whatever condition, are grateful to have their loved ones back.
But as Dr. Gawande points out, the quality of life for the soldiers now returning to the States, some with injuries that would have been “unsurvivable in previous wars,” is still “an open question.”
“We have never faced having to rehabilitate people with such extensive wounds. We are only beginning to learn what to do to make a life worth living possible for them,” Dr. Gawande says.
It’s our job, as people who “support our troops,” to find out what can be done — and do it.
Friday, May 2, 2008
5/2/08: Bring logic, not faith, to political valuations
Two weeks ago, I wrote a column on how political forums were not capable of revealing the true beliefs — particularly religious beliefs — or motivations of political candidates.
This week, I’d like to discuss why that’s fine with me.
The concern with candidates’ motivations, besides encouraging a reductive approach to religion, leads voters who feel they “really know” a candidate to value loyalty over critical judgment, and to trust rather than question.
We’ve seen the effects of this unquestioning trust during President Bush’s time in office. Evangelicals, especially, have associated Bush with evangelical Christianity. They have labeled him “a man of God,” citing his relatively frequent statements of, or allusions to, faith. From the beginning, the president has peppered his speeches with references to Christian traditional hymns and theology, purposefully linking himself and the Judeo-Christian God in the minds of Christians.
Associating oneself with the divine is a large claim, and one to which Bush may have no right. But my concern is less with the president’s intentions, or his own theoretical belief in himself as a man of God, than with the public’s reactions to the claim.
The main problem with associating a certain political candidate — or president — with God is not theological; it’s political. America is a democratic republic, where people are free to make choices about what to say, whether to own a gun, how or whom to worship. Citizens are not only free to make these choices: They’re required to.
But evangelical Christianity, like many religious traditions, puts an emphasis on submitting to the will of God, even when life, or God, doesn’t seem to make sense. The mystery of the divine expands to encompass the good and bad circumstances of life. We may credit God when we get a raise at work, or when the Red Sox win the World Series, or when we find a $20 bill on the street. We may question the will or goodness of God when we are stricken with illness, or the Patriots lose the Super Bowl, or when we misplace our keys. The work of the believer is to make sense of these events in a way that sustains faith in the essential goodness of God and to submit to the divine will.
The work of the American citizen, on the other hand, is to critically evaluate the actions and policies of political representatives and to demand change when those actions and policies don’t reflect the will of the people. We submit to laws, but we also influence them through the people we elect to legislate and execute them. There is no place in American democracy for the idea that any politician has a “divine right” to power. They answer to us.
The claim that any politician has a divine mandate confuses this issue, encouraging religious believers to abdicate their responsibility to think critically about the value or effects of the choices being made. Being a “man of God” allowed Bush to escape blame for many of the destructive environmental, economic and foreign-diplomatic policies his administration has enacted. He has not been held accountable to us in part because some assumed he was being held accountable to God.
Bush’s incorporation of religion into his speeches and public image has been more or less dismissed by the irreligious as simply another political gaff on his part. This is just as dangerous as ceding our duty to “divine right” thinking.
It’s our responsibility — and no one else’s — to hold our politicians accountable for their decisions.
This week, I’d like to discuss why that’s fine with me.
The concern with candidates’ motivations, besides encouraging a reductive approach to religion, leads voters who feel they “really know” a candidate to value loyalty over critical judgment, and to trust rather than question.
We’ve seen the effects of this unquestioning trust during President Bush’s time in office. Evangelicals, especially, have associated Bush with evangelical Christianity. They have labeled him “a man of God,” citing his relatively frequent statements of, or allusions to, faith. From the beginning, the president has peppered his speeches with references to Christian traditional hymns and theology, purposefully linking himself and the Judeo-Christian God in the minds of Christians.
Associating oneself with the divine is a large claim, and one to which Bush may have no right. But my concern is less with the president’s intentions, or his own theoretical belief in himself as a man of God, than with the public’s reactions to the claim.
The main problem with associating a certain political candidate — or president — with God is not theological; it’s political. America is a democratic republic, where people are free to make choices about what to say, whether to own a gun, how or whom to worship. Citizens are not only free to make these choices: They’re required to.
But evangelical Christianity, like many religious traditions, puts an emphasis on submitting to the will of God, even when life, or God, doesn’t seem to make sense. The mystery of the divine expands to encompass the good and bad circumstances of life. We may credit God when we get a raise at work, or when the Red Sox win the World Series, or when we find a $20 bill on the street. We may question the will or goodness of God when we are stricken with illness, or the Patriots lose the Super Bowl, or when we misplace our keys. The work of the believer is to make sense of these events in a way that sustains faith in the essential goodness of God and to submit to the divine will.
The work of the American citizen, on the other hand, is to critically evaluate the actions and policies of political representatives and to demand change when those actions and policies don’t reflect the will of the people. We submit to laws, but we also influence them through the people we elect to legislate and execute them. There is no place in American democracy for the idea that any politician has a “divine right” to power. They answer to us.
The claim that any politician has a divine mandate confuses this issue, encouraging religious believers to abdicate their responsibility to think critically about the value or effects of the choices being made. Being a “man of God” allowed Bush to escape blame for many of the destructive environmental, economic and foreign-diplomatic policies his administration has enacted. He has not been held accountable to us in part because some assumed he was being held accountable to God.
Bush’s incorporation of religion into his speeches and public image has been more or less dismissed by the irreligious as simply another political gaff on his part. This is just as dangerous as ceding our duty to “divine right” thinking.
It’s our responsibility — and no one else’s — to hold our politicians accountable for their decisions.
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