I never got Obamamania.
I never understood the hope invested in the man, the nearly messianic expectations. I have friends who got completely swept up, who are believers.
I saw the same thing with George W. Bush: people who should have known better believing utterly that this son of privilege was just like them — and a great leader to boot.
I know people — my dad for one — for whom Ronald Reagan is a hero. (I have to say I’ve never personally met anyone who hero-worships Bill Clinton. Good thing.)
There’s something distasteful to me about elevating politicians to heroic status. It’s anti-republican (that’s small “r,” for the record). In our system of government, we hire these people to do a job and we owe it to ourselves to view their performance with skepticism, to hold them accountable.
Too much faith — I would say much faith at all — in a leader is misplaced and unhealthy for the Republic. The cult of personality is better suited to monarchies and authoritarian regimes. Americans should never have a “Dear Leader.”
Maybe I’m just being a crank. But I don’t think politicians should be treated like rock stars. (I don’t think rock stars should be treated like rock stars, either, but that’s another story.) I get uneasy when I see giant crowds going nuts over Obama.
Didn’t like the George W. Bush action-figure landing on the aircraft carrier, either.
Obama seems like good guy — personable in interviews, lovely family. I like his “cool.” I think his rep as an orator is overblown, but he does communicate well (though not as well as The Great Communicator).
But we hired the man to do a tough job and all that matters is what he gets done.
I suppose it’s natural to project our hopes and fears, dreams and nightmares, aspirations and demonic visions onto leaders. But the American form of government assumes that we can get past that kind of irrationalism and see with clear eyes.
If we’ve forgotten how, we need to relearn how to do that — now more than ever.
Jim Cornelius, Editor
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Poor, bloody Mexico
Last week I went down to LA to visit family and to see the special exhibit on the Mexican Revolution running at the Autry National Center of the American West.
The exhibit was a fascinating, colorful depiction of the social and cultural impact — on both sides of the border — of the 1910-1920 revolution that convulsed Mexico, killing more than a million people and displacing millions of others (the first wave of massive Mexican immigration into the U.S.).
As my family walked among the George Yepes paintings and film clips of Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata, it was impossible to avoid linking the tumult of the Revolution to the drug civil war ravaging the country today.
I have fond memories of camping with my brother in the hills of Baja California, heading down at dawn into a little fishing village, heading out in pangas to fish the reefs. My wife and I would love to do the Copper Canyon tour.
But right now, I just can’t justify the risk of going to Mexico. I know that the violence is mainly confined to certain zones and that other areas remain relatively safe. But the violence is getting worse and Americans make good kidnapping targets. I won’t put my family at that risk.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go there again. Sad.
If you’re interested in reading about the drug trade in Mexico and on the border, Charles Bowden is brilliant, both on the reporting end and as a vivid, almost poetic writer. Sometimes a novel provides as much education about a subject as history or journalism. Don Winslow’s “The Power of the Dog” is a harrowing but absolutely engrossing thriller set during the ’70s and ’80s when the Mexican cartels were setting up their pipeline for Columbian cocaine.
When the Caribbean route into Florida started getting dicey (all that Miami Vice attention), the route into the U.S. shifted to Mexico and a bunch of smalltimers got big really fast.
Now they’re in a death struggle with the Mexican army and among themselves. Mexico is bleeding and on fire and the flames are licking at the U.S.
Just like the bad old days.
Jim Cornelius, Editor
The exhibit was a fascinating, colorful depiction of the social and cultural impact — on both sides of the border — of the 1910-1920 revolution that convulsed Mexico, killing more than a million people and displacing millions of others (the first wave of massive Mexican immigration into the U.S.).
As my family walked among the George Yepes paintings and film clips of Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata, it was impossible to avoid linking the tumult of the Revolution to the drug civil war ravaging the country today.
I have fond memories of camping with my brother in the hills of Baja California, heading down at dawn into a little fishing village, heading out in pangas to fish the reefs. My wife and I would love to do the Copper Canyon tour.
But right now, I just can’t justify the risk of going to Mexico. I know that the violence is mainly confined to certain zones and that other areas remain relatively safe. But the violence is getting worse and Americans make good kidnapping targets. I won’t put my family at that risk.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go there again. Sad.
If you’re interested in reading about the drug trade in Mexico and on the border, Charles Bowden is brilliant, both on the reporting end and as a vivid, almost poetic writer. Sometimes a novel provides as much education about a subject as history or journalism. Don Winslow’s “The Power of the Dog” is a harrowing but absolutely engrossing thriller set during the ’70s and ’80s when the Mexican cartels were setting up their pipeline for Columbian cocaine.
When the Caribbean route into Florida started getting dicey (all that Miami Vice attention), the route into the U.S. shifted to Mexico and a bunch of smalltimers got big really fast.
Now they’re in a death struggle with the Mexican army and among themselves. Mexico is bleeding and on fire and the flames are licking at the U.S.
Just like the bad old days.
Jim Cornelius, Editor
Robbed with a fountain pen
Yes, as through this world I’ve wandered
I’ve seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.
— Woody Guthrie
True in 1939; true today.
We’ve been pencil-whipped half to death by a bunch of cons. Armed robbery is honest work compared to the financial machinations that have left us shoveling our good money after bad.
Over the past two weeks I’ve heard over and over that we just need to get over the AIG bonus flap. Sure it stinks, the argument goes, but the principle of contract is more important than sticking it to greedy bums.
I don’t buy it. Yes, in the great scheme of things, it’s a small amount of money. But we should be angry — angry at what this represents.
An awful lot of people are sick of playing by one set of rules while fat cats and politicians seem to play by a whole other set of “rules” that make sense only on the other side of the looking glass.
People are outraged because the idea of people getting bonuses when they’ve run their company into the ground is outrageous. Who agreed to these contracts? Why did Treasury release bailout funds knowing that they were in place?
There’s also a major-league double-standard at play here. The same folks who say we have to get over the AIG (and other) bonuses will tell you that the auto industry simply has to get rid of its (contractual) labor burden.
That may well be true, but it kinda makes the “a contract is a contract” argument stink like week-old fish.
Jim Cornelius, Editor
I’ve seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.
— Woody Guthrie
True in 1939; true today.
We’ve been pencil-whipped half to death by a bunch of cons. Armed robbery is honest work compared to the financial machinations that have left us shoveling our good money after bad.
Over the past two weeks I’ve heard over and over that we just need to get over the AIG bonus flap. Sure it stinks, the argument goes, but the principle of contract is more important than sticking it to greedy bums.
I don’t buy it. Yes, in the great scheme of things, it’s a small amount of money. But we should be angry — angry at what this represents.
An awful lot of people are sick of playing by one set of rules while fat cats and politicians seem to play by a whole other set of “rules” that make sense only on the other side of the looking glass.
People are outraged because the idea of people getting bonuses when they’ve run their company into the ground is outrageous. Who agreed to these contracts? Why did Treasury release bailout funds knowing that they were in place?
There’s also a major-league double-standard at play here. The same folks who say we have to get over the AIG (and other) bonuses will tell you that the auto industry simply has to get rid of its (contractual) labor burden.
That may well be true, but it kinda makes the “a contract is a contract” argument stink like week-old fish.
Jim Cornelius, Editor
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Enterprise
Sisters is shooting to attach itself to Redmond’s enterprise zone.
This is probably a better deal for Redmond than it is for Sisters; they get to add a severely economically distressed area to their application, making it more likely that they’ll be renewed by the state.
Not that I think a Sisters enterprise zone is a bad idea; I just don’t think it will have much impact, at least not by itself.
As we’ve discussed before, there aren’t a lot of sound business reasons for a light industrial enterprise to locate in Sisters instead of Redmond. Reasons have to be “irrational”; a business owner would have to override bottom line considerations for lifestyle considerations.
To that end, I put more faith in the current downtown renewal effort being pursued by the new Sisters Village Association (see The Nugget, March 18, page 1).
Here’s how I think this roles: Sisters maintains and enhances its quality as a tourist destination, with a vibrant community full of worthy cultural events — a thriving arts and music scene, rich outdoor recreation opportunities. Sisters maintains good schools (no guarantee, even with the passage of local option).
People come here to vacation, fall in love, decide they simply must live here and locate their business here. The incentives of an enterprise zone make it a little easier to justify and send a signal that, yes, Sisters welcomes you.
Perhaps Sisters actively goes out and courts the sort of people and businesses we want here, utilizes the Baker City “enterprise facilitation” model Chuck Humphreys touted to the council (story in The Nugget, March 18, page 1).
An enterprise zone is the least of our tools. Fighting off downtown decay, enhancing the vitality of our core and of our fundamental industry — tourism — is the critical mission. Next (actually, in tandem) comes a coherent, focused marketing campaign that shows off the best of Sisters and seeks to bring the best quality cultural tourism (geotourism is the current buzz word) to our doors.
Only when we create an overwhelming desire to be here, one that trumps pure business considerations, will enterprise incentives and facilitation kick in.
What’s needed now is synchronization of efforts, a clear understanding of where the horse and the cart go in the equation and a clear line of responsibility for making things happen.
The Sisters Village Association is a good sign. So, in its limited way is the possibility of an enterprise zone. But we can encourage enterprise with or without one if we first focus on polishing Sisters like the gem it is.
Jim Cornelius, Editor
This is probably a better deal for Redmond than it is for Sisters; they get to add a severely economically distressed area to their application, making it more likely that they’ll be renewed by the state.
Not that I think a Sisters enterprise zone is a bad idea; I just don’t think it will have much impact, at least not by itself.
As we’ve discussed before, there aren’t a lot of sound business reasons for a light industrial enterprise to locate in Sisters instead of Redmond. Reasons have to be “irrational”; a business owner would have to override bottom line considerations for lifestyle considerations.
To that end, I put more faith in the current downtown renewal effort being pursued by the new Sisters Village Association (see The Nugget, March 18, page 1).
Here’s how I think this roles: Sisters maintains and enhances its quality as a tourist destination, with a vibrant community full of worthy cultural events — a thriving arts and music scene, rich outdoor recreation opportunities. Sisters maintains good schools (no guarantee, even with the passage of local option).
People come here to vacation, fall in love, decide they simply must live here and locate their business here. The incentives of an enterprise zone make it a little easier to justify and send a signal that, yes, Sisters welcomes you.
Perhaps Sisters actively goes out and courts the sort of people and businesses we want here, utilizes the Baker City “enterprise facilitation” model Chuck Humphreys touted to the council (story in The Nugget, March 18, page 1).
An enterprise zone is the least of our tools. Fighting off downtown decay, enhancing the vitality of our core and of our fundamental industry — tourism — is the critical mission. Next (actually, in tandem) comes a coherent, focused marketing campaign that shows off the best of Sisters and seeks to bring the best quality cultural tourism (geotourism is the current buzz word) to our doors.
Only when we create an overwhelming desire to be here, one that trumps pure business considerations, will enterprise incentives and facilitation kick in.
What’s needed now is synchronization of efforts, a clear understanding of where the horse and the cart go in the equation and a clear line of responsibility for making things happen.
The Sisters Village Association is a good sign. So, in its limited way is the possibility of an enterprise zone. But we can encourage enterprise with or without one if we first focus on polishing Sisters like the gem it is.
Jim Cornelius, Editor
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