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Default Is Always An Option

I haven't said much (ha!) about the debt ceiling debate, mostly because the "debate" is so contrived, and because there is so little to say. Of course the government shouldn't default on interest or principle payments on US bonds. Of course we need to, over the long term, figure out how to reduce US debt. These are not debate points, they're mainly common sense.

This particular round of debt debate has been marked by a kind of brinksmanship that seems tired and familiar over the past few years, a part of our excessive partisanship, but is really somewhat new. We didn't used to take these disputes up to and past the point of no return. Governing is about compromise, and up until recently, compromise was generally possible.

This week, while few people were paying attention, the existence of the FAA ended. Right now, there is no government agency overseeing the airline industry, our airlines, our airports. The problem, apparently, was a fairly arcane debate in Congress about union rights for transportation workers. So for now, we have air traffic controllers. And not much else.

There's been a duel sense of brinksmanship and "everything but the abyss" in the discussions about the debt ceiling; there's been some cavalier talk that the August 2nd deadline mentioned by the Treasury Department is illusory, that Congress will just take this to edge and then find an agreement, that this is all theater. On the other side there's a "cooler heads" logic that says we just can't default on our obligations. It's unthinkable.

I'd just like to point out that default is thinkable. It's even quite likely, and this isn't just theater.

Government default is an option; it's always been an option, and at this point - for weeks really - the likelihood of default is an option that's been in the cards. Default may be terrible, economically devastating, full of enormous consequences and disastrous implications. But it could happen. And the fact that it may well happen in the next few days is something to plan for, not to pretend as unthinkable.

Since the question of raising the debt ceiling started coming up, there's been this conventional wisdom that it would get done. It might be ugly, it might be painful, but it would get done, because it had to get done. It always has to get done.

But why?

The thing about "conventional" wisdom is that it assumes, well, conventions. Conventional wisdom assumes an agreed upon set of base principles, certainties that are not questioned. The sun will rise. The sun will set. 

"Our government cannot go into default" is actually not a certainty. Of course it can.

There was a moment in our nation - you can look it up - in 1968, when we stood on a precipice. There was a real potential for societal breakdown on a large scale, a powder keg of anger and frustration that could easily have boiled over, a real chance at revolution. Instead, elements of radical youth and radical black militants fell apart, and in many ways the radical left has never entirely recovered in this country.

I've been trying, for years, to convince people that the "conservative revolution" on the right is a similar trend.

The breakdown of debt ceiling negotiations results, in large measure, from Tea Party anger. What is Tea Party anger? At base, it's a refusal to accept a kind of prevailing conventional wisdom - that the kind of politics we have has to be "the way it is", that we have to agree to the "ground rules", that certain widely accepted notions always have to hold true. Who says we have to agree that default is unthinkable? Who says we have to agree to a compromise to get some of what we want? Why doesn't anyone have the balls to take a situation completely to the brink?

This week, we may get the answer to some of those questions.

I don't favor default; I don't look forward to it, nothing I'm talking about has anything to do with me wanting to see the debt ceiling extension fail. Default, and the economic consequences that follow from it, are in many ways a terrifying prospect. But there's a fallacy at work right now that's way more dangerous - a sense that, just because it's unthinkable, default can't happen. There's a complacency, which has been floating around since the economic downturn began, since 9/11 maybe, that as bad as things are, they really couldn't get much worse.

So many lives have, in so many ways, been largely untouched by the economic down turn, though many seem cavalier about that. Maybe you go to the movies a little less, maybe your vacation was a little less extravagant this year. That's a little inconvenient. That is not disaster. Default would likely mean disaster. How do we get food disaster. How do we live without an income disaster. 

Maybe by tonight there will be an agreement. Maybe there's still a moment, and some cooler heads to pull this form the brink. Maybe losing some political face will turn out to be okay for some political leaders, and a deal will go through. If not, it's likely that this next week will involve some pretty serious financial reversals, and after that... who knows. Default is not unthinkable. Default is always an option. And things really could get a whole hell of a lot worse.

Friday Evening Face Painting

 
jinb

What's Black And White And Red All Over?

I promised myself not to write anything about the News of the World "phone hacking" scandal until Rebekah Brooks, the CEO of News International, resigned. I did that because, ultimately, any piece before she did would amount to " Rebekah Brooks will have to go".

And now she has. And she's been arrested to boot.

I've been following the phone hacking story for months, at least; I kind of remember being interested back when Sienna Miller first filed suit in 2007, claiming her phones had been hacked, messages deleted, and details related to the messages showed up in the News of the World. But since then, watching this story unfold, it's fascinating and truly compelling to see how one minor incident has snowballed  into the calamity that may take down Rupert Murdoch's empire, his livelihood, and possibly his career. 

But if you're lloking for me to join in vocal outrage over the phone hacking details... well, you should know I don't do outrage a lot. Also that I tend not to take the familiar, obvious line; in this case, I'm not especially sympathetic to cries that "reasonable expectations of privacy" are really the story of the phone hacking scandal. Indeed, the unfolding of the phone stories has reinforced a faith I have that the belief in a "right to privacy" is actually kind of a vague all purpose shield that tends to wilt under close scrutiny.

No, what's really unfolding out of the revelations of phone hacking is something much more fundamental, especially for the British, whose culture, after all, is actually quite different from Americans. What's fundamentally unraveling in England, and may drift over to American shores, is a fundamental reassessment of just what constitutes news and what we deserve to know. In some ways, yes, that's the flip side of "privacy", but it's really the more relevant, more controllable question. Just how freely should the press rummage about in people's lives, and what amounts to going too far? 

That's the real question that "phone hacking" has generated. And it's why, really, the phone hacking scandal probably begins and ends with Milly Dowler.

Friday Evening Floralude

 
jinb

The Darn Thing Has Wings!

The Emmy Awards are silly.

I wouldn't bother to share this insight, but I tripped over the fact, just now, that today was the "official release of the Emmy nominations," a showing of pomp and circumstance meant, like all things Emmy, to emulate the actual suspense around the reveal of the Oscar nominations; TV still suffers from movie envy. 

If you want a quick indication of the pointlessness of the Emmys, here's a few obvious examples: Mariska Hargitay's umpteenth nomination for SVU, long past the point the show, or her performance, is anything to write home about. Or the "so sorry about Charlie Sheen" nomination for Jon Cryer of Two and a Half Men, nobody's idea of a brilliant comic performance.

How about this? The program with the most nominations of any show is Mildred Pierce, HBO's bloated remake of James M. Cain's noir potboiler, which premiered to dismal reviews and compares weakly to the 1945 film (or, as we like to call it, Joan Crawford's Oscar). Even if it's decent (I haven't seen it, and I'd bet Downton Abbey, the BBC miniseries for masterpiece actually wins), does it deserve 21 nominations? I'm guessing no.

And those 21 categories are just the tip of the Emmy iceberg.

It's an odd moment for television; I can't remember a time where so much good episodic television is being produced, nor a time when network television was as generally poor. The great work of producing television, really, is off the network path, whether it's the cable channels that mimic network like TNT and USA, or the higher end efforts of HBO and Showtime, or even the upstart work of mini-net the CW. The options are so wide and varied, it is, in some sense, no wonder that the Emmys can't possibly take it all in. What's sad, and has always been sad, is that the Emmys rarely reflect the boldest, or most innovative efforts in series television, going back to, say Twilight Zone or Star Trek - reflecting a general failure to respect science fiction - up through ignoring shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Emmy Awards generally play catch up, or reward, as is often noted, movie stars willing to slum on the small screen.

This year, among the overlooked: Burn Notice, Southland (now on TNT), Rizzoli and Isles, The Vampire Diaries, Supernatural, Archer, RuPaul's Drag Race (tell me, really, how So You Think You Can Dance is better). That's just off the top of my head, and the top of my viewing interests. Yes, the Emmys were quick to recognize Game of Thrones and Boardwalk Empire (both of which I'd like to see), and recognized the bright spots of NBC's comedy lineup as welll as the obvious necessity to reward The Good Wife. But still; the Emmy Awards continue to reward industry darlings, movie stars, and marketing ploys. Want another example? How about Betty White's forgettable performance in Hot In Cleveland, an altogether pointless excuse for a sitcom? It's embarrassing, and as I said, it becomes silly to try and take the nominations seriously, never mind the awards.

I mention all of thie because it's a good moment to plug a couple of blogs I read for entertainment news. One, most obviously, is Deadline Hollywood, which still showcases the genius and reporting godlike qualities of Nikki Finke, along with a new band of hardy coanchors. Nellie Andreeva is their main TV reporter, and she is generally great, though her Emmy coverage is depressingly conventional, and tends to accept the status quo. 

The other blog I feel compelled to mention is Alyssa Rosenberg's new effort over at Think Progress, which is devoted to "cultural criticism", the kind of blog idea that makes me slightly green with envy... except that, as good as she is, Rosenberg's blog is interesting only in starts and fits. She's settled into too many TV series recaps (her Burn Notice recaps seem especially poorly conceived), and her overall insights on film and television are, too often, pedestrian and kind of obvious. Still, she's a bracing feminist critic and she's clearly passionate about the material, if muddy on her overall concept. 

But here's the thing: I expect, as with Deadline, that Rosenberg will take apart the nominee lists, pick her favorites, and generally cheerlead the run up to the awards. And I think that's giving the Emmys a seriousness that they just haven't earned. When they do, if they ever can... that's an interesting question. And one worth pondering. For such a pretty award, it's a shame it's just so... silly.

Mitch McConnell, The Backup Plan, And The Scorched Earth of George W. Bush

It's very likely the debt ceiling debate ended yesterday evening, when Mitch McConnell essentially offered to cave on pretty much every Republican talking point in the debate. The Senate Minority Leader offered a convoluted proposal that essentailly guarantees that President can raise the debt ceiling in three increments, without making any spending cuts. That would be the "clean debt limit" bill that Democrats argued for, months ago.

The fact that McConnell caved is not especially curious, or surprising, though the timing caught people off guard. All along, if anyone were paying attention, it's been clear that much of what passed for "negotiations" weren't especially serious. I've been avoiding writing anything about the whole mess because there was so little to say. Until an actual deal was reached, all the posturing and frantic nervousness (we'll lose Medicare! They'll destroy Social Security! Republicans will have to accept tax increases!) on all sides was mostly theater. And frankly, as theater, it was an old, familiar show.

Since the major turnover of the House of Representatives in last year's elections, there's been political storyline about how Republicans are both newly empowered and highy dangerous. The reality that the power is nearly nonexistent, and the danger, it turns out, is that an imploding Republican Party may take out much of our economy and a chunk of our government, if we're no careful. The mistake of the debt limit "negotiation" storyline over the past few months, as it turns out, wasn't all the tired theater of tax avoiding conservatives versus liberal defenders of the social safety net; it's that no one noticed, apparently, that the Republicans weren't really negotiating. Not because, as some suggested, the GOP was willing to end the world rather than riase taxes, but because the Republican Party is in such disarray that a coherent stance on the debt limit, spending, and tax policy was simply beyond their ability.

And, as a result, we get McConnell, proving himself yet again the best self interested politician. McConnell's plan may only save McConnell - and a few Republican Senators seeking reelection - but the timing of his proposal and the collapse of a coherent Republican position on the debt ceiling are the latest lesson in a string of examples that show why the 2012 election is likely to be more of the same: until the Republicans deal with the political scorched Earth left in George W. Bush's wake, there is no real choice in most of American politics.  

Yesterday's events brought me bck to the uncomfortable and odd sight after last November's elections - the press appearances by McConnell, Boehner, and Cantor where Boehner's new role as Speaker easily eclipsed McConnell's role from 2008 to 2010 as the de facto head of the GOP. I said to my Mom at the time that it seemed somewhat humiliating to parade McConnell around, when clearly the real work of government would be settled by the President, Harry Reid and Speaker Boehner.

That political dynamic, it now appears, was probably the case until Paul Ryan launched his spectacular, disastrous "budget framework" which both wrecked the new House majority's claim to seriousness (in two words: Medicare Vouchers) opn econoic issues, and revealed the internal cracks to the majority's unity. It's at that moment, I think, that Micth McConnell was able to reassert himself as someone who dealt in political realism. It's not pretty, but separating what's doable from what can't be done is how government works.

This is why I think President Obama is both overrated and underrated as President: too many of the Obama diehards still seem surprised that Obama is a President who is less concerned with idealism and more concerned with results, who is willing to accept some less desirable outcomes in pursuit of larger goals. What's underrated is that the President's cool, somewhat aloof approach to leadership is ideal for contentious, down to the wire negotiations. His "grand bargain" proposal - what we know of it - was, apparently, a bluff meant to force Republicans to either make a deal or wilt... and all they had to do was agree to some tax increases to get big spending cuts, maybe even a rethinking of Medicare and Social Security. You can propose almost anything, if you're pretty sure that your opponents can't accept the terms.

Much has been made this week of Reoublican fealty to Grover Norquist, the antitax lobbyist. I'd put Norquist's apparent level of influence another way: rather than note the fear of Republicans to cross him, I'd ask, how'd we get to a point where an unelected lobbyist can direct Republican policy decisions more than elected Republicans in government? The point is, in a world where the Republican Party was in healthy shape as a political party, Norquist wouldn't be wielding this kind of control. The fact that his influence has such weight is indicative, really, of how deeply imploded the Republican Party is, and how unlikely they are to revive anytme soon.

And, in the end, this really goes back to the failures and failings of George W. Bush and his disastrous Presidency. We are here because, let's recall, Bush picked Dick Cheney, an out of touch, elderly man in failing health as his Vice President, a position normally used to anoint a successor. After the congressional losses of 2006, which were a direct result of Bush's steamroller policies that defied the American will, Bush essentially abdicated his role as a national leader.No Republican was able, or willing, to step into the breach. Bush had reshaped the internal mechanisms of the Party to his own needs (installing his chief political advisor, Karl Rove, in the White House rather than outside of it, appointing at least two successive GOP party chairs whose main quality was loyalty to Bush). And after him, when Bush simply abandoned his position, he left little to rebuild from in his wake.

It's no surprise then, I think, to see what's happened since: the disastrous run of JOhn McCain, the rise of shrill populists like Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann, a party driven by the contradictory imulses of a fractured base of support, who've turned loyalty tests into a substitute for policy. It's no wonder reasonably credible moderating forces - whether it's Mitt Romney or political realists like McConnell, or other senior Senate voices like Dick Lugar and Olympia Snowe - have been dismissed, ridiculed and marginalized. The miostaken fear that many liberals have of the GOP are based, reallly, on believing the Republicans' own PR spin that the 2010 election represented an exit from the political wilderness caused by the Bush Presidency. The fact is... they're not even close. They're still trying to plant seeds of success in that scorched earth.

I don't know if McConnell's last ditch proposal can pass - on the one hand, there's clearly a large subset of the House majority that will hate it, on the other, a wily operative like McConnell doesn't just float a bullshit idea wondering if it might fly (which is to say, I think he knows a way for this to pass) - but the ppint is, we won't be getting a debt ceiling deal anything like the worst fears of all sides, with debilitating cuts or unpopular tax increases.  We might yet default on our debt obligations - the screams of "you can't possibly let that happen" beg, really, for just such a moment - but I get the impression that McConnell's cave is the last gasp of cooler heads prevailing. And what is President Obama, after all, but a cooler head? At the very least, I think Obama can see the scorched Earth. It doesn't make him a great President, but it does seem to be making him into the illusion of a successful one.

Yes, There Is A Reason To Worry About Michele Bachmann's Chances.

I had planned to spend the remaining portion of 2011 ignoring her, but somewhere between Michele Bachmann's announcing her candidacy for President - hardly a surprise - and the last couple of weeks, what was merely a GOP sideshow morphed into some serious concern. And I have to admit... some of this is probably not good to ignore.

I've long argued, and still believe, that Bachmann is, for now, useful to a GOP establishment that wants, more than anything, to sideline Sarah Palin; there's only so much room in the public consciousness for similar types, and Palin and Bachmann play to the same conservative base with much the same appeal - attractive, plain spoken brunettes who try to sell conservatism as just a happy dose of down home common sense, good raisin' your mama should have gave ya. That there's not exactly a coherent political platform in a dose of mama's common sense is pretty much beside the point.

I still think Bachmann's serious chances of being the nominee are slight... but the wild card here is that the GOP Establishment's ability to steer the operation is growing more and more in doubt. The failure to convincingly sell a consensus choice is becoming worrying, and the various options offered - the MItt Romneys and Tim Pawlentys and Jon Huntsmans - all seem unlikely to succeed in bringing the right together. And if some portion of the right is up for grabs, then there's reason to wonder if Bachmann's run is as wildly out of bounds as it seems at first blush.

When I started to think about writing this post a few weeks ago - before, you know, life and rehearsals intervened - the idea of Bachmann's shot was largely theoretical; this past weekend she lead the race in an Iowa poll. And while I'm leery of poll-based arguments for anything, I think Bachmann's rise in Iowa underscores the reasons to take her seriously... and remember that she does pose, in some respects, a serious potential.

Partly, I think that like Palin, parts of Bachmann's story are touchstones that liberals would be foolish to overlook or try to minimize: Bachmann did not grow up well off, worked her way through college, and by all accounts was a serious successful student (she has a law degree and a Master's). She's been a successful tax lawyer, raised her own kids and taken in some 23 foster children. That's the kind of life many people find admirable, and worth respecting.

As well, Bachmann plays well to a part of the right wing base that loathes the intellectual and class pretensions of the educated, coastal elites. Like Palin, she succeeds in making, as Matt Taibbi puts it, the liberal elite look like assholes:

Snickering readers in New York or Los Angeles might be tempted by all of this to conclude that Bachmann is uniquely crazy. But in fact, such tales by Bachmann work precisely because there are a great many people in America just like Bachmann, people who believe that God tells them what condiments to put on their hamburgers, who can't tell the difference between Soviet Communism and a Stafford loan, but can certainly tell the difference between being mocked and being taken seriously. When you laugh at Michele Bachmann for going on MSNBC and blurting out that the moon is made of red communist cheese, these people don't learn that she is wrong. What they learn is that you're a dick, that they hate you more than ever, and that they're even more determined now to support anyone who promises not to laugh at their own visions and fantasies.

The more Bachmann succeeds in selling this divide, the more difficult it becomes to defuse it, something that, yes, takes admitting that the perception of left wing superiority is not entirely untrue. But Bachmann also succeeds because, for now, there's no one in her way. Without an alternative to her, someone who can take her on and challenge her from the right for her ideas (and her lack of policy proposals), Bachmann sits in a position to clear a lot of the field: if she can beat the big guys in Iowa, if she does reasonably well in New Hampshire (second to Romney would be god enough), and she wins South Carolina, then the argument against her becomes much worse. She'll be taken seriously... because she's taken seriously.

Of course, Bachmann may yet be her own worst enemy: her plain spoken-ness and the fact that she clearly believes at least a good part of what she says will likely lead to more gaffes; and her husband's career as a "Christian counselor" in the antigay therapy movement is an invitation for expose waiting to be delivered. But counting on Bachmann to defeat herself is partly wishful and awfully naive. I don't think she can be President... but her ability to do some real damage doesn't require her to get that far. And that's reason enough to take her seriously, and worry about where all this is headed.

Down East

Apparently, I decided to take some time off.

I feel better about these occasional pauses if I make a decision ahead of time - plan ahead, that's what I prefer (which, objectively, I also disapprove of in myself - I'd love to be a more "seat of the pants" kind of girl/weboy... but it's just not happening). Instead, life just kind of catches up to me... and something's got to give.

There's this debate, each time, in me: do I write about the not writing, or just move on as if everything just resumes normally? I hate to just leave the breaks unacknowledged, and sometimes writing about not writing is all I've got to give. And blogging, after all, was something I started so I could write about what's happening. Or not happening. Sometimes, not writing is all.

The past week was hard, but satisfying - a lot of productive time at work, a chance to show myself as someone seriously interested in management. I wasn't always like this; it's a recent development. For a while, I figured being a writer/barista was enough; then writer/shift supervisor. Now, maybe some sort of manager. Maybe that's the best I can do on spontaneous plans: I'd rather not have a career with goals, just let it unfold as it unfolds.

I'm weird that way.

This past week also marked the beginning of serious rehearsals for my summer foray into musical theater; last year, I reawakened my theater interests with a local production of Annie. This year, I'm happily back in the thick of my summer troupe doing Curtains. It's much fun... but a week of rehearsals only to get up at 4:30 to open the next morning does take a lot of a person.

So, here I sit, a week or so later, ensconced in my Aunt and Uncle's house in Maine, back for a slow summer weekend, and a chance to decompress. As usual, the relaxed air - and reduced heat - makes contemplation a little easier. 

Yesterday was an easy day, with a relaxed lunch, some time on the internet, and an amazing dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants. Tonight, it's a cookout after this morning's breakfast at the local maple syrup store. And probably a trip to the local museum.

Starting Tuesday, it's back into the thick of work and rehearsals, and who knows how that will go; another short break may be in the cards. For now, it's a nice break Down East, and a chance to reconnect. And that's pretty good.

Betty Ford

It's easy to forget, over time, what was so transcendent about Betty Ford; not her graceful appearances in later life, not all the wondrous things she did to raise awareness about addiction and recovery, but the role she played in our national life from 1974 to 1977 (or, the worst of the Brown Years). Watergate created a national spasm; Betty Ford was a huge part of how we got over it.

Jerry Ford may have been the Accidental President, but Betty Ford was never an Accidental First Lady. We got him by default, but we needed her - we needed her relaxed informality, her frankness, her frank belief in women's equality. She had a remarkable ability, in an age before extensive media savvy, of knowing how to cut through the clutter of American conventionality.

In part, of course, she was so frank and fearless because of her addiction to booze and pills. Later, in recovery, she could be more circumspect, safer, less promiscuous with her words and thoughts. Still passionate and forthright, but exercising restraint (of pen and tongue, as they say in recovery).

She was a quintessentially American story and like nothing that had come before - she was a former model and dancer (with Martha Graham!) who married another former model after her first marriage ended in divorce (and, in so doing, became the first divorcee in the White House, before Ronald Reagan). Unlike Pat Nixon, she was not stiff or formal, or filled with the kind of unspoken resentments the Nixons carried, separately and as a couple. 

As a result, she completely transformed our perceptions of the White House and the President's family at a crucial, necessary moment. We could get through the traumas of Watergate - the secret political dealing, the lies and manipulations - and we'd do it the way Americans do: with a bit of can-do spirit, a refreshing lack of pretension, and a sense that we're all in this together. That, in the public's perception, was Betty Ford.

The fact that she did, as she always did, face recovery from addiction with the same candor and frankness and intent to help others, was neither surprising nor world changing. She'd had a drinking problem... and she'd done something about it. And so could you.

Like so many, I admired the hell out of Betty Ford. Among many a Betty, she was my heroine. And that was long before she got sober, and long before her sobriety, and her story, and all that she did to help others with recovery, touched me as personally as it does now. When Gerald Ford died, I knew that losing Mrs. Ford was only a matter of time. Which makes this weekend sadder still. What a great woman - great enough to change the world.

Friday Evening Footprints in the Sand

 
jinb