In these bitterly divided times, the chasm intentionally created by far-right profiteers who blame the lunatic left, Antifa, unfair, ungrateful colored people, college students, lying, vote rigging, corrupt, crime supporting commies, “illegal aliens”, bloodthirsty baby murdering abortionists, city dwellers, godless feminists who want to castrate all white, Christian men while they’re innocently tanning their testicles, transexual pedophiles, etc. is widened and deepened 24/7 by the corporate media.
The Republican “Culture War” is a supremely cynical, lie-based, profit-driven corporate distraction, curated and promoted by the insanely greedy to divide people and turn us against each other, instead of the unthinkable — a united movement for fairness and government by consent of the governed. Such a movement would be … (shudder) … Class Warfare… so unfair to our best and wealthiest citizens! Many billions in tax breaks, government contracts and subsidies to the wealthiest individuals and our most important corporate “persons” would be lost if “inequality” was seriously addressed — talk about totally unfair!
The personal is political. You can either support injustice and inequality, based on a series of emotionally satisfying but rationally empty conceptions, or you believe in fairness, and do your best to act on that belief. That’s as personal as it gets. Nobody likes to be treated unfairly, although perhaps 250,000,000 of us routinely are in this pay-to-play democracy.
If you are OK with institutional injustice, the justification is generally either “well, I personally benefit from it” or, more commonly, for the masses, God wills it, Deus Vult! Who are we puny humans to question the unknowable will of almighty God and those vessels He fills with His spirit to carry out His divine impulses? That was the impetus for the Crusades, for every organized religious slaughter in history, faithfully serving an omniscient, all-loving, all-merciful god.
Speaking of God and his vessels, lately the president of the United States, an objectively crazy, criminally insane person, openly attacks the pope after launching a cynical, senseless, illegal war of aggression, a war that is already starting to cause great global suffering, to protect himself and his privileged “friends” from the evidence of their sexual predations being made public. How dare the pontiff contradict the will of the Leader?!!! Even the devout Catholics in the orbit of the Leader dare not speak up for the pope’s right to quote scripture to advance the cause of world peace and stability. They know the Leader will smite them, righteously, madly, humiliatingly.
I’m thinking about this fairness/unfairness business as my blood pressure has been surging lately with the aggravating news cycle (the Callais decision foremost among them– ruling, essentially, along “ideological” lines, that blacks are racists, not whites — and that equal protection of the law under the 14th amendment was meant to protect persecuted whites, not angry blacks and giving the persecuted majority emergency permission to immediately redraw all maps for maximum “partisan” advantage). My own health challenges walking, even standing, without pain, three years after an unsuccessful knee replacement, don’t make me any more cheerful or relaxed in the face of this KKK pleasing 6-3 fuck you to democracy. The former Confederacy has rushed to remove all “minority/majority” districts and end representation of Black voters. Makes me wanna holler.
Yesterday, by US Mail, I had a note from an ancient old friend of my long departed mother’s asking “whatever happened to rachmunnis (mercy, compassion) and forgiveness?”
This after I explained to her many times, on the phone and in writing, over the course of several years, why it is impossible to forgive someone who can’t acknowledge they’ve hurt you and continues to do it. Her neurotic son, a childhood friend, is an aggravating person, as she herself conceded a couple of years ago when I was recovering from the knee surgery, undergoing treatment for kidney disease and in the throes of a prostate emergency induced by a psychopathic urologist. “With all the aggravations in your life, you don’t need to deal with him,” she told me, in what seemed a very loving gesture. Since then she’s been on a relentless campaign to force to me to forgive her passive aggressive asshole of a son, no matter what my high horse might have to say about it.
It’s a question of basic fairness — If I give you the benefit of the doubt, over and over, and you, feeling comfortable, are increasingly aggressive in making unreasonable demands of me, how is that fair? If you can’t acknowledge fault, as her son can’t (and he learned it from the mother he hates, who learned it from her unbearable mother — I’ve known four generations of this family), then there is never a reason to do anything differently, let alone apologize. The status quo in that kind of nonmutual relationship is irremediably sick, no conflict can ever be resolved fairly and must continue to fester and escalate. I’ve finally learned the only healthy response in this situation is a quiet sayonara. Here is the old woman’s “final” (I’ve had a few more calls and two note cards since) attempt to make amends:
This is my very last call to you, but since I received your letter yesterday I’m just going to say you know that you write very well. Throughout that letter, which I understood not all of it, there was never the word forgiveness. You don’t forgive anybody anything. So, at any rate, I just wanted to make that last statement.
I’m about to say my prayers, you’ll always be in my prayers, for your operation and for the two of you, you’re both good kids. And this is the last call you’ll hear from me. All right, I won’t bother you anymore and I’m sorry that you can’t forgive me for whatever it is I said, or did, or thought, or whatever the hell it was. At any rate, whatever it is, I’m sorry that you can’t forgive me. Have a good Passover and take care.
This message is beautiful in so many ways, in addition to how succinct and reductive it is. Talk about getting the last word. Since I can’t forgive her son, who has never acknowledged doing anything hurtful to anyone, and now her, for insisting I have to forgive him, no matter what I may feel about it, I never forgive anybody anything. Case closed. Pretty categorical. I’m a monster because I can’t forgive, maybe crazy too, certainly terminally enraged. Also, her apology is a beautiful example of blame shifting, her sorrow perfectly calibrated for the occasion: I’m sorry that you are such an unforgiving asshole.
I gave the old lady the last word, as I have learned to do with this type.
Then more calls from her that I didn’t answer and two antique note cards, weeks and months later, challenging me again to be a human being, to stop being ‘uncourageous’, a hypocrite, to get off my high horse, stop overthinking everything, being oversensitive, taking everything as a personal insult, being petty, unforgiving, merciless and so on.
In hopes of ending this relentless cycle, and because writing focuses and relaxes me, I replied to her note card by highlighting sections of the last note I sent her. That last note made the same basic, simple points I’ve made every other time. If someone hurts you, angrily insists they didn’t, and keeps doing it, there can be no apology and no reason to forgive. You have to just get away from this type.
I printed my previous final note to her, including the two paragraphs about forgiveness. I put them in red so she couldn’t miss them. Having the words highlighted in red makes it harder for her to pretend I hadn’t given the subject she claimed I never mentioned careful consideration. I added a few explanatory notes, with just a couple of ugly details to illustrate what I’d already written to her, since she’d told me she hadn’t understood some of my previous letter.
The eternal stickiness of this type is exhausting. Hopefully she’ll be wounded enough by the clinical precision of my explanatory notes to finally stop fucking badgering me. If not, I’ve already promised her silence after this, and, as she knows, my word is my bond. For good measure, by way of a final kick in her almost hundred year-old ass, I ended by telling her she’ll be in my prayers.
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