Distracted

America is in trouble. Yet another black man is murdered by white cops. A near-weekly tragedy alerting us to the deepening sadness of a fallen giant. Reminding us that the idea of America remains hobbled by racism—particularly, and acutely, within the culture of law enforcement.

American streets are roiling in fury, throwing off shackles of quarantine to vent rage, disappointment and exhaustion for a nation that seems unable to make justice equal for all.

America is a magnificent thing. The idea of America is a beacon of hope, freedom, ingenuity, achievement and daring. In 1961, President John Kennedy announced that his nation would put a man on the moon within the decade. It was an outrageously wild claim given the state of aeronautics then. But with less computing power than we possess in our cell phones today, Neil Armstrong, Michael Collins and Buzz Aldrin strapped themselves to 770,000 litres of kerosene on a summer day in 1969 bound for the moon.

Five years earlier the nation enacted sweeping civil rights legislation that vastly improved the lives and prospects of tens of millions of American citizens. Yet…

Since March, when Mayor Bill DeBlasio instructed New York’s police to enforce stayat- home orders, 93 per cent of those arrested or fined have been persons of colour. Just seven per cent have been white—with most of these receiving a mask and being told to go home. It is the definition of systemic racism.

America shines brightly as a place of opportunity, of human achievement. Yet it stands as an emblem, too, of the tragedy of indifference and distractedness. Of self-absorption. It is our problem too.

In Canada and Europe, we tend to wall ourselves away from the darker aspects of America with a slather of smug superiority. We estimate that we have calibrated a better, fairer and more peaceful version of the American ideal. This is our luxury. Our conceit.

To the extent that Canada is a more egalitarian place, however, is most certainly made possible by the prosperity and enlightenment afforded by living next to the most vibrant economic, cultural and social engine in the world. We are not separate. Their despair is our sadness. The malignancy that threatens our neighbour, is a threat to our nation.

Our response, it seems to me, ought to lean toward support and compassion. As we would with an ailing friend. How can we help? What can we do to assist through this rough patch?

That America is being led badly, is a cliché. With every noxious tweet, with every bible clutching photo opportunity, the desperate American president deepens wounds and dims the flickering hope that this moment might pass. He extinguishes any notion he might learn from this and work to do better.

From our perch, we may be lulled into seeing Trump as a symptom of a flawed national character. We are staggered by the comments from the folks who show up at his rallies, who with profound ignorance express affinity for someone more likely to crush them than help, and we see a national sickness. Yet, these folks exist. Everywhere. In every society. They exist in Canada.

So far, we have managed to keep our crazies on the margins of political debate. But in every campaign or election, enterprising journalists unearth these folks, put a microphone in front of them to learn their wacky notions ranging from claiming Canada’s top public health official is under the influence of the Chinese government to those who believe humans are disease from which this planet needs purification. Or, at a minimum, a good culling.

The difference, so far, is that we have remained engaged enough—though this is a low bar—to ward off the ennui that leads an electorate to wake up one day and find themselves led by a malignant orangutan.

The difference—to repeat—is that we have remained engaged. This advantage, however, is only relative.

Just 63 million folks voted for Donald Trump. A big number, but only a bit over 25 per cent of the eligible electorate. Even this paltry support was padded by folks who simply wanted to register a protest in the way the 12-year-old boys enjoy blowing things up. Other simply marked their ballot reflexively. ‘Just like my dad, and his dad etc.’

Sixty-five million voters chose Hilary Clinton, but the electoral college system meant that Trump became president. This has prompted many to blame this arrangement.

But here is the thing: 100 million American voters, nearly half of those eligible to vote, stayed home on November 8, 2016. They chose not to participate.

It is not a great leap to imagine that a great many of these folks also failed to engage in various efforts to reform the law enforcement and justice system— comfortable that it wasn’t their problem.

It is now.

Indifference is toxic to a healthy community. Our neighbours are learning this now. But we have no business being smug.

rick@wellingtontimes.ca