Regardless of one’s party affiliation or political leanings, Charles Krauthammer has articulated with characteristic clarity the credibility gap that threatens Barak Obama’s campaign.

In Torah philosophy, dibur — speech — is the bridge between  thought and action.  Thoughts unspoken dissipate and come to nothing.  Similarly, words that neither stem from actions nor lead to action might as well have never been spoken.  What better example do we have than election year promises?

As we begin to reflect upon our own actions in preparation for Rosh HaShonah, let us consider that talking about change is not enough — we have to articulate how we need to change through viduyi, the spoken confession of when and how we have stumbled.  We then have to implement a concrete strategy for change if our intentions have any chance of fulfillment.  Without both reflection on the past and a strategy for the future, there is no true repentance, without which there can be no change.

With Hurricane Gustav poised to strike the Gulf Coast, John McCain cancelled much of the RNC programming, clearly seeking to distinguish his own crisis response from George Bush’s post-Katrina dithering three years ago.

Of course, there are differences.  McCain is not (yet) president, and has no power or responsibility to deal with the approaching crisis.  And abbreviating the RNC is not going to help anyone two-thousand miles away in the face of the storm.

Nevertheless, McCain wants to communicate the message that Americans cannot go on with business as usual when millions of our countrymen stand in the path of impending disaster.  It’s a show of solidarity, with no practical effect except the subtle lesson that every individual is in some way a symbol of every other individual.  When part of the country suffers, the whole country suffers.  We simply cannot carry on as if everything is normal.

But it’s a tricky call.  How many have to suffer before we must pause in our routines to acknowledge their suffering and empathize with their pain?  A thousand?  A hundred thousand?  A million?

Only a few weeks ago, the Jewish community went from the joy and exuberance of Shabbos to the mourning and weeping of Tisha B’Av in a matter of moments, switching our emotional gears from overdrive to reverse in an instant.  Judaism teaches us that we have more control over our moods than we might think.  But it takes thoughtfulness, focus, effort, contemplation, discipline, and leadership — especially leadership — to show us how to direct our actions in order to awaken the appropriate emotional response.

Empathy is not always convenient, but it is essential to preserving our humanity.

I won’t pretend I’m impartial in the upcoming presidential election, but the purpose of this site is not to endorse candidates.  Nevertheless, this is too good to pass up, especially for those of us without television sets.

Despite the brazen rulebreaking and manipulation of its world audience (which I discussed in Part 1) China has gotten what it wanted:  the attention of the international community through its slick hosting of the Olympics and its cache of 51 gold medals, reportedly the biggest haul since the Soviet Union took 55 golds in Seoul 20 years ago.

That the United States came out on top with 110 total medals to China’s 100 (although a distant second in golds with 36) is no surprise.  The US stands alone among modern nations — now that the USSR is no more:  no other existing country has won the total medal count since Hitler’s Germany in 1936.

It’s ironic to note that Germany, which did so well back then, garnered only 41 total medals and 16 gold, and that once-dominant Russia came in a distant third with 23 gold out of a total 72.  Although the US often comes in second, it is perenially either second or first, where other nations have their moment and then decline, much like the history of the world.

And so I wonder:  why does the US often miss out on first place but always manage at least second?

What did Fascist Germany, Socialist Russia, and modern China with its bizarre hybrid of capitalist-socialism all have in common?  They were totalitarian, which is an often used and equally often misunderstood term.

Totalitariansim is not merely dictatorship.  It is a system in which the state assumes total control — like socialism on steroids — often with the intent of benefitting the people.  In many ways, Hitler, Mussolini, Lenin, and Mao were idealists, truly believing that they would create a paradise for their people even as they wrought misery all about them.

Such a system can be effective in the short run.  All these countries had, as China currently has, a period of economic, political, and military dominance.  But these flares of prominence and prosperity don’t last long, because the state cannot affect lasting success — that must come from the people themselves, who must be motivated to make it happen.  Over time, totalitarianism leeches away all personal motivation.

In contrast, the United States, for all its faults, has always been a meritocracy — those who work hard usually succeed through a mix of talent and discipline.  Over time, America and Americans usually come out on top.  And so, although the state-sponsored training programs of Nazi Germany, Soviet Russia, and contemporary China tend to succeed, the programs themselves don’t last because the system that makes them work doesn’t last itself.

It’s interesting to note that the system of Torah government is also a meritocracy.  Yes, the Torah provides the rules and guidelines to protect the poor and the weak, but it is left to Jewish society as a whole — not just the leaders — to make the system work.  In this way, every Jew shares the responsibility for a healthy society, and society fails when too many individuals fail to carry their own weight.

Whether training for Olympic gold or spiritual greatness, it is individual effort — within a structure of collective responsibility — that carries the day.

In the early days of the Second Temple, as the prophet Nechemiah organized a labor force to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem, an apostate named Sanvalat HaCharoni and his band of miscreants sought to disrupt the project by mocking the workers, then by planning an armed assault against them, and finally by plotting  the assassination of Nechemiah.  The stability that a rebuilt Jerusalem would bring to the region threatened to put an end to the power and influence they had acquired by exploiting the chaos of the previous era.

As we see from Jeff Jacoby’s latest on Iraq, there will always be those who seek to promote discord to advance their own agendas.

With election fever raging, I’m revisiting a few commentaries I wrote for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch two election cycles ago.  I think some of them are worth another look.

I was a junior in college when I cast my first presidential ballot, firm in my conviction that Ronald Reagan would cure the nation’s ills by doubling defense spending, cutting taxes, and balancing the budget, all at once.  And yet, for all my youthful naivete, I invested considerable time researching candidates and initiatives in order to make enlightened choices.  Now, however, in the maturity of middle age, between three jobs and four children, time is something I can no longer afford.

So I pay a different price:  never before this past election day have I felt so sickened by my own ignorance, by my lack of familiarity with the issues.  I rubber-stamped judgeships, punched third-party candidates who I knew could never win, and tried to decide between proposals based on pseudo-knowledge gleaned from radio talk shows and advertisements.  And, as I slunk away from the polling place, one morbid thought reverberated in my brain:  I can’t be the only one who feels this way.

I checked with my friends.  I’m not.

The truth is that we could find the time if we felt motivated to do so.  Instead, when weighed against our job and family commitments, we shirk our civic duty without much remorse; ultimately, we don’t believe it really matters.  Nor does our apathy stem primarily from a dislike or mistrust of the candidates on the ballot (although we don’t like them and we don’t trust them), but from a loss of faith in the public’s ability to make informed, well-reasoned decisions, even if we do.

One recent example is the failed (1998 Missouri) tobacco initiative.  When it was introduced, the public strongly supported it.  But after the tobacco industry’s multi-million dollar ad campaign associating the bill with big government, the public voted it down.  If huge corporations can buy elections, why should I invest my meager resources trying to tip the scale?

It’s been many years since my high school social studies classes, but what I remember about American democratic theory is that the framers intended for us to choose representatives based on their integrity, their commitment to the welfare of the collective, and their ability to understand and evaluate matters of public policy.  Merely to fathom government affairs is at least a full time job, and We The People need to recognize that we may not have sufficient exposure or grasp of all the facts and figures to make competent decisions, much less the panoramic overview of the political landscape necessary to keep all that information in perspective.

In short, popular opinion makes for an unsteady moral or legislative compass.  Slavery was enormously popular.  So was excluding women from the vote.   So was segregation.  We might never have cast off these social anachronisms if our leaders had not shown us the way. 

Our current leadership crisis stems from the simple reality that we don’t want our representatives to lead.  We don’t want leaders at all, but government by consensus.  We want civil servants who read the polls daily and do what we tell them, who don’t make judgements about whether popular opinion is right or wrong.  I wonder if Karl Marx anticipated this when he envisioned the dictatorship of the proletariat.

More likely, this is what the sages of the Talmud envisioned when they predicted a future generation characterized by “the face of a dog.”  A dog walks out in front, followed by a man holding on to a leash.  To all appearances, the dog is leading the man.  But when the dog is uncertain which direction to take, it looks over its shoulder for instruction from its master.  Such are our political leaders today, never making a move or taking a turn without first consulting the polls.  And that’s exactly the way we like it.

What we like, however, is not often what’s best for us.  I for one, would sleep better at night knowing that the ship of state is steered by a captain who does not feel compelled to consult every deck hand before making command decisions. 

Of course, with so few commanders deserving of our confidence, it’s not surprising that we have more faith in our own judgement than we have in theirs.  But this, too, is our own fault, for we continue to insist that integrity is not an essential quality for leadership.  Such an attitude attracts candidates of little substance, and we choose between them based upon what they promise to do rather than what they promise to be.  True, integrity alone is not enough.  But without integrity, even the most capable administrator will fail to provide for our nation and our communities what is for us, in these uncertain times, most needed:  a model of personal and national responsibility.

Apathy at the polls reflects apathy with our leaders, which implies that many Americans do in fact long for a more distinguished list of candidates from which to choose, come election day.  But from where will leaders of integrity appear?  Only when we as a society begin to insist on a moral standard, then such people will be drawn back to public service.  Before that happens, however, we have to outgrow our childish insistence on getting what we want, and learn to appreciate that what is best for the nation is ultimately what is best for us.

(Originally published in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, January 1999)

I published this in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch eight years ago, on the morning of the New Hampshire primaries in the year John McCain lost the Repulican presidential nomination to George W. Bush.  I think the message is still relevant today.  (This is not intended as an endorsement.)

It’s no coincidence that many of our country’s most accomplished leaders have been less than overwhelmingly popular:  typically, they have refused to pander to special interest groups or to the public for support, immersing themselves so deeply in their jobs that they have no time to care what anybody thinks of them.

But this is a lesson we refuse to learn.  And so we persist in casting our votes for the candidates who look best on TV and speak in the catchiest sound-bytes or with the smoothest, most comforting rhetoric.

It’s depressing.  It’s depressing that after two terms of scandals, doubletalk, and outright lies, so few people have come around to the realization that the best candidate is not the one who promises us what he thinks we want, but the one whose character shines.

Consequently, George W. Bush will probably win, not because he has proven himself better than John McCain but because he has raised the most money, bought the most exposure, and told us repeatedly what we want to hear.  And he will probably face Al Gore, not because Mr. Gore has proven himself better than Bill Bradley but because he is the Vice President and people have been hearing his name for the last eight years.

It’s not the process that needs an overhaul.  It’s us.  If we ever hope to realize the potential of our richly variegated national culture and benefit from the consolidation of our widely differing values and perspectives, what we need desperately are voices of moderation.  Not voices of indecision, and not voices that strike the middle road because it is in the middle, but voices that cry out to resist the pull of extremism and raise the banner of reasonable negotiation.  Not voices that compromise out of ambivalence but voices that preach the necessity of unwavering commitment to and occasional sacrifice for the ideals and goals that best serve the national interest.  Not voices of mediocrity, but voices of integrity.

The problem with moderates is that they tend to behave moderately, attracting far less attention than the rantings of the far right or the far left.  And so, to respond to the polarization and philosophical gridlock of our times we need immoderate voices of moderation, voices from statesmen who refuse to toe the party line when the party has strayed from the straight path and who refrain from railing against the opposition for no reason other than because they sit on the other side of the aisle.

We have the incredible good fortune in this election to have each major party fielding a candidate of character and moderation.  A presidential race between Bill Bradley and John McCain would give us the opportunity, perhaps for the first time in decades, to choose between two good men instead of having to choose the lesser of two evils.

Still, both men remain long shots.  For even though hardly anybody seems to really like either of front-runners, both of them benefit from political inertia.  George Bush and Al Gore are the front-runners because they are the front-runners:  everybody wants to vote for a winner.

Really, nothing could be more foolish.  My one vote will not decide even the tiniest local referendum, much less a national election.  So why do I vote?  I vote because I want to be part of the process, because I understand that an election is determined by many individual votes, just as choral music is produced by many individual voices.  Imagine what would happen if everyone sang off key.

Our most savvy politicians know that public opinion is swayed most effectively through repetition, and they drum their messages into our collective subconscious through the incessant buzz of pre-election advertising.  Political propaganda is so pervasive that we’re hardly even aware of it anymore, but we grow indifferent to it at our peril.  Adolph Hitler used it to corrupt the soul of Germany.  Joseph McCarthy very nearly accomplished the same thing here in America.  But if propaganda can be employed for self-serving ends, why can’t we turn it around and utilize it for our benefit?

The world is not changed for the better by grand promises and flashy advertisements, but by the measured, steady, constant declaration of human values and human dignity.  This is how responsible parents raise their children, by teaching them over and over again what is right until the message sinks in.  And this is how we can shape our society:  by speaking civilly, by acting nobly, and by choosing leaders who will do the same.

(Originally published in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 2000)