Socialist democracy includes not only the provision of economic and social goods, but also the ability of the governed to actively and democratically intervene and shape their lives in every social setting. The socialist states provided a full basket of public goods, albeit not quite as full to the brim as the communist movement suggested, but largely foreclosed the substantive involvement of ordinary citizens in matters of governance. At first glance this may not seem to be the case, but comes into sharper focus when account for the contradiction between the formal structures and mechanisms of socialist democracy and the actual practice and content of that democracy.
I’m listening this morning to Lucinda Williams whose songs are seldom light and cheerful. Never, or nearly never, do they suggest that life’s an unalloyed blessing, free of nagging sadness, disappointments, screw ups. And yet, I find still them comforting. On a similar, but different register, I just finished reading, “Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times,” written by Katherine May.
Wintering, in May’s personal memoir, is both a season and metaphor, signaling a transition – a liminal period – from sunny and frenetic to slower and darker days during which we can, if we so choose, slow down, withdraw, and explore our sadness, sometimes depression and defeat. On its face, not much fun. But, thankfully, wintering can be more than retreat, despair and pain. It is also a time, May writes, probably the most propitious time, if seized, for sober personal reflection and renewal.
That resonates with me. My life from an early age looks nothing like an ascending line, moving from one success to another, from one great time to another. I have wintered more than once, either out of choice or dire necessity, and am better for it. All of which has made me suspicious of people who, when I ask, “How are you” unfailingly reply “Life couldn’t be better. Everything is great!” On such occasions, I can’t help but think to myself – really?
This pressure to present oneself as occupying at all times the “sunny side of the street” is, in my experience, unhealthy. It closes up the mental space that allows us to confront and absorb life’s inevitable heartaches and disappointments. And, in doing so, forecloses the possibility of coming out of our “wintering” on new, healthier, and higher ground.
The latest, patently racist, and arguably the most dangerous assault on voting rights in the past 100 years moves from Georgia to Texas. Much hangs on the outcome of this struggle, indeed what our country will look like for decades to come.
Someone should write an expose of Lindsey Graham’s political devolution. Done right, it would reveal not only the crass opportunism of Graham in some detail, but also the tentacles and power of the far flung network of right wing extremism to drag people and politicians into its orbit
The contrasting of Biden to Obama, something that I have observed recently, is a fool’s errand if done outside of the concrete conditions in which Biden governs and Obama governed. The differences in conditions and circumstances between one presidency and the other are differences of kind, not degree. In other words, the hand dealt to Obama a decade of so ago is very different, qualitatively different, than the hand that Biden draws from now. Only by taking into account those differences can any evaluation between the two presidencies be made if one wants to go there.
