Unpopular Opinion

Because it's September 11--the fifteenth anniversary--it feels as if I ought to talk about my memories of the attack, how it affected pre-mission me (I was worried I'd be sent to fight instead of serving an LDS mission), or the palpable terror, confusion, solidarity, and rage that almost everyone seemed to share. And maybe I should...but not today. Instead, this is going to be political--and that's part of my point. If you aren't interested in reading my thoughts on the Republican party or the way our economic system works, maybe you should skip the post. Because today I'm talking about something that has bothered me for a while, but I've never said anything about it.

A friend of mine retweeted this from my representative.

Now, Congresswoman Love is my representative, but I didn't vote for her. Two reasons: 1) I wasn't in her district the last time she ran for reelection; and 2) she is a Republican. I don't affiliate with any party, but I do pay close attention to the GOP for the very simple reason that almost all of the options that I have while living in Utah are different flavors of red.

But it might sound like I'm a party person if I wouldn't vote for Mia Love because of her party affiliation, but in this particular context and this particular image, Congresswoman Love has lost my vote.

Back in 2010, the GOP took to filibustering most everything that came their way while in the minority of the Senate. One of the things that they did was deny financial support for the first responders to the 9/11 attacks. They later amended the bill, with a caveat that the first responders had to be background checked to ensure they weren't terrorists before they'd get truncated support from the original bill. The Zadroga Bill wasn't passed until last year, thereby guaranteeing healthcare for first responders.

It took 14 years for the American government to support the people that we rightly called heroes--men and women who have sacrificed their lives and health to help others. There was an opportunity six years ago to change that. When I wrote to Senator Hatch to encourage his support of the bill, he responded that he had eventually supported the stripped down version of the bill--pivoting away from responsibility on what I asked him about. However, I told him that I held his entire party culpable for failure to help those whom they claimed to honor, putting me outside the reach of Republican entreaties for my vote.

So when I see this image from the Republican who represents me, I do not find inspiration, confidence in my leaders, or genuine mourning and respect: I see a chance to grandstand.

Look at what Congresswoman Love says: "My campaign will halt all advertising to honor those..." There are a few things about this that really grinds my gears.

1. Her campaign cannot "halt all advertising". Advertising is running perpetually. As I walked home from church today, one of her supporters had a small placard sign on the front lawn, the bright orange design impossible to miss. Advertisement. If you want to get cynical (and who doesn't?), advertisements are Sabbath-breakers par excellence, in part because they're so ubiquitous we don't register that they're working on a Sunday. Websites that are contracted and paid to put her face in their targeted advertisements aren't taking a sabbatical because it's 9/11, her supporters aren't covering their bumper stickers, her own website is not taking a 24-hour reprieve. Nothing is changed, save perhaps a deliberate effort on the part of the campaign to have a greater social media presence.
2. Implicit in this sentiment is an acknowledgement that there's something tawdry about advertising in the first place. If people genuinely believed that the free market is as glorious as the greedy have made it out to be, there ought to be no shame about doing what we perpetually do--consume, advertise, consume, advertise. Why not halt all campaigning in honor of the victims throughout the entire year? Would stopping our political machine show honor to them? What about our politics ought to be stopped that is disrespectful of those who lost their lives? 
3. The hard truths about 9/11 (and, no, I don't mean the asinine conspiracy movement of the truthers) are ones that aren't talked about. American Muslims live in fear during most election seasons, but it's significantly worse during this time of remembrance. In a cruel irony of jingoism, Americans kill other Americans in the name of America because we want to remember and honor the fallen dead. There are countless stories of people on 12 September 2001 who attacked anyone whom they felt deserved reprisal for the fallen towers. Members of different communities--particularly those of the Sikh religion--were targeted and terrorized. When Glenn Beck put out his rally, it was meant to remind us of the way we felt on 12 September 2001--but by "we" he didn't mean those who were incorrectly assumed to be "the enemy." Remembering 9/11 doesn't often involve remembering all that we did in response. I can take pride in my American sisters and brothers who responded to the cries for help in New York and Pennsylvania and Virginia while at the same time feel shame and disappointment in my American sisters and brothers who then--and have up to this day--used 9/11 as a justification for religious persecution, physical abuse, vitriolic comments, and the rise of the alt-right and fascist movements. 

The conversation needs to be as much about us as about them. But I don't see that sort of nuance in a conversation--I see sides. The same sort of partisanship that pushed me away from the GOP now has this sort of ring: If you're on the Left, you remember the negative things that America did on 9/11; if you're on the Right, you ignore the negative things that America did on 9/11. That doesn't scan. If the Right can't handle the truths about America's behavior--if everything negative we do must be excused, rationalized, or whitewashed--I can't handle the Right. If the Left can't acknowledge the victories, successes, and contributions of the nation, I can't be a part of their organizations.

Where will we be in 15 years? What will three decades away from 9/11 mean to America? If I were to chart my confidence in the path of the nation, I cannot say that I'm happy with what answer I see.