I like to think I wasn’t alone in having a particularly surreal experience watching this week’s election coverage. (And who knew it was possible for this year’s election to get more surreal?) I was watching one of the 24-hour cable news networks, and the entire conversation was centered around, well, the p-word and whether and how much bragging about sexual assault should matter in this election. All I could think was, “We have the television screen flipped.” It’s the stuff in the ticker tape that belongs on top.
While the pundits were talking, the ticker tape - or crawl - was running across the bottom of the screen, and it was all about the continuing damage from Hurricane Matthew. At least twenty-two dead now in North Carolina. At least 473 dead in Haiti, but likely twice that. Waters not done cresting. Damage estimates approaching $10 billion. More than one million people without power in Florida just after the storm.
While various mouthpieces were sparring about the extent to which something a candidate said in 2005 should matter in today’s election (and for the record, it should), ignored was the mini reincarnation of something much more devastating that happened in 2005 as it creeped across the screen beneath the debate -- Hurricane Katrina.
The point isn’t that Matthew is today’s Katrina. It’s not. Katrina embodied an absolute crisis in our understanding of and agreement about our social contract, as well as the government’s execution of that social contract during a time of abject crisis. This point is, today, people are suffering from another natural disaster during our country's specific, regularly scheduled time to talk about things like the social contract, the government’s role in providing for it, and who most competently can ensure that both are executed upon. Instead of talking about that, though, we’re talking about Tic Tacs and forced groping. Why? Because the venial is actually easier, and that's a sad place to be.
Everyone gets that this is an existential election. Hilary Clinton’s supporters have, at least in part, made it clear that the role of the woman in this world is and should be changing profoundly. Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump supporters alike have made it very clear that they no longer trust our system. That the proper role and functioning of government needs to be renegotiated. That we do not have consensus about who should provide for what, how to provide it, and where the power to make those decisions does and should lay.
But those are hard, hard questions. The tabloid-level conversation is easier. Who’s a liar? Who gropes women? Who should be locked up? What do people talk about in locker rooms? Who’s a totalitarian in orange sheep’s clothing?
Now, I’m not saying sexual assault is easy, or unimportant. I know that’s not true, as do millions of other women in this country. I’m not saying that honesty isn’t a fundamental value in a good leader. It is. And I’m not saying we shouldn’t be wary of someone who wants to take the helm of a democracy but may not value democracy itself. That definitely matters. Still, we have the television screen flipped. We’re avoiding the issues in the ticker tape and the policy conversations accompanying them.
How do we invest in infrastructure, clean energy and fighting climate change in ways that both reduce the impact of natural disasters and that make those already poor and vulnerable less susceptible to their devastating affects? What do we do about the changing nature of work in America and fundamental shifts in who’s responsible for the individual’s and family’s economic security? How do we educate the next generation in ways that are affordable, fairly distributed and will prepare our children effectively to prosper and thrive? What’s the right balance of taxation, private investment, government regulation and free competition to achieve these aims?
These represent the kinds and level of policy questions that should consume us in an election year. Not what the meaning of “locker room talk” is. The stuff in the ticker tape belongs on top. It won’t make it’s way up there, though, unless and until we’re ready to have the even harder conversation.
This is an existential election. We owe it to each other to face it head on. It’s not too late to flip the screen.