Brian Hess Was Right; I Was Wrong

 

Brian Hess was the radical, the revolutionary, the outsider. He cultivated that image, and from 1992 to 1996 at Franklin Pierce College, he wore that persona like a royal robe.

 

He ambled around campus carrying his tattered copy of Howard Zinn’s People’s History of the United States under his arm, its frayed pages inhabited by countless tiny bookmarks. His faded jeans, a size too big, were always torn at one or both knees. Whether he wore something like a Dead Kennedy’s t-shirt, or a Seattle-grunge flannel one, it always hung loosely on his slight, somewhat hunched, 5’6” frame. His backward-turned hat covered his straight, black, unkempt hair. His turbulent, agitated, restless mind was belied by the clear, placid, blue eyes, through which that mind gazed upon the world. They dominated his rather pale, inexpressive face. 

 

To anyone who would listen, Brian would describe his experiences of protesting in Berkeley, and how he was shot by rubber bullets. He would talk about his time at Antioch College in Ohio, the ultra-liberal school that in 1993 required its students to ask permission of their partner before each step of a sexual encounter. Brian had a million stories of struggle, of his fight against the establishment, and of their vicious counterattack. He championed liberty, while “they” imposed suppression. One of his favorite expressions was “Who are you to impose your morals on anyone else?”

 

Like every college student, he was seeking his true identity. Brian wanted to be different, to be “alternative” from corrupt conventional society. He considered himself to be an outcast, but also as an activist advocating for a more just world.

 

Brian was suspicious of the US government, critical of US history, and alive to conspiracy and injustice throughout the world. Though he did not belong to the one-dimensional “hate America” crowd, he surely hated some acts and attitudes of his country. More so, he despised what he perceived as American culture’s inclination to whitewash its history and to unconditionally accept what he saw as his country’s naïve and dangerous policies.

 

Brian deplored what he considered to be the theft of Native American land by European settlers, the immoral conquering of Mexican territories, the cruel relocation of the Native Americans in the 19^th century, the despicable capitalist intrigue that resulted in US annexation of Hawaii, the inexcusable jingoism that lead us into war with Spain in 1898, the arrogance of American power that contributed to the Cold War and to potential global cataclysm, the combination of hubris and foolishness that resulted in the fiasco of the Vietnam War, and the fraudulence of the government’s reasoning for the 1991 Gulf War.

 

The premise of his views was that America’s self-centered, exceptionalist, perception of itself as entitled to paramount global influence caused its foreign policies to be particularly unilateralist, overconfident, and self-interested, resulting in chaos wherever the US went. Brian used the overthrow of Guatemalan President Arbenz, and of Iranian President Mosaddeq, both assisted by the CIA, to support his point.

 

Domestically, the basis of his positions was his belief that the US was governed by an oligarchy composed of economically powerful individuals, of multinational corporations, and of entrenched politicians. The oligarchy was concealed by the façade of democracy, and shielded by the apathy of the public. The exponential gains in wealth by the richest Americans, the rocketing stock market which benefitted only the investor class, and the stagnate or weakening condition of the lower and middle classes, were products of the oligarchy’s policies.

 

To all of this…I rolled my eyes. I was dismissive of Brian, perhaps even a little contemptuous. I figured that he merely belonged to that tiresome, cliché category of campus rebel, whose members railed against the evils of the world, while they were secluded in private colleges costing $20,000 per year. For Brian and his cohorts to promote sexual freedom, legalized drugs, a lower drinking age, and less law enforcement, hardly seemed revolutionary, deviant, or unpredictable. Practically every college kid wants all that.

 

I was Brian’s opposite. While Brian read his Zinn, I read Samuel Eliot Morison. When Brian was listening to Ralph Nader and Noam Chomsky, I was listening to William F. Buckley and Newt Gingrich. As Brian admired Eugene V. Debs and Emma Goldberg, I admired Andrew Jackson and Theodore Roosevelt. About the European conquest of the New World which Brian bemoaned? The Aztecs would have conquered Spain and stolen its wealth, if they had known how. The conquest of Mexican territory? They lost a war, we won. And, we paid them for the land. The removal of Native Americans to reservations? Relocation preserved them: If they weren’t relocated, they would have been killed by White settlers. Annexing Hawaii? There was a revolution there. The new government asked to join the US. The Spanish-American War? We freed the Cubans from cruel Spanish domination. The Cold War? The USSR started it by preventing free elections in Poland. The 1991 Gulf War? The US needed to demonstrate that rogue states should not act brazenly just because the Cold War was over. The Vietnam War? Well, actually, I always believed that it was a mistake.

 

Though our beliefs and perceptions fundamentally differed, Brian and I got along. We lived in the same dorm, Crestview. Being history majors both, we were often in the same classes, with Professors Ley, Moriarty, and Marra, none of whom were reticent about sparking classroom conflict. (“History is argument,” Professor Moriarty would say.) My debates with Brian were frequent and always civil. We shared a mutual respect, of a sort. While we never socialized, we sometimes ate lunch or dinner together. The cold Tuesday night of November 3, 1992, found Brian Hess and I as the lone occupants of the Crestview lounge – which I believe is now Professor Forbes Farmer’s office – watching the presidential election returns, late into the evening. We both voted for Clinton.

 

Nearly 16 years have passed since that night, and more than 12 since I last saw my perennial opponent, my friend, Brian Hess. Three generations of classes have gone from being freshmen to being seniors at Franklin Pierce, each one with its own unique impact, memories, and lore, since Brian, I, and the Class of 1996, turned and glimpsed the campus across Pearly Pond from Route 119, for the last time.

 

Since then, as I imagine is true of most of my former classmates, I have experienced supreme happiness, proud triumphs, and devastation beyond description. Such is the arc or life. I have also learned and realized much about the world, about humanity, and about myself, since those carefree days walking across Manor Lawn, in the crisp New Hampshire air.

 

One of those realizations, one which fiercely jolted me, I feel obligated by intellectual honesty to admit publicly: Brian Hess was right; I was wrong.

 

In the United States, the top 1% of the population is wealthier than the bottom 90%. The current distribution of wealth is the same as it was in 1929, the year of the Great Crash. One of every four American children lives below the poverty line – despite that most of the parents are employed. America’s percentage of children living in poverty is the highest of the 21 most affluent countries. In the US, the world’s richest country, 46 million Americans are without health insurance, 9.5 million of them are children. The per capita income of the US in 2006 was $36,714. The salary of members of Congress is more than 200% higher. And they never miss their annual pay raise.

 

The US Senate is now, as it was in the Gilded Age, a “millionaire’s club.” In 2003, 40% of senators were worth $1 million or more. The Republican and Democratic party nominees in 2004, 2000, 1996, and in 2008, were all millionaires. Bill Clinton wasn’t one when he ran in 1992, but he and Hillary Clinton are worth more than $100 million now. There is nothing inherently wrong with being a millionaire. But one who is   cannot relate to the stresses and challenges vexing the average American. When millionaires comprise the American government, the public will feel justifiably alienated – as it does. Senators, representatives, and of course the president, exist in a bubble that is as accessible to lobbyists, consultants, marketers, money, and

influence, as it is insensitive to the needs of typical citizens.

 

Money rules Americans politics. In 1995, Representative John Boehner distributed checks from the tobacco industry to his colleagues on the very floor of the “People’s House.” He is now the House Minority Leader. Members of the Democratic Party establishment attended exclusive, lavish parties, in Denver, prior to going to the presidential convention. The parties were sponsored by companies that have business before Congress. As they sipped champagne, the party-goers were surely pleased that they had chosen “public service” as a career. On any of those same nights, nearly 1 million Americans were not at posh parties, nor were they at home, because they don’t have homes.

 

Throughout US history, our foreign policies have been aggressively expansive. During the last 50 years, they have been baldly imperious. American officials have used American wealth and military power to try to contain threats, to prevent problems, to quash instability, to in any way necessary ensure that the world is friendly to the American way of life – that is, hospitable to American industry.

 

The consequences of that approach to foreign relations are tragic and undeniable. As we reflect on the world in 2008, the US has been mired in Iraq for five years. American  global credibility and authority are shattered. The US is impotent to influence events in Georgia, in the face of a resurgent Russia. The US is too economically dependent on China to seriously object to human rights abuses there. America is a slave to OPEC. Stupendously inept involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan means that the US cannot effectively contest Iran’s development a nuclear program.

 

This is a post-American world now. The 21^st century surely belongs to China and to India. China is sending vast numbers of workers, and huge sums of money, to build and strengthen the infrastructure of poor African countries, in exchange for raw materials to feed China voracious economy. Apart from negotiating agreements beneficial to US oil companies, the US has historically cared little for Africa. The seemingly limitless Indian labor force is attracting multinational corporations, helping to lift millions from poverty. Meanwhile, the US dollar is being dumped for the Euro, petro-rich Russia is again global power, and the largest transfer of wealth in world history is occurring as the US purchases exorbitantly-priced oil from the Middle East.

 

Yet, the recent Democratic primaries may be evidence of nascent American renewal. Two qualified, brilliant, passionate, and totally unconventional candidates, energized voters and created millions of new ones. All Americans should be proud that exactly 45 years after Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, a Black American accepted the nomination of a major American political party for president of the United States. Even John McCain’s nomination suggests burgeoning discontent among Republicans with the corrupt status quo, since he has hardly slavishly followed conservative dogma. His unorthodox selection of Governor Sarah Palin reveals his awareness of the public thirst for a new political mindset. 

 

Still, both Obama and McCain are silent about poverty, the concentration of wealth, homelessness, intra- and inter-minority violence, degraded overseas perceptions of the US, and a multiplicity of other issues that scream for the need for radical transformation of American society and politics.

 

Perhaps soon the thick fog of false justification, rationalization, and misdirection, created by an entrenched establishment to blind and suffocate Americans will evaporate from the heat of explosive public indignation and frustration.

 

I hear that Brian lives in Washington, D.C. these days. Surely he fancies himself to be a kind of constructive virus, trying to give that city a fever, so that in its delirium it can see a new reality. 

 

 

 

And Brian, if you should read this, I implore you to finally adopt a position of mine, and stop calling the Kennedy assassination a coup d’ etat.”