On saints and politicians.
when is it the right time to take a risk?
Gemini birthdays approaching: We’re approaching the Sun’s movement into Gemini, so you’re about to have a lot of “birthday week” invites to look forward to. Here’s a little poem I like that reminds me of Gemini:
On saints and politicians.
You can look back at Joe Biden’s decision to end the rail strike around the holidays in 2022 and tell that story in lots of ways. Some versions cast him in the role of a progressive politician having to make a tough decision, weighing the needs of a few against the needs of many. Some would cast him as a snake of a Democrat, a neoliberal who told a story from one side of his mouth while making deals with railway CEOs out of the other. Whether he was a progressive strategist or a villain, one thing is inarguable. He did not allow workers to democratically determine their own fates. He made the choice for them.
I’m sure there were endless white papers and briefs from academics and lobbyists coming from all corners of the political map that informed the decision. Enough people convinced him that enough people would be pissed about their deliveries being delayed, about potential inflation, about all of it, that he decided he was better off undermining 115,000 workers in their (legal, fair) negotiations with their bosses than to let it play out. They wanted days off when they got sick. Biden decided that wasn’t worth his support, because he believed his support would hurt his career and his progressive policy goals.
I remember when this was happening only vaguely. By the time we got to the next presidential election, Joe Biden was the Murder President, the man who was gleefully bombing the shit out of children in Palestine. I doubt that different actions with the rail strike would have led to a Democrat in the White House right now. But it would have built a stronger labor movement in the United States. And it would have made at least the lives of those 115,000 workers significantly better. So why didn’t he do it?
"As a proud pro-labor President, I am reluctant to override the ratification procedures and the views of those who voted against the agreement," he said in a statement. "But in this case – where the economic impact of a shutdown would hurt millions of other working people and families – I believe Congress must use its powers to adopt this deal."
As he signed the rail legislation into law on Friday, Biden didn't dodge the issue.
"Look, I know this bill doesn't have paid sick leave that these rail workers and frankly every worker in America deserves. But that fight isn't over," he said. "I've supported paid sick leave for a long time. I'm going to continue that fight 'til we succeed." - NPR
Class traitors have always made the wealthy uncomfortable. Look at St. Francis of Assisi, namesake of our recently departed Pope Francis (another man who occasionally made the wealthy uncomfortable, like when he eschewed some of the more ostentatious offerings of the papacy). St. Francis, long before he was a saint or even a devout man, was wealthy. He was set to inherit what was functionally a fortune, the product of his father’s prosperous silk business. It was enough to keep him from ever needing to interact with the rabble. Then God entered the picture in the form of empathy. His conversion began by giving away as much of his father’s money as possible, enough that he was taken to court by his father and eventually shunned by his family. He lived among the poor and the sick more or less from then on.
This is a template for the devoutly religious throughout history. Less often since the advent of grifters like Joel Osteen and other prosperity gospel hacks, but common nonetheless. There’s something about the religious life that supports this selflessness. Sure, you can argue that some devotees are just trying to earn credit now for an idyllic afterlife, but I think that’s a shallow read. That understanding rejects what we hear from “saintly” people over and over, that the primary reward is one they feel here and now. By coming into contact with humanity, they earn a kind of Heaven on Earth, one that only comes by sacrificing what you have so that others may share in it with you.
“From each according to their ability, to each according to their need.” It’s a slogan attributed to Karl Marx as conveying a central principle of socialism and communism. It could just as easily describe the religious life. I’m focusing on those from a Christian background, but the same is true of monastic adherents from around the world. Security is not a resource that can be hoarded, not without creating insecurity in those around you. To believe this requires a leap of faith. It requires a belief system that rewards lack, that benefits those who give away what they have.
While I was standing in the longest airport security line I’ve ever stood in at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport, I saw woman signing up for Clear. She looked like anyone’s white mom, but, glancing over her shoulder I could see she was a committed religious devotee. She was clutching a little fetish in her hand. It was a reminder, a sacred object, one that she could stroke, stare at in meditative practice if she wanted. I felt I’d accidentally peeked into someone’s private sanctuary. It was like I caught someone fumbling with a scapular or fingering a hidden rosary in a moment of stress.
The object of her worship was a close-up image of Donald Trump, plastered on her phone’s lock screen. Because of the phone’s Facial Recognition technology, she’d be guaranteed to stare into his eyes about a hundred times per day. She could never forget who it was that she was willing to suffer for, who it was that she had decided to put her faith in. Whether she weathered the rising inflation easily or by tightening her belt and gritting her teeth, she was committed to the cause. She had a higher power who she trusted would reward her in the end.
On the one hand, it’s not all that sustainable for your political movement to rely upon a messiah who can die. This is especially important if you have a system of governance that does not allow for monarchic leadership or the handing off of a throne to an anointed inheritor. This isn’t a problem for the Republican party, a party who has made clear they are willing to do anything it takes for control, but it should be a problem for the Democrats or whatever opposition party American Liberals and Leftists can cobble together.
The American Right has no shortage of demagogues and idealogues and charismatic preachers to lead them in worship of exclusion, of the individual. So who is the leader, sequence of leaders, or organization of leaders who can demonstrate devotion to the collective? Who will help inspire that devotion in the rest of us? What does that social force look like and how does it achieve its goals while bringing together a pluralistic people? What are the principles that bind us?
Back to the saints: they are masters of suffering. Have you heard the story of St. Lucy? There’s some contention as to which version of her life is the official one, but one of them involves her gouging out her own eyes rather than be subject to “defilement” after she had consecrated her virginity to God. While the baggage of virginity and its significance as shown here are Bad™, the story makes a compelling point. Care about something? Prove it.
St. Lucy’s story has another revealing moment, after her mother is healed of a terminal blood disorder. Lucy suggests that she and her mother ought to give what they have to those who need it more. She essentially wishes to dispense of the privilege that keeps them separate from the rest of God’s people. Her mother agrees and promises to donate all that’s left when she dies. That’s not enough for Lucy. She says: "...whatever you give away at death for the Lord's sake you give because you cannot take it with you. Give now to the true Savior, while you are healthy, whatever you intended to give away at your death."
Do we all need to make vows of poverty? Probably not. But I am trying to think more with something like Lucy’s perspective in mind. There has to be an expiry date on waiting for the right moment. The idea that President Biden might have wanted to “play the long game” in supporting rail workers’ rights to paid sick leave (or any sick leave at all) is absurd. The guy was 80 years old when he squashed their movement. What long game does he have in mind? If now isn’t the right time to dig in and suffer in service of the things you say matter the most to you, then when is the right time?
In some of the corporatized “equality” or D.E.I. spaces I’ve been privy to, there is a favorite promise that “the pie is big enough for us all”. I don’t disagree with this. What I do disagree with is the extension of the promise that usually follows. “Don’t worry! You won’t lose anything by giving more to others!” They say this to make some people in the room feel better about some other people in the room gaining institutional power. This might be true, up to a point, but it is not always true. It can’t be. When all the power has been allotted, for someone to gain more, it has to come at the expense of someone else. We all sense this at some level which is part of why there’s such a tendency for people to grasp at as many marginal identities as possible. The hope is that if you’re a gay cis white man then they’ll go take something away from the straight cis white man first. This defensive posture is a problem. When you’re panicking about what you might lose, you’re not in a very ready state to give to others.
Comparing the saints and martyrs to the politicians and activists of today, a funny thought comes up. Why don’t the politicians follow through on their beliefs? Because they’re afraid of cutting short their career. They want to win their next election. They want an appointment in their retirement to Harvard faculty. They want the six figure book and podcast deal. They want a seat on a panel at Davos. St. Joan of Arc, on the other hand, was not planning a second act. St. Francis did not intend to optimize the reach of his message by making a deal with Exxon. Dorothy Day (not yet a saint, but on her way) probably would not have undermined her belief in the necessity of working class solidarity so that she could have a Top Podcast on the Spotify charts. When you are committed to a cause, the idea of an exit plan is ludicrous. It’s an expectation and a willingness to fail.
On principle, I believe that there is always a solution. There has to always be some kind of best option, but that doesn’t mean that everyone will be better off, unless they see the betterment of others’ lives to be an inherent good. To make this suffering and loss worthwhile, you have to care about other people. I’m veering into platitude territory, but I mean this and I do think that, generally, the saints can give shape to how this looks. It looks like suffering joyfully.
The generous read of Biden’s decision to betray the labor movement is that he truly believed that people would suffer to an unacceptable amount if rail workers went through with their strike. He did not believe he could strong arm the corporations, so he strong armed the workers. This is logical and cowardly. Obviously, I am angry at Biden and the Senate for how they handled the rail workers’ strike in 2022. But that is, admittedly, a little convenient, a little too absolving of some of us who are participants in this system, a system that demands our comfort and convenience above all else.
Would delays in rail services have caused serious issues for many people? Would the number of inconvenienced people have been greater than 115,000? Probably! And to vastly differing degrees. For some it would have meant costly delays in their home construction, for some it might’ve meant unhappy kids whose holiday gifts didn’t arrive on time, and for some it would have threatened their livelihoods. Okay. So what? If the labor movement demands it, if it is not a death sentence, the only appropriate response has to be, “I’m on board. Where do you need my help?”
As much as our political leaders are failing us, many of us are also failing us. I look at myself in the mirror, a single young adult who is healthy and gay and gainfully employed and housing secure, and I see that it is incumbent on me to loudly, clearly, align myself with what labor asks of me. This is another way of saying it is incumbent on me to figure out what my community asks of me. What might have made that rail strike more appealing would have been threats of withdrawing support from Democratic politicians who don’t put their weight behind labor. What might have made that rail strike more feasible would have been a culture of expected mutual aid. We should be able to rely on each other, across industries, across perceived cultural barriers, across any kind of difference except “boss” or “not boss” to make strikes possible when they are deemed necessary. This should feel like a religious commitment.
Devotion is the political force that we lack today. It often feels like we have lost the capacity to be devoted to much besides ourselves and maybe those who we see ourselves in. The reasons are countless: we are too self-aware, we’re too overwhelmed, we’re too tired, we’re too pampered. I think much of this boils down to a lack of imagination, generally and culturally. The conveniences we have that we are uninterested in sacrificing (anything from DoorDash to Amazon Prime to endless dopamine hits from TikTok) need to be imagined away. We need to put real effort into imagining (remembering) what it would be like to not expect life to be this easy and instead to expect life to be challenging but rewarding.
The kind of devotion that’s required to support the labor movement even when it means your Amazon packages don’t arrive when you expect or when you can’t get a shitty Starbucks coffee on your way to the airport might not be exactly the kind that is supposed to get you into Heaven (though, if some variety of Heaven is real, I guarantee there are more saints and rail workers present than CEOs and presidents), but it is the kind of devotion that creates a heaven for the living. Maybe we build it in time to see it ourselves, or maybe it’s for future generations. It cannot matter. We have to be willing to suffer for our values.
I am going to write some more about this idea of sacrifice and values in the coming weeks. I’m very curious to hear your thoughts, if you see real inspiration in support of collective causes being drummed up anywhere, either for yourself or for others. I’m curious about examples of this in modern life. I consider Greta Thunberg as a good example perhaps, someone who keeps the mission in the front always. Anyone else you can think of?
Some things to read:
This personal narrative in The Nation from a rail worker about the betrayal he felt when Biden squashed their movement.
Dorothy Day’s Wikipedia page. She’s progressing in her cause for canonization and I’m curious if this new pope who’s chosen a pro-labor predecessor to name himself after will be sympathetic.
Apparently lots of people on the Internet were getting anger/joy out of this piece by Andrea Long Chu about Ocean Vuong. I didn’t know that because I’m now kind of a Luddite re: social media and just thought it was a well-written critique.
Always a lot of credit goes to the people who have been my teachers, both directly and through their freely shared knowledge, and so many books.