There was a time when to mention homosexuality and marriage was to trigger a tsunami of high minded honking about what was the best way to raise children and what was the proper role of marriage in the maintenance of an orderly society. To stand on the side of love is to see people who are devoting their lives to each other stigmatized and rejected.
There was a time when to talk about immigration would occasion all sorts of public intellectuals to get up and blow 32 bars about labor policy, wage differentials, trade arrangements, outsourcing and temporary workers. To see through the eyes of love is to see families torn apart, and people wanting to work, and people stigmatized and rejected.
There was a time when to talk about reproductive justice would invite men to bring out their soapboxes and orate about the promiscuity of women and the viability of fetuses and a culture of life and selfish feminism. To stand on the side of love is to choose not to be indifferent to the difficult choices of real women face.
Derp, Derp, All of It Derp, sayeth the Blogger.
To talk about Detroit now, is like talking about New Orleans a few years ago. Every policy wonk, economic analyst, financial wizard and sadistic secular theologian has a wheelbarrow full of derp to dump into the public discourse. Mostly, it moralistic adjudication of who is really to blame, and the sadistic allocation of who should really, really, really suffer as an example to the rest of us.
Are the unions to blame because they sought a decent standard of living for the people doing the work in America's most prosperous industry? Is it the African Americans who built the cars, but were expected to live in a white dominated city, with a white police force that saw themselves as an occupying army. It must have been the Democratic Party, because, I don't know, those people voted Democrat. Oh, it's all of our fault, because we bought Japanese cars. Oh, its the auto companies fault because they didn't listen to the changing market. Well the decision makers in the auto companies are not living in Detroit, and they, thank you, are doing fine, still.
Anyway, let the Detroiters suffer, sayeth the derpsters. They somehow brought in on themselves. We will watch here from the suburbs and from Wall Street and Washington DC, enjoying the spectacle of the Gods of Market punishing the wicked. Oh, and for God's sake, get the art treasures out of the Detroit Institute Art before the barbarians take over. The DIA can sell the art to the big museums to give Detroit the money to pay the banks, whose owners sit on the boards of the big museums.
Derp, derp, all of it derp, sayeth this blogger, even though he has rarely been in Detroit, and couldn't name a person on the Tiger lineup. Maybe, it's just that he grew up near Youngstown, Ohio.
To stand on the side of love is to cut through the DERP and see the people involved, poor people trying to hang on in a abandoned, dangerous, underserved and decaying city, and to choose not to be indifferent to their fate.