Should Democrats negotiate with extortionists?

After experiencing an extended period of relatively low humidity, today's moderate levels feel oppressive. I'm expecting my thunder-averse dog to spend much of the night seeking consolation and wondering why I won't make the rumbles and bright flashes stop. Meanwhile, the Better Half's dog, Franco, seems to have experienced a full-on seizure earlier and is now slowly, apparently, recovering. We'll see early tomorrow if he gets taken to urgent care and hope we don't have to try to get him to an emergency visit.

Yesterday we learned that the granddaughter has developed an ear infection. Antibiotics seem to have improved her condition but they won't take care of the discomfort of cutting teeth. Do you remember how painful it was as your first teeth came in? I don't, fortunately. All of this, plus the daily headlines, should make it clear how painful, tenuous, and fragile life can be. Much more so for some than for others. When was the last time you cut a check for the American Friends Service Committee, or a local hunger program, or UNICEF, or the local animal shelter? If you can spare any amount, you can be sure there are those who need it more than you. Do you suppose a national campaign on the theme that greed is so unbecoming could be successful?

stormy skies, literal and figurative

Photo by J. Harrington

Meanwhile, the Minnesota Senate, under the control of Republicans, is attempting to extort the Democrats into failing to adequately respond to climate breakdown by holding the Omnibus environment and natural resources policy and finance bill (SF 959) hostage unless the "Clean Cars" rule is delayed until 2027(?). I very much hope the Democrats have the fortitude to hold fast, sort of like a refusal to negotiate with hostage takers. The damage the Republicans have been doing to our democracy is becoming almost as unrepairable as the damage mines and extractive, industrial agriculture are doing to our environment.

Langston Hughes has written on this topic better than almost anyone else I can think of. His poem is long, but matches the times only too well.

Let America Be America Again

By Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.

Let it be the dream it used to be.

Let it be the pioneer on the plain

Seeking a home where he himself is free.

 

(America never was America to me.)

 

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—

Let it be that great strong land of love

Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme

That any man be crushed by one above.

 

(It never was America to me.)

 

O, let my land be a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,

But opportunity is real, and life is free,

Equality is in the air we breathe.

 

(There's never been equality for me,

Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

 

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?

And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

 

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,

I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.

I am the red man driven from the land,

I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—

And finding only the same old stupid plan

Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

 

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,

Tangled in that ancient endless chain

Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!

Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!

Of work the men! Of take the pay!

Of owning everything for one's own greed!

 

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.

I am the Negro, servant to you all.

I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—

Hungry yet today despite the dream.

Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!

I am the man who never got ahead,

The poorest worker bartered through the years.

 

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream

In the Old World while still a serf of kings,

Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,

That even yet its mighty daring sings

In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned

That's made America the land it has become.

O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas

In search of what I meant to be my home—

For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,

And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,

And torn from Black Africa's strand I came

To build a "homeland of the free."

 

The free?

 

Who said the free?  Not me?

Surely not me?  The millions on relief today?

The millions shot down when we strike?

The millions who have nothing for our pay?

For all the dreams we've dreamed

And all the songs we've sung

And all the hopes we've held

And all the flags we've hung,

The millions who have nothing for our pay—

Except the dream that's almost dead today.

 

O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—

And yet must be—the land where every man is free.

The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME—

Who made America,

Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,

Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,

Must bring back our mighty dream again.

 

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—

The steel of freedom does not stain.

From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,

We must take back our land again,

America!

 

O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath—

America will be!

 

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,

The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,

We, the people, must redeem

The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.

The mountains and the endless plain—

All, all the stretch of these great green states—

And make America again!

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