In Indifference (Almost) to Occupy Wall Street and in Praise of Alec Baldwin

Not my favorite Occupy Wall Street tactic

    Here are a few reasons why I won't share many words about Occupy Wall Street. First, I'm a big fan of coherent arguments. I can sympathize with them, learn from them, or be enraged by them (perhaps enjoying that last option too much). But I, along with everyone else, can glean no clear set of positions or demands from these protesters. Perhaps this will come with time.
    Second, I'm actually quite a fan of capitalism. While I am dumbfounded by the intensity of the faith many have in the free market, in the absence of any semblance of a credible alternative, I'm willing to give capitalism its due.
     My next point works in tandem with the last: I advocate arguments and movements that--resting on the premise that most people we disagree with are fundamentally decent--avoid needlessly demonizing groups or individuals. Offering up the richest 1% as scapegoats for all that ails us is a tantalizing proposition. But I won't assent to it.
     And last, as a person of deep faith, whenever I come across a complex issue or situation, one question guides my response: "What would Alec Baldwin do?" Okay, I'm mostly joking about this one, though after his polished performance in the midst of a thicket of Zuccotti Park squatters, I may be ready to endorse him for president in 2020 (giving him ample time to first make the requisite run for U.S. Senate).

    One minute and twenty-four seconds in, Baldwin hits the nail on the head: "Capitalism is worthwhile." It's not perfect. It's not a panacea. It's not precious or holy. It's worthwhile. And sometimes worthwhile endeavors need course corrections--or someone to "throw the flag," as Baldwin puts it.

     While the Occupiers so far lack lucidity and reasonableness, they have accomplished something really important. They have finally highlighted a long known, but little reported fact: income disparity in the United States is far greater than the average citizen would guess--and it has only been growing. It's not demonization therefore, to suggest that the 1%, whose combined wealth is substantially greater than the entire bottom 90%, should pay marginally higher tax rates as one element of a deficit reduction program. This new appreciation of the wealth gap has likely contributed to the possible softening of congressional Republicans' absolutism regarding new revenues.

     Not all have been made aware of this reality, though. I'll end by linking to yesterday's post by the Atlantic's James Fallows, who highlights what a sweet deal Rick Perry and Herman Cain offer the ultra-wealthy with their flat(ish) tax plans. It's not so sweet for the rest of us, as you'll see. Fallows also provides the following chart from the Congressional Budget Office, which demonstrates the inequality of income growth over the past three decades:

Gov. Perry and the Death Penalty

"I am always going to error on the side of life," claimed Texas Governor Rick Perry in last night's Tea Party sponsored Republican presidential debate. He wasn't being ironic. Not intentionally, anyway.
   At the time, Perry was defending himself against an onslaught by his opponents regarding his decision to mandate an HPV vaccine for 12 year-old girls in his state. If his statement accurately describes his thought process regarding that particular issue, whatever its merits, good for him. But it's a maxim he seems to abandon when it comes to meting out the ultimate penalty. When in last week's debate Brian Williams asked him to reflect upon the 234 executions he has presided over as governor (a statistic that excited the audience), Perry performed his version of waxing philosophic.

   Perry's unequivocal assertion that he has "never struggled with that at all" is chilling considering the incredibly strong evidence that he signed off on the execution of a completely innocent man, Cameron Todd Willingham, in 2004. Aided by improvements in arson investigation forensics since Willingham's conviction, numerous experts in the field have concluded that the 1992 fire that killed his three small children was accidental and that the original indicators of Willingham's guilt are now without any factual basis. Perry knows this.

   Another likely innocent victim of Texas's liberal application of capital punishment is Ruben Cantu. While Cantu was executed before Perry became governor, it was during his term (2005) that the Houston Chronicle reported that both of the key witnesses against him admitted to lying about his participation in the crime, leading the district attorney who recommended that Cantu be charge with capital murder to believe he had made a grave mistake. Perry, however, remains confident enough in Texas's judicial system to proudly continue engineering its train of executions.

   These travesties—along with numerous cases of dubious executions and proven wrongful convictions from around the country—should humble Perry. However, the analogy he used in this same debate, conflating Galileo and climate science deniers like himself, suggests that Perry is not the type to let facts spoil his conveniently held beliefs. His callousness—or genuine inability to reflect—on this question of life and death should disqualify him from the presidency.

   In so much of the Western world, the death penalty is considered a remnant of a more barbaric time—a form of justice more suited to a society that locked the mentally ill away in barred asylums than to the more sanitized epoch in which we live. This monstrous practice is dying its own very slow death. But for now, there are still places like China, Iran, and Texas where it receives a willing stay of execution.