Elites

I broke my own self-rule about arguing Facebook the other day. A bunch of Alphas were saying if the electoral college were abolished, we wouldn’t have had an insurrection.

Even while suggesting that this was in error for two reasons, and that DC urbanites do not understand rural mindsets—immediate personal anger reactions to that were intriguing—I knew this was on their turf, inside a pack of people who need each other in their careers. It was the kind of place where you’re talking to one person, and 12 others jump in from the sidelines, like the drunk guest behind the couch who suddenly rises mid-heartfelt speech on social justice and says, “Shut up, I gotta piss!”

My friend calls Internet research “academic trolling;” lobbing a post and watching reactions to see how long it takes to turn to an inevitable conclusion: blame the victim, or hit a conspiracy theory (and that these exist on the Liberal side is REALLLLLLY hard to explain to lefties). We co-authors of the conspiracy theory book are madly capturing screen shots and threads from false flaggers, slow-waking evangelicals realizing they’ve been had, and elitists.

In that vein, several Alphas couldn’t believe that rural and urban voters have different motivations. It will be easier to reproduce one comment here than paraphrase: When my team drafted the Maryland Democratic Party 2020 Platform, we engaged people on the Shore and Western Maryland to find out what’s important in their communities: healthcare, infrastructure improvements, jobs, schools, and protecting the environment. They also want us to protect family farms from encroachment by agribusiness. Putting it simply, their real wants and needs are pretty nearly the same as everyone’s. The methods to meet their needs differ from urban areas, but not their needs. So thinking they need also to have disproportionate political power through a Byzantine electoral college is in error.

Yeah…. How can we put this? What are the different ways in which those words would be defined in a rural versus urban environment—leaving aside the charm of being engaged, rather than represented on the team in the first place? Especially when “everyone’s” is casually used to mean “people like us.”

Ethnocentrism (the assumption that others want to be like us because we are the best way to be) is rampant in many places in America these days. The domestic terrorists and rioters are inexcusable. Equally inexcusable is to dismiss the people who did not riot, who still want what they were lied to about getting with the dangerous madman we elected: to be heard. They backed the wrong horse, but to call them names and dismiss them as morally (and intellectually) inferior is dangerous.

Class is the last place in America where we don’t have to examine our condescension. That is also dangerous. We got a lot of good info from the conversation. (Permit me one personal indulgence comment? Some real Alpha gem mansplainers live in brownstones.)

Wealthy, educated Alphas living large online must by our very existence be part of the solution, not the problem; it is unfortunate that we dismiss opportunities to examine ourselves as otherwise. We will keep telling ourselves we’re right, right up to the moment that people ignored and denigrated by this dismissal set our world ablaze. There’s a reason the false conspiracy theory Q astroturfers keep using the word “Elites.” They know their audience. They listened to them, the better to manipulate them, sadly. But they listened to them.

I wish we knew ourselves half so well. And I wish we were better listeners. This is going to go badly.

The Monday Dog Encounter

So instead of a book to read, let me tell you the story of fetching such a book. I walked about a mile over to the house of a woman I had just interviewed for my next book. Rachel is a past or present board member of several initiatives working on poverty and affordable housing in Wytheville and environs. She offered to loan me a book called Hand to Mouth by Linda Tirado, as part of my research.

Writing is a noble profession, but it does tend to make one gain weight if not careful, so I welcomed the opportunity to stretch my legs and let my mind lie fallow a wee while. A warm coat, stout boots, and off I went.

About 2/3 of the way to Rachel’s house, a pit bull came rushing down the upper porch stairs of a big old house and charged the chain link fence between me and him, barking madly.

I turned. “Awww, sweet boy, don’t you look just like my Bruce at home?”

He looked confused.

“And who’s a good boy then, defending Mummy and Daddy’s property and all that? Aren’t you a clever sweet thing, snuffly wuffly baby?”

If there is anything more demeaning to a guard dog than being called snuffly wuffly baby, I have not yet discovered it. He sat down and gave me side-eye.

“Bye now sweet boy!” I waved and continued my slow puff up the hill.

On the way back down, book in hand, I looked for my new canine buddy. Nowhere to be seen, until I checked the high porch. One doggie eye peered between slats on the rail.

Guess he doesn’t want to play anymore. That was my first thought, and then, Oh, I get it. He’s going to wait until I am almost past and then rush the corner of the yard barking really loud to make me jump. That way he can get his dignity back.

Sure enough, two steps past the final fence post, here he came, roaring and frothing fit to burst.

“Oh doggiewoggie bowwowser snookie pookums,” I said, in my best purr. “You are so clever wever, aren’t you snooshie wooshie baby boy?”

His shoulders slumped. He turned and started for the porch. I turned back to my journey, but when I glanced over my shoulder, he was doing the same, regarding me with a kind of curious reproach in his eyes.

Lissen son, 2020 is almost over and then you can get your groove back, ‘kay? For now, accept pookie snookums good boy as the compliment it is. None of the other neighborhood dogs heard. You’ll be fine.