Complacency: 1. A feeling of contentment or self-satisfaction, especially when coupled with an unawareness of danger or trouble. 2. An instance of contented self-satisfaction.
Complicity: Involvement as an accomplice in a questionable act or a crime.
—The American Heritage Dictionary, Third Edition
Has it only been three weeks since the “most critical election of our generation”? But how can anyone tell, in the absence around us of any signs that such a defining event ever took place—or of concern about the future by the millions upon millions who voted for the losing candidate? The proclaimed passion for “regime change” in Washington seemed to be so intense before November 2 that one would have expected the election’s outcome to provoke a furious response or, at the very least, an intensive national debate on the country’s direction. Instead, the only sound to be heard from one coast to the other is the traditional one at this time of year of cash registers ringing. Without any ado, and nary a squeak of a pip, we have “seamlessly transitioned” (to use a favorite phrase of the corporate world) from a generation-defining moment to…Thanksgiving. And while the nature of the thanks to be given is certainly a matter of debate, what is unquestionable in this best of all possible nations is the beginning of the holiday season. Without missing a beat, therefore, we can, if nothing else, transform all our bile (assuming we have any, of course) into that particularly American shopping mania that squares all circles, justifies all ends, and turns all frogs into bionically endowed Terminators. As for that election three weeks ago, let’s just say that there’s no reason for fellow citizens to take whatever differences they might have to extremes. Indeed, maybe this is exactly what we wished for all the time (but were afraid to admit).
During the festivities surrounding the dedication of Bill Clinton’s presidential library, the media waxed exultantly about the event’s “civility” and, specifically, the ability of fierce political adversaries, past and present, to evoke the image of a big (and ridiculously) happy family. This civilized convergence was perceived—and presented—as a welcome break from the “extraordinary” bitterness that had supposedly dominated the political discourse prior to the election. The images transmitted from the gathering at Little Rock were thus hailed as examples of American politics and society at their best. The more one thought about it, however, the more last week’s events suggested a radically different interpretation—and political reality. Namely, that the friendly, conciliatory atmosphere and culture evoked in Arkansas were not the exception to or a fleeting break from the contemporary polarized political climate but rather the rule. And that the allegedly “extreme” divisiveness of the presidential campaign, which had everyone so concerned (for reasons both specious and self-interested) was, first of all, a lot less extreme than everybody made it out to be and, in any case, the actual exception to the rule of a generally deadly politically consensus.
In the event, the political camaraderie at Little Rock was not a show for public consumption, but rather the fundamental reality. From the first day after the elections, it was evident that all that campaign clashing was nothing more than a carefully constructed artificial reality, a particularly apposite form of entertainment now that more young people (remember them? the supposed salvation of the Republic) watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart than World News Tonight with Peter Jennings. The fact is—as it has been for a long time—that it was business as usual, histrionically speaking, back in Little Rock. And as for that map of the US with all those overly determined red and blue states, it seems to us to make more sense as a work of art (Jasper Johns perhaps?) than as a coherent representation of political reality.
Still, the media try to convince us that the country is bitterly divided. Writers mourn an America no longer recognizable in the conceptual segmentation of its sides from its center. We’ve become so obsessed with red and blue, however, that we refuse or are unable to see the chiaroscuro at the heart of our national landscape. What’s presented to us in red and blue is actually an enormous, and indistinguishable, mass of gray. The country’s fissures are imaginary, and nowhere to be seen. Intensely contested elections over deep ideological differences reverberate long after their outcomes have been decided. And their fissures do not close but, rather, yawn ever more threateningly. Political discord—if it is in any sense authentic—does not disappear with an election, but, quite the opposite, reenters the body politic; moreover, and all other things being equal, the sense of unaddressed alienation is enhanced the more one’s dissent is ignored and even vilified.
If the political, ideological, and, above all, moral oppositions in the country are real (and, consequently, unbridgeable), the outcome of the elections should have immediately provoked dissent, mobilization, or, at a minimum, intellectual resistance to the results. But walk around New York City today. Dissent? Mobilization? Intellectual resistance? Only in New Yorkers’ own heads. The greatest myth of this mythopoeic city is its radical separation from the rest of the country. In reality, the most critical election of our generation became decidedly less-than-critical the minute John Kerry conceded.
And suddenly, since November 2, it seems as if nothing is at stake anymore. Then again, nothing is easier than complacency. Particularly in the bubble of wealth, trophy homes, elegant (and expensive) restaurants, high (or at least conveniently distracting) culture, and the best private (and essentially lily-white) schools for their children in which so many Kerryites live—including, first and foremost, the Heinz-Kerrys themselves. Even complacency, however, doesn’t begin to explain the sheer moral asphyxia of American life today. Complacency implies stupor, whereas complicity signifies active participation, and therefore a conscious decision to aid and abet. But who will admit to that? It’s much easier to sit down to our Thanksgiving meals this week and eat as if there’s no tomorrow.