compassion in the desert

Politics: the US are more divided than ever after the midterm elections. The election of democratic governors, the turn to the center of suburban women and non-whites, the interest shown by young voters, the inexorable demographic changes, nothing seems to shake us free from the grip that radical right wingers have over rural regions and will be likely to retain for quite a few years. Trump adds to the feeling, as he profits at least psychologically from the disunion and from inflaming even further many white, working-class voters. The vote for democratic representatives of all kinds exceeded the vote for republican ones by more than 7% or 11 million votes. Pennsylvania, Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, seem to have returned to their democratic sense of direction, but for how long? Will it take a serious economic downturn, conjugated to a foreign crisis, to bring some form of unity? And unity of what kind? On the back of what manufactured enemies? Intellectual work, and especially history of the ancient world, looks like a desperate individual act when faced with this state of affairs. I feel like crawling under a rock.

Yet, the image of my crawling under a rock while the tyrannosauri reges of the world stomp their way over to extinction gives way to landscapes of compassion and humility. Not so timid or foggy landscapes either. All across the land, heroic compassion is at work responding to needs, without recriminations, hurrahs, shouts of victory, flag waving, or claims to have truth on its side. This lived, shared, savvy, crafty empathy finds new, expansive strength over and over again. It becomes the patient, universal answer to the desiccated, warring, egotistic, greedy bands that are raiding the minds, hearts, and pockets of the working and middle classes, while distracting and entertaining them with bile-full bowls of hate and contempt.