Politics in the 2nd Person

The United States government has problems.

Perhaps you know this. Perhaps you know that the governing institutions in the U.S. are failing to effectively govern, that Congress has not passed a federal budget in three and a half years, that the government closed in October due to a fight over healthcare, and that since the beginning of the decade, the U.S. government has nearly defaulted on its debt twice. Perhaps you’ve heard that meanwhile, Americans are dealing with a somewhat unimpressive economic recovery, voter apathy, and lack of optimism about the future. Perhaps you are aware that according to recent Gallup® polls, “dysfunctional government” has replaced issues like “economy” and “healthcare” at the top of Americans’ list of concerns.

But, perhaps you don’t care. You don’t pay attention to politics. It makes you depressed. Everyone is always yelling at each other, and nothing ever gets done, and no one ever changes their minds. It’s all so pointless.

And of course, you have opinions, but who doesn’t? You don’t talk about it much though, perhaps because you are aware that politics is not typically considered “polite” conversation. Merely mentioning the Affordable Care Act around Uncle Steve sets him off on a tirade that ruins Thanksgiving dinner. And everyone grumbles at whoever brought it up.

Perhaps you know that talking politics is somewhat taboo. And perhaps, you’re okay with that. You don’t like it when people make waves. You swear they only do it to draw attention to themselves. You can’t stand it when your friend’s dad proclaims about his right to own an assault weapon, or when that female secretary goes on and on about equal pay for women. And, those problems with the United States government, perhaps it’s the politician’s fault, or maybe the voters, or maybe the corporations, anyone but you, right?

You know about the challenges facing the U.S. You know that it’s falling behind in education and technology. You know that China’s GDP is going to surpass the U.S. around 2016, that the U.S. debt has inflated rapidly, and that no one ever seems to be able to do anything about it, least of all you. In all honesty, you’ve lost hope at this point. Perhaps you worry about your children, or your grandchildren. Will they enjoy the same stability that you grew up with? You and your friends have joked about moving to Canada, but will that actually be necessary? You’re not sure...

 ...because, perhaps you don’t know.

Perhaps you don’t know that these problems are fixable, that the complications within the U.S. are not “people problems”, but are instead, at their roots, failures created by the system itself - that the shocking behavior of politicians, voters, and lobbyists can be attributed to incentives created by the rules they follow. You might not know that the dysfunction in the United States government is hidden beneath the surface, and that the American people need to act like detectives in order to uncover the roots of the issues.

You might not have heard that people are already talking. Perhaps you are unaware that social media provides a perfect place to discuss politics, or that dozens of interests groups and charity organizations have sprung up and are really trying to make a difference. Perhaps you don’t know that all the great changes in American history happened because people got together and talked, that especially in troubled times like these, intelligent, educated, and creative people need to be discussing solutions. Perhaps no one has told you that American politics is complex, but it’s worth understanding. You don’t learn politics so you can be caught up in it; instead you learn it so you can transcend it.

Hopefully, now you know that the dysfunctional government is not unfixable, that every facet of the modern American political system is a cog in a broken machine.  Now you know that the machine can be fixed by removing or replacing its bad parts. Being the mechanic of a government is not easy, but if enough people start to get involved, if enough people gain a higher understanding of the political machinery, those people may cause a shift. Movements can happen, and perhaps, you are destined to be part of an important one.

Steampunk Story

On the day of the parade, all of Valyrica City funneled onto Main Street as trumpets and pipe organs blared the national anthem across town square. Shopkeepers closed for the day and displayed red and yellow banners in their windows while they clapped and cheered in front of their stores. Children stood on the backs of parents and grandparents and stared mouths agape as regiments of red-clad soldiers and coal-powered war machines strode past them. Some onlookers leaned out second story windows and waved handkerchiefs; others climbed atop roofs to witness the procession below.

I shoved my way along the storefront, following the mayor who rode a moving platform and waved graciously as fanatical townspeople roared. I was to meet the mayor at the end of the parade to speak with him. It was research for my job.

Moving swiftly, I brushed past a mother and two children who watched from behind the crowd. Single mothers had become all too common in Valyrica City, as well as across the whole nation of Tyrennia. Since the war had started, men who should have been raising families, some not much younger than I, had been shipped off to be killed.

The mother whom I passed looked dirty and fatigued; her children’s baggy clothes barely masked their malnourished bodies. The city had changed. On the other side of those clean shops was a slum filled with dozens of families just like this one, making due with very little, hoping that somehow their husbands, fathers, and sons would return safely. They simply wanted life to go back to normal, back to the way it was before the war. Back before the curfew, the martial law, and the nationalist fervor. Back before the media censorship and the sedition laws. Back before turrets were stationed atop every building and parades were held each week. All these things that drove me insane.

Yet for this war I could only blame myself; for I, Stanley Rinker, began it. I was responsible for the deaths of thousands of men, women, and children. I was to blame for the terrible conflict that had gripped the world for five years, for the oppressiveness of the Tyrennian government, and for the growth of the slums and decline of the economy. All of it was the direct result of my actions.

Five years ago, I met the Emperor of Hassar in a dark hallway of his palace at midnight. I had planned this meeting for months. My team had made sure we would meet alone. When I entered through a metal door from the courtyard, the emperor faced away from me. He walked down the hall, purple robes swaying with each pompous stride. He didn’t hear me shut the door, nor did he hear as I crept up behind him.

I knew I had started a war the second I plunged my assassin’s knife into his throat.