Dear Fellow Bernie Supporters,
We lost. I don’t mean we lost the democratic primary (technically, that will happen next month). We lost the game that we apparently signed up to play. Going into this, many of us didn’t know that, by running in a major American political party, we were signing up for media bias, superdelegates, voter suppression, closed primaries, registration red tape, and other blockades to true democracy. Many of us were just starting out in politics, or had never participated actively before now because Bernie was the first candidate to align with our views. Many of us were just old enough to vote. We will still be blamed for our ignorance and optimism. That’s less of a democracy lesson and more of a life lesson- even when the game is wildly unfair, people in America like winners and criticize losers. Maybe someday we can change the game itself; until then, we’d better get used to it.
So what do we do now?
People will begin asking us this question incessantly (and many more of us have been hearing it for months already). What the question boils down to is, “Now that you’ve seen how unfair the system is, what role do you plan to play in it?” Some people are irritated with our bitterness before we’ve even expressed any. Others are simply scared- they have a lot of skin in the Big Game of Politics and they know we will play a role (directly or indirectly) in what’s to come. Instead of telling you what I plan to do, let me tell you my opinion about each of our options. I will begin with my most important message.
Don’t you fucking vote Trump.
If you choose to support Hillary Clinton, I’m OK with that. I understand that, as Noam Chomsky said, the approximately 10% difference between the Democrats and Republicans is significant. A lot is contained in that 10%- women’s rights, LGBT rights, education, jobs, healthcare, wages. That 10% contains real, measurable human happiness or suffering, and you can directly impact that by voting for the lesser of two evils. By choosing Hillary, you are giving up the cause of many of our principles- but you’re fighting a much greater evil on the other side of the aisle. I get it. I accept it.
Just don’t cast your goddamned vote for Trump.
If you choose to support Jill Stein, I’m OK with that. I disagree vehemently with the two-party system. In fact, it’s the system that created this mess in the first place. Bernie Sanders is a lifelong Independent- the longest serving one in Congress. He (and I) only joined the Democrats because the system is set up to push out anyone outside the two parties. My real party, the Green Party, can’t even get their candidate on the ballot in many states. Debates push the third parties out. Private monies are only behind the folks in the two major parties. It’s wrong. We should be able to make a rational, informed choice without factoring in strategy. It’s not Risk. It’s not Monopoly. It’s democracy, and everyone should have an equal shot at being chosen for leadership. Jill Stein’s views are nearly identical to Bernie’s- and she’ll be on your ballot in November.
But fuck off if you vote for Trump.
If you choose to write in Bernie’s name, I’m OK with that. Let’s be honest, Bernie was probably never going to be allowed to win. Superdelegates in more than half the country supported Hillary even when their states went 70%+ for Bernie. It’s likely they’d have been happy to thwart democracy at the convention. Sure, people would be outraged- for a while. But mostly, Americans would be happy (as we always are) to return to less troubling distractions like froyo and Netflix. Bernie succeeded against unprecedented odds. Think about it! The most recognizable female politician IN THE WORLD barely won against a 74-year-old socialist jew from Vermont who nobody had even heard of a year ago. That’s incredible! We should be proud, and we can make a statement about that pride. Writing in Bernie will say to the establishment, “You may suppress my vote, but I will stand by my conscience.”
But holy lord, you better not vote for Donald Trump.
If you choose not to vote in the general election at all…...oh man, this is difficult for me. But for this one time, I’m OK with that. Normally, I revile not voting. I feel that you’re not even a worthy member of society if you can’t be bothered to have a stake in how it’s run. But your abstinence this time might be a message in your mind. It might be your way of saying, “I don’t see the purpose in continuing to shout while locked in a soundproof cage.” Do whatever you possibly can to affect the system going forward. But if you can’t stomach having a stake in this one, purely out of disaffected depression...I get it. Kind of. It’s not something I’d ever do, but I will forgive you this time. Get back out there on November 9th and fight the good fight.
But whatever you do (and I say this with a slow, threatening voice), don’t you DARE cast a vote for Donald Fucking Trump.
By voting Trump, you’re not just messing with the system. You’re not just throwing up your hands. You’re not just picking any outsider, no matter who, and you’re not just sending a message to the powers-that-be. By voting for Donald Trump, YOU ARE STEALING OUR MOVEMENT AND GIVING IT TO THE ENEMY. You are snatching away everything Bernie Sanders stands for, and contributing directly to its destruction. You are painting a legacy of horror in the place of a political movement that I am deeply, deeply proud of, a political movement that I thought I would never see in my home country in my lifetime. To pervert what we’ve created, to smear our hopes and aspirations in such a vile and ugly manner, is the most unforgivable sin I can possibly imagine. I cannot express the disgust, the anger, and the profound disappointment I will feel for my movement if it is reduced to the headline: “Former Sanders supporters Pave Path to Trump Victory”. My faith in our movement will be shattered. It will have all been a sham. My political identity will never recover. Plus, you know....President Trump.
Many will disagree with me. They will object, probably loudly, to many of your options that I accept. Choosing to do anything but work your hardest for Hillary will be treated as borderline treason. I don’t accept that. I won’t accept a shred of blame for Donald Trump, because I will NEVER vote for him. It would be the most violent mangling of my views. To blame anyone for the victory of a candidate they didn't vote for is a logical pretzel for another time. If we're shamed and blamed for NO voting for Hillary, I can handle it. I know where I stand. But I’ll be utterly crushed if the movement that I have invested so much time, energy, and love into is forever is causally linked with the ascension of a demagogic, racist, passive aggressive bully. I don’t know what will become of those who #feelthebern. I hope I like it. I can stomach any outcome but one.
Don’t let me down.
Robin Branson
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Monday, February 29, 2016
The Clinton Administration's New Jim Crow (from The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander)
In 1991, the Sentencing Project reported that the number of people behind bars in
the United States was unprecedented in world history, and that one fourth of young African American men were now under the control of the criminal justice system. Despite the jawdropping impact of the “get tough” movement on the African American community, neither the Democrats nor the Republicans revealed any inclination to slow the pace of incarceration. To the contrary, in 1992, presidential candidate Bill Clinton vowed that he would never permit any Republican to be perceived as tougher on crime than he. True to his word, just weeks before the critical New Hampshire primary, Clinton chose to fly home to Arkansas to oversee the execution of Ricky Ray Rector, a mentally impaired black man who had so little conception of what was about to happen to him that he asked for the dessert from his last meal to be saved for him until the morning. After the execution, Clinton remarked, “I can be nicked a lot, but no one can say I’m soft on crime.”
Once elected, Clinton endorsed the idea of a federal “three strikes and you’re out” law, which he advocated in his 1994 State of the Union address to enthusiastic applause on both sides of the aisle. The $30 billion crime bill sent to President Clinton in August 1994 was hailed as a victory for the Democrats, who “were able to wrest the crime issue from the Republicans and make it their own.” The bill created dozens of new federal capital crimes, mandated life sentences for some three-time offenders, and authorized more than $16 billion for state prison grants and expansion of state and local police forces. Far from resisting the emergence of the new caste system, Clinton escalated the drug war beyond what conservatives had imagined possible a decade earlier. As the Justice Policy Institute has observed, “the Clinton Administration’s ‘tough on crime’ policies resulted in the largest increases in federal and state prison inmates of any president in American history.”
Clinton eventually moved beyond crime and capitulated to the conservative racial agenda on welfare. This move, like his “get tough” rhetoric and policies, was part of a grand strategy articulated by the “new Democrats” to appeal to the elusive white swing voters. In so doing, Clinton—more than any other president—created the current racial undercaste. He signed the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act, which “ended welfare as we know it,” and replaced it with a block grant to states called Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF). TANF imposed a five-year lifetime limit on welfare assistance, as well as a permanent, lifetime ban on eligibility for welfare and food stamps for anyone convicted of a felony drug offense—including simple possession of marijuana.
Clinton did not stop there. Determined to prove how “tough” he could be on “them,” Clinton also made it easier for federally-assisted public housing projects to exclude anyone with a criminal history—an extraordinarily harsh step in the midst of a drug war aimed at racial and ethnic minorities. In his announcement of the “One Strike and You’re Out” Initiative, Clinton explained: “From now on, the rule for residents who commit crime and peddle drugs should be one strike and you’re out.” The new rule promised to be “the toughest admission and eviction policy that HUD has implemented.” Thus, for countless poor people, particularly racial minorities targeted by the drug war, public housing was no longer available, leaving many of them homeless—locked out not only of mainstream society, but their own homes. The law and order perspective, first introduced during the peak of the Civil Rights Movement by rabid segregationists, had become nearly hegemonic two decades later. By the mid-1990s, no serious alternatives to the War on Drugs and “get tough” movement were being entertained in mainstream political discourse. Once again, in response to a major disruption in the prevailing racial order—this time the civil rights gains of the 1960s—a new system of racialized social control was created by exploiting the vulnerabilities and racial resentments of poor and working class whites. More than 2 million people found themselves behind bars at the turn of the twenty-first century, and millions more were relegated to the margins of mainstream society, banished to a political and social space not unlike Jim Crow, where discrimination in employment, housing, and access to education was perfectly legal, and where they could be denied the right to vote. The system functioned relatively automatically, and the prevailing system of racial meanings, identities, and ideologies already seemed natural. Ninety percent of those admitted to prison for drug offenses in many states were black or Latino, yet the mass incarceration of communities of color was explained in race-neutral terms, an adaptation to the needs and demands of the current political climate. The New Jim Crow was born.
the United States was unprecedented in world history, and that one fourth of young African American men were now under the control of the criminal justice system. Despite the jawdropping impact of the “get tough” movement on the African American community, neither the Democrats nor the Republicans revealed any inclination to slow the pace of incarceration. To the contrary, in 1992, presidential candidate Bill Clinton vowed that he would never permit any Republican to be perceived as tougher on crime than he. True to his word, just weeks before the critical New Hampshire primary, Clinton chose to fly home to Arkansas to oversee the execution of Ricky Ray Rector, a mentally impaired black man who had so little conception of what was about to happen to him that he asked for the dessert from his last meal to be saved for him until the morning. After the execution, Clinton remarked, “I can be nicked a lot, but no one can say I’m soft on crime.”
Once elected, Clinton endorsed the idea of a federal “three strikes and you’re out” law, which he advocated in his 1994 State of the Union address to enthusiastic applause on both sides of the aisle. The $30 billion crime bill sent to President Clinton in August 1994 was hailed as a victory for the Democrats, who “were able to wrest the crime issue from the Republicans and make it their own.” The bill created dozens of new federal capital crimes, mandated life sentences for some three-time offenders, and authorized more than $16 billion for state prison grants and expansion of state and local police forces. Far from resisting the emergence of the new caste system, Clinton escalated the drug war beyond what conservatives had imagined possible a decade earlier. As the Justice Policy Institute has observed, “the Clinton Administration’s ‘tough on crime’ policies resulted in the largest increases in federal and state prison inmates of any president in American history.”
Clinton eventually moved beyond crime and capitulated to the conservative racial agenda on welfare. This move, like his “get tough” rhetoric and policies, was part of a grand strategy articulated by the “new Democrats” to appeal to the elusive white swing voters. In so doing, Clinton—more than any other president—created the current racial undercaste. He signed the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act, which “ended welfare as we know it,” and replaced it with a block grant to states called Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF). TANF imposed a five-year lifetime limit on welfare assistance, as well as a permanent, lifetime ban on eligibility for welfare and food stamps for anyone convicted of a felony drug offense—including simple possession of marijuana.
Clinton did not stop there. Determined to prove how “tough” he could be on “them,” Clinton also made it easier for federally-assisted public housing projects to exclude anyone with a criminal history—an extraordinarily harsh step in the midst of a drug war aimed at racial and ethnic minorities. In his announcement of the “One Strike and You’re Out” Initiative, Clinton explained: “From now on, the rule for residents who commit crime and peddle drugs should be one strike and you’re out.” The new rule promised to be “the toughest admission and eviction policy that HUD has implemented.” Thus, for countless poor people, particularly racial minorities targeted by the drug war, public housing was no longer available, leaving many of them homeless—locked out not only of mainstream society, but their own homes. The law and order perspective, first introduced during the peak of the Civil Rights Movement by rabid segregationists, had become nearly hegemonic two decades later. By the mid-1990s, no serious alternatives to the War on Drugs and “get tough” movement were being entertained in mainstream political discourse. Once again, in response to a major disruption in the prevailing racial order—this time the civil rights gains of the 1960s—a new system of racialized social control was created by exploiting the vulnerabilities and racial resentments of poor and working class whites. More than 2 million people found themselves behind bars at the turn of the twenty-first century, and millions more were relegated to the margins of mainstream society, banished to a political and social space not unlike Jim Crow, where discrimination in employment, housing, and access to education was perfectly legal, and where they could be denied the right to vote. The system functioned relatively automatically, and the prevailing system of racial meanings, identities, and ideologies already seemed natural. Ninety percent of those admitted to prison for drug offenses in many states were black or Latino, yet the mass incarceration of communities of color was explained in race-neutral terms, an adaptation to the needs and demands of the current political climate. The New Jim Crow was born.
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