“Let he who is without sin caste the first stone” (Gospel of John 8:7)
Wait. Or should I say “Riddle me this, Batperson”? Batman — isn’t that problematic? Does that not presuppose toxic masculinity surrounding the persona of the Bat person — doesn’t that preclude others who are not male from associating with the Dark Knight? Wait, I can’t say that either. Hmmmm. What is the gender neutral word for knight? Is there one? I don’t even know what gender the person referred to as Batman would have selected were he a real person. Sounds like a violation of human rights to me. Damn….
And, what about that quote from the Gospel of John — I mean — shouldn’t that be — I don’t know what it should be. I am so totally confused. OK. Let’s try this — “Let (insert your pronoun of choice here) is without sin, caste the first stone.” Damn. They doesn’t really work either — because if you select “they” as your pronoun, then the verb can’t be “is.” It would have to be “are.” OK. Perhaps this will work — “Let he/she/they/it is/are without sin, caste the first stone.” Good. I think I finally have gotten that down…..
Wow. My linguistic head hurts and I haven’t even gotten to the substance of this essay, which, in theory, has nothing to do with inclusive language. It has everything to do with a moral dilemma that is both deeply troubling and dangerous to the future of this country. And no, this isn’t an essay about The Donald or January 6. It is an essay about moral hypocrisy and moral delusion. Think of it in very simple terms, far simpler than trying to write in a gender neutral world, any one person, under the guise of conscience, or political moderation, or for any reason he, she, they or it can care to invent, can bring the political system of this country to its knees.
In the case of Senator Sinema, when asked where she stands on lowering drug prices as outlined in the “Build Back Better” Biden plan, she can reply, as she stood in front of an elevator, that she was standing there. Cute, I suppose, in a twisted sort of way. I mean she was standing there, in front of the elevator. Of course, all the political commentators from center to left voiced outrage and disbelief. But nothing changed, and no one of consequence said word. At issue, it seems, is a provision of the law which would use the bargaining power of Medicare to drive drug prices down. After all, 50% of Big Pharma’s revenue is from sales of their drugs in the United States.
We wouldn’t want to do that, now, would we? Except for the fact, that, in 2018, when she ran for the Senate, Sinema repeatedly vowed to lower prescription drug prices and drug costs for seniors.
So, what happened?
Ah, well, $750,000 in campaign “donations” from Big Pharma and medical device companies happened. Sinema became part of the system she said she was determined to change, and the other so-called moderate or centerist, Manchin, opposes clean energy provisions of the Biden plan, and few if any people mention that he owns stock worth over $450 million in several coal companies. Thank you, John Oliver for bringing that to our attention. And yet, just because the stock is in a “blind trust,” Manchin is good to go. No ethical or moral problems there, in much the same way that Sinema’s hypocrisy isn’t a problem either. After all, that $750,000 is not for her — it is a campaign donation. And campaign donations are legal. Well, mostly any way.
So, in one of my ethics classes last week, a student asked about all this. Interestingly, I realized something I hadn’t seen so clearly prior to Sinema and the elevator.
“Suppose,” I said to my students, “you wanted a better grade. Could you pay me, say $100 for a ‘B’?”
“No,” said a student, “That would be a bride.”
“Ah, you are correct.” I paused to let that sink in — after all, I am an adjunct and we haven’t had a raise in a good quarter century. “So, think about this,” I said as carefully as I could — I was back at that haven’t-had-a-raise-in-a-quarter-century thought, “what if, instead of giving me the money directly, you told me that you were so concerned about my wellbeing that you booked a room for me at Hilton Head for a long weekend. All I had to do was show up and get the key.”
“Would you give me a ‘B’ if I did that?”
“Hell,” said another, “Hilton Head for a weekend — are you crazy — that’s easily an ‘A’.”
The class roared. I didn’t.
“Isn’t that the point?” I could tell they hadn’t a clue. “Let’s be real. If I am the CEO of a drug company that stands to lose millions in profit if drug prices are lowered, and I give your campaign money, am I doing it because I like you or because I am worried about your wellbeing?”
“What are you smoking,” said another student. Everyone laughed.
“So,” I said, “in legal terms this is called a quid pro quo. I do something for you expecting you to do something for me. It is a transaction. There are clear expectations. I give to you and you do for me.” The room was quiet. “Now, what’s the difference between a bribe and giving to my campaign?” The room was silent.
“Then,” said one of my students, “why are so willing to call-out corruption in other countries when we don’t do anything to stop it here?”
“That would be the question, wouldn’t it be?” I said. “The system is corrupt. The net effect of a ‘campaign contribution’ and a bribe are the same — I get you to do what I want you to do. Selfishly. In the case of Big Pharma, I get you to put money in my pockets, no matter who is hurt by doing so. Since you don’t use the money to buy a car or a house for yourself, then, it isn’t illegal. But it is immoral.”
Truth be told, if it were just Manchin, or Sinema, or Cruz, or simply a handful who were corrupt, the problem would be easy to fix. But it isn’t. They all are — and they can’t keep their jobs if they don’t become corrupt. We’ve been talking about campaign reform for well more than 50 years. We have talked about limiting, if not banning lobbyists, limiting their access, passing laws that actually foster moral behavior, and, of course, the very people who are supposed to pass the laws are themselves corrupt. They have no incentive to make the system moral.
So, riddle me this, batperson, what will it take before we have had enough? Don’t answer. It seems we never will, sheep that we are.
