Simple political statements from pop-culture figures seem to go a long way these days. From both sides of the political spectrum, musicians have overcome deficiencies in songwriting, creativity and talent by appealing to generic pro or anti-war sentiments (see Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red White & Blue" and Green Day's "American Idiot"). Most notably, when the Dixie Chicks offended their largely conservative fan base by voicing dissatisfaction with President Bush, triggering a slew of right-wing invective, they became martyrs for free speech . The backlash was excessive and undeserved. Yet upon what cross were they crucified? Despite the pressure, they continued touring, albeit with a slightly diminished audience. They never had to testify before Congress, and were never sent to jail.
Dalton Trumbo was not so lucky. A gifted screenwriter, quite possibly the greatest of his generation, he paid the ultimate price for refusing to admit membership in the Communist party to the House Un-American Activities Committee during a congressional hearing in 1947. He was deprived of his livelihood and his freedom, not of a portion of his audience that objected to his politics. So if the Dixie Chicks warrant their own hagiogrphic tribute, the late Trumbo is certainly entitled to a grand epitaph.
Unfortunately, unlike a good literal epitaph, marked by concise profundity, Peter Askin's Trumbo overreaches in its quest to be profound, and leaves one wishing it had made more of an effort to be concise. It is an exercise in redundancy worthy of Game of Shadows , the book that meticulously recreated a decade's worth of annecdotes and interviews to tell the American public what they already knew: namely that Barry Bonds' suddenly increased head size was not the result of drinking protein shakes. Likewise, it is established early on that Trumbo is an endearing family man, a fiercely loyal friend, and a man unwavering in his convictions, standing by them as he was barred from his profession and sent to jail. He was a victim of injustice who was rightly vindicated later in life. Surprisingly, this filmic realization of a play by Trumbo's son merely repeats these points ad nauseam, slowly killing all the pathos, humor and drama that it musters.
The film relies heavily on his letters, which are interesting and well-written, creating a good portrait and a reasonable narrative basis. Not content with the Ken Burns-style voiceover cum photo montage, this film lets various notable actors give them a dramatic itnerpretation while sitting in front of an empty table or standing on an empty stage, as if they were auditionning for a play. The letters are powerful enough in and of themselves and the readings by David Strathairn, Liam Neeson, Paul Giamatti et al. come off as over-staged and almost comicly overwrought. At the end of each letter, there is invariably a dramatic pause where each actor is given a chance to glance meaningfully at the camera, into a glass of scotch or wherever they fancy. One can almost imagine Askin cutting a take and yelling, "I said more earnest, God Dammit!"
Dalton Trumbo was reasonably eccentric, and any documentary devoted to one man's life is served well by the humanizing and amusing details that lend poignancy to the larger narrative. However, it's hard to see what's so singular about his playfully ironic sense of humor, tendency towards drink, and affinity for animals. A large portion of the film is devoted to examining such tendencies, yet it is clearly the intersection of his public and private life that proves most interesting. For example, a scathing letter to his daughter's elementary school, where she has been shunned because of the stigma surrounding him, is one of the film's most effective moments. We truly feel the pain of his plight, his whole family bearing the burden of his principles. We see his humanity, his rhetorical skill and even a touch of dark humor. The film should have relied on such moments that achieve the dual purpose of adding shades to the portrait and telling his story.
Most excruciating of all was a seemingly endless letter written from prison by Trumbo to his son extolling the virtues of masturbation. Nathan Lane is given the honor of reading this ode, and arches his eyebrows at a particularly strained angle for the duration of the reading, as if to remind us to laugh. After all, what sort of arthouse documentary would this be if we didn't have a jarringly out-of-place reminder that even history's great figures enjoyed the feeling of sexual climax like the rest of us and weren't ashamed of it?
Indeed, the movie seems to have been made with conscious mind paid to its target audience. Askin's basic premise is that we all know and agree about Trumbo, and therfore does not bother to give much context about the McCarthy-era anxieties leading to the Blacklist or even his particular political views. There is too little here about the tradition of American Communism (it is mentioned in passing that it became fashionable in the depression) or why Trumbo was attracted to it. We are given an excerpt from his anti-war novel/screenplay Johnny Got His Gun, annecdotes about his service in World War II, but no connection between the two, or even mention of the trivial detail that he opposed US involvement therein.
This was a man who favored authoritarianism, and was open about his contempt for democracy, i.e. more than just a run-of-the-mill left-winger. Yet the film only talks about his anti-war stance, a tradition that was certainly not limited to those on his point on the political spectrum. There's plenty of time to give a more complete account of his views, yet Trumbo fails to deliver. As such, it unfortunatley opens itself to right-wing criticisms that it is a whitewash designed to make Trubmo's potlics seem more palatable to the mainstream. Of course the film's larger point, and the principle behind Trumbo's resistance was not a defense of Communism, but the idea that everyone was entitled to their own political beliefs and that they were not the business of the federal government. But Askin sees no need to strengthen that point by putting it in a suitably enlightening socio-political context, perhaps figuring the target audience is likely to have already read and agreed with Howard Zinn.
It is this lazy cynicism that kills the film as political dialectic, repeatedly hammering home a point that it never convincingly made. It doesn't even bother to preach to the choir, it merely sings hymns which eventually all start to sound alike. That would not be a damning flaw had the artistic elements of the film been better realized. Unfortunately, the film strives for a sense of self-importance it does not need and expends too much energy trying to justify. Askin did not need to hard-sell Trumbo, a compelling figure with an important story to tell. In trying to make him simultaneously heroic and human, they have only succeeded in making him seem ordinary. Many critics have picked up on the movie's strengths, but they shine through in spite of its execution, not because of it. This is why they do not redeem the film, and prevent it from being the masterpiece for which it has been widely mistaken.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
What We Can Learn From a 2004 Puppet Show
So there I was last Friday night, walled off in a room with two of my friends, eschewing more social weekend fare primarily because of the weather (or laziness). Yet my inertia was to be rewarded as Comedy Central's Secret Stash came through with an uncensored airing of the brilliant Team America: World Police. Yes, the marionette-staged spoof of the War on Terror and its domestic response through the lens of of Bruckheimer and Bay action flick pastiche may have garnered more publicity for its dispute with the MPAA over a puppet sex scene, it is perhaps the most cogent statement pop-culture has offered on the post-9/11 culture war. Sadly, the statement as a whole was largely misinterpreted or discredited and not because of the movie's crudity, which is something most viewers have learned to look past in the works of Trey Parker and Matt Stone (creators of South Park). Few critics found the movie lacking in comedic value, but many dismissed the overall message as one of universal scorn, a mean-spirited jibe at the jingoistic right and overly idealistic left without offering a conciliatory or advisory note. As Roger Ebert wrote in his review, "I wasn't offended by the movie's content so much as by its nihilism. At a time when the world is in crisis and the country faces an important election, the response of Parker, Stone and company is to sneer at both sides -- indeed, at anyone who takes the current world situation seriously. They may be right that some of us are puppets, but they're wrong that all of us are fools, and dead wrong that it doesn't matter." However, a closer examination of the movie finds that it delivers a more coherent statement.
To begin with, there is an artistic reason to use the background of conventional action and war movies. When we are first taken to the headquarters of "Team America," a super secret organization inside of Mount Rushmore, we see the romanticized vision of the US military brought to us by such Hollywood movies as Top Gun: A technologically dazzling mission control center, filled with a young, fresh-faced elite task force led by a debonair silver-haired old gent. This is more than just an excuse for a note perfect send-up of the hollow dialog ("sometimes believing is all we have"), contrived, forced romance amid combat ("maybe feelings are feelings because we can't control them") and "meaningful" camera angles that rarely reveal anything more than the inability of the leads to act. Given the movie's opening shot, a puppet show on the street in Paris, which zooms out to reveal the "real world" also inhabited by only slightly less realistic marionettes, isn't there something to be said for the movie's commentary on the relationship between art and life? That this conception of the military as a cool, high-tech spy organization exists somewhere in the recesses of our minds from watching such films? Even the usually leftist use of the phrase "military-industrial complex" (coined by Eisenhower) conveys such an image and leads us to attribute a degree of competency to the armed forces that we would not usually expect, cynical as we tend to be about government.
Nevertheless, the movie gives a detailed account of the military's shortcomings in the War on Terror. Most obviously, there is the collateral damage blithely ignored, as when Team America accidentally blows up the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre in pursuit of terrorists. We also have the inability to connect with or "win the hearts and minds" of the locals, the sorry state of our espionage (one going undercover in the Middle East is given extensive "plastic surgery" which amounts to brown makeup, cotton balls glued around his jaw and a towel over his head) and
overall intelligence (represented as a computer with a dim-witted human voice). Coupled with the general population's Americentric view (all foreign locations in the film are listed in terms of distance from America, and the speech of Arabs and French alike are reduced to stock phrases like "Mohammed Jihad, durka durka" and "sacre bleu") and the conflation of Kim Jong-Il with classic Hollywood villains (he is seen feeding Hans Blix to a tank of sharks, and is given the obligatory moment where he gets to explain his side of the story to the camera), a hilarious burlesque Right is given the first half of the movie.
Few people (at least that I heard) complained about this depiction. But the second half, which spends time skewering activist celebrities like Sean Penn and Tim Robbins, was not as widely praised. To many, it seemed like a played-straight regurgitation of ridiculous rightist rhetoric about the Dixie Chicks being a threat to America. Others, like Slate's David Edelstein were willing to laugh, but didn't find it politically relevant: "Hey, this anti-Bush liberal has no problem in principle with both sides getting skewered. But when Alec Baldwin, Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, Susan Sarandon, and Janeane Garofolo moronically align themselves with Kim Jong-il and start wielding automatic weapons against Team America, well … Leftist actors learned from Vietnam not to cozy up to dictators."
That's not the point. Obviously, no American actor went around wearing a black turban as a "gesture of support for the Taliban" like Diego Maradona. However, the problem is not from "anti-American" or peacenik rhetoric. It's where it's coming from. The narrative of actors becoming slowly and subtly disconnected from reality in our celebrity-worshiping culture is a familiar one to anybody who's watched E! True Hollywood Story or has followed the "OMG you will not believe what Paris/Britney/Lindsay/Tara just did" cottage industry. The problem is that the actors who are out of touch with America, which is in turn out of touch with the rest of the world, those that actually believe that they can have an impact on the world, and it is somehow their responsibility to do something, get so caught up in their cut-and-paste 60's rhetoric that they actually believe that if America stopped fighting, then all the world's problems would go away and that we can all just get along. Not only is this "we're, like, the real terrorrists, man" logic dangerous when given the reductio ad absurdum treatment by its own proponents, but it's the hollow peacenik line that detracted from more serious and coherent arguments against the Iraq War, and allowed hawks to unfairly accuse the opposition of being cowards, traitors and enemies of freedom.
Roger Ebert states in the aforementioned review, "If I were asked to extract a political position from the movie, I'd be baffled. It is neither for nor against the war on terrorism, just dedicated to ridiculing those who wage it and those who oppose it." In this passage, he reveals the exact sort of bipolar, absolutist divisions that the film criticized: In an era with divisive rhetoric from Bush and Michael Moore alike, everybody is forced to take one of two untenable positions. Either you support an aggressive anti-terrorism policy without regards to collateral damage, or you hope the entire world can just get along, talking through and resolving our differences. This is why centrist small-government conservatives were cowed into supporting the war and the Patriot Act. This is why the Democratic Party fell apart in the post-Clinton years, unable to decide whether it should rally the base behind the banner of Bush-bashing, much like the Republicans rallied against Clinton in the 90's, or whether they should stake out the middle and hope the Ron Pauls of the world would rally to their side. This is why the already unconvincing John Kerry was forced to explain in 2004 why he had voted for the war not two years ago and was now campaigning against it. Team America is decidedly ambivalent about embracing either conventional position on the War on Terror. Roger Ebert expecting them to make a clear-cut choice is no less reasonable than Bush telling the non-aligned nations that they must make a choice between us and the terrorists.
Now the movie's central thesis as such is expressed in a sexual organ metaphor, that is repeated twice, once during the movie's climactic scene: "We're reckless, arrogant, stupid dicks. And the Film Actors Guild are pussies. And Kim Jong Il is an asshole. Pussies don't like dicks, because pussies get fucked by dicks. But dicks also fuck assholes: assholes that just want to shit on everything. Pussies may think they can deal with assholes their way. But the only thing that can fuck an asshole is a dick, with some balls. The problem with dicks is: they fuck too much or fuck when it isn't appropriate - and it takes a pussy to show them that. But sometimes, pussies can be so full of shit that they become assholes themselves... because pussies are an inch and half away from ass holes." They're not saying that everyone is wrong, but that in a sort of Freudian balance, we need to determine logically when the use of military force is necessary. Because endless use of force will only cause a self-perpetuating cycle of violence from which we will never escape, and withdrawing the option entirely will only leave America vulnerable. There were many good reasons not to invade Iraq, primarily that there was no reason to believe Americans at home and abroad would be safer because of the invasion. And it's the role of...well, pussies to temper and moderate our military appetites, not to suggest wholesale castration. And it's up to the dicks to accept that sometimes, it's better to just go home than to make a 4 AM visit to a Vietnamese brothel just to avoid going home unsatisfied.
To begin with, there is an artistic reason to use the background of conventional action and war movies. When we are first taken to the headquarters of "Team America," a super secret organization inside of Mount Rushmore, we see the romanticized vision of the US military brought to us by such Hollywood movies as Top Gun: A technologically dazzling mission control center, filled with a young, fresh-faced elite task force led by a debonair silver-haired old gent. This is more than just an excuse for a note perfect send-up of the hollow dialog ("sometimes believing is all we have"), contrived, forced romance amid combat ("maybe feelings are feelings because we can't control them") and "meaningful" camera angles that rarely reveal anything more than the inability of the leads to act. Given the movie's opening shot, a puppet show on the street in Paris, which zooms out to reveal the "real world" also inhabited by only slightly less realistic marionettes, isn't there something to be said for the movie's commentary on the relationship between art and life? That this conception of the military as a cool, high-tech spy organization exists somewhere in the recesses of our minds from watching such films? Even the usually leftist use of the phrase "military-industrial complex" (coined by Eisenhower) conveys such an image and leads us to attribute a degree of competency to the armed forces that we would not usually expect, cynical as we tend to be about government.
Nevertheless, the movie gives a detailed account of the military's shortcomings in the War on Terror. Most obviously, there is the collateral damage blithely ignored, as when Team America accidentally blows up the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre in pursuit of terrorists. We also have the inability to connect with or "win the hearts and minds" of the locals, the sorry state of our espionage (one going undercover in the Middle East is given extensive "plastic surgery" which amounts to brown makeup, cotton balls glued around his jaw and a towel over his head) and
overall intelligence (represented as a computer with a dim-witted human voice). Coupled with the general population's Americentric view (all foreign locations in the film are listed in terms of distance from America, and the speech of Arabs and French alike are reduced to stock phrases like "Mohammed Jihad, durka durka" and "sacre bleu") and the conflation of Kim Jong-Il with classic Hollywood villains (he is seen feeding Hans Blix to a tank of sharks, and is given the obligatory moment where he gets to explain his side of the story to the camera), a hilarious burlesque Right is given the first half of the movie.
Few people (at least that I heard) complained about this depiction. But the second half, which spends time skewering activist celebrities like Sean Penn and Tim Robbins, was not as widely praised. To many, it seemed like a played-straight regurgitation of ridiculous rightist rhetoric about the Dixie Chicks being a threat to America. Others, like Slate's David Edelstein were willing to laugh, but didn't find it politically relevant: "Hey, this anti-Bush liberal has no problem in principle with both sides getting skewered. But when Alec Baldwin, Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, Susan Sarandon, and Janeane Garofolo moronically align themselves with Kim Jong-il and start wielding automatic weapons against Team America, well … Leftist actors learned from Vietnam not to cozy up to dictators."
That's not the point. Obviously, no American actor went around wearing a black turban as a "gesture of support for the Taliban" like Diego Maradona. However, the problem is not from "anti-American" or peacenik rhetoric. It's where it's coming from. The narrative of actors becoming slowly and subtly disconnected from reality in our celebrity-worshiping culture is a familiar one to anybody who's watched E! True Hollywood Story or has followed the "OMG you will not believe what Paris/Britney/Lindsay/Tara just did" cottage industry. The problem is that the actors who are out of touch with America, which is in turn out of touch with the rest of the world, those that actually believe that they can have an impact on the world, and it is somehow their responsibility to do something, get so caught up in their cut-and-paste 60's rhetoric that they actually believe that if America stopped fighting, then all the world's problems would go away and that we can all just get along. Not only is this "we're, like, the real terrorrists, man" logic dangerous when given the reductio ad absurdum treatment by its own proponents, but it's the hollow peacenik line that detracted from more serious and coherent arguments against the Iraq War, and allowed hawks to unfairly accuse the opposition of being cowards, traitors and enemies of freedom.
Roger Ebert states in the aforementioned review, "If I were asked to extract a political position from the movie, I'd be baffled. It is neither for nor against the war on terrorism, just dedicated to ridiculing those who wage it and those who oppose it." In this passage, he reveals the exact sort of bipolar, absolutist divisions that the film criticized: In an era with divisive rhetoric from Bush and Michael Moore alike, everybody is forced to take one of two untenable positions. Either you support an aggressive anti-terrorism policy without regards to collateral damage, or you hope the entire world can just get along, talking through and resolving our differences. This is why centrist small-government conservatives were cowed into supporting the war and the Patriot Act. This is why the Democratic Party fell apart in the post-Clinton years, unable to decide whether it should rally the base behind the banner of Bush-bashing, much like the Republicans rallied against Clinton in the 90's, or whether they should stake out the middle and hope the Ron Pauls of the world would rally to their side. This is why the already unconvincing John Kerry was forced to explain in 2004 why he had voted for the war not two years ago and was now campaigning against it. Team America is decidedly ambivalent about embracing either conventional position on the War on Terror. Roger Ebert expecting them to make a clear-cut choice is no less reasonable than Bush telling the non-aligned nations that they must make a choice between us and the terrorists.
Now the movie's central thesis as such is expressed in a sexual organ metaphor, that is repeated twice, once during the movie's climactic scene: "We're reckless, arrogant, stupid dicks. And the Film Actors Guild are pussies. And Kim Jong Il is an asshole. Pussies don't like dicks, because pussies get fucked by dicks. But dicks also fuck assholes: assholes that just want to shit on everything. Pussies may think they can deal with assholes their way. But the only thing that can fuck an asshole is a dick, with some balls. The problem with dicks is: they fuck too much or fuck when it isn't appropriate - and it takes a pussy to show them that. But sometimes, pussies can be so full of shit that they become assholes themselves... because pussies are an inch and half away from ass holes." They're not saying that everyone is wrong, but that in a sort of Freudian balance, we need to determine logically when the use of military force is necessary. Because endless use of force will only cause a self-perpetuating cycle of violence from which we will never escape, and withdrawing the option entirely will only leave America vulnerable. There were many good reasons not to invade Iraq, primarily that there was no reason to believe Americans at home and abroad would be safer because of the invasion. And it's the role of...well, pussies to temper and moderate our military appetites, not to suggest wholesale castration. And it's up to the dicks to accept that sometimes, it's better to just go home than to make a 4 AM visit to a Vietnamese brothel just to avoid going home unsatisfied.
Monday, March 3, 2008
In Medias Res
So there I was, walking aimlessly down the street, absorbed in thought over some trivial matter which I no longer remember. And all of a sudden, I was accosted by a man in a blue and red windbreaker who acted too quickly for me to look away and put on my headphones. He asked something along the lines of whether or not I wanted to support financially the man who would save America. Not Jesus, or the ninth avatar of Vishnu, or even Thomas Carcetti. After the third guess, he jumped on my moment of hesitation, and reminded me that it was of course none other than Barack H. Obama. How foolish of me. I almost forgot that he would be different from every other young charismatic politician who delivered not half a field and a mule's ass of whatever he (or she) had promised. Because he lived in Indonesia for a couple of years, so he has, like, an international perspective. He shot me a concerned glance. One that said, "Well I knew that you were young and disillusioned, if only because of your slightly overgrown beard. But not to believe in Obama? Have you no heart? Do you believe in nothing? Say what you want about the tenets of Neoconservatism, but at least it's an ethos!" But he of course went the more patronizing route in actual speech, saying "Well I'm cynical too. We all are. [knowing smile]. And I'm not saying Obama is perfect. But come on! He's the next JFK!"
And there we have it. He explained perhaps my main objection to Obama (and the 3- mile cloud of hype surrounding his every move). People all around me are comparing BHO to JFK like it's a good thing. What about Obama recalls Kennedy's amazing virtues? His cozy relationship with McCarthy and segregationists [note: he did vote for the 1957 Civil Rights Bill, but also voted for an earlier bill that prevented prosecution of those who violated any of its terms]? His escalation of the US military presence in Vietnam, including the authorization of napalm use in the north? His ability to win a Pulitzer prize for a book he didn't write? His support for the Bay of Pigs Invasion which he withdrew at the last second, guaranteeing BOTH its failure and great damage to America's reputation in the region, not to mention feeding Castro's anti-American rhetoric which helped keep him in power? Kennedy's presidency today is widely considered a success, despite relatively few accomplishments. Although he did create the Peace Corps. So he's got that going for him.
The real issue here is that Kennedy harnessed the power of the media to succeed with all style, and no substance. It was widely reported that a 1960 presidential campaign debate with Richard Nixon, was seen as a victory for Nixon by those who heard the debate on radio, and a victory for Kennedy by television audiences (http://www.ingentaconnect.com/content/bpl/jopo/2003/00000065/00000002/art00015). Now perhaps the signs of Nixon's untrustworthiness picked up by the viewing public were not unfounded, the fact remains that those who heard the arguments divorced from the faces of the men delivering them found Kennedy wanting. Today, we have no such luxury of objectivity, and unlikable, untrustworthy Clinton's campaign is likely to end in a sulking return to her Senate seat. (This is not to say I support now, or ever have, her candidacy). Obama is a great speaker, and inspires confidence, even when holes are poked in his arguments.
Now this isn't to say I've entirely ruled out the possibility of voting for him. But I have to have a reason to vote for him other than his charisma and value as a "uniting" force. And his NAFTA-baiting, which already has our neighbors to the north and south worried, has not instilled confidence in me. A survey in the American Economic Review (May 1992) , polled economists of all political stripes on whether they agreed or not with certain statements. 93% agreed that "Tariffs and import quotas usually reduce general economic welfare." Now Obama hasn't advocated any such measures, but he's not going in the right direction with such talk. When asked why so many Americans think they are worse off because of free trade when virtually all economists would indicate otherwise, the traditional response is that politicians continually tell them so. It seems Barack is no exception. And to propose the lame defense that he "has to do this to get elected" tells me that he's already just another would-be idealist Democrat who promises a new day for everyone, only to leave office with the country in the same haze of darkness.
And there we have it. He explained perhaps my main objection to Obama (and the 3- mile cloud of hype surrounding his every move). People all around me are comparing BHO to JFK like it's a good thing. What about Obama recalls Kennedy's amazing virtues? His cozy relationship with McCarthy and segregationists [note: he did vote for the 1957 Civil Rights Bill, but also voted for an earlier bill that prevented prosecution of those who violated any of its terms]? His escalation of the US military presence in Vietnam, including the authorization of napalm use in the north? His ability to win a Pulitzer prize for a book he didn't write? His support for the Bay of Pigs Invasion which he withdrew at the last second, guaranteeing BOTH its failure and great damage to America's reputation in the region, not to mention feeding Castro's anti-American rhetoric which helped keep him in power? Kennedy's presidency today is widely considered a success, despite relatively few accomplishments. Although he did create the Peace Corps. So he's got that going for him.
The real issue here is that Kennedy harnessed the power of the media to succeed with all style, and no substance. It was widely reported that a 1960 presidential campaign debate with Richard Nixon, was seen as a victory for Nixon by those who heard the debate on radio, and a victory for Kennedy by television audiences (http://www.ingentaconnect.com/content/bpl/jopo/2003/00000065/00000002/art00015). Now perhaps the signs of Nixon's untrustworthiness picked up by the viewing public were not unfounded, the fact remains that those who heard the arguments divorced from the faces of the men delivering them found Kennedy wanting. Today, we have no such luxury of objectivity, and unlikable, untrustworthy Clinton's campaign is likely to end in a sulking return to her Senate seat. (This is not to say I support now, or ever have, her candidacy). Obama is a great speaker, and inspires confidence, even when holes are poked in his arguments.
Now this isn't to say I've entirely ruled out the possibility of voting for him. But I have to have a reason to vote for him other than his charisma and value as a "uniting" force. And his NAFTA-baiting, which already has our neighbors to the north and south worried, has not instilled confidence in me. A survey in the American Economic Review (May 1992) , polled economists of all political stripes on whether they agreed or not with certain statements. 93% agreed that "Tariffs and import quotas usually reduce general economic welfare." Now Obama hasn't advocated any such measures, but he's not going in the right direction with such talk. When asked why so many Americans think they are worse off because of free trade when virtually all economists would indicate otherwise, the traditional response is that politicians continually tell them so. It seems Barack is no exception. And to propose the lame defense that he "has to do this to get elected" tells me that he's already just another would-be idealist Democrat who promises a new day for everyone, only to leave office with the country in the same haze of darkness.
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