Political road rage helps nobody
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U.S. Sen. Al (Landslide) Franken kicked off a national meeting of progressive leaders in Duluth earlier this month with an opening declaration that "moral indignation is great." Then he added, a little sheepishly: "It's just not very attractive. It's a lesson I've learned."
Franken's confession -- that his own indignation made his election closer than it should have been -- drew knowing laughter. And the Progressive Roundtable conference that followed often struck a similar theme -- that the surest path to success involves a spirit of constructive and practical problem-solving.
Franken seems to have learned the lesson that his Democratic predecessor Paul Wellstone learned. Shortly after arriving in Washington as a senator in 1991, and setting fires with statements about how he despised people like segregationist Sen. Jesse Helms, Wellstone learned to take the anger out of his passion and to get to work legislating and compromising.
Anger has its place; the Bible tells us so. Jehovah himself in the Old Testament and Jesus in the New Testament expressed righteous indignation at times.
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Conservatives have the right to be angry about government waste and inefficiency, crime rates, irresponsible personal behavior and moral decline. Liberals over the course of our history have been angry about economic and social injustice, private-sector greed, environmental destruction and unwinnable wars.
But liberal protesters in the 1960s eventually damaged the progressive movement with the overriding image of the left as too full of rage and too willing to blame America first.
And conservatives are increasingly marginalizing themselves with rash talk that borders on inciting violence, much of it surrounding pending health care legislation, and even vague talk about secession.
The violence by hard-left protesters in the streets of St. Paul last summer did not help defeat Republicans in the fall. In fact, once again, the outcome proved the basic rule of thumb that the more positive and optimistic of the presidential candidates generally wins. In 1980, it was Ronald Reagan; in 2008, Barack Obama.
Expressions of anger at John McCain's campaign rallies did not help his cause, and McCain found himself having to publicly admonish his own supporters.
Here in Minnesota, anti-government, anti-tax Tea Party organizers are at it again, calling for demonstrations at congressional offices this weekend to show that they are declaring "independence from tax-and-spend politicians." The language comes perilously close to framing our democratic governments as illegitimate.
Political road rage is destructive, corrosive to those who express it and damaging to those it targets. It feels good for only a little while. Psychologists and behavioral experts agree that managing it is essential to mental health.
Agitators like Rush Limbaugh and Michael Moore -- and Franken, when he was on Air America radio -- serve a purpose, and it's a free country, and rambunctious discourse is an American tradition. These purveyors of agitprop are wonderfully entertaining at times.
But the words of conservative blogger and writer Thomas Lifson, a former Harvard Business School faculty member, are as wise now as when he wrote them in 2005, when liberals were at their angriest over President Bush's re-election:
"Anger is a terrific motivator. Angry people contribute money, go to events, wear buttons ... and readily slap bumper stickers on their Volvos, Beetles, mini-vans and Lexuses," Lifson wrote.
"But anger has many drawbacks as the basis for an American political movement ...Ours is a nation built on the pursuit of happiness as an inalienable right granted us by our Creator, [and] anger is like an acid that curdles the sweet mother's milk of happiness, whose pursuit is so much a part of our national character."
So a woman at a town hall meeting can liken health care reform to Nazi policies, and in response Rep. Barney Frank can liken her to a dining room table. But neither of them is doing much credit to the country, or to the debate.
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Dane Smith is the president of Growth & Justice, a self-described progressive think tank that focuses on state and local tax and budget issues.