In 1970 Richard Nixon’s Shafer Commission formally denounced marijuana’s classification as a Schedule I drug, arguing in response to the United States Controlled Substances Act that A) marijuana is not chemically addictive, B) marijuana is commonly known to be an effective painkiller, particularly in instances of glaucoma and chemotherapy, and C) though the plant does inebriate its user there has never been a reported death from overdosing on cannabis. Rumor has it, Nixon never read the report the Shafer Commission placed on his desk. As the story goes, Nixon saw the cover page, disliked what he read there, and trashed the whole thing.
Two weeks ago I wrote a column praising Barack Obama’s Race Speech, not because he’s my ideal choice for President (he’s not), not because I agree with what he said (I do) but because the man leveled with me. The man spoke to me like an adult. The man’s speech had complex sentences, long paragraphs, parallel structure, and, regardless of his reception, he was thought provoking.
And yet my column, in which I praised the man for speaking to prospective voters like mature adults, was misread. Many people saw the name “Barack Obama” in the first few sentences, and incorrectly assumed that I’d written a doe-eyed, half-informed, utopian piece of humbuggery about a candidate who has (I won’t be the first to say it) some major flaws.
Here I am discussing the guy’s bravery for throwing caution to the wind by trusting us to receive a complicated message, and my own message — not even that complicated — got lost. Like Richard Nixon reading only the title page, people who refuse to give Obama credit for anything positive saw his name in print and bristled.
I received an email warning me about Obama, encouraging me not to “drink the liberal Kool-Aid.” I’m not sure what that means, but if we’re going to call “racial equality” and “candid conversation” “liberal Kool-Aid,” I hope that e-mail’s author will allow me, in turn, to call the Republican Party’s policies of the last eight years “roofie-laced piss.”
I received an angrier e-mail claiming I had a double standard. The email suggested that if John McCain had sat in a church with an anti-American, white-supremacist pastor I would be up in arms. That e-mail’s author is 100 percent correct — that would upset me, as do the Revered Jeremiah Wright’s comments about Israel and white Americans upset me. But John McCain isn’t a racist, and Barack Obama stated, albeit with “big-boy words,” that he does not agree with everything that pastor says, as should level headed Americans not agree with everything their own religious leaders say. Also, hate speech of any color is equally deplorable, and Obama’s speech made his position on this abundantly clear to viewers a bit of with patience.
But, again, Revered Wright’s words were not the point of Obama’s speech, nor was Obama’s speech the point of my column! Re-read it if you have to! Both are online!
A very good friend of mine wrote a response to my column and her words were run in The Sun the following Friday. I appreciate her and her input so much, but, again, I must stress that my column was not in praise of Barack Obama’s candidacy, just his candidness. That I devoted four paragraphs to my appreciation of Obama’s speech is, I fully admit, misleading, but that was a stylistic choice, setting up for a segue to my actual, broader point: Stick up for yourself and don’t mince your words. In fact, as I recently learned, my Libertarian friend’s Letter to the Editor was also misread and she was none too happy to be reduced to “From HillaryLand” in the headline above her comments.
I realize that my choice — to frame my point in the context of a political speech — was a poor one. People look to a newspaper and expect a certain kind of writing, just as people turn to a campaign speech in 2008 and expect a certain kind of tripe. Political speeches are now almost expected to be blunt, or at least provide a bumper-sticker slogan. Obama’s choice to be complicated was strangely novel and aesthetic where we’ve come to expect simplicity. Many missed his point. Many didn’t care to find it at all. We’re impatient readers.
My 11th grade history teacher Richard Del Rio dealt with impatient reading in a very appropriate way. On days when we were expected to discuss given readings, Mr. Del Rio would begin the class by asking, flat out, who didn’t complete the assignment. Students who had been negligent — no matter their reason — were not permitted to be a part of the discussion, as including their half-informed opinions was seen as unfair to the rest of the class. This is a method that can easily be translated to discussions of all kinds at Cornell — if you didn’t do the reading, don’t pretend you did. If yours is not an informed voice, don’t pretend it is. It’s okay to not be an expert. It’s okay to ask questions.
A good person reads slowly before labeling someone “From Hillary Land” or “Drinking the Liberal Kool-Aid.” In 1970 Richard Nixon didn’t read his well-informed advice, and jumped to an absurd conclusion. Today we read even faster than Tricky Dick, but jump just as far.
Noah Hy Brozinsky is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be contacted at nbrozinsky@cornellsun.com. Walk Emily Home appears alternate Wednesdays.