“Fear was a big part of it”


I’m watching the PBS American Experience episode “Ruby Ridge”. Sara Weaver, the daughter of Randy Weaver, is describing how her parents were preparing to move from their Iowa farm to living on a mountain in Idaho. She says they were adhering to the Biblical passages of “an apocalyptic future” and says

“Fear was a big part of it.”

As the episode draws to a close, she adds

“When you operate out of misinformation and fear, things can go wrong.”

These are words worth remembering – not just in the tragic and volatile 1992 “Ruby Ridge” case, but in our society in general today, and in the language that we hear from those who are responsible for guiding us forward as a nation.

Fear is a big part of it.

Listen to what we are being told:

  • Fear those who cross our country’s border from Mexico – they are rapists and murderers and drug lords.
  • Fear those who run from brutality and death in Syria – they are terrorists who hate our freedom.
  • Fear those who report on our government’s actions – they are enemies of the American people.
  • Fear those who teach – they are telling our children what to do, what to say, what to think.
  • Fear those who wear a hoodie on a chilly night – they are armed and looking for a house to rob.
  • Fear those who wear a jihab – they are hiding something, maybe a bomb.
  • Fear those who march in protest – they are paid professional agitators trying to destroy our democracy.
  • Fear those who own large, successful businesses – they are mistreating their workers and hiring illegal immigrants.
  • Fear those who run for office under the (name one) Party – they are only out for (their supporters, their class, their race) and will take away your (rights, guns, money).
  • Fear those who demand your attention – they want to heckle you, mock you, shout at you, shout you down

Sara Weaver is someone who was thrust, unwillingly, into the public eye, under terrible and tragic circumstances. Yet, because of those circumstances, she knows so much more than our leaders do:

“When you operate out of misinformation and fear, things can go wrong.”

Photo: ©AP Photo/Michael Sohn

Can You Lie About The Future?

Can you lie about future events? Here’s a comparison of two statements, both cast as “lies”:
OBAMA: “no matter how we reform health care, we will keep this promise: If you like your doctor, you will be able to keep your doctor. Period. If you like your health care plan, you will be able to keep your health care plan.” (June 15, 2009)
TRUMP: “There were people over in New Jersey that were watching it, a heavy Arab population, that were cheering as the buildings came down.” (November 21, 2015)
img_1755In my judgement, Obama was wrong but Trump lied.
What makes the difference? The difference is that Obama was making a statement about a FUTURE event.
In June 2009, the health care plan was nowhere close to being decided. The Tea Party rose up a few months after this statement, Congress was battling over small and large changes, and everything was uncertain. So what was Obama talking about? He was talking about what he was trying to put into place — it was a statement about what the future would be IF Congress passed Obama’s plan. They didn’t. For these reasons, PolitiFact rated it “half-true” because it was a statement about the future.
Trump was making a statement about a HISTORICAL event. In November 2015, the WTC buildings had been attacked 14 years earlier. The story about “thousands cheering” had been circulated shortly after the 2001 event, had been investigated by many fact-checkers and been found to be false. PolitiFact gave it a “pants-on-fire” false rating.
Can you lie about the future? I think you can under only one condition — that you can create or obstruct the future that you’re lying about. For example: if you know you will be at the theater at 7:00PM, you would be lying if, at noon, you told a friend “I’ll be home at 7:00PM”. However, if you intend to be home at 7:00PM but get held up in traffic until 7:30PM, you would not have lied to your friend — you would have been wrong.
Likewise, if, the next day, you say “I was home at 7:00PM last night” when, in fact, you were at the theater or you were stuck in traffic — that would be a lie. It’s a statement about what happened in the past, and you knew that what you said was false.
What’s the big deal? Because, once again, 7 years later, I listened to one commentator discuss Trump’s most recent lie (something about “millions of people” being at his inauguration), and another commentator countered “Well, Obama lied — he said you could keep your doctor. Why aren’t you talking about Obama’s lies?”
Yes, it’s correct to say “We’re not talking about Obama, we’re talking about Trump.” But it’s better to say “Being wrong about the future is just being wrong. Being wrong about the past is lying.”

Words, Not Just Tone, Matter

In the “heated argument” between Kellyanne Conway and Jennifer Palmieri at Harvard last week, the press attention focused on the seemingly angry tones between these two. The audio reflects that tone, both speakers (and others) talking over the others in incomplete sentences, neither side making a coherent argument. What should have been an instructive and reflective examination of the past presidential campaign devolved into a shouted barrage of “Oh yeah?”, “Did not!” and “Did too!”

But for all the shouting and hostility, we should not forget the words — yes, there were words spoken and statements made and claims denied, and these should not be ignored. These words matter, because the claims they make matter and the denial of these claims matter.

So — what set off this heated argument?

Palmieri expressed her pride that Clinton stood up against the “white supremacists, white nationalists” who were attaching themselves to Trump’s campaign as a way to get their message out.

“One of my proudest moments with [Hillary Clinton] is her standing up with courage and with clarity in Steve Bannon’s own words and Donald Trump’s own words the platform that they gave to white supremacists, white nationalists. And it is a very, very important moment in our history as a country and I think as his presidency goes forward I am going to be very glad to be part of the campaign that tried to stop this,” Palmieri said.

The claim, then, is that the Trump campaign gave “a platform” to these groups.

The counter-claim is that the Trump campaign had “a decent message for the white working class voters” and that Clinton “doesn’t connect with people, […] they have nothing in common with her [and] you had no economic message.”

The counter-claim is not, as it turns out, a denial. Conway doesn’t say “no, we did not give white supremacists a platform, we kicked them out whenever they latched on to us.” Conway doesn’t quote any statement by Trump or anyone else in the campaign, telling David Duke, the KKK, Breitbart, the Spencers’ or other known white nationalists to go away. Indeed, when those statements did come, they were only after the election was over and Trump had been declared “president-elect.”

So we have a claim, an accusation if you will, which — given the opportunity — the accused does not deny.

Words shouldn’t be lost in the heat of the exchange. Words aren’t as entertaining as a shouting match, true, but they are instructive.

Words — and the absence of words to the contrary — matter.

I Don’t Care What You Say

Nothing should be more effective in stopping an argument than these words:

I don’t care what you say…

There are other variations — “no matter what you say”, “you can’t tell me”, “I know for a fact”.


These are STOP signs in any conversation. The person who injects these phrases is telling you that any further discussion is pointless.

So the proper reaction is to just end the conversation. Walk away. Move on to something else.

Yet — in real life and certainly in internet life — that’s not what happens, usually. Instead, for no apparent reason, these words increase the volume or accelerate the typing. When someone says “I don’t care”, we take that as a challenge that must be answered, swiftly, with even more words, facts, opinions, sound bytes.

How often have you turned right back into the argument, determined to get in the last word and end it on your terms, not theirs?

Why? They’ve let it be known quite clearly that they aren’t open to any further evidence or reasoning or authoritative findings. Yet you persist.

Take them at their word. They don’t care. It doesn’t matter.

Move on.

Oh, right — before YOU inject this into your speech, STOP and think.