It is finally the new year, which means a fresh slate. My friend Tara has resolved not to come home after sunrise anymore. I've decided to stop eating pie, and start running more often. New beginnings often bring out the best in people, inspiring them to become what they have always wanted to be.
This isn't to say that the plan to reinvent ourselves will be successful. Most New Years' resolutions last until about February, at which point people regress to past behaviors. How many January diets come crashing down in the February doldrums? How many exercise regimens make it past President's Day?
In any event, the idea of starting over is not bad, and I don't think starting over refers only to the things we do in our own homes.
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The New York Times featured a pictorial section to Wednesday's paper, which tracked the important things that had happened in 2005. There were pictures of the devastation wreaked upon New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina; there were photographs of Sri Lankans standing in the detritus of their own country after last December's tsunami; there were pictures of Iraqi casualties in the war abroad.
In 2005, death and devastation seemed to be around every corner. Some of the worst natural disasters in the history of the modern world stripped the planet of hundreds of thousands of human lives. A war that was said to have been over two Marches ago claimed more lives than it had at the onset. Reports released by climatologists indicated that natural disasters would only continue in their severity and reports released by the White House indicated that we would be in Iraq for at least another 2 years.
These are vast international crises that seem beyond the control of everyday people. The world is bad and fast getting worse. The climate is changing. Democracy in Iraq is foundering. What have we accomplished in the past year to make the world better?
Arguably, we, as humans, have accomplished nothing. I look at my government, drowning in their own hubris, and feel embarrassed for my country. I feel embarrassed by the national betrayal of CIA agent Valerie Plame. I feel embarrassed that my president has sanctioned domestic spying. I feel embarrassed that the war in Iraq, frowned upon now by most Americans, has elicited no real response from the powers that be, none of whom, it must be said, ever fought in an actual war. I feel embarrassed that my country - rich in resources - will not recognize global warming as a quick-worsening crisis.
Those Times pictures affected me somehow. I saw how myopic Americans are. I saw in those photographs how little I actually did when I learned of the critical losses of people in other states and countries. When my best friend's brother, a member of the National Guard, was deployed to New Orleans to aid with the Katrina body count, I said nothing. I did not donate to the American Red Cross this year. I was an outsider, much as my friends and family had been when I watched another national tragedy hit my own city four years ago. If I am going to resolve to do anything in 2006 (beyond pies and exercise,) it is to become less myopic, to see the world as a sum of its parts.
But this isn't just about me.
I wonder about my president, about his approach to the new year. I wonder if he is sitting in his office as I write this, reflecting upon the things he should have done differently. Does he rue the country's botched reaction to Hurricane Katrina? Does he spend even one minute considering the lives lost in the name of liberty in that country we invaded three years ago?
My guess is no. But then again, I am of the position that my president is not a man of compassion, though he claims compassion is his greatest asset. My belief is that my president believes in capitalism and control, that he thinks public service is synonymous with power. Can he change? Will 2006 mark a return to the values that Mr. Bush has always claimed to honor? Will our Constitution again become relevant to the leaders of this country? Will the administration ever admit to being wrong?
My boss says that the best way to command respect is to admit to mistakes we have made. I will write here that I have not done enough for my country. I will write here that I have been mean to people I love and kind to people who have not deserved my kindness. I will write here that I have done things this year that make me neither a good person nor a good American. I will write that I am sorry. Apologizing for past mistakes does not undo them, but, at the very least, it demonstrates some kind of moral recognition.
What would be refreshing in 2006 is the same kind of honesty from our government, who seems content to deny and pass blame. In the end, they seem to have missed the point: we are human; we are fallible; we are capable of great forgiveness; we are capable of change.
