Morality is key to understanding politics

The 2016 presidential election was a slugfest. At times the shouting was so loud, the shoving so brutal, we lost sight of who we were. When the last shots were fired and the smoke cleared, millions of citizens sat crumpled over their kitchen tables and asked, “What the hell just happened?”

            I was one of those morose citizens—baffled by the process and the outcome. My brain was a caldron of questions: Who are conservatives? Who are progressives? What does each party really stand for? I had some general ideas, but nothing decisive. That was remedied after reading the work of the American cognitive linguist, George Lakoff—especially his bestselling books Moral Politics and, more recently, Don’t Think of an Elephant. Here’s what I learned.

The conservative “strict father”

            First, Lakoff suggests that conservatives believe in the morality of a strict father—one who protects his family from the dangers of the world and teaches his children right from wrong. The father is the moral authority of the family. As such, when the children misbehave, it is the father’s responsibility to restore obedience. Ultimately, disobedient children are punished, while obedient children are rewarded.

            Second, the strict father believes in pursuing his own self-interests. He claims that his prosperity is good for both himself and everyone else.  That is the ideology of “trickle-down economics”: The poor benefit from the riches of the most wealthy.

            Third, once the children are obedient and thriving, they are set free to pursue their own self-interests. Because they have proven that they are mature, interference by an authoritative father—or a meddlesome government—is unnecessary and counterproductive.

            What are the ramifications of this model? Tax cuts for the wealthy and punishment for the impoverished. Consequently, what conservatives call “entitlement programs” are divested or, better yet, eliminated. Based on conservative morality, enabling dependency grants no favors to a needy populace.

The progressive “nurturing parent”

            The moral system for a liberal or progressive is entirely different. To begin with the metaphor—nurturing parent—is gender neutral. Lakoff defines nurturance as three things: “empathy, responsibility for yourself and others, and a commitment to do your best not just for yourself, but for your family, your community, your country, and the world.”

            Because nurturing parents empathize with their children, they want them to be happy and protected. Consequently, they promote an unpolluted environment, safe consumer goods, and fair wages. And, like conservatives, nurturants seek prosperity for their children, but with the understanding that opportunity drives prosperity.

            Finally, building community is a watchword for nurturing parents. As such, they routinely promote civil liberties, affordable health care, and educational equality.

What liberals need to learn from conservatives

            First, let’s set the record straight: All politics are based on moral paradigms. You may not agree with a party’s values, but there is no reason to shout down the opposition by labeling them as evil, criminal, or “a basket of deplorables.”

            That said, I’d like to explain what conservatives are doing right. For the last fifty years, they have funneled money from foundations and corporations into think tanks. Those think tanks have been very busy framing the language of their party in a way that is emotionally appealing to their constituents and less onerous to the moderate opposition.

            For example, they have learned to use Orwellian language that means the opposite of what it says. “Climate warming” has been replaced with “climate change,” which suddenly sounds more normal—a mere fluctuation in nature.

            Now, liberals have a thousand scientists and ten thousand facts to dispute the claim, but voters are not moved by facts. They are moved by values wrapped in emotion, which is why a conservative is now sitting in the oval office.

            Conservatives also think strategically. For example, why would tort reform—limiting lawsuit awards—be such an important issue for conservatives? The tactic is ingenious. Limited awards allow conservative corporations to pursue their interests with impunity. Placing the planet and its tenants at risk is inconsequential; their profits can easily handle minimal lawsuit awards. That strategy increases corporate profits, which, in turn, boosts contributions to the GOP.

            Multiply such strategic thinking a hundred times, and liberals are left spreading an ever-shrinking budget over an expansive landscape of critical community needs—with nothing remaining for long-range strategic planning.

            That’s the dilemma liberals face. And any relief they gain will be minimal unless they reframe their message and think strategically. But there is still hope, for it was another American linguist, the esteemed Noam Chomsky, who said, “If you assume that there is no hope, you guarantee that there will be no hope. If you assume that there is an instinct for freedom . . . , then there is a possibility that you can contribute to making a better world.”

            Here’s to a better world beginning at home: one acclaimed for its compassion, fairness, decency, and the freedom for all people—citizens and immigrants alike—to realize the American dream. 

An open letter to high school graduates

High school graduation is a month away. You’ll soon hear speeches about how precious you are—how gifted, bright, and unique—and how you can become whatever you want. Maybe you’ll believe it—maybe not. But if you were my son or daughter, I would offer an alternate message—one that I think is more realistic and, ultimately, more kind. Although the two are related, I’ve organized my counsel into two domains: personal and professional effectiveness.

Personal effectiveness

·         Get over the idea that you are special (despite what your parents and grandparents tell you). Yes, you are an amazing amalgam of bone, tissue, chemistry, and electrical impulses—but you are no more special than any other person on earth.

·         At commencement ceremonies, you may be exhorted to “follow your dreams.” But there is an unspoken caveat. If your dreams are to become rich and famous, you may have chosen poorly.  That might work for Paris Hilton, but those of more modest means have a greater challenge. A more noble and realistic choice is to live a principle-centered life—one dedicated to service. Make that happen and you’ll become morally richer and more famous than you ever imagined.

·         Don’t think that because you were inculcated to believe something—elitism, capitalism, materialism, religion—that it is, therefore, true. Observe, read, and be mindful. Then, over time—perhaps a lifetime—shape and reshape what is true for you.

·         When you have a choice between being right and being kind, choose being kind. Kindness is about spirit; being right is about ego.

·         Have a servant’s heart. That doesn’t mean being subservient. It means being empathic and ready to serve those in need.

·         You’re not that smart. In recent years, the average GPA of high school graduates has been on the rise, while college admission tests have remained flat. Bottom line: your high school grades are inflated. Stay humble; you still have a lot to learn.

·         Never stop reading. You will enter the minds of the brightest thinkers of all time. Nonreaders are doomed to reinvent the wheel.

·         Here’s how to become a member of an elite order: exercise. Eighty percent of Americans don’t get enough exercise. Exercise daily for at least thirty-minutes. Alternate between cardiovascular and weight resistance workouts. Neither requires membership to a gym.

·         Eat right. Fruit, vegetables, and water are your friends. Pizza, burgers, fries, and soda are not. And never eat a meal that comes with a toy.

·         Be curious. Say “yes” to new experiences, new cultures, new teachings. Learn a second language. Live in another country—a year or more is ideal—and soak in the culture. You’ll discover that the United States is grand, but not necessarily the center of the universe.

·         Remember this: Dogma divides and expels people; principles—love, peace, and understanding—unite them.

Professional effectiveness

·         Success in your college and/or work career comes from discipline and hard work and not because you merely exist. You want to shake up the world? Good for you. Now roll up your sleeves and get to it.

·         When your phone rings, answer it. It’s called civility. However, you rarely—if ever—need to answer your phone when you’re engaged in face-to-face conversation.

·         Don’t text when you need a favor or have bad news to report. It’s best to communicate such information in person or, at the very least, by telephone.

·         Understand the difference between what is urgent and important. Importance is driven by a personal mission and fuels your most noble ambition: to make a positive difference in the world.

·         Intimacy is not measured by the number of texts or “likes” you receive in a day. True intimacy can only emerge through transparent and empathic face-to-face dialogue.

·         Understand the difference between policy and mission. In any organization, a policy is designed to make life easier for the organization. Mission is about customer service. When serving the customer, mission—not policy—is the gold standard.

·         Don’t be deceived by Twitter. It takes more than 140 characters to flesh out a decent idea.

·         Don’t be duped by charlatans. Those who sound a little too slick probably are.

·         Contribute to community. Whatever your affinity—from artist to zoologist—experience the joy of sharing your knowledge with avid learners.

·         Don’t be afraid of diversity. All people have value.

So, there you have it, sons and daughters: wisdom from someone who is older than rock and roll music. Here’s hoping you’ll gracefully sidestep some of the foolishness that ensnared me along the way—and replace it with humility, mindfulness, and hard work. That will make you truly special.

Oh, and by the way, congratulations on completing the first stage of your apprenticeship on earth. Only a lifetime yet to go.

Race determines the pitch of the climb

 

“Did you see that?” Robert asked.

The speaker was a light-skinned black man with close-cropped hair, a sense of fashion, and a fine tenor voice. Like me, he was a member of the Columbia Basin Junior College jazz choir—a twelve-voice ensemble called the Desert Tones. It was the spring of 1965. Having just finished a concert in Yakima, we all went to a local restaurant for dinner.

“Did I see what?” I asked.

“Did you see the way the people in the diner glared at me when I walked in?”

I admitted that I had not. But how could I? I was white and impervious to the thousand cuts felt by a black man.

Was Robert to blame for the white people’s resentment? Many would say, “Yes.”

The American psychologist William Ryan explained it well in his 1971 landmark book, Blaming the Victim. According to Ryan, blaming black people for their struggles is a strategy for justifying racial injustice.

Ryan offered education as an example. The nearly illiterate black ghetto child is described as “culturally deprived,” which is a euphemism for low intelligence, non-standard English, hyperactivity, and a dearth of reading materials at home.

His poor performance at school is his problem. Nothing is mentioned of the crumbling school building; the ragged, outdated books; the overcrowded classrooms; and the frightened or insensitive administrators and teachers.

For a black boy or girl to advance in society, it requires twice the effort applied by a privileged white child.

The life of a 1964 Pasco High School classmate of mine, Lynda, is an example of the magnitude of that effort. Her grandfather, Joseph, was lynched in Mississippi circa 1932. Lynda’s mother, Naomi, was determined to shelter and feed her children. So, she decided to become a registered nurse. It was no easy task. In the middle of her final exam, she asked the instructor if she could go to the bathroom. The teacher refused. Naomi was disparate. She was caught between two conflicting needs: first, to relieve herself and, second, to graduate. So she reluctantly seized the only alternative available. She told the other nursing candidates to turn their heads while she discharged into the classroom waste-paper basket. Naomi was the only black student to graduate, although her name was accidentally excluded from the list of graduates.

Lynda described her mother—a single parent—as “intelligent, courageous, and determined.” They were the same qualities Naomi instilled in her children. If their homework did not meet Naomi’s standards, she would tear up the work and say, “Begin again, and this time do it right.”

At sixteen, Lynda was the first black person to work at the Pasco J.C. Penny’s department store. At seventeen, she worked for the Atomic Energy Commission. Then, her burgeoning interest in civil rights landed her a position with the Seattle Human Rights Commission. Thanks to President Kennedy’s affirmative action program, she was able to attend and graduate with a BA in psychology from the University of Washington.

Lynda’s life was not without turmoil. In high school, other students occasional identified her by the N-word. Her first marriage ended in divorce. Her seventeen-year-old son was shot in the heart by a Seattle gang member for out-rhyming the thug in a spontaneous rap competition. Her daughter died at that age of twenty-seven after a fourteen-year battle with lupus. A security guard killed her brother in a department store because “he looked suspicious.” (Barack Obama and Oprah Winfrey have also felt the sting of suspicion.) The guard was acquitted.

Today, Lynda says that she has little time to waste on life’s tragedies. Instead, she is thankful for spiritual grounding, a loving husband, a fine home, and—not surprisingly—independence.

Cynics might say that Lynda is the exception. I say that she is certainly exceptional—and inspirational. It is not easy being black in America—even for college-educated blacks. A 2016 survey by the Economic Policy Institute found that black college graduates are twice as likely to be unemployed than white graduates. In 2011, during the height of the recession, 20.7% of black college graduates were unemployed, as compared to 9% of their white counterparts.

Why is that? Is it because the black graduates are less educated? Obviously not. It is because of historical prejudices and institutionalized racism. Do not blame the victim; blame a complex and often contradictory social amalgam of ignorance, biases, injustices, and fears.

How often have we heard this colloquial version of the American Dream? “Hey, anybody can succeed if they work hard enough. And if they don’t, they’re just lazy or like collecting food stamps.”

The American Dream may be true for the privileged—especially the wealthy white class. It is not true for the black boy or girl from the slums. Their mantra has to be something entirely different to survive in a white world:

“I love the color of my skin. I’m proud and courageous, but I’m not cocky. I work harder than I ever imagined. I choose to be so dignified, so qualified, that prospective employers would be foolish not to hire me. I am not derailed by my people’s history or even my family’s history. I am brand new. I am the architect of my life. And although I have one hell of a climb—one that is often marked by injustice—I will keep asking, keep seeking, keep knocking, until I am finally heard and the door is opened.”

Don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying that this should be the mantra of every black man or woman; I’m saying it has to be. And that truth is the proof of white privilege.

Being willing to play is key to an enduring marriage

When I was single (back when buffalo roam prairie), I would often ask pretty girls what they were looking for in a man. I thought of it as field research—collecting data to determine whether I fit the bill as the ideal catch. Their responses varied, but not by much. “He should be intelligent and rich,” they would say and then, as an afterthought, add, “And funny. It’d be nice if he was funny.”

            In the passing years, I have not been able to do much about my intelligence or wealth, but I have tried to refine my sense of humor. More importantly, I’m always on the lookout for others who are willing and able to be playful.

            For example, one Saturday morning, my brother picked me up in his sleek black Corvette. We had breakfast and then stopped at a convenience store to fulfill an errand. When I lifted myself out of the car, an attractive woman two or three decades younger than I said, “Nice ride.”

            “Yeah,” I joked, “we’re just cruisin’ the town to pick up some chicks.”

            And without losing a beat, the woman said with a smile, “And look how well it’s working.”

            “Oh, I like you,” I said truthfully.

            “What’s that smell?” she asked sniffing the air.

            “Whaddaya mean?”

            She nodded knowingly as if suddenly solving the odoriferous puzzle. “Oh, I’ve got it. It’s smoke.”

            “Smoke?”

            “Yes, smoke. Somebody’s pants are on fire.”

            “Excuse me,” I said with pseudo-indignation.

            “You say you like me, but you never write, you never call. What’s with that?”

            That kind of quick wit and self-confidence is bee-u-ti-ful. I could have easily plunged into a long heartfelt conversation with her. In fact, if I had not been handcuffed by my brother’s need to begin his day, she and I might have become lifelong friends. That’s just how I respond to anyone who has the flair and poise to be playful.

            The epilog to this story is less coy but just as funny. When I shared this exchange with a good friend of my vintage, he said, “Hmm, when you and your brother cruise for chicks do you swing by all the nursing homes?”

            Brutal.

            A few months back, I was entering the TRAC convention center just as a thousand women were exiting.

            As I opened the door for three women to pass, I asked, “What was your event?”

            A perky attendee with a welcoming smile said, “Women Helping Women.”

            “Oh, please tell me,” I said, “did you have any breakout sessions to discuss how women could help men because I could really use the help.”

            The three delegates laughed.

            “I’m sorry, we didn’t,” the perky woman said. “Even if we had, I’m not sure we could have helped you. I get the impression you’re beyond help.”

            Now it was I who laughed. “That’s what my wife says,” I squealed.

            “I know,” the spunky woman said. “She told me.”

            Lest you think only women are funny, here’s an example from my longtime friend, Richard. We were on a bike ride when he asked if I were absolutely fluent in French.

            “Well,” I said, “sometimes I have to make an awkward detour around a French sentence, starting and stopping just to employ the vocabulary and syntax I know.”

            “Oh,” Richard said, “then you speak French in the exact way you speak English.”

            That made me howl so loudly a flock of slumberous starlings took flight.

            These are the kind of people I like—folks with playful, inventive, and daring minds. These quick-witted jesters are able to see the warped side of things—like imagining a lampshade as a sombrero or a megaphone or a cone-shaped Elizabethan collar designed to restrain a dog from licking its wounds. They have the courage to be a little off base, which is risky when applied to those who sternly pigeonhole the proper from the improper. To them I offer this gentle counsel: Don’t feel bad, I once thought just like you, but now I take my medication.

            For those who are composing a list of virtues for their lifelong partner, keep this in mind. Intelligence and wealth are fine, but a man or woman without humor and the willingness to play—to be flirty or feisty or a little irreverent—is like a lampshade being, well, just a lampshade. Practical, maybe, but boring for certain. Readers who don’t get that will never get the humor of my brother’s parting shot to the flirty fan of his Corvette. “Don’t mind him,” he said, pointing his thumb at me. “We’re brothers pure and simple. I’m pure . . .”

Democracy is a balance of freedom and equality

Americans are unhappy with the United States Congress. In fact, a 2015 Pew Research Center survey reported that only 27 percent of Americans had a favorable opinion of congress.

            Why so low? Well, certainly one contributing factor is our legislators’ inability to get the job done. For example, between 2007-2016 the average number of substantive laws enacted in the first year of five congressional terms was 77. That’s a 37 percent drop in performance from the previous five congresses. Any business executive would be railing about numbers like that—and rightly so.

            So what’s going on? To answer that question we need a brief lesson in democracy.

            Democracy requires adherence to two immutable principles: freedom and equality. Both are essential. Freedom without equality is anarchy; equality without freedom is communism.

Freedom and equality are in conflict

            Here’s the rub: Emphasis on freedom flies in the face of equality and vice versa. For example, the freedom of speech is rightly cherished, but not all voices have equal influence. People with money and power have more authority than those who are penniless and powerless. (It was the former who ratified the Constitution of the United States.  The latter—slaves, women, and the destitute—were not consulted.)

            Conversely, equality in wealth, health care, or college education means higher taxes and, consequently, impinges on the freedom to manage one’s personal income. That’s when equality legislation becomes a battle cry for less governance and more freedom. Because laws that assure equality are more expensive, they tend to be less popular and more difficult to pass. I think we have seen that resistance expressed in the long national struggle to create and retain affordable health care.

Freedom and equality are partisan principles

            Generally speaking, freedom is the domain of Republicans and equality the domain of Democrats. Naturally, neither side can totally dismiss the opposing principle because both tenants are sacred. However—depending on one’s political affiliation—one principle may be more sacred than the other.

            The Amendments of our Constitution offers an example of the yin and yang of democracy. The first ten amendments—the Bill of Rights ratified in 1791—are all about freedom: freedom of religion, speech, trial by jury, and the right to bear arms, to name a few. The amendments to address inequality came later—in some cases much later. Equality in voting rights was ratified 79 years later for all races, 129 years later for women, and 180 years later for 18-year olds. These equality amendments did not come easily; it required, respectively, a civil war, a 72-year women’s suffrage movement, and the Vietnam War that took the lives of over 34,000 17-21-year-old enlisted men.

            The quest for freedom comes from the gut: “I need to be free to take charge of my own life.” Equality comes from the heart: “I value all human beings and understand when one is ignored or exploited, we all are diminished.”

Both principles are essential in a mature democracy

            The democratic dichotomy is natural and good. Freedom and equality are linked to the basic human needs of autonomy and love. Mature adults are self-directing on the one hand and empathic on the other. They understand (a) the importance of living proactive, meaningful lives while (b) contributing to those who are less fortunate.

            But a political system is a lot messier than any individual. It is never stagnant—swinging both left and right—and always slow in following the evolving culture. In the 1960s and 70s, the political system slowly moved left by virtue of a ground-level, equality-based call for peace and human rights. Today, the political system has moved toward the right, following the lead of vociferous freedom-based evangelicals, capitalists, and nationalists.

            The pendulum will swing again. The American people will neither stand for freedom at the exclusion of equality, nor equality at the exclusion of freedom. The majority of our citizens know that both are essential and sacrosanct—that we are morally and socially impoverished when one is deficient.

            Because a political system always lags behind culture, it is up to us to hold our legislators accountable. Likewise, it is the duty of every citizen to gently remind devoted followers of the Left or Right that the driving principle of each ideology is honorable and critical to the health of our democracy.

            My dream is for divergent Americans across the country to listen to each other so that their example might inspire our senators and representatives to honor and engage their colleagues across the aisle. Wouldn’t that be one laudable democracy?

Vocabulary sleuths collect words for fun

Some people collect baseball cards. Others collect bottle caps. I once met a woman who collected salt-and-pepper shakers. But what happens to the collection when the collector checks out? Is her great niece stuck with a menagerie of ceramic salt-and-pepper shakers disguised as pigs, cows, and chickens? And just how many shakers does a person need anyway?

            So I have a collection that takes no room on a shelf and creates no disputes upon my departure. I collect words. Yes, I’m a logophile. I love the sound, rhythm, and meaning of words. I like the way they slosh around in my mouth like a delicious ratatouille, which is a great word in itself. Here are some of my favorites.

            Abecedarian (n, adj). There are lots of words to denote a beginner—a neophyte, a novice, a tenderfoot, a tyro—but I like the word “abecedarian.” Derived from the first four letters of the Latin alphabet, it refers to one who is learning the rudiments of something, including—but not limited to—the alphabet. For example, I could honestly say that I’m an abecedarian when it comes to physics.

            Splendiferous (adj). Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations records that a ninetieth-century itinerant preacher once said, “Heaven is a glorious, a beautiful, a splendiferous, and angeliferous place.” Come on, that’s just too juicy not to relish. Incidentally, Webster also lists another adjective elaborated from the word “splendor”: splendacious.

            Loquacious and laconic (adj). These two words from the GRE vocabulary list are opposites. “Loquacious” means “talkative” while “laconic” means “written and spoken brevity.” When your aunt Bertha rattles on and on, you might say, “Why, Auntie, you are so loquacious today,” which may give you a moment’s grace as she rushes off to find a dictionary.

            Blatherskite (n). Since we’re on the subject, a blatherskite is defined as a blustering, talkative, and often incompetent person. You can also think of it as “nonsense,” as in “all this talk about honor among thieves is sheer blatherskite.” I’m not sure that blatherskite would be considered an onomatopoeia (a word that imitates a sound), but it sure is close.

            Sleepy, soporific, somnolent, slumberous (adj). I just think it’s cool that all these sleepy synonyms begin with the letter “s,” as if imitating the siphoning, sputtering sounds of sleepyheads.

            Lionize (v). To lionize someone is to treat him or her as a celebrity or object of interest. Yes, the word does come from lion + ize, which makes it so easy to remember. See if you can work the word into your next conversation: “It makes no sense to lionize despicable politicians.”

            Excoriate (v). An antonym of lionize is to excoriate someone—that is to scathingly denounce or censor. We heard the word often during the presidential campaign, but here’s the interesting piece: Excoriate comes from the Latin excoriare, which means to “flay, strip off the hide.” So, when you excoriate someone, you are skinning them alive—an execution practiced through the ages by Assyrians, Aztecs, Chinese, English, and American Indians.

            Obtuse and abstruse (adj). Here are two more words from the GRE vocabulary list. I place them together because they are often confused. “Obtuse” means dense or dull, whereas “abstruse” means difficult to understand. For example, Cornelius was too obtuse to understand the abstruse nuances of the argument.

            Credulous and incredulous (adj). Now this is interesting. We use “incredulous” all the time: I was incredulous when the car dealer told me my new sports car would get fifty miles to the gallon. But “credulous,” meaning “inclined to believe,” is an equally respectable word. Example: Why are people so credulous when it comes to believing in ghosts?

            Obsequious (adj), truckle (v), fawn (v), sycophant (n, v, adj), and toady (n, v). Here I offer five words that mean essentially the same thing: compliant to excess. Why so many words? Because I’m disgusted by the colloquial alternatives, all of which are imbued with lewd nuances: kiss ass, brownnose, suck-up. We can do better than that for our kids. “Truckle” and “toady” are certainly easy enough to remember. “Truckle” originates from the truckle bed, a low (subservient) bed that rolled under a higher bed. And “toady,” shortened from “toad-eater,” originated in the 1620s. It seems a charlatan’s assistant would eat a purported poisonous toad and be “miraculously” healed by his master. You know you’re a toady when you accept that job.

            Now, before I get any nasty letters from those who argue that a rich vocabulary is elitist and supercilious (another great adjective from the Latin meaning haughty as in “raised eyebrows”), let me say this. RELAX. It’s just a game, like collecting Mickey Mantle’s rookie card or calico cat salt-and-pepper shakers. To apply a three-letter word, it’s fun.

Is vanity the root of all evil?

Recently a reader accused me of being vain. So I wondered if he were right and, if so, did that make me a sinner of demonic proportions? For, after all, it is said that vanity is the root of all evil.

            But is it? Well, let's consider the question for a moment. Vanity is defined as excessive pride in one's appearance, abilities, and achievements.

            Society would have us believe that vanity is a nasty quality, that our personal assets should be harnessed with reticent humility.

            The vanity of appearance. I can see the logic of being humble about one's appearance. Being handsome--or not--is all about the luck of the draw. To be excessively proud of personal good looks is like being puffed up about our nationality. We had nothing to do with it. So, for those who are vain about high cheekbones or a classic figure, I'm not impressed. Such pride was not earned (although I see nothing wrong with being appreciative of one's good fortune).

            The vanity of talent. Being excessively proud of our abilities—our talents—requires a more nuanced discussion. Our abilities are derived from both nature and nurture. (The percentage of the split is still under debate.) Usain Bolt is the fastest man alive—perhaps the fastest man of all time—with a top speed of nearly twenty-eight mph. Much of his speed (perhaps most) was a product of his physical superiority, but not all. He also worked hard at his craft, incorporating hundreds of squats, leaps, and stretches into his daily workout. I am amazed by his physical prowess, but impressed by his sweat equity. It would not hurt for him to be a little vain; he earned it.

            The vanity of achievements. What should we make of the person who is excessively proud of his or her achievements? That also earns a split decision. Achievement is largely gained by good fortune: natural intelligence, a privileged environment, and physical beauty. A rich, intelligent, and handsome man or woman has a better shot at success than the underprivileged, the plodding, the plain. (I'm sorry—I don’t like it either—but that’s way the world turns.)  

            Although their achievements may be impressive, to my mind, the privileged have very little to crow about.

            The victors. In contrast, those who blasted through the barriers of a bleak home life, moderate intelligence, and marginal beauty (or the wrong color of skin) are to be lauded. They are the immigrants who began with nothing, the struggling students who buckled down, the physically blemished who kicked down the doors of injustice.

            I call these powerful people—these indefatigable underdogs—the "victors." Their success was chiseled out of sheer grit, discipline, and tenacity. More power to them. Damn it, they should be proud.

            And where do I stand in all of this? I'm a pretty average bloke with spindly legs, rounded shoulders, a weak chin, and a ridiculous scarcity of hair. My intelligence is average (I've seen the scores) but honestly honed through hard work. My upbringing was blue collar. We lived in a bathless twenty-seven-foot trailer until we upgraded to an eleven-hundred square-foot rambler that felt like a mansion. My allowance was twenty-five cents a week until I went to college, at which point the endowment dropped to zero.

            My only saving grace was my discipline. I tend to finish what I start. And I really can't take credit for that quality; it's just the way the package arrived. However, I can take credit for engaging it.

            Financially, I'm relatively successful. I have a nice home, a spiffy car, and enough money in the bank to see me through to what my mother euphemistically called "my graduation."

            So, do I have a right to be vain, to be excessively proud? Well, maybe not excessively, but I would say moderately proud. I began with little social advantage and a lackluster intelligence quotient and still managed to make a decent life for my family. And for that, I'm proud and, yes, a little vain.

            Does that make me the poster child for the root of all evil? I don't think so. For the root of all evil—if there is such a thing—may not be vanity at all. It may be something much more insidious: not what we attribute to ourselves, but what we project unto others. Envy.