The dominant political dogma in America holds that the ballot box is the most effective means of reform or change, thus the first task at hand is to pay close attention to the underlying logic of this means of political participation. Voting is discursively conceived of as a way to make our voices heard. Voter registration campaigns emphasize this point in trying to convince us that we can effect change this way, but one wonders how “change” can possibly be non-partisan, unspecific, apolitical, and not bound to any particular program or agenda, as these registration campaigns often manifest themselves. Under this model of voting, political engagement is basically reduced to polling. If voting is merely a way of making one’s voice heard, it’s not quite clear why it’s a better alternative than writing a letter to the editor. Moreover, incumbency re-election in Congress is often well over 90%, so the idea that voting in and of itself leads to tangible changes is not convincing at face value, and indeed it renders citizen control over government a mere illusion.[1] Furthermore, even if it can be said that this pattern of re-election is not problematic, one can criticize the very structure of the voting system and the way that districts are often drawn in order to give one party a non-competitive monopoly on seats in Congress.[2] Gerrymandering brings into question whether those who win elections really do so on the merits or as a result of careful engineering.

Though I believe electoral reform is necessary, that is not my purpose in writing this. My critique is intended to apply even in the case of a more democratic voting system. What is left unanswered by the dogma of voting is the following question, especially relevant today: what can we do when voting doesn’t lead to the kinds of changes we need? Is it really the case that all we can do is sit back and watch, cursing the politicians involved, while merely continuing with business as usual, hoping for a miracle?

It is precisely this condition of powerlessness and desperation that helps us to see what is at stake when we pretend that voting is the only, or best, means of political participation. Voting fails to address the relationship of power between constituents and elected representatives, and in fact only re-affirms it, even imparts upon it a sense of legitimacy. Media coverage gives the impression that all there is to political tension in this country is the predictable duel between Republicans and Democrats–it never has enough depth to conceive of political tensions in a different, more important, and more relevant way: as between the governing class (which encapsulates both the Republican and Democratic party machines, as well as other loci of political power) and the people left out of that class. The difference can be understood in the disproportionate influence some people or entities have on government, the disproportionate amount of power they hold. As much as politicians feign service to the people, other controlling interests guide their legislative and executive actions. [3]

Our sense of empowerment is abated by a media that is basically a spokesperson for the governing class. We can observe this in mainstream media coverage of health care reform, which is covered as if it were a horse race and the only question for us as viewers is who will win. The media treats us as observers of politics rather than participants in it. We see and hear little about what regular people who are not a part of the elite governing class actually want to see in healthcare reform, and when we do, we only get their views in terms decided upon by the political elite. “Do you agree with so-and-so’s plan?” The biggest sham of recent weeks is the broadcast media’s fixation on the townhalls, as if the healthcare debate were really taking place there rather than in private meetings between career lobbyists, insurance executives, and government officials. [4][5][6]

The worst part, though, is that allegedly grassroots and progressive organizations encourage us into only passive participation in the debate. At best, MoveOn.org and other “Political Action Committees” tell us to e-mail our senators and congresspeople, and perhaps to write our newspapers or donate to campaigns. It is all about “keeping the discussion alive” and supporting elements of the political elite. But there is a great danger attached to confusing the presentation of our opinions with political action. Politics is not about opinions–that is a matter of philosophy; of arguing for the best policy, or advocating particular reforms over others. Those are important discussions that must take place in open, candid, and innovative ways. But though they might generate political momentum, they do not accomplish it in and of themselves. A discussion does not automatically transform into a politically effective agency. Other forms of empowerment are necessary. If 66.8 million Americans who had voted for President Obama last November had gone on strike instead, healthcare reform may have happened months ago, and the government’s response to what is now perhaps sensationally called the “Global Financial Meltdown” might have been qualitatively different. These tactics have to do with real politics, with challenging and re-shaping the way power is allocated in our society.

These two threads regarding the kind of political participation encouraged by the media and our institutions intersect at an important point. Politics is not so much about what is possible as it is about our ability and freedom to decide what is possible–it’s not about possibilities, but about the possibility of possibilities. When a poll or a ballot gives us a certain number of pre-packaged options, it is removing us from the preceding process of deciding for ourselves our own possibilities. The elements of society that decide what is possible–rather than the ones who decide between pre-screened possibilities–are the ones that are actually empowered and capable of playing a role in shaping their fate. When our disillusionment or dissatisfaction is met with the suggestion that we merely register to vote, we are similarly disempowered and disenfranchised, and we are discouraged from strikes or other actions that may actually prevent or threaten to prevent the persistence of the status quo in a tangible, economic, and physical way. We cede our power to the political class instead of participating in the political process ourselves in a meaningful way.

It is necessary for us to rediscover these avenues, which are often met by criticism from the media and the governing class. These tactics re-arrange the political process so that rather than taking place only amongst members of the political elite, like representatives and lobbyists, it takes place instead between the people and the elites, bringing the interests of the people (and not members of the political elite) to the fore. And while some might suggest weak protests outside congressional offices, results might only be seen if we generalize these protests so that they take place outside our own offices, in the streets, the workplace, the university–in every facet of our lives. By leveraging our power to disturb the reign of the political class, we can forge political capacities that we lacked before, effecting change–without a ballot box, and without an election. When we stop contemplating “change we can believe in” and instead start to change what we can believe in, when change is not merely an object, a noun to which we can only devote our emotional faith, when change becomes a verb, something that we do, we might actually start to see a change in the distribution of power in our society.

Resources
[1] Re-election Rates Over the Years, OpenSecrets : http://www.opensecrets.org/bigpicture/reelect.php
[2] If the idea that all votes are equal is a fundamental aspect of democracy, the opening line of this game gives the lie to our system: “As a mapmaker, I can have more of an impact on an election than a campaign.” http://www.redistrictinggame.com/
[3] Lobbying Spending Database, OpenSecrets http://www.opensecrets.org/lobby/top.php?indexType=s
[4] Dem, GOP centrists meet in secret http://thehill.com/leading-the-news/dem-gop-centrists-meet-in-secret-2009-06-16.html
[5] Is Obama a back-room blue dog? http://www.huffingtonpost.com/miles-mogulescu/is-obama-a-back-room-blue_b_259780.html
[6] Why aren’t progressive groups protesting Obama’s back-room deal with Big Pharma? http://www.huffingtonpost.com/miles-mogulescu/why-arent-progressive-gro_b_253279.html

Patriotism in many right wing visions, especially nationalist ones, perceives the nation only synecdochically. Under this framing, the nation as a whole is used to refer only to the self. Thus when the nationalist right-wing says it “loves America” it is really only referring to a specific part of America, namely the part that it composes. In effect, then, what nationalist right wingers are actually saying when they profess that they love “America” is that they love themselves.

It first occurred to me to think of patriotism and right-wing nationalism in this way when I was reading a reflection by Frank Schaeffer, a former Christian Evangelical leader, who writes,

I came to realize that I was in bed with a group of people who were profoundly anti-American [the Religious Right and far right of the Republican Party]…. They wrapped themselves in the flag and ‘loved America,’ but it was an America in their imaginations only and cast in their image: white, middle-class, straight, born-again, homophobic and tinged with racism, not to mention misogyny.

The America most Americans lived in; diverse, open, tolerant, and multi-ethnic was the America that the right would hardly acknowledge. They ‘loved’ an America that didn’t exist, and hated the real country we live in.

Similar imaginations abound in Israel, which many nationalists (and many abroad) call a “Jewish state.” But over 20% of Israel’s population is not Jewish, just as the real America is not entirely white, middle-class, straight, or born-again. In other words, Israel is only a Jewish state in the imagination; in the real world, it is a state within which many different people live, even though government institutions marginalize and discriminate against those who don’t fit the norm of being Jewish–all with the encouragement of that subgroup of nationalistic Israelis who see the country as belonging to them and not to the others who dwell (or used to dwell) within it.

Nationalists attempt to re-inforce their imaginary version of the nation by designing institutions so that they are biased against other voices within the nation. The notion of being “unpatriotic” is really a byproduct of this hegemonic assertion. If a proclamation that you love “America” is really a proclamation that you love yourself, then an accusation that somebody is unpatriotic is actually an accusation that somebody else is merely against you and your ideas. The attack loses its force when it’s not about betraying a grandiose collective, but is merely a disagreement between two people.

Once the right wing’s nation is exposed as synecdoche for the self, it becomes illogical to accuse somebody of being unpatriotic unless by the accusation what is meant is that the accused is actually against himself. This is certainly a conceivable scenario, but it is unlikely to be the case in most situations where this crude accusation is leveled. To insist on the existence of a nation with regards to which one might be unpatriotic, an exclusive nation whose sanctity and purity is paramount to that of each person’s belonging to it, is to violate some of the most fundamental democratic principles regarding inclusion and equality–not to mention that it fails to recognize the dissenter as an actual person, rather than a mere enemy or threat.

Reading right-wing patriotism in this way–as “profoundly anti-American”–also draws into question paradigms about tolerance. Though tolerance is often a subject of praise, it is actually a sinister way to white-wash implicit inequality. That you will tolerate somebody merely means you are not out to extinguish their existence; it does not mean you recognize their independence, their equality, or their rights. It is one thing for Americans to “tolerate” homosexuals and homosexuality, for example, but it is entirely another for us to acknowledge that they have full rights and full equality to us. Tolerance is still a means of exclusion.

I believe it is important to think about notions of patriotism like this critically. Many Arabs and Muslims in the United States post-9/11, for example, sought to fit themselves within a particular notion of American-ness to guarantee their safety and security. Suhail Khan, a former Bush ally, is one example of the kind of approach that I’ve railed against in the past.

Under Khan’s approach, Muslims and other marginalized communities in the States should say, “we are Americans, like you [white, straight, middle class, born-again Americans].” That is the paradigm of oligarchic assimilation and integration. The appropriate response–the response that fights in the name of pluralism rather than uniformity–should instead be that “we are also Americans” (in addition to whatever else we are). This is the paradigm of democratic inclusion. It suggests parallelism and mutual legitimacy, without imposing uniformity of any kind, or requiring unshared belonging.

While the first approach might grant temporary security, it also comes at the cost of one’s own legitimacy. It makes difference illegitimate and is thus inherently unsustainable. The second approach resists the oppressive force of a category (like “American”) that has been usurped by some elite or nationalist sub-group that treats the nation as a synecdoche for itself. It takes back the category from those who try to selfishly possess it, transforming it into an inclusive one rather than an exclusive one. It also refuses to belong to only one category.

This methodology, of course, does not have a universal applicability, as it presupposes a container for itself. There can be cases where the category/container itself is hegemonic. One might think of the Palestinians in Israel–why should they be forced to identify as Israelis, with the state that dispossessed them of their lands, violently repressed them, and exiled their relatives, when their presence is not conditional on Israel’s existence but precedes it? Another might be the Tamils or the Irish. I am not sure that a universally useful and fair rule exists that applies to these cases where settler colonial populations expropriated the land of the indigenous peoples, especially as circumstances for those communities change over time.

It is nevertheless possible to identify the racist nature of the reigning regimes in these cases, which, as a by-product of their colonial roots, require subjugation and disempowerment of those peoples rather than genuine inclusion. In these exceptional cases, the mission is not necessarily to “expand” the nation (as it constitutes and purifies itself only by the institutional, geographical, and cultural exclusion of the aforementioned groups) but rather to burst its bubble, if only so that a new one might be formed.

It took us a while to figure out the frame of this blog. Dozens of e-mails later, we settled on a name and a conceptual approach. “Borderline Crimes,” a name that has a dual significance. As activists, we have had a lot of mud thrown at us. In a world where justice doesn’t turn a profit, it becomes easy to cross red lines–or at least to get very close to them. In that sense, the title of our blog is a preemptive measure in anticipation of the trolls that will inevitably come this way.

In the second formulation, we are thinking about the heinous crimes that occur at borderlines. One example of a borderline is the border that divides nation states. At these strange places, security forces that we must always smile to (they have the guns) enact the most atrocious kinds of racism, violence, and authoritarianism. It is a terrifying place because those acts are actually legal and legitimate there, while objection and disobedience are criminalized.

I think here of Syrian writer Zachariah Tamer’s introduction to Muhammad Maghout’s I Will Betray My Country (I just started reading it), where he says that in a world where nations belong either to tyrants or humans, “Loyalty to the nations of tyrants is a betrayal to humankind, while disobedience and rebellion against them is allegiance to humankind.” There are many variations on this principle that are equally powerful, but suffice it to say that the border asks us to suspend our indignation, our ethical guidance, in order to serve some other interests. In that sense it is a co-optation of certain values to serve interests opposite to those values: loyalty, law, patriotism, and so on.

The thing about the way that the border demands this of us, though, is that it doesn’t matter whether or not we’re on the border. Whenever there is a border, even at a distance from us, it makes this demand, no matter where we are. I can’t think of any other way to fully understand some of the stomach curling headlines coming out in the American press these days following a military coup that overthrew a democratic leader in Honduras. “Honduras coup could bring more business friendly government.” “Carnival: Coup in Honduras won’t affect cruise ship calls in Roatan.” What is it about the way we see the world that, upon hearing news of a coup in another land, our immediate question is how this will affect business and luxury? Weren’t we people with a sense of indignation, once? Is this what borderlines have done to us?

Though what I have said about the border’s disruptive qualities may seem obvious, it is actually only a starting point. The strange thing about borders is that we often assume they exist because they need to be there, that something after all must be there to separate. Instead, I say that borders are not simply where differentiating lines are drawn, though they often do relate to difference. They are not the unsurprising result of a naturally occurring social process, nor the arbitrary product of human behaviors. Rather they are, by design, mechanisms of control. They exist because they organize our lives in a certain way, according to the desires of a certain few. There is no other “natural” need for them.

Of course, I’m not talking only about the borders on the map that divide countries. It’s about all kinds of borderlines. I’ll be careful here to say that I am not trying to make an analogy: it is not a matter of imparting the qualities of “real” borders–like those between the United States and Mexico–to other social or cultural phenomena. There is nothing that makes these the “true” borders, and there is nothing more “real” about them, except that they have come to be associated with a physical place. In other words there is no physical border for whom the borders that “separate” other things are simply acting as metaphor–like rich and poor, black and white, boss and worker. These are divisions that in and of themselves organize our lives in a certain way, according to the desires of a certain few–consciously or not. It is not that one is a real, literal border while the others are simply parallels, understood figuratively as borders. Rather, they are all–by their intrinsic qualities and effects–borderline. Not a type of border, not kind of like borders, but just borders. Real, non-metaphorical, divisive borders that all share the characteristic of driving us to act in certain ways.

That is the starting point of this blog for me. It raises more questions than it answers, but that is a positive thing. My intention is not to put forth irrefutable claims or to exhaust all possible objections. That only matters if my goal is to be “right.” But the goal here is different: it is to start building a community around this blog, to arouse a critical sense of outrage about the way we encounter border regimes in our lives. Many of the pressing issues of our day have to do with political notions that are based on creating and enforcing borderlines like these, regardless of who gets hurt and even killed in the process. Hopefully, questions and discussions about issues like these can help create the bonds that threaten to subvert the border regime  and those who profit off of it.