Cthulhu for president!
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Join date : 2012-06-10
- Post n°26
Re: Cthulhu for president!
Gargantua postovao onaj Rortijev citat koji to sazima. Nema ustava i institucija koje ce to da sprece. Kao i u naprednjackoj Srbiji, jednostavno erodiraju sve norme javnog diskurs i ponasanja.
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"Oni kroz mene gledaju u vas! Oni kroz njega gledaju u vas! Oni kroz vas gledaju u mene... i u sve nas."
Dragoslav Bokan, Novi putevi oftalmologije
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Join date : 2014-11-06
- Post n°27
Re: Cthulhu for president!
Ali pitanje je, kako tako lako?
Hajde kod nas, prilično je jednostavno objašnjenje, naše društvo je novo u pc svetu,
promoteri su bili prilično non-pc u promovisanju pc ponašanja.
Siromašni smo, ratovi tranzicija, bla bla bla.
Ali kako se to dešava u društvima kao što je britansko, francusko, pa i usa društvo?
Hajde kod nas, prilično je jednostavno objašnjenje, naše društvo je novo u pc svetu,
promoteri su bili prilično non-pc u promovisanju pc ponašanja.
Siromašni smo, ratovi tranzicija, bla bla bla.
Ali kako se to dešava u društvima kao što je britansko, francusko, pa i usa društvo?
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- Post n°28
Re: Cthulhu for president!
mislim da pc nije kod nas neka tema, a da su očekivanja i nadanja uglavnom u sferi tzv geopolitike.
evo šta kaže vidovdan:
evo šta kaže vidovdan:
Данас када су извесни ветрови промена у свету већ ту и када ће се односи САД и Русије ресетовати и побољшати ми тј. наша елита мора да покаже да је спремна да се промени. Ултимативно влада Србије мора постати просрпска и то доказати следећим потезима и то баш овим редом:
- Отказати услуге српском џелату Тонију Блеру.
- Осудити криминално-титоистички режим Мила Ђукановића и повести одлучну кампању против њега подржавајући Србе у Црној Гори. Јавно и без устезања.
- Почистити одмах у влади Србије, министарствима, републичкој администрацији и другим институцијама све оне који имају везе са криминалним режимом Мила Ђукановића у Црној Гори. Истражити и процесуирати њихову улогу у антисрпском деловању и криминалу.
- Успорити преговоре о отварању поглавља док не добијемо неке гаранције за КиМ и Републику Српску, односно заштиту права Срба у Црној Гори.
- Појачати односе са Русијом. Створити институције које ће конкретно сарађивати са Русијом. Ресетовање односа Русије и Турске, Русије и САД и следствено томе промена у Бугарској досадашње полтронске власти, даје нову могућност око српског учешћа у Јужном и Турском току
- Купити коначно Мигове за нашу војску и друго потребно оружје. Одмах.
- Обуставити „Бриселски процес“ и размотрити његове досадашње домете и у складу са тим поништити све оно што је једнострани уступак и лоше за српску позицију на Косову.
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- Post n°29
Re: Cthulhu for president!
plachkica wrote:Ali pitanje je, kako tako lako?
Hajde kod nas, prilično je jednostavno objašnjenje, naše društvo je novo u pc svetu,
promoteri su bili prilično non-pc u promovisanju pc ponašanja.
Siromašni smo, ratovi tranzicija, bla bla bla.
Ali kako se to dešava u društvima kao što je britansko, francusko, pa i usa društvo?
Gargantua, i kod nas je PC tema. Ne bi verovao kakvim se pričama bave milenijalci-programeri, oni su uvereni da žive u stravičnoj PC tiraniji zato što im je jednom neko prebacio da nije kul gledati video klipove sa smešnim nepismenim Ciganima.
Obično se traže odgovori u egzistencijalnoj ugroženosti koja podriva, recimo, američko društvo: živi se od danas do sutra, leti se sa privremenog na privremeni posao, standard pada sve vreme, a mejnstrim mediji te ubeđuju da živiš u najboljem od mogućih svetova, uz stalni "švenk" od klase ka partikularnom i identitetskom. Taj gnoj, ta kognitivna disonanca, jednom je morao da provali. I dok pišem ovo, uvek uzimam u obzir da, dok ne možeš kriviti jedan društveni stratum društva za poziciju u koju se našao voljom drugih, nemam nikakav problem da osećam prezir i gnušanje prema pojedincu iz bilo kog sloja koji je, uprkos obilju mogućnosti da nauči bolje, odlučio da svoj gnev uputi ka slabijem. A posebno mesto u paklu rezervišem za situirane, sređene ljute sa cutting edge poslovima koji imaju razumevanje za rasizam, što je danas sve lakše iskazati u pristojnom, da ne kažem lepo vaspitanom društvu. Čitam tako jednu budaletinu na jednom forumu, čovek piše kako eto u Francuskoj ima predloga da se, u ime političke korektnosti, više ne slavi Božić negde, eto, to je taj teror zbog koga su ustali obični ljudi. Sranje, sve zajedno.
- Posts : 36969
Join date : 2014-10-27
- Post n°30
Re: Cthulhu for president!
photino, ja juce nisam imao previse snage da se raspravljam sa nasim drugarima koji misle da je poslednjih godina u us of a bilo sramota biti beo. e sada sto to nema veze s mozgom nije bitno. fin, pametan i posten svet iz nekog razloga veruje u to.
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And Will's father stood up, stuffed his pipe with tobacco, rummaged his pockets for matches, brought out a battered harmonica, a penknife, a cigarette lighter that wouldn't work, and a memo pad he had always meant to write some great thoughts down on but never got around to, and lined up these weapons for a pygmy war that could be lost before it even started
- Posts : 7403
Join date : 2015-11-26
Location : Location, Location
- Post n°31
Re: Cthulhu for president!
plachkica wrote:Ali pitanje je, kako tako lako?
Hajde kod nas, prilično je jednostavno objašnjenje, naše društvo je novo u pc svetu,
promoteri su bili prilično non-pc u promovisanju pc ponašanja.
Siromašni smo, ratovi tranzicija, bla bla bla.
Ali kako se to dešava u društvima kao što je britansko, francusko, pa i usa društvo?
svako placa racune za struju, vodu, rente, rate i ostalo. ovo je cisto ekonomski tj ajd da kazemo "klasni" problem, ko god se hvata za "kulturu" muti vodu namerno ili slucajno, to je posledica, to normalna, ocekivana rezultanta raslojavanja. nesto mora da se promeni, and fast, ako nije kasno i za to. mislim, nemojmo se zajebavati, ovo vodi u oruzane sukobe i ratove.
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alt-lib
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- Post n°32
Re: Cthulhu for president!
[size=39][/size]
[size=39]Revenge of the Forgotten Class[/size]
Hillary Clinton and the Democrats were playing with fire when they effectively wrote off white workers in the small towns and cities of the Rust Belt.
by Alec MacGillis
ProPublica, Nov. 10, 2016, 8 a.m.
This picture, of a yard in West Carrollton, Ohio, is not doctored, as many assumed when it went viral last spring. It was real. As was the Trump white working-class groundswell. (Alec MacGillis/ProPublica)
In March, I was driving along a road that led from Dayton, Ohio, into its formerly middle-class, now decidedly working-class southwestern suburbs, when I came upon an arresting sight. I was looking for a professional sign-maker who had turned his West Carrollton ranch house into a distribution point for Trump yard signs, in high demand just days prior to the Ohio Republican primary. Instead of piling the signs in the driveway, he had arrayed them in his yard along the road. There they were, dozens and dozens of them, lined up in rows like the uniform gravestones in a military cemetery.
The sign man wasn’t home, but he had left a married couple in charge of the distribution. I got talking to the woman, Contessa Hammel. She was 43 and worked at the convenience store at a local Speedway gas station after four years in the military. And this was the first time she was voting in 25 years of eligibility.
I was startled to hear this — it’s rare to find voters entering the political process after decades of disconnection; in fact, I’d met a handyman in his 70s at a Trump rally on the other side of Dayton that same day who said he was voting for the first time, but I had dismissed it as a fluke.
I asked Hammel why she’d held back all those years. “I didn’t want to make an unintelligent decision,” she said, in a tone that suggested she was well aware of what an admission that was. But this year’s Republican nominee was different, she said. “He makes it simple for people like me,” she said. “He puts it clearly.”
Donald Trump’s stunning win Tuesday, defying all the prognosticators, suggested there were many more people like Hammel out there — people who were so disconnected from the political system that they were literally unaccounted for in the pollsters’ modeling, which relies on past voting behavior.
But Hammel was far from the only person I met in my reporting this year who made me think that Trump had spurred something very unusual. Some of them had never voted before; some had voted for Barack Obama. None were traditional Republican voters. Some were in dire economic straits; others were just a notch up from that and looking down with resentment at the growing dependency around them. What they shared were three things. They lived in places that were in decline, and had been for some time. They lacked strong attachment to either party at a time when, even within a single metro area like Dayton, the parties had sorted themselves into ideological, geographically disparate camps that left many voters unmoored. And they had profound contempt for a dysfunctional, hyper-prosperous Washington that they saw as utterly removed from their lives.
These newly energized voters helped Trump flip not only battlegrounds like Ohio and Iowa but long-blue Northern industrial states — Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin — without which he would have lost to Hillary Clinton. Nationwide, his margin with the white working class soared to 40 points, up 15 points from Romney’s in 2012.
Two days after meeting Hammel, I tagged along with some Trump supporters, women who’d come all the way from Buffalo to go canvassing door-to-door in the adjacent Dayton suburb of Miamisburg. It was a rainy day, and few were answering their doors in this neighborhood of frayed frame houses and bungalows, but they persisted in their yellow ponchos; I couldn’t help but be reminded of the doggedness I’d observed among Obama volunteers in 2008.
At one small house, someone finally answered the door. Tracie St. Martin stepped out onto the porch, a 54-year-old woman with a sturdy, thick-muscled build and sun-weathered face, both of them products of her 26 years as a heavy-construction worker. St. Martin greeted the women warmly, and when they told her what they were there for she said, sure, she was considering Trump — even though she usually voted Democratic. And when they got talking, in the disjointed way of canvassers making a quick pitch, about how Trump was going to bring back the good jobs, St. Martin was visibly affected. She interrupted them, wanting to tell them about how she had, not long ago, worked a job that consisted of demolishing a big local GM plant. Her eyes welled up as she told the story and she had trouble continuing.
The canvassers gave her some materials and bade her farewell. But I doubled back a little later and visited with St. Martin in her kitchen, which she was in the midst of tidying up, with daytime TV playing in the background. Space in the kitchen was tight due to the treadmill she recently bought to help her get into better shape, which she hoped might make her less dependent on the painkillers for the severe aches she got from her physically demanding job, pills that had gotten a lot harder to obtain from her doctor amid the clampdown on prescription opioids.
St. Martin apologized, unnecessarily, for her emotions on the porch and expanded on what she had told the women from Buffalo: She was a proud member of Local 18 of the operating engineers’ union, which had been urging its members to support Hillary Clinton. The union provided her health insurance and decent pay levels, and trained her for demanding work, which, just months earlier, had required her to hang off of a Pennsylvania cliff face in her dozer as part of a gas pipeline project.
She came from a staunch Democratic family and had voted for Barack Obama in 2008, before not voting in 2012 because, she said, she was away on one of her long-term jobs. She was a single mother with three grown daughters. She had experienced all manner of sexual discrimination and harassment on very male-heavy worksites over the years.
She was, in other words, as tailor-made a supporter as one could find for Clinton, a self-professed fighter for the average Jane who was running to become the first woman president.
And yet St. Martin was leaning toward Trump.
Her explanation for this was halting but vehement, spoken with pauses and in bursts. She was disappointed in Obama after having voted for him. “I don’t like the Obama persona, his public appearance and demeanor,” she said. “I wanted people like me to be cared about. People don’t realize there’s nothing without a blue-collar worker.” She regretted that she did not have a deeper grasp of public affairs. “No one that’s voting knows all the facts,” she said. “It’s a shame. They keep us so fucking busy and poor that we don’t have the time.”
When she addressed Clinton herself, it was in a stream that seemed to refer to, but not explicitly name, several of the charges thrown against Clinton by that point in time, including her handling of the deadly 2012 attack by Islamic militants on U.S. facilities in Benghazi, Libya; the potential conflicts of interest at the Clinton Foundation; and her use of a private email server while serving as Secretary of State, mixing national security business with emails to her daughter, Chelsea.
“To have lives be sacrificed because of corporate greed and warmongering, it’s too much for me — and I realize I don’t have all the facts — that there’s just too much sidestepping on her. I don’t trust her. I don’t think that — I know there’s casualties of war in conflict, I’m a big girl, I know that. But I lived my life with no secrets. There’s no shame in the truth. There’s mistakes made. We all grow. She’s a mature woman and she should know that. You don’t email your fucking daughter when you’re a leader. Leaders need to make decisions, they need to be focused. You don’t hide stuff.
“That’s why I like Trump,” she continued. “He’s not perfect. He’s a human being. We all make mistakes. We can all change our mind. We get educated, but once you have the knowledge, you still have to go with your gut.”
- Spoiler:
Hand-wringing among Democrats about the party’s declining support among white working-class voters goes back a long time, to Lyndon Johnson’s declaration that signing the Civil Rights Act would sacrifice the allegiance of white Southerners. Then came the rest of the historical litany: the crime wave, riots and anti-Vietnam War protests of the late 1960s, the consolidation of suburban white flight, Nixon’s Silent Majority, Reagan Democrats, NAFTA, gun control, the War on Coal, and on and on. By this year, many liberals had gotten so fed up with hearing about these woebegone voters and all their political needs that they were openly declaring them a lost cause, motivated more by racial issues than economic anxiety, and declaring that the expanding Democratic coalition of racial and ethnic minorities and college-educated white voters obviated the need to cater to the white working class.
But this assessment suffered from a fatal overgeneralization. The “white working class” was a hugely broad category — as pollsters defined it, any white voter without a four-year college degree, roughly one-third of the electorate. Within that category were crucial distinctions, especially regional ones. Democrats in national elections had lost most white working-class voters in the Deep South — indeed, virtually all white voters there — a long time ago. They had in the past decade and a half seen much of Greater Appalachia, stretching from the Alleghenies to Arkansas, follow suit, to the point where West Virginia, one of just five states that Jimmy Carter won in 1980, went for Mitt Romney by 26 percentage points in 2012. It was hard to see how the Democrats were going to win back coal country like Logan County, W.V., which Bill Clinton won with 72 percent in 1996 but where Obama got only 29 percent in 2012.
But there was a whole subset of the white working class Obama was still winning: voters in northern states where unions, however diminished, still served to remind members of their Democratic roots (and build inter-racial solidarity). In these states, voters could still find national figures who represented them and their sort, people like Ohio Sen. Sherrod Brown and Vice President Joe Biden. Lackawanna County, Pennsylvania, centered on Biden’s hometown of Scranton, went for Obama with 63 percent of the vote in 2012. Rural Marquette County, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, went for him with 56 percent of the vote. In Ohio, there were a couple counties in the state’s Appalachian southeast that went stronger for Obama in 2012 than they had in 2008. In the opposite corner of the state, gratitude for Obama’s bailout of the auto industry helped win him 64 percent of the vote in Lucas County, around Toledo. Across the North, Obama ran even or ahead with John Kerry and Al Gore among white working class voters; their raw vote total for him nationwide exceeded his tallies of college-educated white voters and minority supporters.
On Election Day 2012, one voter I spoke with in Columbus, Ohio, encapsulated how well Obama had managed to frame the election as a “who’s on your side” choice between himself and the private equity titan Mitt Romney, and thereby hold onto enough white working-class voters in crucial swing states. Matt Bimberg, 50, was waiting by himself at a remote bus stop in a black neighborhood on the edge of town. He had in the past decade lost jobs as a telecom technician for Global Crossing (he still carried a Global Crossing tote bag) and at a factory making escape hatches for buses. But he had just landed a job at a nearby warehouse as a forklift operator, a success for which he credited a three-week training course paid for by the U.S. Department of Labor. And as gratitude for that, he was voting for Obama after voting for John McCain in 2008. “My line of thinking was that under Romney and [Paul] Ryan, it would be more of a trickle-down administration,” he said. “Their thinking is to give that money to corporations and the rich in tax breaks, and some will trickle down. But it didn’t work then and it won’t work now. Romney reminds me so much of Reagan’s theory of supply-side economics. It scares me.”
Not so long ago, Hillary Clinton would have seemed ideally suited to keep such northern white working-class voters in the fold. After all, she had trounced Obama among many of these very voters in the 2008 primaries, as she beat him in states such as Ohio and Pennsylvania and at one point went so far as to declare herself, in a slip of the tongue, the champion of “working, hard-working Americans, white Americans.”
But things had changed in the intervening years. For one thing, she was further removed from her stint representing downtrodden upstate New York as a senator — she had spent the years since 2008 in the rarefied realm of the State Department and then giving more than 80 paid speeches to banks, corporations and trade associations, for a total haul of $18 million. For another thing, cause for resentment and letdown had grown in many of those Rust Belt communities where Obama had held his own — they might be inching their way back from the Great Recession, but the progress was awfully slow, and they were lagging ever further behind booming coastal cities like New York, San Francisco and Washington, where the income gap compared with the rest of the country had grown far larger.
Most crucially, she was running not against Mitt Romney, the man from Bain Capital, but against Donald Trump. Yes, Trump was (or claimed to be) a billionaire himself, but he was not of Romney’s upper crust — they scorned him and his casinos and gold-plated jet, and were giving him virtually none of their campaign contributions. Trump attacked the trade deals that had helped hollow out these voters’ communities, he attacked the Mexicans who had heavily populated some of their towns and had driven much of the heroin trade in others, and, yes, he tapped into broader racial resentments as well. Faced with this populist opposition, Clinton fatefully opted against taking the “I’m on your side; he’s not” tack that Obama had used so well against Romney, and had instead gone about attacking Trump’s fitness for the presidency.
Back in Dayton, where Clinton never visited during the entire campaign, I had run into two more former Obama voters after Trump’s March rally there. Both Heath Bowling and Alex Jones admitted to having been swept up in the Obama wave, but had since grown somewhat disenchanted. Bowling, 36, a burly man with a big smile, managed a small siding and insulation business, and as he’d grown older he’d had gotten more bothered about the dependency on food stamps he saw around him, especially among members of his own generation, and demoralized by the many overdose deaths in his circle.
Jones, 30, who worked part-time at a pizza shop and delivering medicines to nursing homes, joked at first that his vote for Obama might have had to do with his having been doing a lot of drugs at the time. He grew serious when he talked about how much the Black Lives Matter protests against shootings by police officers grated on him. Chicago was experiencing soaring homicide rates, he said — why weren’t more people talking about that? He was upset that when he went out on the town in Cincinnati’s Over-the-Rhine bar district, he had to worry about getting jumped if he was on the street past a certain hour — and that he felt constrained against complaining against it. “If I say anything about that, I’m a racist,” he said. “I can’t stand that politically correct bullshit.” He had, he said, taken great solace in confiding recently in an older black man at a bar who had agreed with his musing on race and crime. “It was like a big burden lifted from me — here was this black man agreeing with me!”
Polls had consistently showed that Trump’s support was stronger with white working-class men than women, and in October came a revelation that seemed sure to weaken his standing among women of all classes, release of an 11-year-old tape in which Trump boasted of trying to commit adultery with a married woman and grabbing women “by the pussy.”
A few days after the release of the tape, which was followed by a string of accusations from women saying they had been sexually harassed and assaulted by Trump, I checked back in with Tracie St. Martin to see if she still supported him. She was working on a new gas plant in Middletown, a working-class town near Dayton that was the setting of the recent best-selling memoir “Hillbilly Elegy.” Here’s what she wrote back in a text message: “I still appreciate the honesty in some of his comments. Most of his comments. I still favor what he says he may be able to do. I am voting against Hillary, come what may with Trump. It’s important to me that ‘we the people’ actually have political power. And electing Trump will prove that. I am AMAZED at the number of people voting for him. The corruption is disgusting in the press. Yes, as of right now I am voting FOR Trump.” She was sure he would win, she said: "His support is crazy! The polls have to be wrong. Have to be fixed.”
And she shared an anecdote that reflected how differently Trump’s comments had been received in some places than others. “I’m setting steel for this new gas plant…I’m operating a rough terrain forklift,” she wrote. “So today, I kept thinking about the debate and the audio was released … And I got underneath a load of steel and was moving it…I was laughing and laughing and one of the iron workers asked ‘what are u laughing at.’ I said ‘I grabbed that load right by the pussy’ and laughed some more…And said ‘when you’re an operator you can do that ya know’, laughed all fucking day."
Just last week, I was back in Ohio, in the southeastern Appalachian corner. I was at a graduation ceremony for opiate addicts who had gone through a recovery program, and sitting with four women, all around 30, who were still in the program. Someone mentioned the election, and all four of them piped up that they were voting for the first time ever. For whom? I asked. They looked at me as if I had asked the dumbest question in the world. All four were for Trump.
The most of the loquacious of the group, Tiffany Chesser, said she was voting for him because her boyfriend worked at a General Electric light-bulb plant nearby that was seeing more of its production lines being moved to Mexico. She saw voting for Trump as a straightforward transaction to save his job. “If he loses that job we’re screwed — I’ll lose my house,” she said. “There used to be a full parking lot there — now you go by, there are just three trucks in the lot.”
But Chesser also was viscerally opposed to Clinton who, the week prior, had endured a surprise announcement from FBI Director James Comey that a newly discovered cache of emails of hers was under scrutiny. “If she’s being investigated by the FBI, there’s a reason for it,” she said. I asked the women if they weren’t equally bothered by the many women’s accusations against Trump. They shrugged. “It’s locker-room talk,” Chesser said. “I know girls talk like that, and I know guys do.” But what about the accusations of assault? “Why are they just coming forward now?” she said. “If he did it to me before, I’d have come forward then. I wouldn’t wait until now.”
The next day, I met with Taylor Sappington, a native of Southeast Ohio who, after graduating from Ohio University, had decided to run for town council last year in Nelsonville, pop. 5,400, and won a seat. Sappington, who had been raised in a manufactured home by a single mother and whose brother works as a corrections officer, was a proud Democrat. He had volunteered for Obama’s 2012 campaign and took comfort in knowing that parts of Southeast Ohio had remained solid for the Democrats, unlike so much of the rest of Appalachia. But he knew that Clinton would not perform as well in the area as Obama had. “It’s a Democratic area. But Trump has blown a hole through it,” he said. “They feel like this is a forgotten area that’s suffering, that has been forgotten by Columbus and Washington and then they hear someone say, we can turn this place around, they feel it viscerally.”
And he feared that the national Democratic Party did not realize how little it could afford such a loss, or even realize how well it had those voters in the fold as recently as 2012. “I’m a believer in the Democratic coalition, but they’re writing off folks and it’s going to hurt them,” he said. “To write them off is reckless.”
A week later, on Election Day, I drove to a polling station in Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania, a small town south of York, just across the Maryland line. The polling station was inside an evangelical church housed inside a vast, mostly abandoned shopping plaza. It’s Republican country, where Romney outpolled Obama 2–1, but I was still startled by how long it was taking me to find a single Hillary Clinton voter.
But there was yet another woman voting for the first time in her life, at age 55, for Trump. “I didn’t have much interest in politics. But the older you get you realize more and more how important it is,” said Kelly Waldemire, who works in a local plastic-molding plant. “When it got to the point where the country is going in the wrong direction, I thought it was time.”
And there was yet another voter who had been for Obama in 2008 — Brian Osbourne, a 33-year-old Navy veteran who now drove all the way to Washington, D.C., every day to do commercial HVAC work because it paid double there what it would in Shrewsbury. The local economy had come back a little, he said, but “there’s a lot of people working jobs that they’re overqualified for.” That wasn’t all, he said. He hesitated, warning that what he was about to say wasn’t “politically correct,” and then said, “We’re really getting pussified as a country.”
I asked what he made of reports that Trump wrote off as much of a billion dollars on his taxes to avoid paying any at all. He shrugged it off just as every Trump voter I spoke with there did. “That doesn’t worry me all that much,” he said. “That’s what he does — that’s the loophole the government created. He takes advantage of what the system created. I’d do the same thing.”
As for Obama, his promise of racial reconciliation had been a “big letdown,” he said. “I thought it would help with race relations, but it’s getting way worse,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we have another civil war in this country.”
And there were yet more women willing to wave off Trump’s comment on the tape and the women’s accusations against him. “I don’t take that crap seriously,” said Tammy Nuth, 49, who cares for Alzheimer’s patients. “Men are men.” As for the women accusers: “I think they’re getting paid off.”
As I was preparing to leave, I glimpsed a young woman who I guessed might’ve voted for Clinton, and approached her to help balance my reporting. I was wrong. Stephanie Armetta, an 18-year-old working as a grocery store cashier before heading to community college, had cast her first-ever ballot, for Donald Trump. Her family had many members in the military, she said, and she thought Trump would “have more respect” for them. She thought it was wrong that if her brother got deployed, he got only two meals per day, while people in prison get three. And then of course there was Benghazi, “that she left [the four Americans] there, that they weren’t her priority.” She was bothered by Trump’s comments on the tape, for sure. But, she said, “I’m glad how he didn’t lie about it. They caught him and he said, yeah, I said an asshole thing.” Not to mention, she said, “Bill Clinton isn’t good either on that subject.” Her vote, she concluded, was “more against Hillary than for Trump.”
Trump won that one small precinct by 144 more votes than Romney had won it in 2012 — a 20 percent increase. And all across rural and small-town Pennsylvania, that pattern repeated itself. In Scranton’s Lackawanna County, where Obama had won 63 percent, Clinton won only 50 percent.
In Michigan’s rural Marquette County, where Obama had won 56 percent, Clinton got only 49 percent. Trump became the first Republican since 1988 to win Pennsylvania or Michigan.
In Ohio’s Mahoning County, home of Youngstown, where Obama got 63 percent, Clinton got only 50 percent. In Hocking County, just adjacent to Nelsonville, Clinton fell even further, getting 30 percent, down from the 48 percent Obama had gotten, and realizing Taylor Sappington’s fears.
And at Tracie St. Martin’s working-class precinct in Miamisburg, where Obama had managed to get 43 percent in 2012, Clinton’s support plunged to 26 percent, giving Trump a margin of 293 votes just in that one precinct, triple Romney’s margin four years earlier. That helped provide Trump a historic claim: the first Republican majority in Dayton's Montgomery County in 28 years. Statewide, Trump won by a whopping eight percentage points, a swing of 10 points from four years earlier. He had brought new voters out of the woodwork; he had converted some white working-class Obama voters while others had just stayed home.
St. Martin, who was still hard at work on the Middletown gas plant with a “great bunch of ironworkers,” was elated. “I just really needed to know that I was part of a majority that recognized we need these things that Trump spoke of,” she told me. “More importantly for me, to NOT have Hillary as Commander in Chief.”
For more from Alec MacGillis on the roots of the working-class rebellion, read about the Great Republican Crack-Up, the original underclass and the Democrats’ bad election map.
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- Post n°33
Re: Cthulhu for president!
ma da, Rust Belt, tu je prelomljeno. WSJ:
http://www.wsj.com/articles/the-places-that-made-trump-president-1478902160
volim kad je tekst lepo i bogato ilustrovan
http://www.wsj.com/articles/the-places-that-made-trump-president-1478902160
volim kad je tekst lepo i bogato ilustrovan
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Re: Cthulhu for president!
buržuju, plaćaš da čitaš wsj...
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most of us probably not getting better
but not getting better together
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- Post n°36
Re: Cthulhu for president!
Charlemagne
When America sneezes…
Donald Trump’s victory is more bad news for the European Union
Nov 12th 2016 |
WHAT lessons should Europe draw from Donald Trump’s election victory? For those Europeans who believe in American exceptionalism, there may be little to learn. America’s circus-like primaries and gladiatorial presidential contests find few echoes in Europe, and Mr Trump, in all his preening, soufflé-haired glory, is surely a sui generis American phenomenon. Moreover, the electoral college is a peculiar institution. Hillary Clinton seems to have won the popular vote, after all.
But for most European politicians the shock of the American election was compounded by the obvious parallels for their own democracies. Worried leaders tempered their letters of congratulation to Mr Trump with veiled reminders of the transatlantic values many of them believe his victory imperils. Meanwhile Europe’s army of little Trumps, from France to Italy to Hungary, took their own lessons from the result, showering laudatory missives upon the president-elect that had little to do with America and everything to do with the messengers’ own projects of political disruption: if it can happen there, why not here? The “aloof and sleazy establishment is being punished by voters step-by-step,” said Heinz-Christian Strache of Austria’s far-right Freedom Party (FPÖ) in his Facebook salute to Mr Trump.
Europe’s ears have been ringing with wake-up calls for years. Like Tolstoy’s unhappy families, each disaster is different in its own way: the euro crisis set creditor against debtor and tore at the notion of solidarity; Brexit showed that the European Union could shrink as well as grow. After so many traumas in recent years plenty of Europeans were at least braced for this one, even if a Trump presidency is hardly the sort of eventuality one can plan for. Its effects on the EU could, in time, prove profound.
The ascent to the White House of Mr Trump, an admirer of Vladimir Putin who hints that he may abandon America’s NATO allies, poses urgent questions for Europe’s security order. Weakening America’s commitment to NATO could undermine the guarantee of peace that has allowed the EU to pursue its project of integration. But if Mr Trump’s capriciousness makes the geopolitical effects of his presidency hard to predict, the hit to Europe’s self-confidence, already sagging after a string of crises, will be immediate. For the EU is rapidly losing faith in its ability to defend the liberal ideals that Mr Trump’s victory repudiates. So badly has the mood soured that minor successes are now held up as political marvels: Donald Tusk, head of the European Council, heralded a recent trade deal with Canada as a triumph for Western democracy, after last-minute talks barely saved it from death at the hands of a restive regional parliament in Belgium.
But if Mr Trump’s win is a threat to the EU, it will arrive first via the tribunes of national politics. Mr Strache and his ilk will take heart from the poll-defying victory of a man who shares their distaste for elites and their devotion to nation-first tub-thumping. They may even reap electoral rewards, although a short-term flight to political safety is another possibility: support for EU membership has shot up in most countries since Britain voted to leave in June. An early test will come with Austria’s presidential run-off on December 4th, when the FPÖ’s Norbert Hofer squares off against a candidate backed by the Greens.
Yet even outside government the populists can tug other politicians in their direction. By forcing centrists to tack towards the fringe, Mr Trump’s victory may strengthen the trend towards Euroscepticism in countries like France and the Netherlands, both of which hold elections next year. (In Germany Angela Merkel, mercifully, is likely to show more backbone.) That in turn could gum up the workings of the EU, where compromises are essential to oiling a complex piece of machinery with 28 moving parts. Inside the EU the alternative to fudge is not frictionless decision-making, but gridlock and inertia. Eurocrats in Brussels often complain that they are made the scapegoats for the failings of national politicians. They should brace for more of it.
No appetite for destruction
For now, Mr Trump’s win will merely deepen pro-Europeans’ commitment to maintaining unity at all costs. Since Britain’s referendum the remaining governments have been working on lowest-common-denominator projects like an EU border guard and military co-operation to show that they are still capable of getting things done. (Optimists hold that such efforts might actually be boosted by fears of a withdrawal of the American security umbrella.) Similarly, Mr Trump’s win will if anything strengthen Europeans’ resolve to take a tough line in the Brexit talks so that their own populists are not further emboldened.
But there will be casualties, too. First among them will surely be the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership (TTIP), a proposed EU-US deal that was already floundering in the face of opposition in Europe and differences between the two sides. The trade-bashing Mr Trump is hardly going to ride to its rescue; if it dies, or (more likely) enters deep-freeze, so do Europe’s hopes of directing global trade standards. Mr Trump has vowed to withdraw from the climate deal agreed last year in Paris, championed by the EU as a triumph of multilateral diplomacy. Forget about transatlantic co-operation on resettling Syrian refugees.
Yet the deeper fear for many Europeans is that their own long journey of integration is finally running out of steam. The EU is not on the verge of falling apart, Brexit notwithstanding. But Mr Trump’s success shows the potential power of the backlash against the liberal norms the club is supposed to embody, from trade to migration to human rights. If it is replicated in Europe, the EU may eventually tilt towards a common assembly for mutually beneficial transactions rather than a club of like-minded countries with a sense of shared destiny. The tremors from America’s political earthquake were felt across the continent this week. But Europe’s edifice was already tottering.
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- Post n°37
Re: Cthulhu for president!
bela maca wrote:buržuju, plaćaš da čitaš wsj...
evo, evo...
mislim, da se razumemo, ovde ima svega, baš kao u svakoj perfect storm. ekonomske teškoće, deindustrijalizacija, odlazak mladih (i politički progresivnijih) u velike gradove, ali i ostaci ksenofobije, pa onda konzervativizam, stare navike (lov, etc.), uglavnom, sve se skupi.
- Spoiler:
- THE GREAT UNRAVELINGThe Places That Made Donald Trump PresidentRust Belt counties facing declines in manufacturing,shrinking populations, rising immigration and fraying social fabricmoved heavily toward the Republican candidate andhis message of national restorationBy Bob Davis and John W. MillerWILKES-BARRE, Pa.— Tamika Shupp twice voted for Barack Obama as the candidate best equipped to shake up Washington. This year she chose Donald Trump for the same reason.“Obama tried to do well, and it didn’t turn out how we thought,” said Ms. Shupp as she prepared Polish dumplings at Mom & Pop’s Pierogis in this Rust Belt city. Mr. Trump should do better, she figures, by cracking down on illegal immigration and upholding American values like hard work.Mr. Trump “is going to be another Obama,” said the 43-year-old Ms. Shupp. She considers both men to be agents of change. As for the crude remarks Mr. Trump made during the campaign, especially concerning women, Ms. Shupp said she dismissed them as bragging and “shoptalk,” and she didn’t believe the women who accused him of sexual assault.
Tamika Shupp, who works at Mom & Pop's Pierogis in Wilkes-Barre, Pa., says she voted for Donald Trump after twice voting for Barack Obama. PHOTO: JEFF LAUTENBERGER FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
Wilkes-Barre is in the heart of Luzerne, the Pennsylvania county whose swing to Mr. Trump on Tuesday was the state’s most dramatic, helping to deliver Pennsylvania—and the presidency—to the New York businessman. On its own, Luzerne County accounted for 40% of the Republican’s roughly 65,000-vote winning margin in the state.The region resembles many counties in the industrial north and Midwest that moved heavily toward Mr. Trump. What ties them together are factors such as a decline in manufacturing, shrinking populations, a fraying of social cohesion and a rise in immigration, all of which made them ripe for Mr. Trump’s message of national restoration.His victory Tuesday, which stunned so many, encapsulated a shift that has been under way in this corner of Northeastern Pennsylvania for at least two decades. As in many pockets of the country, the promises made by policy makers in the late 1990s—that advances in technology and global trade would benefit all—fell short of reality. And the worsening economy deepened the sense that communities around the country were in a state of decline.Surrounding Luzerne is a wide swath of counties whose votes for Mr. Trump increased vastly from GOP nominee Mitt Romney in 2012. Mr. Obama took Luzerne by five points in 2012, while Mr. Trump took it by a resounding 20 points. Neighboring Lackawanna, Wyoming, Sullivan, Columbia, Schuylkill and Carbon counties all notched Republican gains of similar magnitude, although of those, only Lackawanna went for Mr. Obama in 2012, when he carried Pennsylvania.
Wilkes-Barre is in the heart of Luzerne, the Pennsylvania county whose swing to Donald Trump on Tuesday was the state’s most dramatic. PHOTO: JEFF LAUTENBERGER FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNALNationally, both Mr. Trump and Hillary Clinton fell below the vote tallies Mr. Obama and his GOP rival, Mr. Romney, racked up in 2012. Around Luzerne, that dynamic was different. In the three counties that make up the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton metropolitan area, Mr. Trump topped the Romney vote count by 31,000, while Mrs. Clinton garnered 27,000 fewer votes than Mr. Obama.Luzerne County, a short drive from Vice President Joe Biden ’s childhood hometown of Scranton, hadn’t gone Republican since George H.W. Bush took it in 1988. That’s a legacy, political analysts say, of the influence of unions and lingering memories of New Deal programs that bettered the lives of the county’s largely Irish, German, Polish and Eastern European stock.The county, however, has suffered one economic gut punch after another since the 1970s, steadily weakening the party’s hold.
The Flipping of Pennsylvania
Luzerne, the Pennsylvania county that flipped most dramatically for Donald Trump on Tuesday, helped to deliver the state—and the presidency—to the Republicans. Surrounding Luzerne is a swath of counties whose votes for the GOP nominee increased vastly from 2012.Foreign competition largely wiped out the area’s dress and shoe industries. Many in the county bitterly remember pencil maker Eberhard Faber moving a plant to Mexico in the mid-1980s and other manufacturers closing factories. A plan in the mid-2000s to capitalize on computer-network technology and turn the county into “Wall Street West” proved a bust after few financial firms moved back-office processing to the area. The Greater Wilkes-Barre Chamber of Commerce is hatching a new plan to attract businesses by involving the local colleges in recruitment efforts, but the program is too new to have much effect so far.The unemployment rate in Luzerne County, now 6.2%, has generally exceeded the national average since 2000, and manufacturing employment in the county is down by around one-third since 2000. Many of the jobs that remain are low-wage service ones in local hospitals, colleges, chain restaurants and stores. Median income, after accounting for inflation, has been flat in Luzerne County since 2000.Young people are leaving the region in search of jobs elsewhere, leaving an older, more conservative group of voters. In Luzerne, the population has remained steady since 2000, at about 320,000, but the number of people age 25 to 44 fell by about 10,000, according to Moody’s Analytics.The weak economy has, over the decades, contributed to a tattering of the county’s social fabric. Church attendance is down since 2000, opioid addiction is up, and civic organizations like the Rotary Club and the Masons have trouble recruiting young members, say local residents. Of the four Evangelical Lutheran churches in Wilkes-Barre in 2000, says Rev. Peter Kuritz of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, one closed and two other don’t have full-time pastors.Meanwhile, the county’s Hispanic population has climbed nearly 10-fold since 2000, to 31,000, adding a layer of ethnic tension to a place where 84% of the population is non-Hispanic white.“There’s a sense that the new residents don’t look like us or sound like us,” says Rev. Kuritz. “People feel it’s not like it used to be.”The region had been drifting from its New Deal Democratic roots for years, and Mr. Trump took full advantage with its working-class voters. They had long been sympathetic to conservative arguments on issues such as gun control and abortion, while skeptical of the GOP’s perceived catering to the wealthy. Mr. Trump’s brand of populism bridged that divide.
The Wilkes-Barre/Scranton metro area economy
Compared with the U.S. as a whole, the area is ...Tom Calpin, business manager of Iron Workers local 489, says when he distributed a letter to members opposing Mr. Trump, some responded by telling him not to “pry into who people vote for.” He says that is the first presidential election he can recall where politicking prompting a backlash.Tom Calpin, business manager of Iron Workers local 489, says it was the first presidential election he can recall where politicking by the union prompting a backlash. PHOTO: JEFF LAUTENBERGER FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNALCounty GOP leaders say they looked to boost turnout by shifting two paid workers to Hazleton, a city that gained national prominence by passing an ordinance penalizing landlords for renting to illegal immigrants, which was later blocked by the courts. “Immigration is a big issue there,” says Luzerne County Chairman Ron Ferrance. “There are so many passionate people” who were ready to make phone calls and canvass for Mr. Trump, who takes a hard line on immigration, he says.Bill O’Boyle, a veteran reporter and columnist for Wilkes-Barre’s Times Leader, says he figured Mr. Trump was a lock to win Luzerne County when he compared the turnout at political rallies. The area has long been a stopover for presidential campaigns.“You had Hillary Clinton, 500 people. Teddy Cruz, 300 people. Bernie Sanders, 1,500 people. And then Donald Trump, 11,000. How could those crowds not mean something?”
A federal building sits alongside a shuttered brewery and bottling plant in Wilkes-Barre. PHOTO: JEFF LAUTENBERGER FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNALNineteen-year-old Jasmine Castillo, who makes tacos at the family’s food truck in Wilkes-Barre’s downtown, says her family’s life has become worse as Mr. Trump’s popularity soared. People now tell her to speak English when she speaks Spanish, and to go back across the border, though she is an American citizen. Someone left feces outside her father’s kitchen-cabinet business, she says.“People feel empowered now” to make insults and threats against Hispanics, she says. “It’s terrifying.” For Mr. Trump’s supporters, expectations are so high it reminds them of what they once felt for President Obama.Jasmine Castillo, who makes tacos at her family’s food truck in downtown Wilkes-Barre, says people now feel empowered to make insults and threats against Hispanics. PHOTO: JEFF LAUTENBERGER FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNALMartha Wallace, whose family owns a small manufacturer of crucifixes and other Catholic jewelry, says, “Trump drummed up the enthusiasm, just like Obama drummed up the enthusiasm last time.” Her 7-year-old son has declared himself “a Trump man.” Her 16-year-old daughter also supports Trump. “I’ve encouraged her to dream big,” Ms. Wallace says.Ms. Wallace says she is worried about the future of the U.S. economy and the threat of terrorism, and is counting on a Trump presidency to ease her fears about both. “We hope some of Trump’s economic policy will make it easier for us compete and still stay true to always being a ‘Made in the USA’ company,” she says.
How counties in the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton metro area have voted in presidential racesOn the campus of King’s College, a small liberal-arts college in Wilkes-Barre that was set up to educate the children of coal miners, students debated on Thursday the impact of a Trump presidency. Skyler Makuch, 19, said she was worried her rights as a gay American would be impinged by a conservative Supreme Court. “I already know a Trump presidency is not going to be good for me,” she said.Twenty-year-old Tanner Hale, who cast his first vote for Mr. Trump, said opponents should remember he will need to turn to old Washington hands to run the government, making it less likely he would take extreme measures. “He’s surrounding himself with good people,” Mr. Hale said. “And he’s not going to be the one making all the calls.”He believes Mr. Trump will improve security at home and abroad. “I expect him to deliver on that, and to protect the Second Amendment,” Mr. Hale said. “Hunting is what I do for fun.”Tanner Hale, a Trump supporter and student at King's College, believes Mr. Trump will improve security at home and abroad. PHOTO: JEFF LAUTENBERGER FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNALMr. Ferrance, the Republican county chairman, says he realizes voters expect Mr. Trump to deliver. “If it’s the status quo, people will be upset,” he says. “People want him to govern in the spirit of what he said” during the campaign.He figures there is some wiggle room in some of Mr. Trump’s more controversial stances, such as his repeated claim that the U.S. would build a wall across the U.S.-Mexican border and make Mexico pay for it. Maybe, he says, Mr. Trump could argue that job growth caused by tougher trade policy would be a way of having Mexico “pay.”
Young people are leaving Luzerne County in search of jobs elsewhere. PHOTO: JEFF LAUTENBERGER FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
Write to Bob Davis at bob.davis@wsj.com
TOP
The Great Unraveling | The Places That Made Donald Trump President
By
BOB DAVIS and
JOHN W. MILLER
Updated Nov. 11, 2016 5:33 p.m. ET
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Re: Cthulhu for president!
Gargantua wrote:[size=39][/size]
[size=39]Revenge of the Forgotten Class[/size]
Hillary Clinton and the Democrats were playing with fire when they effectively wrote off white workers in the small towns and cities of the Rust Belt.
by Alec MacGillis
ProPublica, Nov. 10, 2016, 8 a.m.
This picture, of a yard in West Carrollton, Ohio, is not doctored, as many assumed when it went viral last spring. It was real. As was the Trump white working-class groundswell. (Alec MacGillis/ProPublica)
In March, I was driving along a road that led from Dayton, Ohio, into its formerly middle-class, now decidedly working-class southwestern suburbs, when I came upon an arresting sight. I was looking for a professional sign-maker who had turned his West Carrollton ranch house into a distribution point for Trump yard signs, in high demand just days prior to the Ohio Republican primary. Instead of piling the signs in the driveway, he had arrayed them in his yard along the road. There they were, dozens and dozens of them, lined up in rows like the uniform gravestones in a military cemetery.
The sign man wasn’t home, but he had left a married couple in charge of the distribution. I got talking to the woman, Contessa Hammel. She was 43 and worked at the convenience store at a local Speedway gas station after four years in the military. And this was the first time she was voting in 25 years of eligibility.
I was startled to hear this — it’s rare to find voters entering the political process after decades of disconnection; in fact, I’d met a handyman in his 70s at a Trump rally on the other side of Dayton that same day who said he was voting for the first time, but I had dismissed it as a fluke.
I asked Hammel why she’d held back all those years. “I didn’t want to make an unintelligent decision,” she said, in a tone that suggested she was well aware of what an admission that was. But this year’s Republican nominee was different, she said. “He makes it simple for people like me,” she said. “He puts it clearly.”
Donald Trump’s stunning win Tuesday, defying all the prognosticators, suggested there were many more people like Hammel out there — people who were so disconnected from the political system that they were literally unaccounted for in the pollsters’ modeling, which relies on past voting behavior.
But Hammel was far from the only person I met in my reporting this year who made me think that Trump had spurred something very unusual. Some of them had never voted before; some had voted for Barack Obama. None were traditional Republican voters. Some were in dire economic straits; others were just a notch up from that and looking down with resentment at the growing dependency around them. What they shared were three things. They lived in places that were in decline, and had been for some time. They lacked strong attachment to either party at a time when, even within a single metro area like Dayton, the parties had sorted themselves into ideological, geographically disparate camps that left many voters unmoored. And they had profound contempt for a dysfunctional, hyper-prosperous Washington that they saw as utterly removed from their lives.
These newly energized voters helped Trump flip not only battlegrounds like Ohio and Iowa but long-blue Northern industrial states — Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin — without which he would have lost to Hillary Clinton. Nationwide, his margin with the white working class soared to 40 points, up 15 points from Romney’s in 2012.
Two days after meeting Hammel, I tagged along with some Trump supporters, women who’d come all the way from Buffalo to go canvassing door-to-door in the adjacent Dayton suburb of Miamisburg. It was a rainy day, and few were answering their doors in this neighborhood of frayed frame houses and bungalows, but they persisted in their yellow ponchos; I couldn’t help but be reminded of the doggedness I’d observed among Obama volunteers in 2008.
At one small house, someone finally answered the door. Tracie St. Martin stepped out onto the porch, a 54-year-old woman with a sturdy, thick-muscled build and sun-weathered face, both of them products of her 26 years as a heavy-construction worker. St. Martin greeted the women warmly, and when they told her what they were there for she said, sure, she was considering Trump — even though she usually voted Democratic. And when they got talking, in the disjointed way of canvassers making a quick pitch, about how Trump was going to bring back the good jobs, St. Martin was visibly affected. She interrupted them, wanting to tell them about how she had, not long ago, worked a job that consisted of demolishing a big local GM plant. Her eyes welled up as she told the story and she had trouble continuing.
The canvassers gave her some materials and bade her farewell. But I doubled back a little later and visited with St. Martin in her kitchen, which she was in the midst of tidying up, with daytime TV playing in the background. Space in the kitchen was tight due to the treadmill she recently bought to help her get into better shape, which she hoped might make her less dependent on the painkillers for the severe aches she got from her physically demanding job, pills that had gotten a lot harder to obtain from her doctor amid the clampdown on prescription opioids.
St. Martin apologized, unnecessarily, for her emotions on the porch and expanded on what she had told the women from Buffalo: She was a proud member of Local 18 of the operating engineers’ union, which had been urging its members to support Hillary Clinton. The union provided her health insurance and decent pay levels, and trained her for demanding work, which, just months earlier, had required her to hang off of a Pennsylvania cliff face in her dozer as part of a gas pipeline project.
She came from a staunch Democratic family and had voted for Barack Obama in 2008, before not voting in 2012 because, she said, she was away on one of her long-term jobs. She was a single mother with three grown daughters. She had experienced all manner of sexual discrimination and harassment on very male-heavy worksites over the years.
She was, in other words, as tailor-made a supporter as one could find for Clinton, a self-professed fighter for the average Jane who was running to become the first woman president.
And yet St. Martin was leaning toward Trump.
Her explanation for this was halting but vehement, spoken with pauses and in bursts. She was disappointed in Obama after having voted for him. “I don’t like the Obama persona, his public appearance and demeanor,” she said. “I wanted people like me to be cared about. People don’t realize there’s nothing without a blue-collar worker.” She regretted that she did not have a deeper grasp of public affairs. “No one that’s voting knows all the facts,” she said. “It’s a shame. They keep us so fucking busy and poor that we don’t have the time.”
When she addressed Clinton herself, it was in a stream that seemed to refer to, but not explicitly name, several of the charges thrown against Clinton by that point in time, including her handling of the deadly 2012 attack by Islamic militants on U.S. facilities in Benghazi, Libya; the potential conflicts of interest at the Clinton Foundation; and her use of a private email server while serving as Secretary of State, mixing national security business with emails to her daughter, Chelsea.
“To have lives be sacrificed because of corporate greed and warmongering, it’s too much for me — and I realize I don’t have all the facts — that there’s just too much sidestepping on her. I don’t trust her. I don’t think that — I know there’s casualties of war in conflict, I’m a big girl, I know that. But I lived my life with no secrets. There’s no shame in the truth. There’s mistakes made. We all grow. She’s a mature woman and she should know that. You don’t email your fucking daughter when you’re a leader. Leaders need to make decisions, they need to be focused. You don’t hide stuff.
“That’s why I like Trump,” she continued. “He’s not perfect. He’s a human being. We all make mistakes. We can all change our mind. We get educated, but once you have the knowledge, you still have to go with your gut.”
- Spoiler:
Hand-wringing among Democrats about the party’s declining support among white working-class voters goes back a long time, to Lyndon Johnson’s declaration that signing the Civil Rights Act would sacrifice the allegiance of white Southerners. Then came the rest of the historical litany: the crime wave, riots and anti-Vietnam War protests of the late 1960s, the consolidation of suburban white flight, Nixon’s Silent Majority, Reagan Democrats, NAFTA, gun control, the War on Coal, and on and on. By this year, many liberals had gotten so fed up with hearing about these woebegone voters and all their political needs that they were openly declaring them a lost cause, motivated more by racial issues than economic anxiety, and declaring that the expanding Democratic coalition of racial and ethnic minorities and college-educated white voters obviated the need to cater to the white working class.
But this assessment suffered from a fatal overgeneralization. The “white working class” was a hugely broad category — as pollsters defined it, any white voter without a four-year college degree, roughly one-third of the electorate. Within that category were crucial distinctions, especially regional ones. Democrats in national elections had lost most white working-class voters in the Deep South — indeed, virtually all white voters there — a long time ago. They had in the past decade and a half seen much of Greater Appalachia, stretching from the Alleghenies to Arkansas, follow suit, to the point where West Virginia, one of just five states that Jimmy Carter won in 1980, went for Mitt Romney by 26 percentage points in 2012. It was hard to see how the Democrats were going to win back coal country like Logan County, W.V., which Bill Clinton won with 72 percent in 1996 but where Obama got only 29 percent in 2012.
But there was a whole subset of the white working class Obama was still winning: voters in northern states where unions, however diminished, still served to remind members of their Democratic roots (and build inter-racial solidarity). In these states, voters could still find national figures who represented them and their sort, people like Ohio Sen. Sherrod Brown and Vice President Joe Biden. Lackawanna County, Pennsylvania, centered on Biden’s hometown of Scranton, went for Obama with 63 percent of the vote in 2012. Rural Marquette County, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, went for him with 56 percent of the vote. In Ohio, there were a couple counties in the state’s Appalachian southeast that went stronger for Obama in 2012 than they had in 2008. In the opposite corner of the state, gratitude for Obama’s bailout of the auto industry helped win him 64 percent of the vote in Lucas County, around Toledo. Across the North, Obama ran even or ahead with John Kerry and Al Gore among white working class voters; their raw vote total for him nationwide exceeded his tallies of college-educated white voters and minority supporters.
On Election Day 2012, one voter I spoke with in Columbus, Ohio, encapsulated how well Obama had managed to frame the election as a “who’s on your side” choice between himself and the private equity titan Mitt Romney, and thereby hold onto enough white working-class voters in crucial swing states. Matt Bimberg, 50, was waiting by himself at a remote bus stop in a black neighborhood on the edge of town. He had in the past decade lost jobs as a telecom technician for Global Crossing (he still carried a Global Crossing tote bag) and at a factory making escape hatches for buses. But he had just landed a job at a nearby warehouse as a forklift operator, a success for which he credited a three-week training course paid for by the U.S. Department of Labor. And as gratitude for that, he was voting for Obama after voting for John McCain in 2008. “My line of thinking was that under Romney and [Paul] Ryan, it would be more of a trickle-down administration,” he said. “Their thinking is to give that money to corporations and the rich in tax breaks, and some will trickle down. But it didn’t work then and it won’t work now. Romney reminds me so much of Reagan’s theory of supply-side economics. It scares me.”
Not so long ago, Hillary Clinton would have seemed ideally suited to keep such northern white working-class voters in the fold. After all, she had trounced Obama among many of these very voters in the 2008 primaries, as she beat him in states such as Ohio and Pennsylvania and at one point went so far as to declare herself, in a slip of the tongue, the champion of “working, hard-working Americans, white Americans.”
But things had changed in the intervening years. For one thing, she was further removed from her stint representing downtrodden upstate New York as a senator — she had spent the years since 2008 in the rarefied realm of the State Department and then giving more than 80 paid speeches to banks, corporations and trade associations, for a total haul of $18 million. For another thing, cause for resentment and letdown had grown in many of those Rust Belt communities where Obama had held his own — they might be inching their way back from the Great Recession, but the progress was awfully slow, and they were lagging ever further behind booming coastal cities like New York, San Francisco and Washington, where the income gap compared with the rest of the country had grown far larger.
Most crucially, she was running not against Mitt Romney, the man from Bain Capital, but against Donald Trump. Yes, Trump was (or claimed to be) a billionaire himself, but he was not of Romney’s upper crust — they scorned him and his casinos and gold-plated jet, and were giving him virtually none of their campaign contributions. Trump attacked the trade deals that had helped hollow out these voters’ communities, he attacked the Mexicans who had heavily populated some of their towns and had driven much of the heroin trade in others, and, yes, he tapped into broader racial resentments as well. Faced with this populist opposition, Clinton fatefully opted against taking the “I’m on your side; he’s not” tack that Obama had used so well against Romney, and had instead gone about attacking Trump’s fitness for the presidency.
Back in Dayton, where Clinton never visited during the entire campaign, I had run into two more former Obama voters after Trump’s March rally there. Both Heath Bowling and Alex Jones admitted to having been swept up in the Obama wave, but had since grown somewhat disenchanted. Bowling, 36, a burly man with a big smile, managed a small siding and insulation business, and as he’d grown older he’d had gotten more bothered about the dependency on food stamps he saw around him, especially among members of his own generation, and demoralized by the many overdose deaths in his circle.
Jones, 30, who worked part-time at a pizza shop and delivering medicines to nursing homes, joked at first that his vote for Obama might have had to do with his having been doing a lot of drugs at the time. He grew serious when he talked about how much the Black Lives Matter protests against shootings by police officers grated on him. Chicago was experiencing soaring homicide rates, he said — why weren’t more people talking about that? He was upset that when he went out on the town in Cincinnati’s Over-the-Rhine bar district, he had to worry about getting jumped if he was on the street past a certain hour — and that he felt constrained against complaining against it. “If I say anything about that, I’m a racist,” he said. “I can’t stand that politically correct bullshit.” He had, he said, taken great solace in confiding recently in an older black man at a bar who had agreed with his musing on race and crime. “It was like a big burden lifted from me — here was this black man agreeing with me!”
Polls had consistently showed that Trump’s support was stronger with white working-class men than women, and in October came a revelation that seemed sure to weaken his standing among women of all classes, release of an 11-year-old tape in which Trump boasted of trying to commit adultery with a married woman and grabbing women “by the pussy.”
A few days after the release of the tape, which was followed by a string of accusations from women saying they had been sexually harassed and assaulted by Trump, I checked back in with Tracie St. Martin to see if she still supported him. She was working on a new gas plant in Middletown, a working-class town near Dayton that was the setting of the recent best-selling memoir “Hillbilly Elegy.” Here’s what she wrote back in a text message: “I still appreciate the honesty in some of his comments. Most of his comments. I still favor what he says he may be able to do. I am voting against Hillary, come what may with Trump. It’s important to me that ‘we the people’ actually have political power. And electing Trump will prove that. I am AMAZED at the number of people voting for him. The corruption is disgusting in the press. Yes, as of right now I am voting FOR Trump.” She was sure he would win, she said: "His support is crazy! The polls have to be wrong. Have to be fixed.”
And she shared an anecdote that reflected how differently Trump’s comments had been received in some places than others. “I’m setting steel for this new gas plant…I’m operating a rough terrain forklift,” she wrote. “So today, I kept thinking about the debate and the audio was released … And I got underneath a load of steel and was moving it…I was laughing and laughing and one of the iron workers asked ‘what are u laughing at.’ I said ‘I grabbed that load right by the pussy’ and laughed some more…And said ‘when you’re an operator you can do that ya know’, laughed all fucking day."
Just last week, I was back in Ohio, in the southeastern Appalachian corner. I was at a graduation ceremony for opiate addicts who had gone through a recovery program, and sitting with four women, all around 30, who were still in the program. Someone mentioned the election, and all four of them piped up that they were voting for the first time ever. For whom? I asked. They looked at me as if I had asked the dumbest question in the world. All four were for Trump.
The most of the loquacious of the group, Tiffany Chesser, said she was voting for him because her boyfriend worked at a General Electric light-bulb plant nearby that was seeing more of its production lines being moved to Mexico. She saw voting for Trump as a straightforward transaction to save his job. “If he loses that job we’re screwed — I’ll lose my house,” she said. “There used to be a full parking lot there — now you go by, there are just three trucks in the lot.”
But Chesser also was viscerally opposed to Clinton who, the week prior, had endured a surprise announcement from FBI Director James Comey that a newly discovered cache of emails of hers was under scrutiny. “If she’s being investigated by the FBI, there’s a reason for it,” she said. I asked the women if they weren’t equally bothered by the many women’s accusations against Trump. They shrugged. “It’s locker-room talk,” Chesser said. “I know girls talk like that, and I know guys do.” But what about the accusations of assault? “Why are they just coming forward now?” she said. “If he did it to me before, I’d have come forward then. I wouldn’t wait until now.”
The next day, I met with Taylor Sappington, a native of Southeast Ohio who, after graduating from Ohio University, had decided to run for town council last year in Nelsonville, pop. 5,400, and won a seat. Sappington, who had been raised in a manufactured home by a single mother and whose brother works as a corrections officer, was a proud Democrat. He had volunteered for Obama’s 2012 campaign and took comfort in knowing that parts of Southeast Ohio had remained solid for the Democrats, unlike so much of the rest of Appalachia. But he knew that Clinton would not perform as well in the area as Obama had. “It’s a Democratic area. But Trump has blown a hole through it,” he said. “They feel like this is a forgotten area that’s suffering, that has been forgotten by Columbus and Washington and then they hear someone say, we can turn this place around, they feel it viscerally.”
And he feared that the national Democratic Party did not realize how little it could afford such a loss, or even realize how well it had those voters in the fold as recently as 2012. “I’m a believer in the Democratic coalition, but they’re writing off folks and it’s going to hurt them,” he said. “To write them off is reckless.”
A week later, on Election Day, I drove to a polling station in Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania, a small town south of York, just across the Maryland line. The polling station was inside an evangelical church housed inside a vast, mostly abandoned shopping plaza. It’s Republican country, where Romney outpolled Obama 2–1, but I was still startled by how long it was taking me to find a single Hillary Clinton voter.
But there was yet another woman voting for the first time in her life, at age 55, for Trump. “I didn’t have much interest in politics. But the older you get you realize more and more how important it is,” said Kelly Waldemire, who works in a local plastic-molding plant. “When it got to the point where the country is going in the wrong direction, I thought it was time.”
And there was yet another voter who had been for Obama in 2008 — Brian Osbourne, a 33-year-old Navy veteran who now drove all the way to Washington, D.C., every day to do commercial HVAC work because it paid double there what it would in Shrewsbury. The local economy had come back a little, he said, but “there’s a lot of people working jobs that they’re overqualified for.” That wasn’t all, he said. He hesitated, warning that what he was about to say wasn’t “politically correct,” and then said, “We’re really getting pussified as a country.”
I asked what he made of reports that Trump wrote off as much of a billion dollars on his taxes to avoid paying any at all. He shrugged it off just as every Trump voter I spoke with there did. “That doesn’t worry me all that much,” he said. “That’s what he does — that’s the loophole the government created. He takes advantage of what the system created. I’d do the same thing.”
As for Obama, his promise of racial reconciliation had been a “big letdown,” he said. “I thought it would help with race relations, but it’s getting way worse,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we have another civil war in this country.”
And there were yet more women willing to wave off Trump’s comment on the tape and the women’s accusations against him. “I don’t take that crap seriously,” said Tammy Nuth, 49, who cares for Alzheimer’s patients. “Men are men.” As for the women accusers: “I think they’re getting paid off.”
As I was preparing to leave, I glimpsed a young woman who I guessed might’ve voted for Clinton, and approached her to help balance my reporting. I was wrong. Stephanie Armetta, an 18-year-old working as a grocery store cashier before heading to community college, had cast her first-ever ballot, for Donald Trump. Her family had many members in the military, she said, and she thought Trump would “have more respect” for them. She thought it was wrong that if her brother got deployed, he got only two meals per day, while people in prison get three. And then of course there was Benghazi, “that she left [the four Americans] there, that they weren’t her priority.” She was bothered by Trump’s comments on the tape, for sure. But, she said, “I’m glad how he didn’t lie about it. They caught him and he said, yeah, I said an asshole thing.” Not to mention, she said, “Bill Clinton isn’t good either on that subject.” Her vote, she concluded, was “more against Hillary than for Trump.”
Trump won that one small precinct by 144 more votes than Romney had won it in 2012 — a 20 percent increase. And all across rural and small-town Pennsylvania, that pattern repeated itself. In Scranton’s Lackawanna County, where Obama had won 63 percent, Clinton won only 50 percent.
In Michigan’s rural Marquette County, where Obama had won 56 percent, Clinton got only 49 percent. Trump became the first Republican since 1988 to win Pennsylvania or Michigan.
In Ohio’s Mahoning County, home of Youngstown, where Obama got 63 percent, Clinton got only 50 percent. In Hocking County, just adjacent to Nelsonville, Clinton fell even further, getting 30 percent, down from the 48 percent Obama had gotten, and realizing Taylor Sappington’s fears.
And at Tracie St. Martin’s working-class precinct in Miamisburg, where Obama had managed to get 43 percent in 2012, Clinton’s support plunged to 26 percent, giving Trump a margin of 293 votes just in that one precinct, triple Romney’s margin four years earlier. That helped provide Trump a historic claim: the first Republican majority in Dayton's Montgomery County in 28 years. Statewide, Trump won by a whopping eight percentage points, a swing of 10 points from four years earlier. He had brought new voters out of the woodwork; he had converted some white working-class Obama voters while others had just stayed home.
St. Martin, who was still hard at work on the Middletown gas plant with a “great bunch of ironworkers,” was elated. “I just really needed to know that I was part of a majority that recognized we need these things that Trump spoke of,” she told me. “More importantly for me, to NOT have Hillary as Commander in Chief.”
For more from Alec MacGillis on the roots of the working-class rebellion, read about the Great Republican Crack-Up, the original underclass and the Democrats’ bad election map.
Odličan tekst. Odličan.
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"Oni kroz mene gledaju u vas! Oni kroz njega gledaju u vas! Oni kroz vas gledaju u mene... i u sve nas."
Dragoslav Bokan, Novi putevi oftalmologije
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Re: Cthulhu for president!
Gargantua wrote:
The ascent to the White House of Mr Trump, an admirer of Vladimir Putin who hints that he may abandon America’s NATO allies, poses urgent questions for Europe’s security order.
Na ovome se dosta insistira, a ne razumem zasto. Samo Francuska i Nemacka imaju zajedno veci vojni budzet od Rusije, a uz druge snazne evropske armije, italijansku, spansku, poljsku, EU je i dalje medju prvih pet vojnih sila. Jedino sto bez Amera i Engleza EU ima ogranicenu sposobnost da zavodi red na drugom kraju sveta.
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"Ne morate krenuti odavde da biste dosli tamo. Moguce je krenuti odavde i vratiti se ponovo tu, ali preko onoga tamo."
Aca Seltik, Sabrana razmisljanja o topologiji, tom cetvrti.
My Moon Che Gavara.
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Re: Cthulhu for president!
What So Many People Don’t Get About the U.S. Working Class
- Joan C. Williams
My father-in-law grew up eating blood soup. He hated it, whether because of the taste or the humiliation, I never knew. His alcoholic father regularly drank up the family wage, and the family was often short on food money. They were evicted from apartment after apartment.
He dropped out of school in eighth grade to help support the family. Eventually he got a good, steady job he truly hated, as an inspector in a factory that made those machines that measure humidity levels in museums. He tried to open several businesses on the side but none worked, so he kept that job for 38 years. He rose from poverty to a middle-class life: the car, the house, two kids in Catholic school, the wife who worked only part-time. He worked incessantly. He had two jobs in addition to his full-time position, one doing yard work for a local magnate and another hauling trash to the dump.
Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, he read The Wall Street Journal and voted Republican. He was a man before his time: a blue-collar white man who thought the union was a bunch of jokers who took your money and never gave you anything in return. Starting in 1970, many blue-collar whites followed his example. This week, their candidate won the presidency.
For months, the only thing that’s surprised me about Donald Trump is my friends’ astonishment at his success. What’s driving it is the class culture gap.
One little-known element of that gap is that the white working class (WWC) resents professionals but admires the rich. Class migrants (white-collar professionals born to blue-collar families) report that “professional people were generally suspect” and that managers are college kids “who don’t know shit about how to do anything but are full of ideas about how I have to do my job,” said Alfred Lubrano in Limbo. Barbara Ehrenreich recalled in 1990 that her blue-collar dad “could not say the word doctor without the virtual prefix quack. Lawyers were shysters…and professors were without exception phonies.” Annette Lareau found tremendous resentment against teachers, who were perceived as condescending and unhelpful.
Michèle Lamont, in The Dignity of Working Men, also found resentment of professionals — but not of the rich. “ can’t knock anyone for succeeding,” a laborer told her. “There’s a lot of people out there who are wealthy and I’m sure they worked darned hard for every cent they have,” chimed in a receiving clerk. Why the difference? For one thing, most blue-collar workers have little direct contact with the rich outside of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. But professionals order them around every day. The dream is not to become upper-middle-class, with its different food, family, and friendship patterns; the dream is to live in your own class milieu, where you feel comfortable — just with more money. “The main thing is to be independent and give your own orders and not have to take them from anybody else,” a machine operator told Lamont. Owning one’s own business — that’s the goal. That’s another part of Trump’s appeal.
Hillary Clinton, by contrast, epitomizes the dorky arrogance and smugness of the professional elite. The dorkiness: the pantsuits. The arrogance: the email server. The smugness: the basket of deplorables. Worse, her mere presence rubs it in that even women from her class can treat working-class men with disrespect. Look at how she condescends to Trump as unfit to hold the office of the presidency and dismisses his supporters as racist, sexist, homophobic, or xenophobic.
Trump’s blunt talk taps into another blue-collar value: straight talk. “Directness is a working-class norm,” notes Lubrano. As one blue-collar guy told him, “If you have a problem with me, come talk to me. If you have a way you want something done, come talk to me. I don’t like people who play these two-faced games.” Straight talk is seen as requiring manly courage, not being “a total wuss and a wimp,” an electronics technician told Lamont. Of course Trump appeals. Clinton’s clunky admission that she talks one way in public and another in private? Further proof she’s a two-faced phony.
Manly dignity is a big deal for working-class men, and they’re not feeling that they have it. Trump promises a world free of political correctness and a return to an earlier era, when men were men and women knew their place. It’s comfort food for high-school-educated guys who could have been my father-in-law if they’d been born 30 years earlier. Today they feel like losers — or did until they met Trump.
Manly dignity is a big deal for most men. So is breadwinner status: Many still measure masculinity by the size of a paycheck. White working-class men’s wages hit the skids in the 1970s and took another body blow during the Great Recession. Look, I wish manliness worked differently. But most men, like most women, seek to fulfill the ideals they’ve grown up with. For many blue-collar men, all they’re asking for is basic human dignity (male varietal). Trump promises to deliver it.
The Democrats’ solution? Last week the New York Times published an article advising men with high-school educations to take pink-collar jobs. Talk about insensitivity. Elite men, you will notice, are not flooding into traditionally feminine work. To recommend that for WWC men just fuels class anger.
Isn’t what happened to Clinton unfair? Of course it is. It is unfair that she wasn’t a plausible candidate until she was so overqualified she was suddenly unqualified due to past mistakes. It is unfair that Clinton is called a “nasty woman” while Trump is seen as a real man. It’s unfair that Clinton only did so well in the first debate because she wrapped her candidacy in a shimmy of femininity. When she returned to attack mode, it was the right thing for a presidential candidate to do but the wrong thing for a woman to do. The election shows that sexism retains a deeper hold that most imagined. But women don’t stand together: WWC women voted for Trump over Clinton by a whopping 28-point margin — [url=http://www.newyorker.com/news/john-cassidy/how-donald-trump-became-president-elect?mbid=nl_Daily Newsletter 091716][/url]62% to 34%. If they’d split 50-50, she would have won.
Class trumps gender, and it’s driving American politics. Policy makers of both parties — but particularly Democrats if they are to regain their majorities — need to remember five major points.
Understand That Working Class Means Middle Class, Not Poor
The terminology here can be confusing. When progressives talk about the working class, typically they mean the poor. But the poor, in the bottom 30% of American families, are very different from Americans who are literally in the middle: the middle 50% of families whose median income was $64,000 in 2008. That is the true “middle class,” and they call themselves either “middle class” or “working class.”
“The thing that really gets me is that Democrats try to offer policies (paid sick leave! minimum wage!) that would help the working class,” a friend just wrote me. A few days’ paid leave ain’t gonna support a family. Neither is minimum wage. WWC men aren’t interested in working at McDonald’s for $15 per hour instead of $9.50. What they want is what my father-in-law had: steady, stable, full-time jobs that deliver a solid middle-class life to the 75% of Americans who don’t have a college degree. Trump promises that. I doubt he’ll deliver, but at least he understands what they need.
Understand Working-Class Resentment of the Poor
Remember when President Obama sold Obamacare by pointing out that it delivered health care to 20 million people? Just another program that taxed the middle class to help the poor, said the WWC, and in some cases that’s proved true: The poor got health insurance while some Americans just a notch richer saw their premiums rise.
Progressives have lavished attention on the poor for over a century. That (combined with other factors) led to social programs targeting them. Means-tested programs that help the poor but exclude the middle may keep costs and tax rates lower, but they are a recipe for class conflict. Example: 28.3% of poor families receive child-care subsidies, which are largely nonexistent for the middle class. So my sister-in-law worked full-time for Head Start, providing free child care for poor women while earning so little that she almost couldn’t pay for her own. She resented this, especially the fact that some of the kids’ moms did not work. One arrived late one day to pick up her child, carrying shopping bags from Macy’s. My sister-in-law was livid.
J.D. Vance’s much-heralded Hillbilly Elegy captures this resentment. Hard-living families like that of Vance’s mother live alongside settled families like that of his biological father. While the hard-living succumb to despair, drugs, or alcohol, settled families keep to the straight and narrow, like my parents-in-law, who owned their home and sent both sons to college. To accomplish that, they lived a life of rigorous thrift and self-discipline. Vance’s book passes harsh judgment on his hard-living relatives, which is not uncommon among settled families who kept their nose clean through sheer force of will. This is a second source of resentment against the poor.
Other books that get at this are Hard Living on Clay Street (1972) and Working-Class Heroes (2003).
Understand How Class Divisions Have Translated into Geography
The best advice I’ve seen so far for Democrats is the recommendation that hipsters move to Iowa. Class conflict now closely tracks the urban-rural divide. In the huge red plains between the thin blue coasts, shockingly high numbers of working-class men are unemployed or on disability, fueling a wave of despair deaths in the form of the opioid epidemic.
Vast rural areas are withering away, leaving trails of pain. When did you hear any American politician talk about that? Never.
Jennifer Sherman’s Those Who Work, Those Who Don’t (2009) covers this well.
If You Want to Connect with White Working-Class Voters, Place Economics at the Center
“The white working class is just so stupid. Don’t they realize Republicans just use them every four years, and then screw them?” I have heard some version of this over and over again, and it’s actually a sentiment the WWC agrees with, which is why they rejected the Republican establishment this year. But to them, the Democrats are no better.
Both parties have supported free-trade deals because of the net positive GDP gains, overlooking the blue-collar workers who lost work as jobs left for Mexico or Vietnam. These are precisely the voters in the crucial swing states of Ohio, Michigan, and Pennsylvania that Democrats have so long ignored. Excuse me. Who’s stupid?
One key message is that trade deals are far more expensive than we’ve treated them, because sustained job development and training programs need to be counted as part of their costs.
At a deeper level, both parties need an economic program that can deliver middle-class jobs. Republicans have one: Unleash American business. Democrats? They remain obsessed with cultural issues. I fully understand why transgender bathrooms are important, but I also understand why progressives’ obsession with prioritizing cultural issues infuriates many Americans whose chief concerns are economic.
Back when blue-collar voters used to be solidly Democratic (1930–1970), good jobs were at the core of the progressive agenda. A modern industrial policy would follow Germany’s path. (Want really good scissors? Buy German.) Massive funding is needed for community college programs linked with local businesses to train workers for well-paying new economy jobs. Clinton mentioned this approach, along with 600,000 other policy suggestions. She did not stress it.
Avoid the Temptation to Write Off Blue-Collar Resentment as Racism
Economic resentment has fueled racial anxiety that, in some Trump supporters (and Trump himself), bleeds into open racism. But to write off WWC anger as nothing more than racism is intellectual comfort food, and it is dangerous.
National debates about policing are fueling class tensions today in precisely the same way they did in the 1970s, when college kids derided policemen as “pigs.” This is a recipe for class conflict. Being in the police is one of the few good jobs open to Americans without a college education. Police get solid wages, great benefits, and a respected place in their communities. For elites to write them off as racists is a telling example of how, although race- and sex-based insults are no longer acceptable in polite society, class-based insults still are.
I do not defend police who kill citizens for selling cigarettes. But the current demonization of the police underestimates the difficulty of ending police violence against communities of color. Police need to make split-second decisions in life-threatening situations. I don’t. If I had to, I might make some poor decisions too.
Saying this is so unpopular that I risk making myself a pariah among my friends on the left coast. But the biggest risk today for me and other Americans is continued class cluelessness. If we don’t take steps to bridge the class culture gap, when Trump proves unable to bring steel back to Youngstown, Ohio, the consequences could turn dangerous.
In 2010, while on a book tour for Reshaping the Work-Family Debate, I gave a talk about all of this at the Harvard Kennedy School. The woman who ran the speaker series, a major Democratic operative, liked my talk. “You are saying exactly what the Democrats need to hear,” she mused, “and they’ll never listen.” I hope now they will.
mozda je neko vec kacio al nisam pazljivo cito forum poslednjih dana
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ova zemlja to je to
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Re: Cthulhu for president!
Мало је проблем што у савременој Америци није баш лако повући јасне границе између класа. У неку руку је управо Трамп помогао, сада се о одједном прича о заборављеним "blue collar workers", итд. Класна свест је у Америци првенствено носталгија за "бољим временима" и пропуштеним шансама, а и ту опасно клизи у кич the American dream-a.Kinder Lad wrote:plachkica wrote:Ali pitanje je, kako tako lako?
Hajde kod nas, prilično je jednostavno objašnjenje, naše društvo je novo u pc svetu,
promoteri su bili prilično non-pc u promovisanju pc ponašanja.
Siromašni smo, ratovi tranzicija, bla bla bla.
Ali kako se to dešava u društvima kao što je britansko, francusko, pa i usa društvo?
svako placa racune za struju, vodu, rente, rate i ostalo. ovo je cisto ekonomski tj ajd da kazemo "klasni" problem, ko god se hvata za "kulturu" muti vodu namerno ili slucajno, to je posledica, to normalna, ocekivana rezultanta raslojavanja. nesto mora da se promeni, and fast, ako nije kasno i za to. mislim, nemojmo se zajebavati, ovo vodi u oruzane sukobe i ratove.
Оно што постоји, да пробамо класну анализу, то су:
1) Outcasts: white trash, бескућници, гетоизирани црнци, и сл.
2) Сиромашни прекаријат: бивша радничка класа, млади, recent immigrants
3) Богатији прекаријат: тзв. professionals. Програмери, маркетари, инжињери, професори (мада њих има и сиромашних), итд. Мислим да би се већина Бурунђана овде пронашла.
4) Establishment: мање-више point-one-percenters' house neggroes. Ту су и спортисти и остали забављачи/ celebrities. ВП-јеви компанија, политичари...
5) Газде
Основни проблем је у томе што "класе" 1), 2) и 3) манијачки купују све оно што 5) производи (у Кини), а продаје уз помоћ 4). Тако да нису грађани, него потрошачи. Евентуално им понекад допизди па се побуне, џилитну. Battle of Seattle, Occupy, Обама, Берни, Трамп... are just spasms. Пирамида је иначе стабилна, свако је ту нашао своје место и интерес. Има да гурамо овако све док промењена клима не крене да нас масовно убија.
- Posts : 7403
Join date : 2015-11-26
Location : Location, Location
- Post n°42
Re: Cthulhu for president!
No Country wrote:Мало је проблем што у савременој Америци није баш лако повући јасне границе између класа. У неку руку је управо Трамп помогао, сада се о одједном прича о заборављеним "blue collar workers", итд. Класна свест је у Америци првенствено носталгија за "бољим временима" и пропуштеним шансама, а и ту опасно клизи у кич the American dream-a.Kinder Lad wrote:
svako placa racune za struju, vodu, rente, rate i ostalo. ovo je cisto ekonomski tj ajd da kazemo "klasni" problem, ko god se hvata za "kulturu" muti vodu namerno ili slucajno, to je posledica, to normalna, ocekivana rezultanta raslojavanja. nesto mora da se promeni, and fast, ako nije kasno i za to. mislim, nemojmo se zajebavati, ovo vodi u oruzane sukobe i ratove.
Оно што постоји, да пробамо класну анализу, то су:
1) Outcasts: white trash, бескућници, гетоизирани црнци, и сл.
2) Сиромашни прекаријат: бивша радничка класа, млади, recent immigrants
3) Богатији прекаријат: тзв. professionals. Програмери, маркетари, инжињери, професори (мада њих има и сиромашних), итд. Мислим да би се већина Бурунђана овде пронашла.
4) Establishment: мање-више point-one-percenters' house neggroes. Ту су и спортисти и остали забављачи/ celebrities. ВП-јеви компанија, политичари...
5) Газде
Основни проблем је у томе што "класе" 1), 2) и 3) манијачки купују све оно што 5) производи (у Кини), а продаје уз помоћ 4). Тако да нису грађани, него потрошачи. Евентуално им понекад допизди па се побуне, џилитну. Battle of Seattle, Occupy, Обама, Берни, Трамп... are just spasms. Пирамида је иначе стабилна, свако је ту нашао своје место и интерес. Има да гурамо овако све док промењена клима не крене да нас масовно убија.
Znaš kako, ti bolje poznaješ prilike na severnoameričkom kontinentu. Ja samo znam da ne može večno da se ide na dole sa realnim primanjima i u odnosu na troškove, i ovo sa Trumpom opasno liči na pucanje. Videćemo kako će se stvari dalje odvijati. Problem je i kad suprotna strana ne uspeva skroz da mobiliše pre svega segment 2 iz tvoje podele, kao što mi se čini da sada (normalno, mislim...Clinton) nije uspela. Ako, pak, klasa 3 bude nastavila da tone tj nastavila da ima percepciju da tone neće biti dobro.
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alt-lib
- Guest
- Post n°43
Re: Cthulhu for president!
Donald Trump will begin tackling the issue of illegal immigration by rounding up and deporting undocumented immigrants with criminal records, a group that he estimates at 2 million to 3 million people, the president-elect said in an interview to air Sunday night.
“What we are going to do is get the people that are criminal and have criminal records, gang members, drug dealers, where a lot of these people, probably 2 million, it could be even 3 million, we are getting them out of our country or we are going to incarcerate,” he said in the interview, to air on “60 Minutes” on CBS.
dakle, terminatori i dronovi u najavi.
- Posts : 81524
Join date : 2012-06-10
- Post n°44
Re: Cthulhu for president!
Race war u najavi.
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"Oni kroz mene gledaju u vas! Oni kroz njega gledaju u vas! Oni kroz vas gledaju u mene... i u sve nas."
Dragoslav Bokan, Novi putevi oftalmologije
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- Post n°47
Re: Cthulhu for president!
Pržun wrote:Hm, da li ce sustici Obamin tempo od 400.000 godisnje?
Nije sve u brojkama, nešto je i u izboru metoda koje će verovatno biti dosta rigidnije.
- Guest
- Post n°48
Re: Cthulhu for president!
Informativan tekst na ovu temu.
http://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2016/11/11/13586156/trump-deport-immigrants
http://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2016/11/11/13586156/trump-deport-immigrants
- Posts : 81524
Join date : 2012-06-10
- Post n°49
Re: Cthulhu for president!
Naravno da Obama nije nevin u svemu ovome, on je postavio neke presedane (ne samo u ovome, nego i po pitanju drone strikes) kao da će da vlada hiljadu godina. E sad će da ima Trampa koji ih koristi. To ti je kao sa demokratama što su napravili skupštinske poslovnike i uspostavili kontrolu medija kao da će vazda biti vlast, pa im sad đavo kriv.
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"Oni kroz mene gledaju u vas! Oni kroz njega gledaju u vas! Oni kroz vas gledaju u mene... i u sve nas."
Dragoslav Bokan, Novi putevi oftalmologije
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- Post n°50
Re: Cthulhu for president!
ili sa Obamom koji je ograničio moć demokrata da filibasteruju.
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