(Cross-published at The Democracy Cell Project)
Yesterday, I spent another precious-few hours of my life inside the Halls of Congress, which allowed me yet another in a series of anthropological investigations into the power structures and decision-making styles of Our Leaders.
Unfortunately, the person I observed most closely was Mr. Dana Rohrabacher (CA) and, instructive as it was, I was reminded of my anthropologist-friend who cautioned her students to make sure that when they chose a culture to study, that they genuinely liked the food, because they would be eating a lot of it.
The background first:
Many of you here have heard me say this, or write it, but it bears reiterating:
The House is like a high school. The Senate is like a country club. The House is a raucous, fast-paced place. The Halls are noisy at times, just like a high school between classes, but even when they are relatively quiet, there are folks running around, and bells can ring precipitously, causing much haste. In hearings, notes are passed, Members stand up often and move in and out, information is whispered, all in a culture of rapid shifting of gears. The Members understand they have two years to get re-elected or bail. The stakes are high, but the attention-span is short.
In the Senate, the same activities take place, but it is a much more sedate and formal place. The pace is often glacial and the tone polite and respectful. Whereas Members will make faces in House hearings as others are talking, such is rare in Senate hearings. The smoke-filled back rooms of the Senate are much like drawing rooms of old, whereas the back rooms of the House are smaller, noisier and a little more like the boy's bathrooms in my suburban high school, if not in decor, in ambiance.
I provide that background so you can understand what I am about to describe:
I am beginning to look at the hearings I attend as pieces of theatre. Not GOOD theatre, mind you, although once in a while, something startling and dramatic happens, usually with little to no audience response. But there is a certain performative quality to the Members' questions and follow-up responses. At the same time, there is also a certain amount of vying for the spotlight, posturing and gesticulating behaviors, and creating the character.
Yesterday, the play went like this:
In the Fellini-esque movie that runs daily in the Halls of Congress, I am sitting in a hearing room in the Rayburn H.O.B., listening to Dana Rohrabacher compare the rendition program with medical errors that happen "all the time".
And YES! He just went to the chestnut d'annee: "There has not been an attack against the US since 9-11".
After the speechifying by Rohrabacher and the fiery sermon from Jerrold Nadler that followed, the SUBJECT of the hearing, Maher Arar, spoke via satellite from Ottawa. Why was he not there in person?
He is still on the United States' terrorist watch list.
(NOTE: Video is from August, 2007, not yesterday)
The information at the end of that video clip was the subject of much of the questioning back and forth yesterday and became, ultimately, the thrust of the dramatic arc. The U.S has not apologized, and still claims that there is evidence to substantiate the charges of terrorism against Mr. Arar.
The scene:
Mr. Arar's Counsel, Kent Roach, was asked by Mr. Nadler if he knew of anything in Mr. Arar's file that would lead to the conclusion that he is, in any way, a threat to the security of the United States. Mr. Roach said that state secrets are, indeed, secret, but he was not aware of anything. Mr. Nadler then revealed that he HAD seen the files, and there was NOTHING in there that would keep Mr. Arar on any watch list.
Let us have a small aside here. Remember that there are often files, and then secret files, and then classified files, and then super-classified files that only Members of Congress and those with "clearance" can read, and then...who knows? A GREAT deal of the content of the hearings I have attended lately has involved the above-mentioned Fellini-esque nature of inquiries that go back and forth on which facts are actually the TRUE facts. And, of course, who has seen the MOST secret files.
And so, the TRUE facts seemingly agreed upon were posited: Mr. Arar is not a threat.
At that point, the denouement commenced, and the tour de force of Mr. Rohrabacher escalated, as he spun around in dizzying circles, trying to leave a pattern of apology and defense of the Bush administration and revealing instead, alas, a mess of a thought process, ending with this:
ROHRABACHER: "An error in a program does not mean that program in and of itself is a wrong program."
The room tittered. Mr. Arar, on camera, blinked. One could not help but wonder if anything this man had been through, which included beatings, electric shocks, being forced to hear the cries of women being beaten, and a two-and-a half year review process by the Canadian government to clear his name could have prepared him for the sheer stupidity he was witnessing. He remained calm.
Mr. Rohrabacher exited the room as Mr. Delahunt, the Chairman, took over the discussion, and held onto the spotlight, tightly. Mr. Ellison, (MN), who had yielded some of his time to Mr. Rohrabacher, complained that he too needed to finish his questions, which he did, although nothing he asked revealed a great deal that was new. The theatrical moments had passed and the play was, clearly, over.
The performances can be deconstructed in several ways, but the questions I was left with were these:
Given that I believe that performers actually learn from each performance they give, because they are adjusting and fine-tuning their choices in the direction of telling the truest story possible, do these Congressional performers, who are, in my opinion, mostly lucky amateurs, ever learn anything new? Can they change their minds?
What is the purpose of these hearings?
What would Members of Congress risk losing if, instead of defending positions and spinning stances, they actually spoke about what and how they were learning, and why the truth matters?
It seems to me that governing and legislating are also acts of creation and revelation; that perhaps with some encouragement, some incentives, and maybe even some education, that such embarrassments as our country's treatment of Mr. Arar and other innocent victims of our own fears and manipulated emotions might be, if not prevented, at least redressed.
But that would take a less passive audience, demanding a higher level of honest and true communications, would it not? It would require abandonment of the adolescent competitive displays that characterize the House hearings, and a return to the solid and often-difficult discourse of honest law-making. In the Senate, it would require a little less pomp and an honest acknowledgment of true circumstances, not to mention some actual actions.
It would also require that we know, without equivocation, that we are not really the audience for such displays. We are the producers. We CAN replace the actors.