Shame on politicians for fanning fear
There’s a great moment in Aaron Sorkin’s 1995 movie The American President in which Michael Douglas, as liberal Democrat president Andrew Shepherd, slams his hardline Republican opponent: “He is interested in two things and two things only: making you afraid of it and telling you who’s to blame for it. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you win elections.” It could be. Stephen Harper and his Conservatives have been churning out the fear and blame. And so far they are still very much alive in the polls, with a tight but plausible road to a minority victory.
It’s not Camelot Harper has created and wants to perpetuate: it’s Fear-a-Lot, from jihadists waiting to kill us to hordes of undocumented refugees storming our barriers, to the “disaster” of NDP Premier Rachel Notley governing in Alberta, to the terror of a deliberate Liberal deficit, not to mention the nightmare of losing out on income-splitting.
Don’t you know we live in a hostile, uncertain world, my friends, that those two other guys are “risky” choices to manage the economy, and only another Harper government can keep us “safe.” This is an election choice between “security and risk.”
Contrast that fear-filled message with the sunny optimism and sometimes over-the-top passion of Liberal Leader Justin Trudeau, or the perhaps too smiley-smiley confidence of the NDP’s Tom Mulcair, who seems to be trying a little too hard to subliminally message us: “Hey there, don’t be afraid. I am here to fix things!”
There’s been a lot of analysis about the politics of fear, but not a lot about what people really fear in their lives.
There are the jokey fears. I had a hilarious car ride with some millennials, in which we dissected FOMO — fear of missing out — a term usually used socially. They all confessed they had it, which is why they have a hard time committing to one particular event because something better could be just around the corner.
In that lighter vein, I too have some fears. I fear having something green on my teeth and not knowing it. I fear wearing too much — or too little — makeup, as women of a certain age tend to do. I fear bad grooming, which means numerous trips to the hair stylist.
I fear losing the gold earrings my husband gave me, or my late mother’s antique ring. I fear being gassy. I fear looking fat almost more than I fear being fat.
I fear becoming a drama queen, huffy about little slurs and social snubs. I fear boring people — one must never slip into one’s “anecdotage.” I fear offending relatives with my passionate political views, I fear being rude to service people, and conversely I fear being a pushover. I fear hurting — and being hurt — by the ones I love.
I fear cancer, getting it or watching someone I love suffer and die from it, I fear not being fit, gum disease (I am dentist-phobic; Dr. Goodman, if you’re reading this please call me and gently suggest I come to your office. Maybe you can send a car). I fear my energetic husband dropping dead while he’s running or cycling. I fear dying suddenly of a heart attack, as two-thirds of my father’s family did. I fear my grown kids getting some major disease. I fear dementia; who wouldn’t as they age? I fear falling. I fear loss of mobility. In short, I fear growing old, but of course I fear not growing old more. And naturally I fear, in this ageist society, looking old.
I fear not having squeezed every last drop of creative juice out of my own modest talents and capabilities. I fear losing my voice in the national conversation. I fear not being brave or focused enough to write a book or even the column I want to write. I fear I will regret not having worked harder.
Money fears? Everyone fears not having enough and I am no exception. Yet I also fear obsessing about money. This is a privileged country.
More importantly, I fear not being generous enough, not responding to or even seeing clearly the real neediness of others. I fear not recognizing and supporting positive societal, political or environmental change when it’s in front of me. I deeply fear my kids’ generation not having the opportunities we did. I fear not being brave enough to accept real change: in myself, in my loved ones, in society.
I am sure I could run on about my own fears, but you have your own, and the point is to connect with each other and say you and I have something in common. We are human beings together, trying to do our individual best, and, if we’re paying attention, our civic best, too.
We should resent any politician fanning false fears, when we so clearly confront real, deep human fears every day. Courage doesn’t spring from not fearing, it springs from acting well in the face of fear.
If we truly believe that, we have nothing to vote against but fear itself. Judith Timson writes weekly about cultural, social and political issues. You can reach her at judith.timson@ sympatico.ca and follow her on Twitter @judithtimson.