On the road to the Pacific
If, like me, you’ve been consumed by news of the economy, with all of its dark and somber predictions, you probably have been searching for a metaphor or narrative to capture how it all feels.
As an example of the type of dire predictions that we’re hearing, in his latest column Paul Krugman referred to a passage from a Federal Reserve meeting where it was commented that, “[P]articipants anticipated that unemployment would remain substantially above its longer-run sustainable rate at the end of 2011, even absent further economic shocks; a few indicated that more than five to six years would be needed for the economy to converge to a longer-run path characterized by sustainable rates of output growth and unemployment and by an appropriate rate of inflation.”
The bottom line is that we’re in for a prolonged period of economic pain; and, while the recovery package that president Obama will help, it simply will not be enough to, as Krugman put it, stop the pain.
David Sirota, writing on the same theme, puts it far more poetically and, having driven the route, my mind’s eye immediately recognizes the imagery and landscape:
Why did President Obama choose to come all the way to Denver, Colo., to sign the economic recovery package this week? Did he throw a dart at a map?
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This is the presidential candidate who launched his campaign at the site of Abraham Lincoln’s historic “house divided” speech and who delivered his own famous address on race at Philadelphia’s Constitution Center. So it’s a safe wager that the president had a metaphor in mind when he celebrated the bill’s passage along the Front Range. And what a perfect metaphor it was: The setting told America – if subtly – that the toughest terrain is yet to come.
Denver, after all, is more than a heartland locale that screams “outside the Beltway” – it is an outpost that warns visitors. From 19th century pioneers to 20th century beatniks to 21st century roadtrippers, most cross-country travelers on romantic odysseys west believe they’ve almost completed their voyage when they first hit the Denver city line. They look at the tumbleweed and ranchland on the outskirts of town and tell themselves they can smell the Pacific Ocean’s salty mist. Then they see that wall of snow-capped peaks and realize the most grueling trek is still ahead.
That’s where we are right now – in the euphoric, sky’s-the-limit journey that began on election night, America is standing here in Denver contemplating a menacing horizon.
The stimulus bill, while essential, was merely our gentle rise up through the Great Plains. In unleashing a flood of deficit spending and avoiding tax increases, the legislation didn’t threaten moneyed interests, didn’t alter the existing economic topography, and therefore didn’t attract the withering hostility from business groups that typically prevents hope from becoming change. While Republican potholes slowed the trip, the bill’s refusal to ask anyone for any sacrifice guaranteed its ratification.
From here, though, the highway starts looking like Interstate 70 at Idaho Springs – steeper and more treacherous. The avalanches of corporate money, and the gale-force gusts of lobbyist opposition that the stimulus evaded will now be ever-present as bills to tighten financial regulation, strengthen union rights, limit carbon emissions and transform our health care system begin marching forward.
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The road called “reform” that cuts through this craggy political landscape is littered with legislative corpses, as these interests have done – and will do – everything possible to protect their bottom line. Obama seems to know this reality, saying the stimulus bill is only “the beginning of the end” of the economic emergency. He is carefully plotting his next tactical decisions – when to stage particular climbs, which passes to traverse, what cliffs to avoid. But with the stakes so high – with unemployment rising, the health care crisis worsening and the planet on the brink of incineration – one decision must be a foregone conclusion: the decision about whether to proceed.
Turning back now, or staying here in Denver for fear the ascent is too tough, is no longer an option. We’re past the point of no return.
I wonder what things will be like when I and my fellow travelers arrive at the Pacific.
