In the wake of the insurrectionist assault on the Capitol building on January 6th, another ‘day that will live in infamy’ and have a ripple effect on the future of this country, a line from one of my favorite songs has been running through my brain. Nick Lowe penned the song, “What’s So Funny Bout Peace, Love and Understanding?“. More than an idealistic hippie-esque ode, it speaks both to the dismay and hope I feel when I consider where we are as a nation divided by gender, race, culture, sexual orientation, religion, and socio-economic background. Those are the artificial designations. In my mind, the divisions are about how we THINK about them. Are we in favor of peace and social justice, or do we want to limit people’s rights because we view ourselves as superior to those who look, love, worship, and celebrate life differently?
The lyrics:
As I walk through
This wicked world
Searchin’ for light in the darkness of insanity
I ask myself
Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?
And each time I feel like this inside
There’s one thing I wanna know:
What’s so funny ’bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh
What’s so funny ’bout peace love & understanding?
And as I walked on
Through troubled times
My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes
So where are the strong
And who are the trusted?
And where is the harmony?
Sweet harmony
‘Cause each time I feel it slippin’ away, just makes me wanna cry
What’s so funny ’bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh
What’s so funny ’bout peace love & understanding?
So where are the strong?
And who are the trusted?
And where is the harmony?
Sweet harmony
‘Cause each time I feel it slippin’ away, just makes me wanna cry
What’s so funny ’bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh
What’s so funny ’bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh
What’s so funny ’bout peace love & understanding?
When I was a child, my parents instilled in me a sense of trust in the police. We lived up the street from our local municipal building in Willingboro, NJ (a suburb of Philadelphia) where the blue-uniformed people would go to work each day. If I was ever lost, they told me, go find a police officer. Other adults in my community were trustworthy as well, from the ‘library lady’- I pronounced it ‘liberry lady’ when I was young, who led story hour, to our mailman Frank. My sister and I called him Uncle Frank. He would stop by for a cup of coffee on a cold day after his rounds. One snowy day, I got caught in a drift in the front yard and he happened to be walking by and scooped me out. Our neighbor across the street, Howard Gaskill, was the fire chief and he took us to the firehouse to look at the trucks. We donned helmets and I imagined putting out fires. My dad was a volunteer and would answer the siren-call when he was home from work. One of our neighbors was in the Army and when he was stationed in Viet Nam, our family sort of ‘adopted’ his wife and sons. I remember when they moved to Ft. Dix, we visited them and heard about what it meant to be a military family.
My parents voted Democrat, taught us that everyone’s rights were equal, that we were not to judge people by appearance or any of the delineations I referenced earlier in this piece. We went to synagogue every week and practiced Judaism in the home. They let us go to church with Christian friends. We learned about other cultures by going to an annual International Festival at the high school and twice, we went to the World’s Fair in New York in the 1960s.
When the horror of January 6th continues to unfold and intensify, I am shocked at the number of those who I was supposed to trust, were in attendance, and who broke the law as they attempted to break the trust in our electoral system. Military and police personnel traveled to DC in a thwarted attempt to overthrow a valid election. Their anger was weaponized against their own government and some of their fellow officers. These ‘law and order and Back the Blue’ people, who waved Confederate flags, bore Nazi and White Supremacist symbols on their clothing and bodies, betrayed what they say they stand for.
TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DETAILS AND IMAGES IN THE LINKS BELOW
I watched, with tears in my eyes, the assaults on DC Police officers, one, Officer Hodges, crushed in a door, one, Officer Fanone, wrestled to the ground with his protective gear stripped off of him and his gun nearly taken from him, with the cry, “Let’s kill him with his own gun.” What stopped the onslaught was that he called out that he had children. Hearing that, some ferried him out of harm’s way. As he was being interviewed, he said his response was a combination of thank you and f-you. Understandable. One of their numbers Officer Sicknick met his end when murdered with a fire extinguisher.
A hero emerged as Officer Eugene Goodman, led assailants away from the Senate chambers, and within moments of encountering Vice President Mike Pence. He would most certainly fall into the category of strong and trusted. While this was happening, the outgoing President didn’t express concern for his colleagues and afterward, the Vice President didn’t hold his boss accountable for inviting the assailants to the Capitol with his incendiary words.
What astounds me is that these people desecrated the flag by using it as an assault weapon and in one case, replacing it on the side of the Capitol building with a Trump flag. Each officer who attended, whether they raised a voice or a weapon betrayed their Oath.
“On my honor, I will never betray my badge, my integrity, my character, or the public trust. I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions. I will always uphold the Constitution, my community, and the agency I serve.”
As I pass officers in my community, how will I know whether they are upholding their own oath? As I encounter neighbors, how will I know that I can trust them? Loss of safety and trust can be devastating. Time to listen to the song ago and wish it into being.
.
.
—
This post is republished on Medium.
—
Photo credit: Screenshot from video