Names

Call it like it is.

John Proctor’s famous line in Arthur Miller’s The Crucible:

"Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!"

Back in the day, I guess it was a time when America was “great” or at least so they say. There was a columnist named Westbrook Pegler (1894-1969.) He was generally referred to as “One of the godfathers of right-wing populism.” As a syndicated columnist his brash style along with his propensity for name-calling catapulted him to short-lived fame. One of the most famous monikers he coined during debate over anti-lynching legislation. It was the term, “bleeding heart.” It was used to bash liberals who were supporting civil rights during post-WWII America. The pejorative supported the vigilante system of justice. Lynching was considered an expedient efficient way to keep the peace and maintain the Southern way of life. Needless to say language vilified a race along with a class of people who supported them. Anyone who opposed the masked marauders of the southern woods and wilds was simply soft-hearted.

Click on the above link to see some of his work.

“Bleeding heart liberal” stuck. Those of us who remember the 1960s knew it well. It flourished as an indicator of people in favor of social justice. The term was used alongside n****-lover, co-fo worker, communist, reds, scalawags, turn-coats and a host of other offensive slang insults intended to identify minorities and their allies.

I thought about right-wing terminology the other day as I made a cursory trek through the bowels of social media. In the flurry of name-calling those old monikers seemed, for the most part, to have trickled down to the footnotes of time. Not saying that indignities have become unfashionable; new put-downs and barbs are coined weekly by the Insulter-in-Chief. YKW.

I looked up the origins of the term, “Bleeding heart.” The first noted use of the term was attributed to Chaucer. It represented extreme heartache. Later it evolved into a religious symbol of Christ’s compassion. A “bleeding heart” individual referred to a person who exhibited extreme compassion for the suffering of others. A direct reflection on Jesus Christ who instructed his followers to heal the sick, clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and take in the stranger.

Many of us thought that those days of turmoil were over. We thought that the hard-fought battles for civil rights of mid-twentieth century America were finished. Little did we know that no sooner than the buglers sounded the last note of Taps the armies of injustice blasted out a new battle hymn. Insults and put-downs now rule the day.

Surprising to all, I consider myself a conservative. I am deeply committed to the preservation of wild lands, support compassionate initiatives, and believe strongly that in the United States of America each individual has the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I also find inspiration in the US Constitution and its Bill of Rights along with the string of ratified amendments. I feel as if we should be able to manage a fiscal budget and live within our means. These ideals are fundamental to a functioning society.

I am opposed to such liberal ideals such as rule by the few and powerful and excessive spending on ill-conceived self-aggrandizing notions. Liberally gilding offensive decoration seems to be far from the ideals of true conservatism.

In the reality of current day America, I’m afraid these monikers have been flipped.

I’ve pretty much given up on brandishing dashed-off replies on social media. Instead, I try to spend time with an idea, do a bit of research, and craft a document which will not embarrass my future self or my progeny. Good or bad, it’s my current methodology.

Even though my heart-of-hearts brands me as conservative, I’m afraid the powers-that-be couch me as a “flaming liberal.” I’ll accept the position and ally myself with those causes that are branded progressive. Adopting this position through a painstaking process of reading, introspection and discussion allowed me to have a platform on which to stand.

Several years ago, an old friend from my central Mississippi high school was on Facebook spouting jabs and barbs at anyone who would listen. I liked the guy, or I did fifty years ago, and considered him a friend. His posts were generally mean-spirited but I gave them a good ole Southern “bless-his-heart” and let it go. We went on to talk about old times. At one point he posted something to the effect: All libtards should die. I couldn’t get beyond this so I wrote him.

“Do you want me dead? Seriously?” I typed.

His response was not necessarily apologetic but it was certainly diverted. “I wasn’t talking about you. It’s about all those liberals who want to make whites subservient to the blacks and Latinos.”

“What do you mean?” I let him ramble.

“It’s called diversity. Our way of life is being taken over by the queers and the coloreds.” He continued. “It’s that woke mess.”

I felt fire in my fingers as I typed but tried to keep my cool. “So you think that the way to keep things the way you want them is to kill all those who challenge you?”

He slowed his response. “I didn’t really mean to physically kill them. I just want to shut them up. But I know you are not one of them.”

“What is your authority for thinking the way you do?” I really wanted to know.

“Well, it’s the Bible, of course. I’ve studied it. Races shouldn’t mix and queers are hell-bound. Give me a minute and I’ll give you the verses.”

At this point I decided that the battle in front of me was unwinnable. So, I let it go.

He died a few years after that exchange. I moved on. It did teach me that I was ill-equipped to argue any points with that old mindset. Instead, I committed myself to exploring and learning as much as possible about the origins of this train of thought.

During the last ten or so years I have spent a lot of time in deep introspection. I’ve thought about the old days growing up in the deep south. Lessons learned from my elders and my place in history.

When I visit old family plots in rural Mississippi I see scattered parts of my name chiseled into stone monuments. Long ago relations more often than not listed their rank in the army of the Confederate States of America. The shrines were modest. Mostly dirt farmers and pioneers who never owned a slave. Basically, good people who kowtowed to a system in which they held no stake. I could feel within the stone a hard-headedness amplified by determination and the refusal to admit you were wrong.

I don’t participate in any religion at this point. My experiences for the most part fell flat in the past. Joseph Campbell opened my eyes to the larger spiritual world in which our human nature is generationally bound to ask unanswerable questions. I study religion as a hobby and investigate cross-cultural ritual. It does seem that individuals and societies mold religion to fit their desires and maintain their level of comfort. I do find myself inspired by Naturalists (capital N) and feel that direct observation of the natural world and our species place within it offer applicable life-lessons.

So what happened to the name “Bleeding Heart Liberal?” Did it slip into the morass of time? Fall the way of the dinosaur? Here’s a thought.

In order to maintain power could a political organization need to engage the Christian religion? Did they need to brand themselves as a divine presence on the face of the earth? Did they need to wash their language and rhetoric? Maybe there’s an answer here. Maybe putting the main attribute of Jesus, compassion, into a negative was not such a good idea. Maybe Arthur Miller was on to something in The Crucible. Maybe we need to spend less time name-calling and more time listening, reading and thinking.