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Thursday, August 4, 2011

What Next? A Letter from Barney Frank Addressing the Recent Debt Ceiling Law

I am sharing this letter from Rep. Frank because I found it helpful in understanding what just happened in and to our country.  Additionally, he ends with some explanation of how we might want to address the issues this law will raise over the coming months.

Dear Friend,

I appreciate you taking the time to let me know of your views on the debt limit.  As I will explain later, I think part of the reason that we wound up with a very unsatisfactory bill – one that I voted against – is that there was a disproportionate volume of communications from people who take a wholly negative view of virtually all government activity.  Fortunately, now that their efforts have called some fundamental values into question, a more broadly representative sector in the American public is speaking out and I think that will have a good result.

As to this legislation, I was originally appalled at the notion that there was dispute over raising the debt limit.  It has never been controversial – as many noted Ronald Reagan asked for it several times.  It is the exact equivalent of paying your credit card bill or your mortgage when they come due.  But the election, last year, of a radical faction of people who combine, in my judgment, an ignorance of the way government actually functions with a philosophical opposition to important public functions, put us in a dilemma.  While I do not agree with everything the President did in this situation, I sympathize with him because the fundamental problem was that he was confronting a group of people prepared to blow up the whole enterprise.  When you are dealing with very radical people, who are prepared to tear things down, you are, unfortunately, at a disadvantage.  And for that reason, I was prepared to vote for a bill to raise the debt ceiling that would have included elements I did not like. 

I say that because a failure to raise the debt ceiling would have had terribly negative consequences.  First of all, it is axiomatic that if you don't have enough money, you are unable to avoid failing  meet your obligations.  So the people who are most vulnerable in our society would have been hurt the worst.  But the whole economy would have suffered as well.  For that reason, I reluctantly voted on Saturday for the bill proposed by Senator Reid, which did not have increased taxes, which I think are very important, but which at least had equitable spending reductions, very particularly including a trillion dollars that he anticipated saving when we ended the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.  These wars are terrible drains on our budget that, hypocritically, many conservatives seek not only to minimize but to increase.

When I saw the bill on Monday morning, my initial reaction was a hopeful one because it had been described to me as something that would put real limits on military spending.  But then I read it.  It had two serious flaws in that regard.

First, it exempted the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan from any spending limits whatsoever.  This is incredible.  We are restraining everything else – firefighting ; vital research on cancer; aid for homeless people; repairing dangerously decayed bridges, etc. – but we were told there would be unlimited spending for Afghanistan and Iraq. 

Beyond that, the initial announcement was that the spending cuts would be parceled equally between military spending and non-military spending for the next ten years.  But the bill turned out to impose that division only for the first two years.  For the next eight years, military spending would be unlimited within the overall cap, and past history suggests that this would lead to increased military spending at the expense of vital domestic programs.  I support a strong military, but the $700 billion a year we are now spending on military – far more than we spend on Medicare – greatly exceeds anything necessary for our legitimate national security and in fact gives some our leaders an incentive to engage in military activity that is unwise.

There was one other part of the bill that I opposed.  I am pleased that it made no cuts in Social Security and protected Medicaid, a very important program for low-income people and one that has a very important impact on state budgets.  But it provided for a cut of up to 2% in Medicare.  It is true that it said this would come only from providers and not from beneficiaries, but there are three problems with this.  First, we made some sensible restrictions in what are paid to Medicare providers in the healthcare bill.  Ironically, the Republicans who are now pushing for even further cuts denounced us by grossly exaggerating the effect those cuts would have had.  Second, restricting funds to providers in Medicare, when non-Medicare reimbursements are not restricted, means that many people will have trouble getting access as some doctors decide not to participate.  This is especially a problem for older people who may lack mobility and live in areas where there are not a lot of physicians.  Finally, I do not regard healthcare providers as bad things.  They are sources not just of good medical care but, in much of the district I represent, of jobs.  Hospitals are major job sources in Fall River, New Bedford and other cities in the southeastern part of Massachusetts, and these are also jobs that cannot be outsourced.  People cannot administer to patients from Mumbai.  In addition, innovative drug and other medical technologies are, for Massachusetts, a major source of economic activity.  Again, in the district I represent, there are several such companies, and while I do not think we should be lavishing money on them, I do not want them singled out for excessive restriction. 

For these reasons, I voted against the bill. 

Had there been an increase in tax revenues, this would have overcome my objections.  That is, the absence of tax revenues alone would not have led me to vote against the bill if the military spending was restrained.  But to have unrestrained military spending and no new tax revenues guarantees that virtually every other part of the government would be unduly cut.
I alluded earlier to what has been an imbalance in the communications we received and my satisfaction that that appears to be over – namely that people who understand the importance, in a civilized society, of our joining our efforts by speaking out.  This gives me some optimism for next year.

The way this bill is set up, over my objection but nonetheless now law, we will have a very serious debate next year.  The Bush tax cuts , which exacerbated the deficit so much, will expire at the end of 2012.  If the 12 Member committee set up under this bill cannot come to an agreement, which seems to be the likeliest outcome – we will have what is called sequestration, with very deep cuts in a variety of programs, taking effect on January 1 of 2013.  What this means is that for all of next year – we should begin it this year – we will be debating two scenarios.  In one, we will allow the tax cuts to continue for most Americans, but return the tax rate on incomes over $250 thousand to where it was under Bill Clinton – when we had a strong economy.  What this means is that for every thousand dollars people make above $250 thousand, they will be required to pay $30. more in taxes.  (Their marginal rate will go from 36 to 39%) I am prepared to argue strongly that increasing the tax on someone making half a million dollars a year by another $7500. will have no negative effect on his or her economic behavior or well being.   And if we do not raise these tens of billions, it will mean further deep cuts in Alzheimer's and cancer research, firefighters, environmental clean up and aid to community colleges.  This is a very important debate.  I believe that when the American people look at the deep cuts in services that will come from a sequestration versus a tax increase of $300. for every thousand dollars earned over $250,000, the great majority will be on our side.  And in this case, since the Bush tax cuts are due to expire, that would have to be reenacted by both Houses and signed by the President, we will have the leverage this time as opposed to those who had it last time because they were ready to blow things up.

So I am sorry that the bill came out as it did, although I am pleased that we protected Social Security and Medicaid, and at least began the process of cutting the military.  But a lack of any increased taxes and a continuation of preferred spending status in the military, meant to me that it was simply not acceptable.  And I am now committed to making sure that we have the debate that I described above because I think once that happens, we will not again face such a terrible choice

Monday, August 1, 2011

Lamenting a Loss

This blog is dedicated to the memory of my niece Danielle Dennis-Towne who blessed us with her arrival on April 6, 1993 and transitioned much too soon, on July 16, 2011.  It was written loosely following a suggested format for laments in the book Rachel’s Cry.  Writing this blog helped me to process some of my feelings, and I hope reading it helps someone else out there in some way.  Blessings and peace…

Dear Spirit of Life, Soul of the Universe, Mind of God~

You already know why I’m writing, but bear with me.  I need to say it anyway.  I’m in the midst of writing my thesis on fourteenth century mystic Julian of Norwich, who is famous for saying that “all shall be well.”  My niece was murdered two weeks ago.  I am not convinced that anything shall be well, let alone that “all shall be well.”  My faith is shaken, and my hope is dead.

I know that sounds melodramatic.  Objectively, I also know it’s not entirely true that my hope is dead, or I wouldn’t be writing this letter.  But it feels true.  It would be more accurate to say that my hope has suffered critical injuries and recovery is uncertain. Danielle’s story is tied to mine, maybe more tightly than I’d ever recognized. Her father was my brother, and the challenges he brought to our lives bound us through silent, subterranean connections, like those forests of trees connected at the roots, and when one dies the rest die too.  If there is no hope left for her, can there be any left for me?

She was born into sad circumstances.  Her parents were troubled souls; although they both loved her dearly they were inadequate parents and loving them brought challenges for everyone who knew them.  Unable to rise to that challenge, I avoided my brother in order to avoid the pain.  Subsequently, I didn’t see Danielle often, one of many regrets that her loss seems to trigger for me.  I did call, though, from time to time.  When she was about four years old, he told me that she’d chopped through a board in karate class, yelling “yabba dabba doo!” while she taught that board a lesson about messing with preschoolers.   She had spunk from the get-go.

Gradually her maternal grandmother took responsibility for raising her, and by the time she was thirteen both parents were deceased.  Family members on both sides made sure she never went without love, though.  She knew she was loved.

In spite of the sadness surrounding her, she was happy.  We spoke about it the last time I saw her.  I’d gone to Chicago to support family when my step-mom was in the process of being diagnosed with ALS.  Danielle spent a few nights at my dad’s so that we could connect.  We went running every day, shopped a little and talked for hours. 

She shared the achievements she was making at the time, as well as her dreams for the future.  She was an honors student at the same high school I graduated from. She was a Junior ROTC commander and planned a military career. She told me about her awesome boyfriend, Ronnie, and how happy they were together.  She was a good kid and an impressively strong young woman—not giving up on life because it was tough, but rising to the challenge.

I asked her how she was doing without her parents and if she ever missed them.  She sure did miss them, she assured me, but didn’t dwell on it or feel sorry for herself.  “Who wants to be around someone who’s sad all the time?  Life is hard, and bad things happen.  But good things happen too, so I just look for the good in things.”  She said one day she’d have a chance to make her life her own and that’s where she kept her focus.  A lot of people would have given up, but not Danielle.  She never gave up on herself.  She never gave up on life.


So why, God, did you allow some obsessed idiot to murder her?  Why did you put her through all of that pain in her life and fill her with hope for a happy ending, only to let it end like that?  Everyone who knew her wanted nothing more than to see her succeed—it was impossible not to be on her side.  So what about you, God?  Where were you?  And more importantly, how can any of the rest of us dare to hope for a happy ending if you can let this happen to someone who made the most of every moment?

This is hitting me really hard—harder than I want to let on—because I needed to see a piece of my brother function in the world.  And I didn’t realize it until she died, but she was that beautiful piece of my brother that gave me some hope for my own ability to transcend the heartache of loving and losing him.  Maybe I was the same for her?  Who knows?  Now she’s gone and I can’t ask.

A childhood friend shot her in the back of the head.  I hope she didn’t see it coming.  I hope she died instantly and didn’t suffer.  I will continue to think she died quickly and painlessly without the agony of betrayal and loss until forced to think otherwise.  She suffered enough.



But maybe, God, she and I were connected not just by virtue of the pain of my brother’s life, but maybe also by some common strength—the same strength that allowed her to find joy and love despite her many pains and losses.  That doesn’t stop me from thinking that life was horribly unfair to that little girl.  It was.  But it does allow me to see past the pain.  It also forces me to realize that I have no idea who might be reading their life in the light I shine, so I have to find a way to shine it even though it’s hard right now.  We are all so interconnected, really, whether we realize it or not.

Show me, God, how to be true to the sadness in my heart as well as the optimism in hers.  Hopelessness seems an inappropriate way to commemorate such a brilliant life, yet it creeps into my bones throughout the day.  Optimism feels out of place in the face of such a horrible loss.  Nothing feels right.
Some people say “God has a plan.”  Frankly, I don’t believe this was part of God’s plan.  I believe in a God of Love, and that type of God isn’t capable of being the God of Murder, too.  I don’t believe this was God’s plan for Danielle.  But here’s what I do believe:



I believe, O Source of Life, that you were the source of her hope and her strength whether or not she knew it. I believe that you brought her all of the things that she needed—loving family members, loyal boyfriend, and supportive friends—and in just the right quantity to result in a truly beautiful human being.  Your plan was for her success and happiness.  She lived according to your plan.

I believe, Soul of the Universe, that you tried to change the direction this particular situation was headed in.  You were the source of the misgivings she initially had about going on the trip.  You silently encouraged family members to tell her not to visit this friend.  You probably tried in some way to reach him as well, to tell him that killing her wasn’t the solution to any of his problems.  But he pulled the trigger anyway.  He violated your plan.

Julian, fourteenth century mystic and subject of my thesis, had a near-death experience, and wrote of the great peace and bliss she felt in your presence.  Many others who come back from near death experiences say the same things.  I believe that is the ultimate plan, and the real end of Danielle’s story: she is with you now in bliss and peace. 

I believe, too, Mind of God, that you will help us all find a way back to the light, back to the beauty and hope that Danielle stood for, in spite of the crushing weight of her loss on our hearts.  I believe your plan is for all of us to live as Danielle did, looking for the good over and above the tragedy. Most of us are not there yet, but hope is creeping in around the edges of the pain.

Death does not have the last word. 

Love does.