3.5

We are a generation of cynics. We distrust our politicians and government, we mock faith (in spirituality and humanity), we distance ourselves from passion and sincerity, and we doubt whether our futures will be better than the lives of our parents.

Much of this, perhaps, can be attributed to youth. When you’re young, you’re supposed to grow disenchanted with authority while idealistically waxing about might-be’s (soon turned into coulda-been’s). It’s practically the nature of modern society; I hardly think we can lay exclusive claim to systemic disillusionment. However, I do believe that our generation has come of age in an extended period of cynicism that, unlike for past generations, has yet to be relieved.

For many of us, our first solid memory of politics, when we were old enough to start caring (if only just a bit), was Bill Clinton lying to the nation about an affair. A bitter, divisive circus culminating in an impeachment followed, partisanship running rampant. This, naturally, contributed to the closest presidential election in modern history. It left a nation at odds with itself, symbolized by colors on an electoral map, large swaths of red hedged by blue.

Then, less than two short years later, we were attacked in an utterly horrific act of senseless violence that left us doubting, questioning, and, most significantly, fearing. Initially, the nation (and, for that matter, the world) came together in condemning the violence, a show of human solidarity that a younger me rolled his eyes at, but that today I look back upon with no small amount of wonder and hope.

We had an opportunity to heal, to recognize our similarities while respecting difference, to transform through tragedy, to use our fear and anger but more importantly our resilience and compassion to better ourselves.

But what we eventually got was a climate of terror, pseudo-patriotism (all the saber rattling, none of the sacrifice), critics browbeaten into acquiescence, and a costly (in too many regards) war sold to us on reasoning that was, at best, erroneous. And it all went downhill from there. Deception and denial has ruled the White House since, and although the individuals responsible and in charge may “not recall” most of the events taking place, we certainly do.

So it’s little wonder that both candidates (sooner or later) made their campaigns about “change.” And, truth be told, I was initially heartened by the 2008 matchup. Both candidates were respectable, both aspired to post-partisanship, and both seemed suited to lead this country in a better, unified direction. I won’t manipulate you into thinking I was truly ever undecided, but I genuinely believed that we would be pretty well off with either man. And that sentiment continued until three weeks ago when McCain chose Sarah Palin to be his Vice Presidential candidate.

It isn’t so much Palin herself that is the problem (although she’s quite problematic), since she is, after all, only the VP. Instead, it’s what she represents in terms of McCain that trouble me. Palin was a thoroughly cynical and partisan choice, an unqualified candidate (for a candidate who used to so value “experience”) chosen to superficially appeal to disgruntled Clinton supporters while proving that McCain wasn’t as devoted to “the political center” as much of his base feared, scattering whatever hopes we may have had that McCain truly would be a different kind of president.

My fears were confirmed when she served as the biting headliner to an already caustic convention, and the day after McCain had the audacity to say he’d try to end “partisan rancor” once elected.

And now, in the past few weeks, McCain’s taken to outright lying, specifically about Palin’s role in the Bridge to Nowhere debacle and his opponent’s tax policy. Arguably, it’s just politics. But McCain, as the (now apparently mythical) maverick, was supposed to change this sort of thing, not embrace it.

In the past, McCain has said (in a precursor to his current trend) that Barack Obama was willing to lose a war to win an election. However, it seems to be becoming increasingly apparent that McCain is willing to sacrifice what made him special, his honor and integrity, to do the very same thing.

Of course, as I mentioned, I was never planning on voting for McCain, but I was at least planning on respecting him. If I were a McCain voter who truly believed in his vision of a less divisive, bipartisan Washington (one I believe Obama shares), I’d tell the Senator. I’d ask him (and Obama, if he decides to fight bile with bile) to stop using the politics of diversions, delusions, and deceptions and to risk losing an election for the sake of the change we need to believe in. That’s what our generation wants: something to believe in again.

I believe in Barack Obama. And I thought I could (begrudgingly) believe in John McCain. Here’s hoping he’ll give me a reason to do it again.