Walt Bennett

That grizzled mug belongs to me. My name is Walt Bennett.

I was an Eisenhower baby, born in 1960 at the tail end of the baby boom. I was more influenced by JFK and RFK, however, and eventually by MLK, with whom I shared a birthday, January 15.

I grew up in a poor section of Ocean County, NJ, called Parkway Pines. Settled by former city dwellers who used the Garden State Parkway to get to and from their city jobs, it was a quiet area, a mix of retirees and young families.

I became aware at an early age that some people lived in better circumstances than mine, and some, though not many, were even worse off. As I grew I also learned that ethnicity was a determining factor in social and economic status. I learned that it was difficult to be a black or hispanic American.

I learned also that corporate America is a poor gatekeeper of the welfare of workers. I considered it absurd, and still do, that the backbone of any economic system - its workers - were considered expendable, with no thought to the real consequences of tossing them aside.

In a perfect world, those workers would land an even better job and climb their way up the ladder. Indeed, some do. I’ve always been fortunate to move from one job to a better job. But we have to know, it’s not that way for many others, who do everything right and play by all the rules, and still get kicked to the curb when they are no longer “needed.”

I’ve lived through at least two economic contractions in my adult life alone; two periods when asset-based investments took a years-long beating. The first one cost me my home and any chance of a normal middle-class life; I’ve been playing catchup ever since, and what should be a comfortable life, based on my income, has instead been a journey of being attacked randomly by the forces of wealth and power in this country.

The experience has opened my eyes to two simple truths:

(1) They want us to be poor and in hock. That way, we are always desperate, always needing them, always willing to accept their terms.

(2) When they want their wealth back, they take it.

The only thing I consider myself an expert at is the art of putting words together. I’m fairly good at that, written as well as spoken. I paid attention in English class. I was a solid reader before I ever even went to school (thanks, Mom). I’m analytical, I can handle complex topics, I can keep my thoughts together, evaluate your point of view, and come back with ideas and questions which will challenge us all, and, I hope, elevate our awareness of the intricacies of an issue.

I’m fairly certain I’m right about this, that America has been undergoing a persistent dumbing-down. I suspect that the average American knows far less about social and civic issues than any generation preceding these last two, mine and the one following mine. That’s sad on many levels, but perhaps most in this sense: how can we participate in democracy if we are ill-informed? And if we cannot effectively participate, then we cannot caretake, and then we are at the mercy of others.

I say this: if you assert the right to have an opinion, you are obligated to make it an informed opinion. And if you’ve only looked at or thought about it from one position, then you aren’t informed enough to know how you really feel about it.

And that’s not a bad thing. I’m never afraid to have a better idea. In order to have that better idea, I need to challenge my own ideas, submit them to the review and comment of others, and see how they hold up.

If I end up modifying my view, I have presumably made it stronger. In so doing, I become stronger and more valuable, a better asset in the protection of democratic ideals.

I say this: if “America” means anything, it is an idea first. We all know the idea: that all people are created equal, that they are endowed with certain inalienable rights, that among these rights are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

That’s a powerful idea on which to build a society. The ground of America is not worth defending, if that country no longer embraces those ideals.

Rome, the greatest empire the world had ever known, collapsed from the inside, through decadence and neglect.

Any argument that decadence and neglect are at the root of what’s wrong with society today?

I am not a capitalist, nor am I a socialist. I am a worker. I want a peaceful, productive life, and I don’t seek to earn nor own any more than my share. I don’t need the biggest house, the newest car, the fanciest clothes. I need a fair opportunity to make my life a happy one, as I define happy. I need a level playing field, so that I can keep up with my obligations. I need to be left alone as much as possible, so I don’t have to constantly feel as though my way of life is under threat.

And I need to be allowed to speak my mind, to have my voice heard, and to matter when great issues are being decided. And I don’t need to be elected to an office, in order to have that impact. I can do it with my own voice, with my own efforts to reach out to others and encourage them to reach out to me.

Those are my bedrock principles, the principles I defend.

I welcome your participation in this blog, and I value your opinion, whatever it may be.

As long as it is an informed opinion.