I don't keep the opinion, mind you. I just exercise what it would be like to believe that Sarah Palin was actually qualified to be Vice President, that the Republican party gives a shit about poor working class people, that Obama was a secret Muslim, that somehow being a Muslim disqualifies you from being a human, or even a President, that white American people are superior to everyone else on the planet, and that those fucking Mexicans want my job.

And then I realize that it's time wasted; that there are probably not enough people truly of that persuasion who would be capable or willing to do that kind of introspection.

They could never entertain the idea that maybe they're wrong, or even experimentally believing that possibly they've been terribly lied to. That they're horribly scared and unable to express it for fear of seeming weak in the world's eyes. That maybe, just maybe, Obama would simply do a better job if they gave him a chance. That Mexicans have rights too, that English is spoken better in other countries and by non-native speakers, that speaking English doesn't make one superior. That we've been awfully gluttonous and irresponsible as a society for far too long.  . . read more

McCain had a unique POW experience. Initially, he was taken to the infamous Hanoi Hilton prison camp, where he was interrogated. By McCain’s own account, after three or four days he cracked... His Vietnamese captors soon realized their POW, John Sidney McCain III, came from a well-bred line in the American military elite... McCain was held for five and half years. The first two weeks’ behavior might have been pragmatism, but McCain soon became North Vietnam’s go-to collaborator. McCain cooperated with the North Vietnamese for a period of three years. His situation isn’t as innocuous as that of the French barber who cuts the hair of the German occupier. McCain was repaying his captors for their kindness and mercy.

This is the lesson of McCain’s experience as a POW: a true politician, a hollow man, his only allegiance is to power. The Vietnamese, like McCain’s campaign contributors today, protected and promoted him, and, in return, he danced to their tune. [More] . . read more

In the wake of his defeat the attacks on Howard's legacy will turn ferocious, but at their heart will be an unease, a ritual exorcism of something deeper that Australians would perhaps rather not admit. For a decade Howard's power had resided in his ability to speak directly and powerfully to the great negativity at the core of the Australian soul - its timidity, its conformity, its fear of other people and new ideas, its colonial desire to ape rather than lead, its shame that sometimes seems close to a terror of the uniqueness of its land and people.

At the end of his concession speech, Howard claimed to have left Australia prouder, stronger and more prosperous. But it didn't feel that way. It felt like it had been a lost decade. It felt like the country was frightened, unsure of what it now is, unready for the great changes it must make, and ill-fitted for the robust debates it must have. There was a strange sense that Australia, which had seemed so often to sleepwalk, mesmerised, through the past 11 years, had suddenly woken up. But where it might go and what it might do and be, no one any longer knew.

From The Guardian. Richard Flanagan is a novelist. . . read more