Deconstructing the debate - welfare and what it says about us

One of the most interesting parts of yesterday's comments is the enduring myth of the welfare queen. A lot of people, after hearing Liz's story, admitted that they wouldn't mind helping her, but they don't like helping "all those other people" who game the system.

(Of course, keep in mind that there were several people, all of whom I hope to never meet in person for their own personal safety, who said she didn't deserve a dime of help.)

Here's my question: Do you know any of these people who milk the system? I mean, personally, not in theory.

Because I think we all have this idea that these people exist. And I'm sure some of them do. There are cheaters in every system. But just how many are there?

Now, some of my commenters would say nobody deserves help - that we should all just pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and stop whining. That's fine. It's not an opinion I agree with, but at least it's defined.

But the rest of us who want to help, but don't want to be taken advantage of, how many people do we actually know that just rely on the system, lazy and unwilling to work?

I spend my time with people who everyone assumes are in that situation: public housing residents. And let me tell you, I haven't met any yet.

Another person who would know is Joe the Cop, who left this comment:

Yes, there are some people who game the system. But if you don't know any, and I don't know any, and if Joe doesn't know many, where are these cheaters hiding?

I think the level of debate in this country is often maddening. We've turned each other - democrats, republicans, liberals, conservatives, greens, socialists, libertarians and the like - into caricatures. Paper dolls and finger puppets. Not real people, but just paper cut outs with no dimension, no experience and no relevance.

I think we do this because it feels good. It's easier to turn someone into a drawing with a big head and a weird little body because we don't like the idea that we could be wrong. That someone else's experience could challenge our own. That those experiences could challenge how we think of ourselves, the stories we tell about our own lives.

I'm as guilty of it as anybody.

But it's the same problem we have with welfare queens. As a liberal person, I'd like to turn all the conservatives I know into big-headed Rush Limbaughs and Ann Coulters. It's more fun to hate them and trash them, and serves as fodder for much of our conversation and witty t-shirts.

But the trouble is, the conservative people I know aren't really like that. They're nice people with a certain point of view. Their life experience backs up that point of view. And while I don't always agree, demonizing them is just as much of a lie as the ways they demonize me (because if you didn't read yesterday, I am an annoying dimwit that should move to Canada and try working for a living).

I think when we get to look at a real experience, like Liz's, it often challenges both our views. I know it's challenged Liz's view of the social service system.

Are we getting needy people the help they deserve? from Megan Cottrell on Vimeo.

Of all yesterday's comments, I thought Whet Moser's really struck at the heart of the issue.

Making them better is downright impossible when we all have these ideas of who the other side is.

There's so much anger out there. And as hesitant as I am to have it directed at myself and my best friend, I can only hope that sparking more debate and actually getting people talking to each other (even if it's just on the internet) has the potential to create change.

Perhaps we need to hash it out, be willing to listen to each other, even when it means we get angry and heated and ugly.

I take a lot of the inspiration for my job from radio host Ira Glass. Ira tells this story about a production of Arabian Nights he saw. It's one of my favorite stories, and I'm going to rip off one of my idols just to share it with you here.

If you don't know the story of Arabian Nights, it's about a king who was betrayed by his queen. He loved her so much and was so distraught by her betrayal that he had her killed, and even that wasn't enough to quell his anger. So he began a strange habit: every night, he would sleep with a new woman, and in the morning, have her beheaded, killing her before she could betray him. After awhile, he started running out of women, and pretty soon, he came to the daughter of his Grand Vizier, Scheherazade.

Scheherazade.  has a clever strategy. She starts telling the king stories. After the first night, he doesn't execute her because he wants to hear more. And so every night she tells him a story, and every night, he lets her live for one more day.

The stories she tells have a theme. They always show an unjust situation, where one person is weilding their power in a way that hurts another. Over and over, she tells these stories of power and injustice, for 1,001 nights, until one day the king realizes he loves her. And more over, he realizes he's forgiven and doesn't thirst for revenge anymore.

What Ira says is that stories have the power to change us. That listening to stories helps us identify and learn in a way we otherwise wouldn't be able to do. And that's why he tells stories.

And that's why I tell stories. 

I hope this week's stories meant something to you. If not, maybe try back next week? We're both learning together. 

Oh. 43 comments. The conversation continues...