Run 26.2 miles
through the neighborhoods of Pittsburgh and get an education in Trump America.
By name, they are:
The Strip
District, Uptown, North Side, West End, South Side, Oakland, Shadyside, Point Breeze,
East Liberty, Highland Park, Friendship, Homewood, Bloomfield.
Let’s be clear.
This is not a knock on Pittsburgh and the way its residents vote in
presidential elections. Urban voters north of the Mason Dixon line trend toward
Democrats.
Rather, consider:
Not so long ago,
Pittsburgh, along with Manchester, England, were considered Steel Capitals of
the World.
Yes, upteen square
feet of steel mills on the river degraded water quality, the air was fouled.
But workers by the
tens of thousands during peak manufacturing received living wages for a reasonable
workweek.
They enjoyed
union-strong health care, raised their children with a very real sense that
these young lives, benefiting from well-funded schools thanks to a vital tax
base, could realize dreams of improving upon the financial and educational
circumstances of the parents and grandparents.
Enter Realpolitik
of Imperial America, extracting concessions for its far flung Pax Americana,
most especially seen in South Korea.
Soon, its Korea
that is rivaling America in steelmaking.
Both national
parties rush headlong toward globalization: free trade deals that all too often
did not safeguard the industries like those in Pittsburgh that lived and died
on manufacturing.
Germany is a good
example of a country that did not follow this path. Indeed, Germany did much to
keep a rigorous manufacturing base. One that has changed with the times,
upgrading with high tech, and more recently, robotics.
But in principle
Germany has kept its hand on the tiller; has not wholesale abandoned the
industries in its good job-providing heartland.
You sure feel some
of that old proud Pittsburgh in these predominantly working-class neighborhoods
mentioned above during the Pittsburgh Marathon which I ran and completed last
Sunday (May 5). House bands play on the street in front of dive bars that
harken to steel times. Families of all ages flock to urge on all marathoners,
some striding purposely by, others struggling to put one foot in front of the
other.
I was constantly
struck with the pride and spirit of goodness demonstrated by these folks on their
main streets that seemed to me, a resident of vastly gentrified Brownstone
Brooklyn, as caught in a web of time. I am touched to think of just how many
thousands of people came out in the rain, urging us on.
Many on streets
that seem to me abandoned by policies that had everything to do with modern
politicians, with a contract that they feel was long broken. Promises that
never measured up to what was lost.
And so Trump, the
non-politician, is president …. Kind of adds up when you think about.
Running for Your Life: Killing Commendatore by
Marathoner-Novelist Haruki Murakami
