SPECIAL COMMENTBy Keith Olbermann, MSNBC
Since August 23rd of this year I have interacted daily with our American Health Care system and often done so to the exclusion of virtually all other business. It is not undercover reporting, and it is not an expert study of the field, but since that day, when my father slid, seemingly benignly, out of his bed and onto the floor of his home, I have experienced with growing amazement and with multiplying anger, the true state of our hospitals, our doctor's offices, our insurance businesses, our pharmacies.
My father's story as a patient and mine as a secondary participant and a primary witness has been eye-opening and jaw-dropping. And we are among the utterly lucky ones, a fact that, by itself, is terrifying and infuriating.
And thus tonight, for all those who we have met along the way, those with whom we have shared the last two months inside the belly of the beast, and for everyone in this country who will be here and right soon, tonight Countdown will be devoted entirely to a Special Comment on the subject of health care reform in this country.
I do not want to yell. I feel like screaming but everybody is screaming, everybody is screaming that this is about rights or freedom or socialism or the president or the future or the past or a political failure or a political success. We have all been screaming, I have been screaming.
And we have all been screaming because we do not want to face, we cannot face, what is at the heart of all of this, what is the unspoken essence of every moment of this debate; what, about which, we are truly driven to such intense ineffable inchoate emotions. Because ultimately, in screaming about health care reform, pro or con, we are screaming about death. This, ultimately, is about death.
About preventing it. About fighting it. About resisting it. About grabbing hold of anything and everything to forestall it and postpone it, even though we know that the force will overcome us all - always will, always has. Health care is, at its core, about improving the odds of life in its struggle against death. Of extending that game which we will all lose, each and every one of us unto eternity, extending it another year or month or second.
This is the primary directive of life, the essence of our will as human beings, all perhaps that is measurable of our souls, the will to live. And when we go to a doctor's office or a hospital or a storefront clinic in a ghetto we are expressing this fundamental cry of humanity: I want to live! I want my child to live! I want my wife to live! I want my father to live! I want my neighbor to live! I want this stranger I do not know and never will know to live! This is elemental stuff — our atoms in action, our survival mode in charge. Tamper with this and you are tampering with us.
And so we yell and scream and try to put it all in a political context or expand it to some great issue of societal freedom or dress it up in something that would be otherwise farcical, like a death panel. But this issue needs no expansion and no dressing up. The Democrats need draw no line in the sand, and the Republicans need calculate no seats to be gained, and the Blue Dogs need anticipate no campaign contributions lost. This issue is big enough as it is. This is already life and death. Of all the politicians of the previous century, none fought harder to prevent an administration that promised to involve itself in health care, from ever gaining power, than did England's Winston Churchill.
He equated his opponents, the party that sought to introduce "The National Health," to the Gestapo of the Germans that he and we had just beaten just as those opposing reform now have invoked Nazis as frequently and falsely as if they were invoking Zombies. Churchill cost himself the election because he didn't realize he was overplaying an issue that people were already damned serious about. Irony — this.
Because, a decade earlier, Churchill had made the greatest argument ever for government intervention in health care only he did not realize it. He was debating in Parliament the notion that the British government could not increase expenditures on military defense unless the voters specifically authorized it, just as today's opponents of reform are now claiming they speak for the voters of today, even though those voters spoke for themselves eleven months ago.
Churchill's argument was this"I have heard it said that the government had no mandate such a doctrine is wholly inadmissible. The responsibility for the public safety is absolute and requires no mandate!"
And there is the essence of what this is. What, on the eternal list of priorities, precedes health? What more obvious role could government have than the defense of the life, of each citizen? We cannot stop every germ that seeks to harm us any more than we can stop every person who seeks to harm us. But we can try dammit and government's essential role in that effort facilitate it, reduce its cost, broaden its availability, improve my health and yours, seems, ultimately, self-explanatory.
We want to live. What is government for if not to help us do so? Indeed Mr. Churchill, the responsibility for the public safety is absolute and requires no mandate! And yet today, at this hour, somebody somewhere in this country is arguing against, or protesting against, or yelling against health care reform, because the subject is really life and death, and they're scared, and they have been scared, and they have been mis-led by the overly-simple words of one side, and misinformed by the overly-complex words of the other side.
And that one person, at least that one person, who is tonight so scared that somehow sickness and pain and death will come sooner to them because of reform they do not understand - that one person, if his or her argument is successful and reform is again quashed, that one person arguing against health care reform will die sooner, because they argued against health care reform.
Just as you and I have largely failed to understand the terror, the fear of death, that underlies this debate in the minds of so many, the leadership of the reform effort has also failed to understand it, and failed to lead not just in practical terms, but in rhetorical ones. If you did not know what something called "The Public Option" was, you might instinctively oppose it.
Option? My health care is now optional? Doesn't that mean it can go away somehow? Doesn't that mean that when I need it, it won't be there? Doesn't that mean somebody is trying to take it away from me? And this insurance that might go away is public? I'm giving control to the government somehow? No "private?" Just "public?"
And so, in seconds, with mental reflexes as acute and natural as any mechanism of "fight-or-flight", something that will expand health care and reduce its cost, something that will help fight death and pain becomes misunderstood as exactly the opposite. You can blame the one doing the misunderstanding all you want. But the essence of communication is reducing the chance of misunderstanding. And the term "The Public Option" has been as useless and as full of holes and as self-defeating as has been the term "Global Warming." It is political-speak. It is legalese. It is designed not for the recipient but for the speaker. It is the ego of the informed, strutting down the street and saying "look at me, I talk smart."
Just as "global warming" is really "bad climate change," "The Public Option" is in broad essence "Medicare For Everybody." Frame it that way, sell it that way, and suddenly it doesn't sound like a threat, turning the seemingly solid insurance which people have now, into something "optional" and turning anything "private" into everything "public."
Once you said "Medicare For Everybody," there would be just as much to explain. If you were under 65 you'd be paying for it. You wouldn't have to buy it. You wouldn't have to change from whatever you have now. There are just as many caveats.
Still, the intent of all this would be clearer. Much of the criticism of health care reform is coming from those who have or are about to get Medicare and, in confusion, in fear, in the kind of indescribable realization that we are far closer to the end than to the beginning, they are suddenly mortally afraid that health care reform will take it away from them. "Medicare For Everybody," might not be literally true, but instead of terrifying, it would be reassuring. And the explanations and the caveats would be listened to, and not shouted down, as anger and fear -- fear, remember, of death - swell up inside.
This rhetorical ship, of course, has sailed, and frankly, those leading the effort to reform health care have been so out-flanked, out-argued, out-terrorized by its opponents, that their reflexes seem shot. They are, to use Mr. Lincoln's words about General Rosecrans, frozen in place, "like a duck hit on the head."
And yet even from the most insurrectionary of the infamous Town Halls of August, there came report after report of proponents of Health Care reform, responding to the tea-baggers and the genuinely confused, in voices calm, with genuine empathy and honest inquiry, by asking "what are you afraid of? What do you think we can do to improve health care?"
Setting aside the professional protesters, the shameless mercenaries of the equation, the LaRouchebags and the hired guns, the results were uniform and productive. Dialogue. Conversation. Admission of fear. Admission that we are indeed talking about pain and sickness, and life and death. Admission that we are seeking the same things and that this should not be left to the politicians who almost to a man reek of the corruption of campaign contributions from the very monopolies they are supposedly trying to control.
And something else would come up. Something that you never hear included in the debate over reform, in the debate about insurance and bankruptcy and even in the debate over the remorseless rapaciousness of companies that are forever increasing premiums and deductibles while reducing what they give back to the person who is sick. What you never hear about is the person who is sick.
Have you ever stayed overnight in a hospital? All data suggests that in a given year, only about one in ten of us do so it's not a universal experience. Could you sleep in a hospital? With constant noise, with sharing a room with strangers, with contemplating mortality and more immediately the fog of germs in the place? With staph infections and MRSA and nursing staffs cut to the minimum, and overworked doctors, and medical record-keeping so primitive it might as well be done on blackboards?
And the bills? What about the person who is sick and the bills? How are they supposed to get better, while they are sitting there inside a giant cash register? How do you heal, how do you kill a cancer, when the meter is running so loudly you can hear it?
When a system of health care has been so refined, so perfected, as to find a way to charge for almost everything, and to reimburse for almost nothing, how does the person who is sick, not worry, always, always, about where he is going to get the money?
And how is somebody worrying always about where he is going to get the money, supposed to also get better? Yet our neighbor, in that hospital bed, hoping half for health and half for the money to pay for it, is still in better shape than at least 122 Americans who might be watching this right now, and who will not be with us tomorrow, because they will die, because they do not have insurance. I will pick it up there and then move on to the question of whether, if health care is not reformed, we should force the issue, by bailing out of this stylized blackmail that is insurance.
To be continued...
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