Categories
Homelessness Policy Public health psychiatry Systems

Loud Music Is Disorder. What About Memecoins?

I read this provocative essay about “disorder” when it was first published in September 2024. I found myself alternating between nodding and frowning. It’s not a short essay, but I do encourage you to read it. (For those who lean left politically, the author is a thoughtful conservative commentator named Charles Fain Lehman, a fellow at the Manhattan Institute.) I considered writing up my reactions at the time, but I deferred. My reactions felt squishy. I didn’t have data to back up my reasons for frowning.

I still don’t have data, but the increasing disorder at the federal level frustrates me.

To summarize: Lehman opens by citing statistics that crime has indeed fallen in the US. Many Americans, though, feel that crime is rising both in their communities and across the nation. He then argues that “disorder” is increasing and offers these as examples of “disorder”:

  • A man blasting loud music from his phone in a subway car;
  • Teenagers spray-painting graffiti on a public park;
  • A large homeless encampment taking over a city block;
  • A man throwing his trash on the ground and walking away;
  • A group of women selling sex on a street corner.

From this, he proposes a definition for “disorder”: domination of public space for private purposes.

He goes on to argue that engaging in disorderly behavior is the rational choice, but most people do not contribute to disorder. Why? He attributes this to

“social control”—the regulation of individual behavior by social institutions through informal and formal means.

Lehman says that the Covid pandemic, in particular, weakened social control (e.g., fewer “eyes on the street” due to increasing remote work; reduction of law enforcement numbers due to the George Floyd murder and defund the police efforts). He adds that “the core to combating disorder is restoring public control of public space.”

To his credit, he doesn’t offer law enforcement as the sole solution. Lehman briefly describes changing the environment with intention (e.g., broadcasting deterrent music, putting pressure on landlords to clean up spaces). But, once informal efforts fail to restore order, then formal systems must intervene. In his view, law enforcement is the primary formal system.

Most of my professional work has been with people experiencing homelessness and mental illness. But I’m not actually cool with people living outside. I feel discouraged and unsettled when I see tents blocking lengths of sidewalks. When I see people slumped on the sidewalk due to fentanyl, my first thought is, “I wish you would stop using drugs.” I am not a fan of disorder.[1]

I like Lehman’s definition of disorder. While not comprehensive, “domination of public space for private purposes” is a reasonable starting point.

What I don’t like is how many of his examples are associated with poverty (homeless encampment; prostitution; loud music on public transit, a space rarely used by wealthy people). Yes, these are visible and common examples of disorder. But what about the disorder associated with people with wealth and power? Just because we don’t see it every day doesn’t mean people with money and influence are paragons of morality. Why no commentary on that?

Is it disorder when the President visits golf resorts that he owns? He profits from his Secret Service detail staying in his hotels. Isn’t that the domination of public funds (our tax dollars!) for his private, profit-building purposes?

Likewise, is it disorder when the President and his wife launch their own memecoins? Isn’t their use of public office to collect millions of dollars a form of disorder?

Is it disorder when the deputy chief of staff in the White House redirects ICE agents to enact his own anti-immigration agenda?

Is it disorder when the federal administration cuts millions of dollars from scientific research funding because language in the grants references race, gender, and sex? Isn’t this the domination of public resources for a private, anti-DEI ideology?

Is it disorder when the federal administration wants to cut billions in Medicaid funding so that people with extraordinary wealth will get tax breaks? How is that not domination of public resources for private purposes?

None of these actions had occurred by September 2024. Regardless, I wonder if Lehman had considered the intersection of power with his definition of disorder. Lehman says early on in his essay that

critics [contend] that disorder is just another word that the powerful use for whatever it is the non-white, poor, and otherwise marginalized do.

This criticism, combined with Lehman’s omission of power, illustrates who does and does not get to define “disorder”.

We are seeing nauseating abuses of power in this Presidential administration. If blasting music on a bus is disorder, but funneling public money into personal projects is not, then we’re not defining disorder. We’re excusing power.


[1] I am a fan in believing that people can change. And they do! People stop drinking and using drugs. They start taking medication, and they learn how to manage their symptoms sooner. Again, just because we don’t see that change every day doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

Categories
Nonfiction

Why I Never Went Camping.

I have never gone camping.

During my short stint in Girl Scouts[1], my parents never allowed me to go on troop camping trips. During our family vacations to national parks, we always stayed in a motel in an outlying town. Though we loved the outdoors, we always slept indoors.

Now that I’m well into adulthood, I’m Too Old to go camping. Despite the pressures of living on the West Coast (the Best Coast!) and REI’s endless advertising efforts, I’m convinced my camping window has closed.

People wonder why. I usually quip, “My parents didn’t immigrate to the US so their only child would sleep outside!”


Both of my parents were born in China, but moved to Taiwan before their first birthdays. Their parents were able to get out of China before the Communists took over. In Taiwan they lived under a military dictatorship. Everyone was poor.

No one had plumbing in their homes. It was up to the sons to bring buckets of water from the town well back home. Balance was essential when using the outhouses. Meat was a luxury and served only on special occasions.

One of my grandmothers did not have the opportunity to attend any school.[2] She only started to learn how to read Chinese after she got married. Her husband was a teacher.

My mother attended school, but society expected her to be a beautiful and dutiful mother.

The educational opportunities in the United States exceeded the imaginations of both women. My grandmother was illiterate. My mother got an associate’s degree. I became a physician.

Such was the promise of the United States.


Only after my dad moved to Seattle did I learn about one of his favorite songs, Abraham, Martin And John, by Dion. Released in 1968, this song was a tribute to Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Jr., and John F. Kennedy. Dion mourned, “[They] freed a lot of people but it seems the good they die young.”

The result of the 2016 Presidential election was dispiriting for my father. The man who would become the 45th (and 47th) President was unlike Abraham, Martin, and John.

My parents didn’t immigrate to the United States for this sh!t. What drew them to the United States were the ideals of democracy, justice, and freedom.

Didn’t you love

The things that they stood for

Didn’t they try to

Find some good

For you and me

“They don’t make music like that anymore,” my dad lamented when he introduced me to Dion’s song. The music changed; the nation changed.


We write, rally, and protest to denounce the federal government’s cruel and unjust actions. We recognize the humanity in our friends and neighbors, even as the government fails to do the same. We advocate for people in our various and overlapping communities.

We also write, rally, and protest to honor the people who came before us. Our immigrant parents recognized the value of democracy, justice, and freedom. These were abstract ideas that existed only within the confines of their imaginations. In the United States these worthy ideals promised to manifest in three dimensions. They strived and worked so what seemed possible to them could be real for us.

(Thanks, Dad. I miss you.)


[1] I’m not sure why my mom enrolled me in Girl Scouts. I suspect she had two reasons: (1) Because I didn’t have siblings, she wanted me to have more friends. (2) This seemed like a very American activity. The pressure to assimilate was great. I eventually asked to drop out of Girl Scouts. Disappointed, she asked why. “I don’t fit in,” I said. At the time I could not articulate why I felt uncomfortable: All the other girls were white.

[2] I never got to meet this grandmother, as she died when my dad was only 21 years old. Despite her inability to read, she apparently picked up languages with ease. What she lacked in literacy, she made up for in emotional and social intelligence.