Third Way Dispatch

It is with deep sadness that we today remember Adam Solomon, who passed away last night.

In Judaism, the highest calling is “tikkun olam” – the healing of the world. Adam’s entire being, his very soul, strove to meet that calling, to fulfill that injunction as if it were, in fact, the greater sum of all the commandments. And I saw his unshakable commitment to that calling as both a close personal friend and as a leader of Third Way.

As a friend he was rare, and not just among the men of his generation who were, let’s say, not encouraged to show their emotions. Not so with Adam. He knew how to listen, and to listen deeply. No matter the time of day, no matter how pressed he was, he stopped and put his whole self into being there as a friend. Nothing was too trivial, nor too overwhelming. No truth too hard to face squarely. And not just his time and tone but his words conveyed how much he cared, how he saw through the illusion of the very limitations you imposed on yourself, how your concern and worry was his, how much he understood your hopes, how your healing mattered as much as his.

And when the tables were turned, and it was my time to listen, he shared deeply and generously of his life, his feelings, his insights, his joys and his struggles. He disclosed his doubts, his pain, his dreams, because he believed that to know oneself, and to be known, was the path of true integrity, of meaning, of connection. He distrusted certainty. Disdained self-importance. And always, always, displayed a unique combination of humility and conviction in exploring his own life, nurturing his family, creating his business ventures, designing his philanthropy.

If that were the only way I knew Adam, it would be one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever had in my life. But beyond his friendship – or perhaps inextricably woven into our friendship – was his commitment to Third Way. He was present at the founding, in fact he was our very first founding supporter and Trustee. Amidst a full and busy life, he devoted a huge portion of it in the past four years to conceptualizing and creating Third Way – and saw it as an absolutely vital part of the American political landscape. He owned it as much as anyone who works here and was intent upon making it a permanent part of progressive politics, not out of a sense of pride – though he was proud of what he helped build – but out of a sense of purpose. His father, who passed away only recently, had made a major mark in public service, and Adam was now carving out – through Third Way, the Progressive Book Club, and other political passions – a public service path of his own.

He knew that at times the work at Third Way could be controversial, but he believed that we were entering a period where progressives truly had to re-think, re-imagine, re-create an entirely new set of ideas (what he liked to call our “intellectual capital”) for a new era. This was not just high-sounding rhetoric to Adam, but a purpose worth devoting decades of his life – a mission big enough that it could change the very trajectory of the country. And through it all he shared – along with our Board Chairman Bernard Schwartz – an unwavering belief in America and a bottomless optimism about our nation’s destiny.

It feels impossible now to imagine the future without him – his friendship, his sage advice, his mentoring, his creative and brilliant mind, his faith in what was and is possible, his vision for what we could all do to change our country.

If our world is to be healed, it will be because our God – in this and future generations – sees fit to give us more Adam Solomons. For that, for our own grief and loss, and for Adam’s wife, children and family, we offer our prayers.

NOTE:This Dispatch is by Third Way Senior Fellow Jonathan Morgenstein:

While I was living in Mexico City in February 1995, the newly elected Mexican President Ernesto Zedillo arrested Raul Salinas, the brother of Zedillo’s powerful and wealthy predecessor, Carlos Salinas. Raul was arrested for a high profile assassination among other suspicions. It was a glorious moment in Mexican history.

I am a big fan of Democracy: A Journal of Ideas and so I was especially pleased to be asked by them to submit a piece in their special “What’s Next?” edition. My submission is about guns and about the fact that there are 280 million of them in private hands while there are also 300,000 gun crimes. That means that 279,700,000 guns did nothing wrong last year. It also means that we need a new strategy to go after gun crime and target the 300,000 problem guns as expertly as possible, while leaving the rest alone as practically as possible. Here is the link to the article – Deepen Gun Ownership.

In ancient medicine, doctors used leeches to drain “excess” blood and “balance the humors” of the human body. (The leech actually gets its name from the word for doctor in Old English: læce). These doctors had basically one approach to medicine: if the patient was ill, drain blood. If things were really bad, drain MORE blood.

That, in short, is the modern conservative’s approach to the economy.

Yesterday, I posted on the Clemens food fight and wondered what got into the Republicans. Why did they behave like cheerleading baboons, and how could they have possibly read the evidence and concluded Clemens was au natural during his 4 Cy Young run in the “twilight of his career?” I surmised that perhaps that years of defending Alberto Gonzalez, WMDs, yellow cake in Niger, and Abu Ghraib had permanently distorted their ability discern truth from lies – even when the witness repeatedly used phrases like “misheard” and “misremembered” to explain away 60’ 6”-sized holes in his story.

Now we have an explanation and it’s even worse than I thought. Mark Souder, who is now my favorite Republican from Indiana, spilled the beans. In a moment of refreshing candor, he admitted that he and Tom Davis were the only GOPers to have read the sworn depositions. And then (slapping my forehead with my palm) I realized how stupid I was. If they’re not going to read the National Intelligence Estimate or the 9/11 Commission Report – something that could save or cost the lives of, oh, sentient life on planet earth, how could we expect them to do their homework in preparation for this 4 ½ hour, nationally televised clown-a-thon? Especially when there are no pictures. Well, we can’t can we?

Lanny Breuer and Rusty Hardin had it figured out. Just visit the offices. Sign a couple of balls. Drop a few Bush bombs. Wave a few shiny objects to distract them. And – snap! – we’re mired in an unwinnable and unconscionable conflict in the Middle East … Ooops, I mean we let another 9-figure cheat off the hook.

Shame on Brian McNamee’s lawyers for not preparing their witness. “Brian, realize that half of those buffoons have not read boo of the sworn testimony. And that cranky old feller over there – Burton – rumor says the last book he read began ‘I am Sam. Sam I am.’” Although, what good would it have done really? The fix was in.

Well, it’s February 14th and pitchers and catchers are due to report. Hope springs eternal. Can’t say I feel too good about the Congress though.

I have to admit, I was dumfounded – at first – by the Roger Clemens hearing. It wasn’t the nanny issue and the Jose Canseco party. It wasn’t the HGH injection for Madame Clemens for the SI swimsuit edition (note to self: get HGH for 20 year grad school reunion in May.). No, it was the unexpected partisan breakdown. I mean, this looked like the Alito hearings. The Republicans were with the Rocket; Democrats were against him. The Republicans thought Roger was telling the truth; Democrats thought he was lying.

But more than that – Republicans were like groupies trying to get an autographed ball. They were holding up pictures, asking him what insignia he would wear on his Hall of Fame plaque (how about $$$?), hell – they were fawning over him. It didn’t matter that everyone else McNamee fingered in the Mitchell report fessed up. Never mind that Mrs. Rocket admitted to using HGH. Never mind that Andy Pettitte said Clemens spoke to him about juicing. The Republicans circled the wagons around Roger like he was Alberto Gonzalez.