Promoting "healing" and a sense of "moving on" was, in fact, arguably more important than seeing Richard Nixon spend years in a jail cell. But there's a proper way to handle situations of that type designed to promote precisely those goals. It's the Truth and Reconciliation Commission model where ancien regime figures confess to their political crimes in exchange for amnesty.
As could be expected, Atrios nails the sainthood angle:
Our elites repeatedly redefine "getting past it" as "sweeping it under the rug" based on their apparent opinion of themselves as necessary moral and spiritual leaders for the riffraff. If they are revealed to be greatly flawed then without them as a shining beacon to light the way the riffraff will go astray and the country will collapse.
Oddly enough, I heard neither of these perspectives on the news today, in part because the media hates a narrative that questions their role and collective wisdom, but also because it's considered unseemly to point out that the recently deceased were recently human, as full of flaws as those still living. They will claim this is a simple courtesy done out of the respect for the family and loved ones, but they are lying. No such courtesy is shown to the living when scandal erupts, nor to the families of those killed in strange circumstances (a news network staple). No such courtesy is even shown for those who may be dying, as evidenced by the macabre coverage of Senator Tim Johnson's stroke ("Tim Johnson's illness has threatened the Democrats' majority. But that may not be such a bad thing" was the subhead of a Time Magazine article published two days after it happened).
No, speaking no ill of the dead is one of those games we play where we all put on our mask of civility and pretend that we don't notice everyone else faking it. We do it to feel like good people, taking up to a few days away from our standard daily sniping and overall nastiness, because that is what society demands of us. We revere the dead in a way that none of us would think to honor the living, even though it should be fairly obvious that the latter would appreciate it more. It is tradition, and like most traditions associated with death and its aftermath, it makes almost no sense at all.
Speaking as a Jew, I understand that thousands of years of tradition demand that a body should be buried whole, which makes the acts of suicide bombers even more horrific in their implications, if that is possible. Still, when Israel or any other country negotiates with its enemies for the remains of dead soldiers, I am left to shake my head. If nothing else, doing so increases the value for your enemies of killing your troops or taking them hostage, which is never a wise trend to encourage. If a dead body is just that, then you are negotiating for what is no longer a person; taking a more religiously oriented view, do you really care to believe in a God that judges souls based on the state of their mortal remains rather than their beliefs or actions? I'll happily take a Jewish funeral (closed casket; no flowers; burial within two days of death) over the more showy Christian versions, but I'd be happier to see more people donate organs to the living and their bodies to science. Mind you, I have to admit a preference for a nice Irish wake instead of a year of mourning, so I can be interfaith with the best of them.
More than anything else, I think most of our more bizarre death-related beliefs spring from our own fear of death. I'm not talking about talking to the dead seance-style, about which little more need be said (hint: the voices you hear are inside your own head). No I'm talking the elaborate fictions that people build for themselves under the moniker of "heaven". Needless to say, I'm pretty much convinced that people who believe in the afterlife are fundamentally kidding themselves, constructing childlike fantasy worlds for their future selves because they are unable to deal with their own transience. Even Jews, whose philosophy is that the dead live on in the memories of their loved ones, are kidding themselves to an extent. Let's call it the Chester Arthur rule. Name three facts about Chester Arthur. Who is he, you ask? He was the 21st president of the USA, and a century later no one remembers him at all; most of us will be lucky to leave memories that last more than a generation or so. This bothers me not a bit. If our existence is fleeting, our effect on humanity minimal, our presence on this planet inconsequential to anyone outside a small circle of friends, family, and acquaintances, so be it. No one ever promised us that we inherently matter long after we're gone, and in many ways it serves as a security blanket that allows us to ignore our more immediate failings and weaknesses. Rather than concentrating on all the lives we are eventually going to touch, it's good to go out and do it now. The moments you spend on some project for yourself (like writing a blog!) are moments that could probably be spent on others as well, and its the same story for your money. Give up both and lead a life of poverty in service to others? Nah, life is about compromise. Everything in balance, because the world is more than happy to crush your spirits if you forget to look out for yourself. No, the point to be made here is that wagering on an eternal life because of a 2,000 year old book is a good way to overlook the present one. Live a good one now, and if it works out for the very best, you've got eternity to take part in some kind of weird angelic choral competition while wearing white robes and wings.
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