I identify as a progressive Zionist. This means both that I try to support Zionist ideals in a manner consistent with broader progressive obligations (particularly the need to be fair to groups not my own -- Palestinians being the obvious ones), but also that my support for Zionism itself stems out of left-wing, anti-subordination theory.
The argument that Zionism is ultimately a theory "of the left", and that, more importantly, we have to analyze anti-Zionism from a perspective that takes account of the subordinated status of Jews and the entrenched nature of structural anti-Semitism world-wide, is a claim I often make in the comments of the various feminist blogs I read, such as Alas, a Blog and Feministe. Recently, the latter had a post up on Israel's 60th birthday, and I went to work in the comments.
I comment at Feministe because I feel like, by and large, I'll get a respectful hearing and that most of my interlocutors, though not necessarily agreeing with me, will make good, meaningful points and grapple with my analysis (some are idiots, but you get that anywhere). This session wasn't different -- in fact, it was more successful than most. I got Jill to put a disclaimer at the top of this post noting that the claim that an Israeli official was threatening Palestinians with a new Holocaust was based off a mis-translation of the Hebrew. I also got a nice message from Feminist Gal basically telling me to keep up the great work. So that felt good.
But I still can't shake the feeling that there is a sense in which I struggle in vain. My goal in these threads is to argue from an aggressively and self-consciously progressive standpoint to defend Israel and the Zionist project (conceptually -- not always as applied) from their attackers on the left. In my head, I see it almost territorially: I'm not willing to cede the terrain of anti-subordination to those who I think would do my people harm, and reify my oppressed status. The hope is that, by showing how Zionism actually flows from progressive principles, I can convert them to the light: you're a progressive, Zionism is progressive, hence, you should be Zionist.
But yet, it doesn't work that way. People rarely allow ideology to trump deep-seated moral or political beliefs -- and the belief that Jews should be permanently barred from joining them family of nation-states certainly qualifies as deep-seated. Even if I did manage to make a facial case that Zionism is part of the progressive panoply of ideas, I'm not sure it would do much good. Theory doesn't trump practice, and I suspect that my argument is more likely to cause my targets to disavow leftism than to disavow anti-Zionism.
What I mean by that isn't that the folks I'm talking to are so committed to Jew-hatred that, when faced with the prospect of supporting Zionism, they'll run screaming all the way back to neo-conservatism. What I mean is that they'll use this opportunity to prove that they're iconoclastic. "I may be a leftist, but I'm not one of those types of leftists." Ideology bends to experience, and experience tells these people that they can never support the Zionist project. If Zionism is of the left, then it's the left that has to give way.
I'm not saying I'm making that perfect, uber-argument that forces people into this position. But if that's the horizon of my efforts, it hardly seems to be a fight worth continuing.
On the other hand, there is still my "cede the terrain" point. Even if I can't convince folks to give up anti-Zionism, I sure as hell don't want them claiming their position is the progressive one. The ground of anti-subordination is ground that matters to me. I will not be driven off it by fundamentally illiberal, reactionary, anti-Jewish forces without a fight.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Freedom For All
An oldie but goodie from Fareed Zakaria:
That was back in 2004. It's still true.
This is the party's dilemma -- it wishes to spread liberty to people whom it doesn't really like.
That was back in 2004. It's still true.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Von Spakovsky Withdraws
"Controversial" nominee for a seat on the Federal Elections Commission Hans von Spakovsky has withdrawn his name from consideration for the position after a 6-month stand-off between President Bush and Congressional Democrats. It was a battle worth fighting -- von Spakovsky is a GOP partisan and committed to the project of voter suppression -- but one I wasn't convinced we could win. Kudos to the Senate leadership for not blinking and winning a round for the light.
Domain of Losses
As exciting as the California Supreme Court's decision on gay marriage is, I have to admit I'm worried. Not about the backlash problem, which I don't think is that big a deal. Rather, the fact that the decision likely will be challenged by a citizen initiative. And most folks seem to think that bigotry will squeak out a victory.
This will be crushing -- far more so than losing a vote to constitutionalize gay marriage bans in states which already bar them statutorily will be. It'll snatch away a victory that gays enjoyed, even if for only a short while, in a very high-profile fashion, and will undoubtedly give equality opponents momentum in an era where the tide had seemed to be turning against them.
This will be crushing -- far more so than losing a vote to constitutionalize gay marriage bans in states which already bar them statutorily will be. It'll snatch away a victory that gays enjoyed, even if for only a short while, in a very high-profile fashion, and will undoubtedly give equality opponents momentum in an era where the tide had seemed to be turning against them.
Holy Flip-Flop, Batman!
In the wake of the on-going Bush/Obama/McCain three-way fist-fight over the President's comparison of Barack Obama to "appeasers" in WWII because of his willingness to talk to Iran, we saw an interesting CNN headline: " McCain denies 'flip-flop' on Hamas, blasts Obama". Apparently, some State Department officials have alleged that two years ago, McCain was quite in favor of diplomatic engagement with Hamas -- the precise position he's now attacking Obama for putatively holding.
I say the headline is interesting because it may be one of the first times I've seen the mainstream media even hint that straighty-McStraighttalk could possibly have flip-flopped about anything. It's a veritable milestone in media reporting about John McCain! Could we finally be seeing the end of his eight-year long honeymoon with the media? We -- by which I mean American democracy -- can only hope.
I say the headline is interesting because it may be one of the first times I've seen the mainstream media even hint that straighty-McStraighttalk could possibly have flip-flopped about anything. It's a veritable milestone in media reporting about John McCain! Could we finally be seeing the end of his eight-year long honeymoon with the media? We -- by which I mean American democracy -- can only hope.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sticky Slopes
Blogging on California's ruling striking down bans on same-sex marriage, Eugene Volokh argues that the case proves true the fears by gay marriage opponents that the extension of legislative protections for gay couples acts as a "slippery slope" towards eventually legalizing the unions. The ultimate effect of enacting policy reforms to equalize the status of minority groups is, I suspect, complex. They can encourage further reforms via the bandwagon effect, increasing morale amongst activists, or showing that the sky isn't falling. But they also can smother political action by convincing the majority that they've "addressed the problem" and that further demands are pushiness or requests for "special rights." But Volokh's argument is that, as a a legal matter, these policies often end up appearing in later court opinions which push us to the bottom of the slope. He notes that in both California and Massachusetts, the high courts used these policies as evidence of liberalizing attitudes with regards to gay couples -- crucial components to their decision.
I don't disagree with Professor Volokh's documentation of this phenomenon per se. But oddly enough, it seems to cut both ways. When Maryland's high court upheld our state's prohibition of gay marriage, it also relied on the increasing legislative protection for gay couples -- but to the opposite effect. It claimed that these policies proved that homosexuals did not need additional protections by the courts -- that they were now fully capable of participating equally in the democratic arena (Conaway v. Deane, 401 Md. 219, 286-90 (Md. Ct. App. 2007)). The enactment of policy protections for gay couples, in this case, served as a barrier to further reform. It made the slope "stickier." Justice Scalia has made similar (albeit unsuccessful) arguments in his own dissents in gay rights cases, using the legislative accomplishments of the gay rights lobby to undermine the case for legal intervention.
The problem seems to be adequately encapsulated by Jack Balkin in his wonderful article, "What Brown Teaches us about Constitutional Theory":
As Massachusetts and California appear to demonstrate, some demonstration of political power -- showing that attitudes towards homosexuals have "liberalized", in this case -- appears to be necessary in order to "grease the slope" towards gay marriage. But, as Maryland demonstrates, this is a move fraught with peril: courts can just as easily use legislative gains as an excuse to hamper or delay pleas for judicial reform -- to make the slope "stickier."
There is irony to this, of course: disempowered groups shouldn't have to demonstrate political power in order to see their rights vindicated (though, it should be said, this is precisely what Critical Legal Theorists predict we should see in such cases). If limiting marriage to heterosexual couples is a violation of gay rights, it is just as much so when they are a totally marginalized class as it is when they are only somewhat reviled. But if we are going to demand political clout as a precondition for rights, it's perverse to turn around and use their new-found (limited) influence in legislatures as an excuse to deny them those same rights. Once again, either the marriage equality is a right or it isn't. If it is, then the fact that they can't secure it legislatively is proof that -- regardless of how successful they are on other priorities -- they hold insufficient political power to vindicate all of their rights in that arena. If it isn't, then courts should say so and explain why.
But what we're seeing right now is absurd. At best, it appears that there is a very narrow "band" of relative political inclusion upon which minority groups can launch claims for judicial protection: too little inclusion and the courts won't pay attention, too much and they'll claim their intervention is unnecessary. At worse, it appears that the rules of the game change so as to permanently preclude meaningful judicial protection for minority groups -- any amount of political power (lots, some, none) can be used as a reason to reject their claims.
Ultimately, as in most cases where the facts lead to indeterminate legal outcomes, my suspicion is that the amount of power possessed by a given minority group will likely be interpreted in a way that is most amenable to judicial policy preferences. Judges who want to increase protections of gays and lesbians will use their increased influence as proof that discrimination against them is archaic, while judges who oppose such reform will use that same evidence as an argument against viewing gays and lesbians as marginalized at all.
I don't disagree with Professor Volokh's documentation of this phenomenon per se. But oddly enough, it seems to cut both ways. When Maryland's high court upheld our state's prohibition of gay marriage, it also relied on the increasing legislative protection for gay couples -- but to the opposite effect. It claimed that these policies proved that homosexuals did not need additional protections by the courts -- that they were now fully capable of participating equally in the democratic arena (Conaway v. Deane, 401 Md. 219, 286-90 (Md. Ct. App. 2007)). The enactment of policy protections for gay couples, in this case, served as a barrier to further reform. It made the slope "stickier." Justice Scalia has made similar (albeit unsuccessful) arguments in his own dissents in gay rights cases, using the legislative accomplishments of the gay rights lobby to undermine the case for legal intervention.
The problem seems to be adequately encapsulated by Jack Balkin in his wonderful article, "What Brown Teaches us about Constitutional Theory":
In general, courts will protect minorities only after minorities have shown a fair degree of clout in the political process. If they are truly politically powerless, courts may not even recognize their grievances; and if they have just enough influence to get on the political radar screen, courts will usually dismiss their claims with a wave of the hand. Conversely, as a reform movement for minority rights gains prominence through political protest and legislative lobbying, courts will increasingly pay attention to minority rights and take their claims more seriously." [Jack Balkin, What Brown Teaches us about Constitutional Theory, 90 Va. L. Rev. 1531, 1552 (2004)]
As Massachusetts and California appear to demonstrate, some demonstration of political power -- showing that attitudes towards homosexuals have "liberalized", in this case -- appears to be necessary in order to "grease the slope" towards gay marriage. But, as Maryland demonstrates, this is a move fraught with peril: courts can just as easily use legislative gains as an excuse to hamper or delay pleas for judicial reform -- to make the slope "stickier."
There is irony to this, of course: disempowered groups shouldn't have to demonstrate political power in order to see their rights vindicated (though, it should be said, this is precisely what Critical Legal Theorists predict we should see in such cases). If limiting marriage to heterosexual couples is a violation of gay rights, it is just as much so when they are a totally marginalized class as it is when they are only somewhat reviled. But if we are going to demand political clout as a precondition for rights, it's perverse to turn around and use their new-found (limited) influence in legislatures as an excuse to deny them those same rights. Once again, either the marriage equality is a right or it isn't. If it is, then the fact that they can't secure it legislatively is proof that -- regardless of how successful they are on other priorities -- they hold insufficient political power to vindicate all of their rights in that arena. If it isn't, then courts should say so and explain why.
But what we're seeing right now is absurd. At best, it appears that there is a very narrow "band" of relative political inclusion upon which minority groups can launch claims for judicial protection: too little inclusion and the courts won't pay attention, too much and they'll claim their intervention is unnecessary. At worse, it appears that the rules of the game change so as to permanently preclude meaningful judicial protection for minority groups -- any amount of political power (lots, some, none) can be used as a reason to reject their claims.
Ultimately, as in most cases where the facts lead to indeterminate legal outcomes, my suspicion is that the amount of power possessed by a given minority group will likely be interpreted in a way that is most amenable to judicial policy preferences. Judges who want to increase protections of gays and lesbians will use their increased influence as proof that discrimination against them is archaic, while judges who oppose such reform will use that same evidence as an argument against viewing gays and lesbians as marginalized at all.
The Peril of the Tempting Target
In the wake of California's recent ruling legalizing gay marriage, Rick Hasen wonders if the state supreme court might have done John McCain a favor (via Volokh). The ruling almost definitely will place an initiative on the ballot seeking to overturn the decision. Hasen argues that
And I admit, this was my first thought too.
But thinking about it more, this might actually prove dangerous for McCain and his cash-strapped campaign. California is, as was mentioned, a very expensive state to campaign in. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't surprise me to see McCain write it off entirely as a waste of resources. The gay marriage ruling might mobilize conservatives enough so as to convince McCain to make a play there. But if he does, he'll have to devote resources too -- and he has far less to spare than the Democrats do.
I'm reminded of Republicans investing in the 2006 New Jersey Senate race in a year where they also had their backs against the wall. Like California, New Jersey is pretty blue and very expensive to campaign in. Republicans were convinced that Robert Menendez was a beatable Democratic candidate though, so they decided to contest it. They ended up losing (just as they still likely will in California), and the resources they put into the Garden State would have been invaluable in states that were objectively much closer fights: Virginia, Missouri, and South Dakota. Had they not been tempted by New Jersey, they might well still have control of the Senate today. Similarly, if the gay marriage ruling tempts McCain to make a play for California, he might regret if it draws desperately needed campaign resources away from true battleground states. Democrats can afford to play the 50-state field -- Republicans this year can't.
This helps John McCain because those conservative voters may not have come out in great numbers for him, but they will come out now to vote for this amendment, and they are more likely to vote for McCain than for the Democrat once they are already voting. That's not to say that California will go red, but it is to say that the Democratic nominee will have to devote more resources to this very expensive to campaign in state.
And I admit, this was my first thought too.
But thinking about it more, this might actually prove dangerous for McCain and his cash-strapped campaign. California is, as was mentioned, a very expensive state to campaign in. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't surprise me to see McCain write it off entirely as a waste of resources. The gay marriage ruling might mobilize conservatives enough so as to convince McCain to make a play there. But if he does, he'll have to devote resources too -- and he has far less to spare than the Democrats do.
I'm reminded of Republicans investing in the 2006 New Jersey Senate race in a year where they also had their backs against the wall. Like California, New Jersey is pretty blue and very expensive to campaign in. Republicans were convinced that Robert Menendez was a beatable Democratic candidate though, so they decided to contest it. They ended up losing (just as they still likely will in California), and the resources they put into the Garden State would have been invaluable in states that were objectively much closer fights: Virginia, Missouri, and South Dakota. Had they not been tempted by New Jersey, they might well still have control of the Senate today. Similarly, if the gay marriage ruling tempts McCain to make a play for California, he might regret if it draws desperately needed campaign resources away from true battleground states. Democrats can afford to play the 50-state field -- Republicans this year can't.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Forgetfulness and Denial
In a long post a few weeks ago, I explored the problems with denial -- specifically, denying one's role in the commission of mass atrocity (such as American support for Central American "death squads"). A similar topic has arisen thanks to some of the more unsavory associations of John McCain's chief adviser, Charlie Beck. Today, Hilzoy of Obsidian Wings explores Beck's (and the conservative movement writ large) relationship to Jonas Savimbi and the UNITA rebel movement in Angola, which for awhile was the darling child of the Reagan administration and their intellectual cohorts. Beck was one of Savimbi's chief lobbyists in Washington, and was instrumental in America re-establishing our support for his forces.
I'll leave to Hilzoy to document the atrocities that we knew we were supporting (and in a real sense intentionally supporting) when we assisted Savimbi. Suffice to say, they are appalling. But our current relationship with regards to Beck seems less one of denial and more of forgetfulness. Beck's role in assisting a hideous thug should, by all rights, exile him from public service. But we don't. And we don't not because we've consciously decided that it is alright to drum up support for torturers.* We don't do it not because we've consciously decided that what Savimba did was okay. We don't do it not because we've forced Beck to reckon for his actions and undergo some sort repentance or reintegration into the public space. We allow Beck to maintain his public position because we essentially have no consciousness that Angola ever happened.
We forget that which was never important enough to deny. If Angola suddenly became a political issue, Beck would undoubtedly switch from forgetfulness to denial -- not that he supported UNITA, but denying that UNITA was all that bad, or denying that he knew of whatever bad things they did. Denial and forgetfulness serve essentially the same purpose, because both allow for the people and projects which crafted the original injustice to proceed forth without punishment or remorse. Nothing checks their saga. Often times, injustice occurs precisely because the perpetrators assume that their victims aren't important enough to warrant consideration -- ultimately, to be remembered. When we invite Beck back into a critical part of America's democratic operation, without forcing him to confront this element of his past, we ratify that belief, and ultimately, ratify oppression.
***
* While I was writing this, I had a thought: what's the difference between being a private criminal defense attorney (representing people who likely committed murder), and being a lobbyist for murderers like Savimbi? We don't say that criminal defense attorneys should be barred from public service (although, I suspect that if one ran for office it would be used against them), because we believe that everyone has the right to have representation in legal proceedings. But in a democracy, shouldn't everyone also have the right to have representation and have their voice heard in the democratic arena? Isn't that the essence of public deliberation?
There are a few differences, of course. One is that while there is no deficit of lawyers, and the poor are guaranteed representation if they can't afford it, political representation is highly stratified -- perhaps choosing to increase the voice of thugs, while there are so many good people who are marginalized in the system, is not a legitimate moral move. Likewise, even though a criminal defense attorney might defend a murderer, he does not defend the act of murder -- his defense is usually either that the defendant didn't do it, or that the killing was not murder (was in some way justified). Aside from securing the release of his client, nothing the lawyer does promotes more killing. By contrast, while lobbyists too rarely concede that their clients are murderers (or also claim that their acts are justified), the lobbyist project is specifically to direct resources to enable his clients acts (in this case, murdering) to continue. Maybe in this way, the lobbyist is akin to a lawyer on retainer by an organized crime family (a person who I think is in a considerably more morally ambigious situation than the average defense attorney)?
It's a tough question. I'd appreciate help.
I'll leave to Hilzoy to document the atrocities that we knew we were supporting (and in a real sense intentionally supporting) when we assisted Savimbi. Suffice to say, they are appalling. But our current relationship with regards to Beck seems less one of denial and more of forgetfulness. Beck's role in assisting a hideous thug should, by all rights, exile him from public service. But we don't. And we don't not because we've consciously decided that it is alright to drum up support for torturers.* We don't do it not because we've consciously decided that what Savimba did was okay. We don't do it not because we've forced Beck to reckon for his actions and undergo some sort repentance or reintegration into the public space. We allow Beck to maintain his public position because we essentially have no consciousness that Angola ever happened.
We forget that which was never important enough to deny. If Angola suddenly became a political issue, Beck would undoubtedly switch from forgetfulness to denial -- not that he supported UNITA, but denying that UNITA was all that bad, or denying that he knew of whatever bad things they did. Denial and forgetfulness serve essentially the same purpose, because both allow for the people and projects which crafted the original injustice to proceed forth without punishment or remorse. Nothing checks their saga. Often times, injustice occurs precisely because the perpetrators assume that their victims aren't important enough to warrant consideration -- ultimately, to be remembered. When we invite Beck back into a critical part of America's democratic operation, without forcing him to confront this element of his past, we ratify that belief, and ultimately, ratify oppression.
***
* While I was writing this, I had a thought: what's the difference between being a private criminal defense attorney (representing people who likely committed murder), and being a lobbyist for murderers like Savimbi? We don't say that criminal defense attorneys should be barred from public service (although, I suspect that if one ran for office it would be used against them), because we believe that everyone has the right to have representation in legal proceedings. But in a democracy, shouldn't everyone also have the right to have representation and have their voice heard in the democratic arena? Isn't that the essence of public deliberation?
There are a few differences, of course. One is that while there is no deficit of lawyers, and the poor are guaranteed representation if they can't afford it, political representation is highly stratified -- perhaps choosing to increase the voice of thugs, while there are so many good people who are marginalized in the system, is not a legitimate moral move. Likewise, even though a criminal defense attorney might defend a murderer, he does not defend the act of murder -- his defense is usually either that the defendant didn't do it, or that the killing was not murder (was in some way justified). Aside from securing the release of his client, nothing the lawyer does promotes more killing. By contrast, while lobbyists too rarely concede that their clients are murderers (or also claim that their acts are justified), the lobbyist project is specifically to direct resources to enable his clients acts (in this case, murdering) to continue. Maybe in this way, the lobbyist is akin to a lawyer on retainer by an organized crime family (a person who I think is in a considerably more morally ambigious situation than the average defense attorney)?
It's a tough question. I'd appreciate help.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
But Why?
A recently released poll indicates that most Americans oppose lowering the drinking age to 18, and likewise believe that we should tighten restrictions on underage alcohol consumptions.
This, to my mind, is ridiculous. Like with drugs, virtually everyone knows folks who drank prior to turning 21 (perhaps -- or perhaps not! -- like drugs, most people themselves drank prior to turning 21). We do not feel like they got away with something they shouldn't have. We do not believe they are bad people. All of which gets tacked onto the fact that our prohibitionist stance on 19 year olds drinking alcohol is futile to the point of absurdism, as anyone who's ever been on a college campus knows. So I really don't know what motivates irrationality to this robust of a degree.
This, to my mind, is ridiculous. Like with drugs, virtually everyone knows folks who drank prior to turning 21 (perhaps -- or perhaps not! -- like drugs, most people themselves drank prior to turning 21). We do not feel like they got away with something they shouldn't have. We do not believe they are bad people. All of which gets tacked onto the fact that our prohibitionist stance on 19 year olds drinking alcohol is futile to the point of absurdism, as anyone who's ever been on a college campus knows. So I really don't know what motivates irrationality to this robust of a degree.
Barbara M Rocks the House
My senior senator, on whether or not she'd take the Vice Presidency:
Madam, my respect for you has soared.
“Absolutely,” said Sen. Barbara Mikulski (D-Md.). “I think I would be great. First of all, I know how to behave at weddings and funerals. And I know how to be commander in chief. I’d bring a lot of fun to the job. We would rock the Naval Observatory.”
Madam, my respect for you has soared.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Po-Mo Bernstein
David Bernstein is complaining about how liberal bloggers are protesting Phyllis Schlafly's honorary degree from Washington University (St. Louis). Specifically, he objects to an excerpt of this post:
Bernstein dryly notes that this hostility towards conservatism may be one of the reasons right-ward individuals stay out of academia.
I agree and I disagree, but I think that Bernstein's statement is very revealing. After all, his argument boils down to a very left-identified post-modern claim about how normative statements about "morality" and "right and wrong" are often masks providing justification for relations of power. After all, one could presumably justify not giving someone like Schlafly an honorary degree on the fact that her views are evil, poisonous, bile -- that's his interlocutors argument. But Bernstein does not appear to accept this as a valid justification. Liberals who engage in this sort of strong moral critique of a Schlafly, or a Dubya or a Jesse Helms, are really just perpetuating particular norms of power -- norms which act to (and perhaps are intended to) marginalize and exclude alternative voices (in this case, conservatives). Only by deconstructing the mechanics of this putatively "moral" critique can we recognize how it is a function of power, and seek to remedy the underlying inequality.
And to some extent, I agree. I've registered my support for limited political affirmative action in academia, and acknowledged the potential that a "hostile environment" towards conservatives may push them away from the profession even in absence of overt discrimination.
The problem, though, is that I doubt there is any other context where Bernstein would make (indeed, refrain from mocking) this form of argument. And to turn the stock conservative response back onto him: why should we refrain from calling evil by name? Why shouldn't we avoid honoring those who traffic in immorality? Jesse Helms was a flagrant racist. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney have enacted a regime of torture. Phyllis Schlafly has dedicated a career to undermining the principle of equal human rights and dignity. Is Bernstein now in the relativist camp, saying that we must pretend to ignore these inconvenient facts as blurring the focus on the "power structure"? I see no other explanation.
And as for me? There is, in my view, no way to avoid making value judgments -- and even if that's not true, giving an honorary degree is a rather explicit example of making a value judgment anyway. Universities, like all other institutions, have to decide what values they stand for. Open exchange of diverse ideas is one -- which is why I promote the inclusion of smart, qualified conservative thinkers into the academic structure (my support for race-based affirmative action is on precisely the same grounds). But just as our desire to remedy inequalities in race doesn't mean we should admit any Black person who strays across our path, likewise our desire for intellectual equity does not mean that any prominent conservative thinker deserves our honors. Phyllis Schlafly is an unambiguous force for wrong in the world -- wrong in ways that really are no longer controversial from within any reasonable intellectual standpoint, wrong in ways that I doubt Bernstein would disagree with. It is reducing our standards to non-existence to give her an honorary degree. So while I welcome Bernstein to the post-modern camp, and look forward to his support on all other issues which demand that we undermine entrenched hierarchies of domination, he still has some practicing to do.
Nor do I believe that conservatives should never receive honorary degrees. There are conservative scholars who do work that is respected within academia—many economists, for example—and they would not be inappropriate candidates for such an honor. Nor would I have a problem with conservative pundits, so long as they’re sane and genuinely distinguished (which these days admittedly narrows the field to practically zero), such as the late William F. Buckley. I’ll even grudgingly accept the reality that conservative Republican elder statesmen are regularly awarded these things. Though even here there are limits—while personally I wouldn’t protest the awarding of a degree to George H.W. Bush, even though I find him pretty hateful, far-right lunatics like Cheney, Dubya, and Jesse Helms should be entirely out of bounds..... Because, as much as conservatives may whine and scream to the contrary, liberalism and conservatism are not moral equivalents. Because, on the one side you have the thinkers and activists who have advanced freedom, social justice, and human rights, and on the other, you have those who have attempted to thwart all those things
Bernstein dryly notes that this hostility towards conservatism may be one of the reasons right-ward individuals stay out of academia.
I agree and I disagree, but I think that Bernstein's statement is very revealing. After all, his argument boils down to a very left-identified post-modern claim about how normative statements about "morality" and "right and wrong" are often masks providing justification for relations of power. After all, one could presumably justify not giving someone like Schlafly an honorary degree on the fact that her views are evil, poisonous, bile -- that's his interlocutors argument. But Bernstein does not appear to accept this as a valid justification. Liberals who engage in this sort of strong moral critique of a Schlafly, or a Dubya or a Jesse Helms, are really just perpetuating particular norms of power -- norms which act to (and perhaps are intended to) marginalize and exclude alternative voices (in this case, conservatives). Only by deconstructing the mechanics of this putatively "moral" critique can we recognize how it is a function of power, and seek to remedy the underlying inequality.
And to some extent, I agree. I've registered my support for limited political affirmative action in academia, and acknowledged the potential that a "hostile environment" towards conservatives may push them away from the profession even in absence of overt discrimination.
The problem, though, is that I doubt there is any other context where Bernstein would make (indeed, refrain from mocking) this form of argument. And to turn the stock conservative response back onto him: why should we refrain from calling evil by name? Why shouldn't we avoid honoring those who traffic in immorality? Jesse Helms was a flagrant racist. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney have enacted a regime of torture. Phyllis Schlafly has dedicated a career to undermining the principle of equal human rights and dignity. Is Bernstein now in the relativist camp, saying that we must pretend to ignore these inconvenient facts as blurring the focus on the "power structure"? I see no other explanation.
And as for me? There is, in my view, no way to avoid making value judgments -- and even if that's not true, giving an honorary degree is a rather explicit example of making a value judgment anyway. Universities, like all other institutions, have to decide what values they stand for. Open exchange of diverse ideas is one -- which is why I promote the inclusion of smart, qualified conservative thinkers into the academic structure (my support for race-based affirmative action is on precisely the same grounds). But just as our desire to remedy inequalities in race doesn't mean we should admit any Black person who strays across our path, likewise our desire for intellectual equity does not mean that any prominent conservative thinker deserves our honors. Phyllis Schlafly is an unambiguous force for wrong in the world -- wrong in ways that really are no longer controversial from within any reasonable intellectual standpoint, wrong in ways that I doubt Bernstein would disagree with. It is reducing our standards to non-existence to give her an honorary degree. So while I welcome Bernstein to the post-modern camp, and look forward to his support on all other issues which demand that we undermine entrenched hierarchies of domination, he still has some practicing to do.
Faith
I've read quite a few stories revealing the horror of America's prison system (and our detention centers for immigrants). The legal immigrant -- detained on a charge of buying stolen jewelry a decade ago -- who can't get a test to see if her cancer has come back. The nine-year old Canadian child begging the Canadian Prime Minister to intervene and get him and his family out of detention while their asylum claim is being processed. Reports of officially sanctioned rape. Flagrant abuse. Innocent men tortured in extra-legal black sites, then, when we concluded that "oops, he is innocent", dumped blindfolded on a hillside in a random country (it turned out to be Albania). I could go on -- and that doesn't even go into broken process by which we decide who goes to jail in the first place.
These stories, read in themselves, do not distinguish themselves from a typical autocratic thugocracy. Maybe not the worst of these regimes -- there are no reports of mass killing, for example. But certainly well within the bounds of the average brutal dictatorship.
But I read them, and for some reason, I have faith. I have faith that they're aberrations. I have faith that the system as a whole "really isn't like that." That these are exceptions. That we are not what these stories deeply imply that we are.
Why do I believe that? It's a belief that really has no grounding. There are certainly a great many people who are quite outspoken that my faith is wrong -- that the prison-industrial complex really is "that bad", all the way down, and consequently our justice system is essentially a reproduction of cruelty, degradation, and inhumanity that we -- as citizens in a democratic polity (and one that has taken "tough on crime" to be an article of faith) -- are all complicit in. And ultimately, there is very little argument in favor of my faith. The fact that these stories are printed, to (sometimes) public outrage? Please. Scandal is a fickle thing, as Mark Kelman once wrote. Abuse of certain people may be a scandal -- but the abuse of others is routinely ignored, which is not considered to be a scandal, nor is the fact that even the original scandal will quickly be forgotten even as the abuse continues considered to be a scandal. The fact that occasionally prison abuse burbles to the surface is no proof that it is exceptional.
Admittedly, the fact that there are reports of prison abuse does not mean that the problem is epidemic. I'm just in no position to know either way. That I believe that we are not ultimately an abusive state is ultimately an article of faith. But the more I read, the more I'm terrified that my faith might be wrong.
These stories, read in themselves, do not distinguish themselves from a typical autocratic thugocracy. Maybe not the worst of these regimes -- there are no reports of mass killing, for example. But certainly well within the bounds of the average brutal dictatorship.
But I read them, and for some reason, I have faith. I have faith that they're aberrations. I have faith that the system as a whole "really isn't like that." That these are exceptions. That we are not what these stories deeply imply that we are.
Why do I believe that? It's a belief that really has no grounding. There are certainly a great many people who are quite outspoken that my faith is wrong -- that the prison-industrial complex really is "that bad", all the way down, and consequently our justice system is essentially a reproduction of cruelty, degradation, and inhumanity that we -- as citizens in a democratic polity (and one that has taken "tough on crime" to be an article of faith) -- are all complicit in. And ultimately, there is very little argument in favor of my faith. The fact that these stories are printed, to (sometimes) public outrage? Please. Scandal is a fickle thing, as Mark Kelman once wrote. Abuse of certain people may be a scandal -- but the abuse of others is routinely ignored, which is not considered to be a scandal, nor is the fact that even the original scandal will quickly be forgotten even as the abuse continues considered to be a scandal. The fact that occasionally prison abuse burbles to the surface is no proof that it is exceptional.
Admittedly, the fact that there are reports of prison abuse does not mean that the problem is epidemic. I'm just in no position to know either way. That I believe that we are not ultimately an abusive state is ultimately an article of faith. But the more I read, the more I'm terrified that my faith might be wrong.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Hate
John Cole blogs the Pens/Flyers game:
In undergrad, I had a bunch of Canadian roommates and I remember watching VHS tapes of great hockey games that were broadcast in Canada with, of course, Canadian announcers. During the breaks between periods, they would have in depth analysis on the finer points of line changes, etc. Tonight in between the 2nd and 3rd period, we are being treated to ‘The advent of the curved hockey stick.”
I think they hate us for more than our freedom.
No Talking
David Bernstein, Michael Totten, and Noah Pollack do not like Obama's statement on the Lebanon Crisis, which focuses on diplomatic engagement to reform Lebanon's electoral structure, fight corruption, decrease economic inequality, and combat impositions on Lebanese sovereignty (particularly by Syria).
Pollack snarks: "Since his prescription for the Middle East is diplomatic engagement, every disease gets re-diagnosed as something curable through talking."
As opposed to the conservative options, which appear to be restricted to "bomb" or "ignore"?
Pollack snarks: "Since his prescription for the Middle East is diplomatic engagement, every disease gets re-diagnosed as something curable through talking."
As opposed to the conservative options, which appear to be restricted to "bomb" or "ignore"?
My Transition to Law Geek-dom is Complete
I got the answer to PrawfsBlawg's weekend law school trivia question. I was almost a brat at said law school -- when I was two, my dad apparently looked at leaving private practice to teach there, but decided against it. I have to say, I'm glad I grew up in Bethesda. But being a prof-ling would have been cool too.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Voting Politically
Some folks have been giving Barack Obama a hard time for his claim that the court's should serve as a refuge and defender of the oppressed in America. This, the argue, is politics substituting itself for law. They gleefully point to John McCain's statement on what he's looking for in a judge -- a position that is supposedly non-ideological and apolitical. Conservative judges go where the law takes them. Liberal judges go where they want to go, law be damned.
Tragically, this position is false -- and it's a conservative judge who is pointing it out. Judge Richard Posner, one of the leading conservative jurists in America today (and possibly one of my professors at the U of Chicago) has a new book out, "How Judges Think" which pops the myth that liberal justices are more likely to vote their policy preferences than conservatives. Actually, conservative judges are statistically far more likely to do so, and not only that, the trend line for conservative judges is towards increased politically-based voting, while liberal judges actually have shown a slight decrease in their (already smaller) propensity to vote in accordance with their policy preferences.
Posner thinks the reasoning for this is that, since the Reagan administration, Republicans have relied significantly more on ideological considerations when appointing judges. Liberals, he suggests, are not as organized in demanding that their nominees be ideologically pure and committed. But Brian Tamanaha (with just a hint of snark?) suggests that maybe its just that "Democratic judicial appointees are more committed to respecting and abiding by the law (to restraining the influence of their political views)."
I don't have any problem with the presumption that courts should be defenders of the marginalized. The rights of majorities are less likely to be threatened in democracies, because they're, well, the majority, and as John Hart Ely pointed out so many years ago, majorities aren't likely to discriminate against themselves. It should be expected that the primary function of the courts will be to defend those whose interests are not likely to be defended in the democratic arena. We have for decades held to the principle that these minorities deserve special consideration by the judiciary if their equal status is society is to be maintained. Insofar as conservatives substitute their policy preferences that often counsel against protecting minorities against majorities, they are engaging in an unabashedly political project. And as for their judicial "philosophies" which "force" them into that position, as River Tam would put it, it's not part the philosophy, it's why you chose the philosophy.
Tragically, this position is false -- and it's a conservative judge who is pointing it out. Judge Richard Posner, one of the leading conservative jurists in America today (and possibly one of my professors at the U of Chicago) has a new book out, "How Judges Think" which pops the myth that liberal justices are more likely to vote their policy preferences than conservatives. Actually, conservative judges are statistically far more likely to do so, and not only that, the trend line for conservative judges is towards increased politically-based voting, while liberal judges actually have shown a slight decrease in their (already smaller) propensity to vote in accordance with their policy preferences.
Posner thinks the reasoning for this is that, since the Reagan administration, Republicans have relied significantly more on ideological considerations when appointing judges. Liberals, he suggests, are not as organized in demanding that their nominees be ideologically pure and committed. But Brian Tamanaha (with just a hint of snark?) suggests that maybe its just that "Democratic judicial appointees are more committed to respecting and abiding by the law (to restraining the influence of their political views)."
I don't have any problem with the presumption that courts should be defenders of the marginalized. The rights of majorities are less likely to be threatened in democracies, because they're, well, the majority, and as John Hart Ely pointed out so many years ago, majorities aren't likely to discriminate against themselves. It should be expected that the primary function of the courts will be to defend those whose interests are not likely to be defended in the democratic arena. We have for decades held to the principle that these minorities deserve special consideration by the judiciary if their equal status is society is to be maintained. Insofar as conservatives substitute their policy preferences that often counsel against protecting minorities against majorities, they are engaging in an unabashedly political project. And as for their judicial "philosophies" which "force" them into that position, as River Tam would put it, it's not part the philosophy, it's why you chose the philosophy.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Round Four
Amazingly, the Indiana 9th District is looking at the fourth consecutive battle between the same opponents, with Democratic Rep. Baron Hill defending his seat against former Rep. Mike Sodrel. Sodrel challenged Hill in 2002 but lost, but then won the re-match in 2004. Hill got his seat back in 2006 and now the race is on again 2008. It's expected to be negative -- 6 years of running against each other has created some bad blood.
I'm curious: what's the record for most consecutive cycles where the same two major party candidates faced off?
I'm curious: what's the record for most consecutive cycles where the same two major party candidates faced off?
Coin Op and Cona Op
One of my friends at Carleton wrote her senior thesis on the tension between America's counter-insurgency tactics in Afghanistan, and our counter-narcotics tactics there. It was a good argument that I think deserves greater attention (I say that while I'm sure I'm not doing it full justice).
The link between the drug war and the war on terror is no mystery. Terrorists like drug money because its already an underground economy, so the transfer paths are already present in ways designed not to alert the authorities. But fighting the drug war makes allies of the terrorists and the drug producers -- the cartels, yes, but also the peasant population which grow the crops as their primary source of income.
This creates a problem. Basically, America's standard counter-insurgency operations revolve around the "winning hearts and minds" cliche. We try and stabilize regions, build institutions, increase the well-being of the locals, and help them get their goods to the market. If they like us, or even if they just are content with the status quo, the support for the insurgency withers away. Win for Team America.
Our counter-narcotics operations, by contrast, are based on eradication. We go in, and destroy the poppy crops. This means that our first exposure to many Afghan families is decimating their livelihoods, which is a problem on the whole hearts-and-minds metric. More specifically, rather than seeing Americans as a source for enhanced stability or a brighter future, locals instead rationally conclude that the only way to keep their crops safe is to insure that America or the central Afghan government doesn't get near them. That makes support for the insurgents skyrocket. And the insurgents reciprocate by protecting and promoting poppy cultivation. This dynamic has made it nearly impossible for anti-Taliban forces to crack the Taliban's hold on Southern Afghanistan, which, in addition to being their original base of support, is also a prime poppy region. The insistence on fighting the drug war in this way is making it impossible for the army -- and the Afghanistan government -- to do its job: unite the country, and stifle the insurgency.
The link between the drug war and the war on terror is no mystery. Terrorists like drug money because its already an underground economy, so the transfer paths are already present in ways designed not to alert the authorities. But fighting the drug war makes allies of the terrorists and the drug producers -- the cartels, yes, but also the peasant population which grow the crops as their primary source of income.
This creates a problem. Basically, America's standard counter-insurgency operations revolve around the "winning hearts and minds" cliche. We try and stabilize regions, build institutions, increase the well-being of the locals, and help them get their goods to the market. If they like us, or even if they just are content with the status quo, the support for the insurgency withers away. Win for Team America.
Our counter-narcotics operations, by contrast, are based on eradication. We go in, and destroy the poppy crops. This means that our first exposure to many Afghan families is decimating their livelihoods, which is a problem on the whole hearts-and-minds metric. More specifically, rather than seeing Americans as a source for enhanced stability or a brighter future, locals instead rationally conclude that the only way to keep their crops safe is to insure that America or the central Afghan government doesn't get near them. That makes support for the insurgents skyrocket. And the insurgents reciprocate by protecting and promoting poppy cultivation. This dynamic has made it nearly impossible for anti-Taliban forces to crack the Taliban's hold on Southern Afghanistan, which, in addition to being their original base of support, is also a prime poppy region. The insistence on fighting the drug war in this way is making it impossible for the army -- and the Afghanistan government -- to do its job: unite the country, and stifle the insurgency.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
How Much Time?
A new ad out tries to force McCain into that question pro-lifers never want to answer: if abortion should be a crime, how much time should women who have them serve? (Via)
I've yet to hear a coherent justification (at least, one that isn't nakedly paternalistic -- e.g., women are irrational creatures controlled by their emotions, so they can't be punished) for why abortion can be outlawed (as murder), but the murderers should get off scot-free. I suppose if someone doesn't think abortion is murder, but still can come up with a reason for it to barred, they could dodge out of this, but the few arguments I've heard on those lines are also pretty paternalistic (it's a serious decision, and we can't know if you're taking it seriously enough unless you're willing to prove it somehow to the state).
In any event, it's a question that McCain and his allies shouldn't be allowed to dodge. But I agree with Bean: it's a pretty new tactic (at least in mainstream argumentation), and nobody knows how new tactics will play out.
I've yet to hear a coherent justification (at least, one that isn't nakedly paternalistic -- e.g., women are irrational creatures controlled by their emotions, so they can't be punished) for why abortion can be outlawed (as murder), but the murderers should get off scot-free. I suppose if someone doesn't think abortion is murder, but still can come up with a reason for it to barred, they could dodge out of this, but the few arguments I've heard on those lines are also pretty paternalistic (it's a serious decision, and we can't know if you're taking it seriously enough unless you're willing to prove it somehow to the state).
In any event, it's a question that McCain and his allies shouldn't be allowed to dodge. But I agree with Bean: it's a pretty new tactic (at least in mainstream argumentation), and nobody knows how new tactics will play out.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
A Jewish BLT
Not Bacon-Lettuce-Tomato (that'd be impossible to make Jewish -- unless you're Reform), but Black Liberation Theology!
This NYT article on the subject (H/T: PG) brought to the fore a thought I've been having for some time. Black Liberation Theology strikes me as a significantly more "Jewish", if you will, theology than it does Christian.
Now, I'll admit only a moderate knowledge of the parameters of Christian theology. But plenty of Christians I've talked to have confessed genuine trouble with identifying BLT as a "Christian" entity. They object to its particularism, that it "takes sides" (as opposed to Christ's message of universal salvation and infinite love). They think it's too political, and this-worldly, as opposed to concentrating on faith and the world-to-come.
Both of these concerns fit far more comfortable within Judaism, which is also particularistic, and also is more concerned with the state of the human world as opposed to abstract notions of faith and the afterlife. Admittedly, Orthodox Judaism often only concerns itself with "this world" on a ritualistic level, and less so with regards to universal concerns of justice. But Judaism as a whole (including Orthodox Judaism) has developed a strong social identity around the notion of Tikkun Olam (repairing the world). Even if, as my Judaic Studies professor at Carleton argues, Tikkun Olam historically has been only a minor element of Jewish religious practice, it's certainly risen to a dominant position today.
Moreover, the Liberation Theology mantra, "God is on the side of the oppressed", also seems to my ears to ring more Jewish than Christian. In part, this is simply historical: Jews have spent more time oppressed than (White) Christians, so obviously we're going to develop theological accounts that provide sustenance in such situations. But also, as the article notes, the God of BLT tends to be that of the Hebrew Bible, the Old Testament: God standing in judgment over wrongdoers, and prophets preaching Jeremiads against evil societies. I don't believe this theme is absent in the New Testament, but my understanding is that it takes on reduced significance.
In part, this affinity (brother-sufferers) has been used to explain the disproportionate presence of Jews (religious and not) in the Civil Rights movement. But BLT came to the fore with the Black Power movement -- an event which, at the very least, stressed the Black/Jewish bond. Perhaps one way to repair the rift would be for Black Liberation Theorists and their Jewish counterparts to explore connections and commonalities regarding how they view the world. Orthodox Christianity has not exactly been the most welcoming home for liberation theology. Maybe Judaism can be (and learn something about ourselves in the process).
This NYT article on the subject (H/T: PG) brought to the fore a thought I've been having for some time. Black Liberation Theology strikes me as a significantly more "Jewish", if you will, theology than it does Christian.
Now, I'll admit only a moderate knowledge of the parameters of Christian theology. But plenty of Christians I've talked to have confessed genuine trouble with identifying BLT as a "Christian" entity. They object to its particularism, that it "takes sides" (as opposed to Christ's message of universal salvation and infinite love). They think it's too political, and this-worldly, as opposed to concentrating on faith and the world-to-come.
Both of these concerns fit far more comfortable within Judaism, which is also particularistic, and also is more concerned with the state of the human world as opposed to abstract notions of faith and the afterlife. Admittedly, Orthodox Judaism often only concerns itself with "this world" on a ritualistic level, and less so with regards to universal concerns of justice. But Judaism as a whole (including Orthodox Judaism) has developed a strong social identity around the notion of Tikkun Olam (repairing the world). Even if, as my Judaic Studies professor at Carleton argues, Tikkun Olam historically has been only a minor element of Jewish religious practice, it's certainly risen to a dominant position today.
Moreover, the Liberation Theology mantra, "God is on the side of the oppressed", also seems to my ears to ring more Jewish than Christian. In part, this is simply historical: Jews have spent more time oppressed than (White) Christians, so obviously we're going to develop theological accounts that provide sustenance in such situations. But also, as the article notes, the God of BLT tends to be that of the Hebrew Bible, the Old Testament: God standing in judgment over wrongdoers, and prophets preaching Jeremiads against evil societies. I don't believe this theme is absent in the New Testament, but my understanding is that it takes on reduced significance.
In part, this affinity (brother-sufferers) has been used to explain the disproportionate presence of Jews (religious and not) in the Civil Rights movement. But BLT came to the fore with the Black Power movement -- an event which, at the very least, stressed the Black/Jewish bond. Perhaps one way to repair the rift would be for Black Liberation Theorists and their Jewish counterparts to explore connections and commonalities regarding how they view the world. Orthodox Christianity has not exactly been the most welcoming home for liberation theology. Maybe Judaism can be (and learn something about ourselves in the process).
Next Stop: Michelle
Michelle Obama enjoyed a long grace period from the national media. A smart, engaged women who has formidable accomplishments of her own wholly aside from those of her husband -- what's not to like? Well, being an outspoken Black women is always a position fraught with peril, and Michelle does not have her husband's naturally conciliatory personality. We saw her previously sterling image take a hit with the infamous comments about how her husband's candidacy represented the first time she'd been proud of America. And with a pair of articles out trying to paint her with a tar brush, I think we safely say that conservatives think Michelle Obama may be a point of vulnerability for the Obama campaign.
That doesn't mean that the attacks are just, though. The first is a projection piece by Yulal Levin at the National Review complaining that Michelle Obama articulates a sense of "bitterness" (the ultimate insult!). The warrant is that Michelle's speeches often hit on themes regarding how people no longer feel like they're in control of their destiny, that they can't make change in the world (obviously, the fulcrum to Obama's message that "yes, we can" make change). It's a pretty silly argument, that boils down to "there's no anxiety in America, because many of the people Michelle Obama is talking to are middle class or wealthy, and if there is, it's because we rock that much the harder," which I feel misreads the current sentiment of the American people by reducing the only possible source of anxiousness to money concerns. In any event, as in all arguments that flow from a perception that something is wrong with America, Michelle is being critiqued for daring to mention that all Americans might not exist in a state of ecstatic joy, all the time (how can we not? This is the greatest nation in the history of the world!).
The second is an article by equal-opportunity religion-hater Christopher Hitchens, who tries to blame Michelle for Barack's membership in Rev. Wright's church -- a membership which can only be explained by sympathy to radical Black separatist ideology. Since Barack clearly doesn't believe in separatism (nor, I'd wager, does Rev. Wright, but no matter), it must be Michelle. He spends literally one half of a paragraph providing evidence for this -- and (I'm not making this is up), that one piece of evidence consists of Michelle Obama's 1985 senior thesis (my senior thesis is online for all to see -- am I doomed?). That's it, and it's in the last paragraph. Contrast that to the two opening paragraphs, dedicated to wholly gratuitous references to Louis Farrakhan. This the best you've got? [Note: I strongly recall my argument here being made in a post at The Plank, but I can't find it. Apologies for the appropriation -- particularly if the post wasn't at The Plank and I'm effectively stealing from somewhere else. There it is! Publius from Obsidian Wings. Sorry 'bout that.].
While I'm on that last point, the discussion by PG and myself on the prospect of a Bobby Jindal VP position reminds of something. In addition to the latest go around of "is Obama a closet Muslim or a radical Christian Black separatist? Or both!?", there's been a persistent rumor fest that Obama only converted to Christianity and joined his church as a furtherance of his political ambition. Would Jindal, who converted from Hinduism to Christianity, face the same scrutiny of political motive? I mean, good luck getting elected as a Hindu Republican in Louisiana. Still, my guess is no, both because the pre-existing narrative of a 5th column (radical Hindus are trying to subvert America and Jesus!) isn't there (oddly enough, since Hinduism, as a non-monotheistic [or at least not traditionally monotheistic] religion would seem to be more theologically dangerous to Christianity), and because the arbiters of who is sufficiently close to Jesus to be allowed to participate in American democracy (i.e., the Christian right) seem to have given him the a-okay. Still, fascinating contrast.
That doesn't mean that the attacks are just, though. The first is a projection piece by Yulal Levin at the National Review complaining that Michelle Obama articulates a sense of "bitterness" (the ultimate insult!). The warrant is that Michelle's speeches often hit on themes regarding how people no longer feel like they're in control of their destiny, that they can't make change in the world (obviously, the fulcrum to Obama's message that "yes, we can" make change). It's a pretty silly argument, that boils down to "there's no anxiety in America, because many of the people Michelle Obama is talking to are middle class or wealthy, and if there is, it's because we rock that much the harder," which I feel misreads the current sentiment of the American people by reducing the only possible source of anxiousness to money concerns. In any event, as in all arguments that flow from a perception that something is wrong with America, Michelle is being critiqued for daring to mention that all Americans might not exist in a state of ecstatic joy, all the time (how can we not? This is the greatest nation in the history of the world!).
The second is an article by equal-opportunity religion-hater Christopher Hitchens, who tries to blame Michelle for Barack's membership in Rev. Wright's church -- a membership which can only be explained by sympathy to radical Black separatist ideology. Since Barack clearly doesn't believe in separatism (nor, I'd wager, does Rev. Wright, but no matter), it must be Michelle. He spends literally one half of a paragraph providing evidence for this -- and (I'm not making this is up), that one piece of evidence consists of Michelle Obama's 1985 senior thesis (my senior thesis is online for all to see -- am I doomed?). That's it, and it's in the last paragraph. Contrast that to the two opening paragraphs, dedicated to wholly gratuitous references to Louis Farrakhan. This the best you've got? [
While I'm on that last point, the discussion by PG and myself on the prospect of a Bobby Jindal VP position reminds of something. In addition to the latest go around of "is Obama a closet Muslim or a radical Christian Black separatist? Or both!?", there's been a persistent rumor fest that Obama only converted to Christianity and joined his church as a furtherance of his political ambition. Would Jindal, who converted from Hinduism to Christianity, face the same scrutiny of political motive? I mean, good luck getting elected as a Hindu Republican in Louisiana. Still, my guess is no, both because the pre-existing narrative of a 5th column (radical Hindus are trying to subvert America and Jesus!) isn't there (oddly enough, since Hinduism, as a non-monotheistic [or at least not traditionally monotheistic] religion would seem to be more theologically dangerous to Christianity), and because the arbiters of who is sufficiently close to Jesus to be allowed to participate in American democracy (i.e., the Christian right) seem to have given him the a-okay. Still, fascinating contrast.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Stand Up and Admit
Whenever Obama talks about "change" and whatnot on his campaign (which is, let's face it, every six seconds or so), I am filled with an inexplicable urge for him to adopt a new song as his campaign theme. Specifically, Marilyn Manson's "This is the New Shit".
Can you imagine? He could be going into his standard refrain:
And so on. It even has call and response:
I don't understand why they don't pay me for this.
Can you imagine? He could be going into his standard refrain:
"Are you ready for something new? Are you ready for change?" [hit the music, start head-banging] "Are you mutha%*%@ing ready? For the new shit! Stand up and admit, come on everybody! ..."
And so on. It even has call and response:
Do we get it?
No.....!
Do we want it?
Yes.....!
I don't understand why they don't pay me for this.
Jindal for VP, Part II
A few posts ago I explored the possibility of McCain selecting Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal as his VP choice.
Now some liberal bloggers have tackled the issue, and they seem rather sanguine about it. Kevin Drum thinks that Jindal's youth (36) will serve to accentuate just how old McCain is (71), and Steve Benen -- in addition to that point -- wonders if the right-wing base that's uncomfortable with "difference" (read: dark people) in general will come out to vote for an Indian-American VP (once a Hindu, always a Hindu?).
Color me unconvinced. On the age issue, I guess I can see Jindal's boyishness serving to emphasize just how old McCain is. But I've always been skeptical that age will be as big a factor as some Democrats make it out to be. Maybe Democrats can make the point that the Republican ticket is lead by someone who might die tomorrow, backed up by someone with virtually no experience on the international stage. But it's hard to make that point without indicting Obama, who is more experienced than Jindal, but not by enough to immunize him from the attack. The better charge might be to simply point out that we're a heartbeat away from putting an extreme right-wing fanatic in office.
The issue of race, I think, is even less compelling. As I wrote in my last post, conservatives like big progressive shifts to come clothed in conservative garb -- it makes them less threatening. If Jindal can win statewide in Louisiana -- possibly the southern state with the worst demographics for a non-White Republican (plenty of racism combined with a Democratic Party that is still competitive in high profile elections) -- then I think he's dispelled doubts that White racism from the right will be a major strike against him.
Then, of course, there is the elephant in the room: that Jindal says he doesn't want the job. But of course, what potential VP candidate says he does want it?
Now some liberal bloggers have tackled the issue, and they seem rather sanguine about it. Kevin Drum thinks that Jindal's youth (36) will serve to accentuate just how old McCain is (71), and Steve Benen -- in addition to that point -- wonders if the right-wing base that's uncomfortable with "difference" (read: dark people) in general will come out to vote for an Indian-American VP (once a Hindu, always a Hindu?).
Color me unconvinced. On the age issue, I guess I can see Jindal's boyishness serving to emphasize just how old McCain is. But I've always been skeptical that age will be as big a factor as some Democrats make it out to be. Maybe Democrats can make the point that the Republican ticket is lead by someone who might die tomorrow, backed up by someone with virtually no experience on the international stage. But it's hard to make that point without indicting Obama, who is more experienced than Jindal, but not by enough to immunize him from the attack. The better charge might be to simply point out that we're a heartbeat away from putting an extreme right-wing fanatic in office.
The issue of race, I think, is even less compelling. As I wrote in my last post, conservatives like big progressive shifts to come clothed in conservative garb -- it makes them less threatening. If Jindal can win statewide in Louisiana -- possibly the southern state with the worst demographics for a non-White Republican (plenty of racism combined with a Democratic Party that is still competitive in high profile elections) -- then I think he's dispelled doubts that White racism from the right will be a major strike against him.
Then, of course, there is the elephant in the room: that Jindal says he doesn't want the job. But of course, what potential VP candidate says he does want it?
As Usual, It's Teh Fault of Teh Gay
Shorter FRC: The recent raid on the FLDS -- a sect which has existed for over 100 years -- shows that teh gay are destroying American civilization, and that teenagers can never be allowed to have sex. That being said, is nobody thinking of the parents in this situation? What about their rights?
The only criminals in this account are gays and horny teenagers. The only victims are the adults who rape teenagers and the parents who put their kids in this situation.
Family values, FTW!
The only criminals in this account are gays and horny teenagers. The only victims are the adults who rape teenagers and the parents who put their kids in this situation.
Family values, FTW!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Order Up
This is really fascinating. In putting together his seminal work, An American Dilemma (published in 1944) Gunnar Myrdal asked White southerners to list, in order of importance, what they thought American Blacks wanted most. Their response:
Myrdal then asked Blacks the same question, and got the same answer, with one significant exception: Blacks listed them in reverse order!
From Patricia J. Williams, "On Imagining Foes, Imagining Friendship," in Struggles in the Promised Land: Toward a History of Black-Jewish Relations in the United States (Jack Salzman & Cornel West, eds., Oxford: Oxford UP 1997), pp. 371-383, 374-75 (citing Calvin Hernton, "The Sexualization of Racism," in Sex and Racism in America (1988); Gunnar Myrdal, An American Dilemma (1944), pp. 587-88).
1. Intermarriage and sex intercourse with whites
2. Social equality and etiquette
3. Desegregation of public facilities, buses, churches, etc.
4. Political enfranchisement
5. Fair treatment in the law courts
6. Economic opportunities
Myrdal then asked Blacks the same question, and got the same answer, with one significant exception: Blacks listed them in reverse order!
From Patricia J. Williams, "On Imagining Foes, Imagining Friendship," in Struggles in the Promised Land: Toward a History of Black-Jewish Relations in the United States (Jack Salzman & Cornel West, eds., Oxford: Oxford UP 1997), pp. 371-383, 374-75 (citing Calvin Hernton, "The Sexualization of Racism," in Sex and Racism in America (1988); Gunnar Myrdal, An American Dilemma (1944), pp. 587-88).
Blacks and Israel
In discussions of why the Black/Jewish alliance of the early 20th century began to falter in the 1970s, the question of Israel usually is at the forefront. Growing Black identification with third world anti-colonialism (which manifested itself in support of Palestine against their purported colonizer, Israel), combined with growing Jewish ambivalence to affirmative action, was a double-whammy combination that severely fractured previously deep bonds.
But both problems, while certainly real, have been overstated. Jews have demonstrated ambivalence towards affirmative action (particularly quotas, which have deep negative connotations given their history as a tool of exclusion of qualified Jewish applicants), but they still register support for it at levels higher than any other White ethnic group, and the trend lines are positive, not negative, on the topic. Blacks, for their part, do support Israel -- albeit by lower margins than Whites. Moreover, while high-profile anti-Israel statements get media attention and feed the perception of a large and growing bloc of the Black community in strident opposition to Zionism, the reality is far more complicated. Certainly, some Black leaders shifted from previous support of Zionism to staunch opposition (such as Stokely Carmichael). At the same time, others made the opposite trek, such as Jesse Jackson, who in the space of several years went from describing Zionism as a "poisonous weed" choking Judaism to hailing it as a national liberation movement. Other Black leaders, led by Bayard Rustin, formed the Black Americans in Support of Israel Committee (BASIC) -- joined by, among other notables, Clarence Mitchell, David Dinkins, and even Andrew Young, who become a poster boy for Jewish concerns over growing anti-Israel sentiment in the Black community when he met with representatives of the PLO as America's Ambassador to the United Nations in 1979.
The reality is that the view of significant Black anti-Israel sentiment is largely apocryphal, stemmed by the aforementioned high profile denunciations rather than by any strong empirical evidence. Summarizing a long history of survey data, Gary Rubin writes:
Rubin also notes that the Congressional Black Caucus has "consistently and overwhelmingly favored foreign aid to Israel" (367, quoting Murray Friedman), and notes that in general Black politicians have been quite willing to "horse trade" with Jewish leaders so that each group can secure the support of the other on issues of mutual importance.
So what do we get out of this? First, Jewish concerns are not wholly off base -- Blacks, while overall supportive of Israel, are less likely to express that position than Whites. More importantly, the relative apathy on the issue Rubin notices is not neutral -- just as Blacks are hardly unconcerned with Whites who "don't care one way or the other" on questions of racial justice. When the question is basic survival and equal dignity in the arena of human affairs, apathy and indifference can feel like hostility. But all that notwithstanding, insofar as Israel remains an issue of critical importance to Jews, the Black community writ large is not our enemies, and that's important to keep in mind as groups who truly are hostile to our interests try and pry us apart.
But both problems, while certainly real, have been overstated. Jews have demonstrated ambivalence towards affirmative action (particularly quotas, which have deep negative connotations given their history as a tool of exclusion of qualified Jewish applicants), but they still register support for it at levels higher than any other White ethnic group, and the trend lines are positive, not negative, on the topic. Blacks, for their part, do support Israel -- albeit by lower margins than Whites. Moreover, while high-profile anti-Israel statements get media attention and feed the perception of a large and growing bloc of the Black community in strident opposition to Zionism, the reality is far more complicated. Certainly, some Black leaders shifted from previous support of Zionism to staunch opposition (such as Stokely Carmichael). At the same time, others made the opposite trek, such as Jesse Jackson, who in the space of several years went from describing Zionism as a "poisonous weed" choking Judaism to hailing it as a national liberation movement. Other Black leaders, led by Bayard Rustin, formed the Black Americans in Support of Israel Committee (BASIC) -- joined by, among other notables, Clarence Mitchell, David Dinkins, and even Andrew Young, who become a poster boy for Jewish concerns over growing anti-Israel sentiment in the Black community when he met with representatives of the PLO as America's Ambassador to the United Nations in 1979.
The reality is that the view of significant Black anti-Israel sentiment is largely apocryphal, stemmed by the aforementioned high profile denunciations rather than by any strong empirical evidence. Summarizing a long history of survey data, Gary Rubin writes:
Four points stand out in this review of three decades of surveys on African American attitudes toward Israel. First, African Americans show consistent support for Israel over this entire period. Second, that support is at a lower level than that of the public at large. Third, for greater proportions of African Americans than others, this is not a very important issue: Blacks consistently outpace whites in the proportion that express no opinion on Israel-related questions. Fourth, response of African Americans are subject to the course of events; they are especially prone to express sympathy with the Palestinians as well as with Israel and to strongly back pro-peace positions. [Gary E. Rubin, "African Americans and Israel," in Struggles in the Promised Land: Towards a History of Black-Jewish Relations in the United States (Jack Salzman & Cornel West, eds., Oxford: Oxford UP 1997), 357-370, 366]
Rubin also notes that the Congressional Black Caucus has "consistently and overwhelmingly favored foreign aid to Israel" (367, quoting Murray Friedman), and notes that in general Black politicians have been quite willing to "horse trade" with Jewish leaders so that each group can secure the support of the other on issues of mutual importance.
So what do we get out of this? First, Jewish concerns are not wholly off base -- Blacks, while overall supportive of Israel, are less likely to express that position than Whites. More importantly, the relative apathy on the issue Rubin notices is not neutral -- just as Blacks are hardly unconcerned with Whites who "don't care one way or the other" on questions of racial justice. When the question is basic survival and equal dignity in the arena of human affairs, apathy and indifference can feel like hostility. But all that notwithstanding, insofar as Israel remains an issue of critical importance to Jews, the Black community writ large is not our enemies, and that's important to keep in mind as groups who truly are hostile to our interests try and pry us apart.
Signal Strength
Dave Meyer has a fantastic post up on the historical practice of America using wars as a form "public relations" or "marketing" -- specifically, marketing that we as a nation are "strong" or have the "will" to impress our desires upon the rest of the world. He begins with Hannah Arendt's retrospective on the Vietnam War, and continues to show how image was always the central element of selling the Iraq War:
Meyer notes that, insofar as war is used as a signal for will, it requires tremendous message discipline. But as Matt Yglesias points out, such uniformity is effectively impossible in a modern, pluralist democracy -- which is probably why Republican war supporters who are so concerned with the "message" we're sending (to al-Qaeda or Iran or France or whomever) about our "will" have so often resorted to the rhetoric of treason to describe war dissenters, or have engaged in domestic propaganda efforts of questionable veracity (not to mention ethics or legality) to try and keep the American psyche all moving in one public direction.
These are all good points, but Robert Farley, an expert on military affairs, adds that even outside the limitations imposed by American democracy, "signaling" things like "will" relies on several shaky assumptions, which often don't bear themselves out:
This doesn't mean that American actions don't communicate messages that we should be cognizant of. But it does mean that a) we can't pretend like "strength" or "will" are the only signals we'll ever send -- even if that's what we intend to, and b) that it's probably a bad idea to launch entire foreign policy adventures based on the blurry concept of communicating American willpower.
In the last year of her life, Hannah Arendt offered a retrospective on Vietnam; Home to Roost is printed in the Responsibility and Judgment collection published back in 2003. Her prescient insight was that the entire "not very honorable and not very rational enterprise was exclusively guided by the needs of a superpower to create for itself an image which would convince the world that it was indeed 'the mightiest power on earth.'" Eventually, the war was maintained solely "to avoid admitting defeat and to keep the image...intact."
The official obsession with image developed over time in the Vietnam era. With Iraq, it was central from the beginning. Before the war, Andy Card told Elisabeth Bumiller that "from a marketing point of view, you don't introduce new products in August." Tom Friedman thought invading Iraq would communicate a useful "Suck. On. This." Jonah Goldberg glowingly attributed to Michael Ledeen the idea that "every ten years or so, the United States needs to pick up some small crappy little country and throw it against the wall, just to show the world we mean business." There are countless examples, from high government officials to low pundits, of endorsements of Iraq for the message it would send, as an easy way to dispel the myth of American weakness. The Iraq war is a multi-trillion dollar public relations campaign, aimed at persuading hostile forces of our "strength."
Meyer notes that, insofar as war is used as a signal for will, it requires tremendous message discipline. But as Matt Yglesias points out, such uniformity is effectively impossible in a modern, pluralist democracy -- which is probably why Republican war supporters who are so concerned with the "message" we're sending (to al-Qaeda or Iran or France or whomever) about our "will" have so often resorted to the rhetoric of treason to describe war dissenters, or have engaged in domestic propaganda efforts of questionable veracity (not to mention ethics or legality) to try and keep the American psyche all moving in one public direction.
These are all good points, but Robert Farley, an expert on military affairs, adds that even outside the limitations imposed by American democracy, "signaling" things like "will" relies on several shaky assumptions, which often don't bear themselves out:
1. Signals are unambiguous: The meaning of our signaling is not subject to interpretation, such that different people could, based on different priors, carry away different meanings.
2. Signals always indicate what we want them to indicate: This is related to the first; if we are trying to send a signal of strength, then we send a signal of strength, not a signal of mean, stupid, crazy, etc.
3. We never develop a bad reputation, except for weakness: This is related to the first two; our effort at signaling strength doesn't have reputational costs. If we invade his country, the Other will understand us as strong, rather than as brutal, imperialistic, crusading, evil, etc.
4. No one ever considers that we might be trying to deceive through signaling: This is probably the most important. If signaling is about creating a reputation for strength, and if a reputation for strength is a positive good, then obviously there's an incentive to lie about being strong. The entire premise of signaling depends on no one noticing that we have an incentive to lie about our own strength.
5. We know our own strength: Our effort to communicate the true level of our resolve is dependent on knowing what that level is. However, the resolve of the American people to crush enemies of the American public is a value that is unknown to anyone, including our leadership. At best we're guessing, which basically means that every effort to signal is essentially deception.
This doesn't mean that American actions don't communicate messages that we should be cognizant of. But it does mean that a) we can't pretend like "strength" or "will" are the only signals we'll ever send -- even if that's what we intend to, and b) that it's probably a bad idea to launch entire foreign policy adventures based on the blurry concept of communicating American willpower.
We'll Stay Until We Can Stay In Peace
John McCain has been complaining about Democrats making hay over his "100 years in Iraq" comment. He says that they're implying he wants the war to continue for 100 years, while he claims that he's merely saying we could stay in Iraq indefinitely once peace has been achieved. Howard Dean has responded that McCain's missing the point -- Americans oppose staying in Iraq in any capacity 100 days from now, much less 100 years, and that's what gives their ads punch. This point is buttressed by the fact that the ads never use the word "war", but I'll certainly concede that the ads are playing on the ambiguity to achieve maximum effect.
But apropos the controversy, Hendrik Hertzberg, who gave the quote its (extended) context at the time it was spoken, I think nails the real problem for McCain's protestations of innocence over "100 years":
This is not a plan most Americans are comfortable with. So why shouldn't the Democrats make hay out of it?
Via Josh Marshall
But apropos the controversy, Hendrik Hertzberg, who gave the quote its (extended) context at the time it was spoken, I think nails the real problem for McCain's protestations of innocence over "100 years":
McCain's wants to stay in Iraq until no more Americans are getting killed, no matter how long it takes and how many Americans get killed achieving that goal—that is, the goal of not getting any more Americans killed. And once that goal is achieved, we'll stay.
This is not a plan most Americans are comfortable with. So why shouldn't the Democrats make hay out of it?
Via Josh Marshall
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Disassociation
In the wake of my mildly famous post on Black Conservatism, one of my professors from earlier this year (History of the Civil Rights Movement) invited me to give a presentation before his African-American History class this term. I was setting up a meeting with him to discuss plans for the class, and mentioned off hand that I would be attending the University of Chicago Law School next year. He looked at me and smiled, and noted that I'd be sharing institutional affiliation with Rev. Jeremiah Wright (who attended Chicago's Divinity School). I laughed and said, "guess I can never run for President then." (among other reasons).
Apropos of that, David Bernstein has a post up seeking stories of Obama's time as a constitutional law lecturer at the University of Chicago. "Waldensian" repsonds:
Sadly, a roughly accurate portrayal of how I fear this whole election cycle will progress.
Apropos of that, David Bernstein has a post up seeking stories of Obama's time as a constitutional law lecturer at the University of Chicago. "Waldensian" repsonds:
I took one of his classes, and I'm a bad person. Sadly, Obama still hasn't gone far enough in renouncing me and my views.
Sadly, a roughly accurate portrayal of how I fear this whole election cycle will progress.
Jindal for VP
There's got to be a reason I never thought of it before. Andrew Sullivan reports rumors that Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal may be on John McCain's list of potential VPs. It'd make a great political counter to an Obama candidacy. Jindal's Indian-American, so it isn't an exact parallel (but that makes it easier to dodge the inevitable pandering charge), while still being historic (Indians are a special race case anyway). And it's not like he'd be plucked from complete obscurity -- Jindal's been a GOP rising star for awhile now, and has a good many people in the Party excited.
Americans tend to like it better when Republicans usher in their great progressive leaps forward (cf., Nixon goes to China), because it gives them all the symbolism without the risk that anything substantive will change. It'd be interesting to see how much significance would be ascribed to Jindal's ascension as VP. Obama's potential election as President has led a certain class of White pundits to proclaim it as evidence that anti-Black racism is effectively over. Would Jindal's election still be used to justify the same claim (because Whites have overcome their racial animosity as evidenced by Jindal, ipso facto Whites no longer harbor racist sentiments toward Black people)? It'd be convenient, but still rather difficult I think to argue.
Americans tend to like it better when Republicans usher in their great progressive leaps forward (cf., Nixon goes to China), because it gives them all the symbolism without the risk that anything substantive will change. It'd be interesting to see how much significance would be ascribed to Jindal's ascension as VP. Obama's potential election as President has led a certain class of White pundits to proclaim it as evidence that anti-Black racism is effectively over. Would Jindal's election still be used to justify the same claim (because Whites have overcome their racial animosity as evidenced by Jindal, ipso facto Whites no longer harbor racist sentiments toward Black people)? It'd be convenient, but still rather difficult I think to argue.
OJ
I rarely drink alcohol. And when I do, I only drink very small amounts (not even enough to get buzzed). It's a source of much amusement to me that this means I can likely never run for President (admittedly, there are plenty of reasons why I can never run for President -- this is just one of the more absurd ones).
But it goes beyond alcohol. Despite four years of debate and four years of college, I don't drink coffee, or any coffee related drinks. Nor do I drink tea. I rarely even drink soda (I'm practically Mormon!). Juice, water, and Gatorade are my fluids of choice.
So it was with a wry smile that I read this hilarious, apparently serious bit from Commentary Magazine trying to make hay out of Obama's choice of Orange Juice over Coffee at an Indiana diner.
To be fair, even Commentary's readership seemed to think this was a bit ridiculous. But I thought it was uproariously funny, if only to show how thin the anti-Obama gruel is getting. And at least mildly hopeful, in that it appears to have finally hit the extreme outer limit of when campaign gossip gets too frivolous that even sympathetic readers finally rebel.
But it goes beyond alcohol. Despite four years of debate and four years of college, I don't drink coffee, or any coffee related drinks. Nor do I drink tea. I rarely even drink soda (I'm practically Mormon!). Juice, water, and Gatorade are my fluids of choice.
So it was with a wry smile that I read this hilarious, apparently serious bit from Commentary Magazine trying to make hay out of Obama's choice of Orange Juice over Coffee at an Indiana diner.
The switch from juice to coffee is a rite of adulthood. It's not that Obama seemed to hold himself above the coffee drinkers. It's that he seemed to lag behind them. He's still on fruit juice while the adults are sipping bitter and bracing coffee.
To be fair, even Commentary's readership seemed to think this was a bit ridiculous. But I thought it was uproariously funny, if only to show how thin the anti-Obama gruel is getting. And at least mildly hopeful, in that it appears to have finally hit the extreme outer limit of when campaign gossip gets too frivolous that even sympathetic readers finally rebel.
Friday, May 02, 2008
What We Need
Ross Douthat complains about how mainstream movies don't portray terrorists as Muslim extremists often enough:
In respons, dNa points out the obvious:
I think this is exactly right, and gets at something important. Different circumstances call for different discourses. I can certainly imagine a situation where America was beset by ennui, was faced with an existential or otherwise significant crisis and could not motivate itself to face it with heart and determination, or refused to forthrightly identify the enemy at all (in a way, I think this is descriptive of America on racial issues). But, at least in the realm of contemporary America foreign policy, this is not our problem, and (in the words of Tim F.) the possibility that Americans will forget that their are Muslim extremists out there "seems vanishingly unlikely when at any given time a Republican is running for office somewhere." In the past seven years, we've launched two wars in Muslim states, set up extra-legal detention centers for terrorist suspects, held people indefinitely without trial, abducted and tortured innocent people, imprisoned journalists -- and that's just what's been institutionally sanctioned. Our problem is not that we're too disconcerned with this radical Islamic extremism thing. Our problem is that we've a) let this threat explode way out of proportion to its actual menace, b) used it to justify appalling violations of human rights that cut against every moral fiber that America was founded upon, and c) allowed to expand until it represented the totality of America's international security interests, ignoring other important strategic and moral considerations on the international horizon worthy of our concern.
In other words, Americans are plenty convinced that there are scary brown people out to get them, even without Hollywood shoving it down their throat. I'm not saying there is no threat from Islamic extremism, because clearly there is. I'm just saying it's not a bad thing to restore our collective sense of balance and proportion -- something that, in the age of "Black Sites" and Guantanamo Bay, is sorely and conspicuously absent at the moment.
Even in films that aren’t taking thinly veiled jabs at the Bush administration, terrorist baddies turn out to be Eurotrash arms dealers (2006’s Casino Royale), disgruntled hackers (2007’s Live Free or Die Hard), a sinister air marshal (2005’s Flightplan), or the handsome white guy sitting next to you in the airport lounge (2005’s Red Eye). Anyone and anybody, in other words, except the sort of people who actually attacked the United States on 9/11.
In respons, dNa points out the obvious:
Because in an age of detention without evidence or trial, torture, and preemptive war, what we really need is movies that make us feel better about doing all those things to a certain "sort of people."
I think this is exactly right, and gets at something important. Different circumstances call for different discourses. I can certainly imagine a situation where America was beset by ennui, was faced with an existential or otherwise significant crisis and could not motivate itself to face it with heart and determination, or refused to forthrightly identify the enemy at all (in a way, I think this is descriptive of America on racial issues). But, at least in the realm of contemporary America foreign policy, this is not our problem, and (in the words of Tim F.) the possibility that Americans will forget that their are Muslim extremists out there "seems vanishingly unlikely when at any given time a Republican is running for office somewhere." In the past seven years, we've launched two wars in Muslim states, set up extra-legal detention centers for terrorist suspects, held people indefinitely without trial, abducted and tortured innocent people, imprisoned journalists -- and that's just what's been institutionally sanctioned. Our problem is not that we're too disconcerned with this radical Islamic extremism thing. Our problem is that we've a) let this threat explode way out of proportion to its actual menace, b) used it to justify appalling violations of human rights that cut against every moral fiber that America was founded upon, and c) allowed to expand until it represented the totality of America's international security interests, ignoring other important strategic and moral considerations on the international horizon worthy of our concern.
In other words, Americans are plenty convinced that there are scary brown people out to get them, even without Hollywood shoving it down their throat. I'm not saying there is no threat from Islamic extremism, because clearly there is. I'm just saying it's not a bad thing to restore our collective sense of balance and proportion -- something that, in the age of "Black Sites" and Guantanamo Bay, is sorely and conspicuously absent at the moment.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
And Another Thing
Responding to Tom Friedman's column explaining why a gas tax holiday makes no sense, John McCain remarks:
But McCain can't even get his digs right. Friedman doesn't live in New York City, he lives in Bethesda, Maryland (a DC suburb), and, as the article notes, drives a hybrid.
In the meantime, John Chait gives four reasons why Obama's refusal to pander on the gas tax holiday, and, of course, every economist in the world agrees with Friedman and thinks McCain is wrong here.
Appearing on CNN's "American Morning," McCain noted his respect for the Pulitzer winner but said Americans deserve "just a little break this summer."
But then he went further.
"And I understand in New York City that you don't really drive a long way most of the time," McCain said. "But -- and then maybe you're chauffeured."
But McCain can't even get his digs right. Friedman doesn't live in New York City, he lives in Bethesda, Maryland (a DC suburb), and, as the article notes, drives a hybrid.
In the meantime, John Chait gives four reasons why Obama's refusal to pander on the gas tax holiday, and, of course, every economist in the world agrees with Friedman and thinks McCain is wrong here.
And Another Thing
Responding to Tom Friedman's column explaining why a gas tax holiday makes no sense, John McCain
From Jeremiah to Jonah
Two of my Carleton professors forward me this article by Princeton Professor Melissa Harris-Lacewell, on Rev. Wright's self-identification with the prophetic tradition. Harrs-Lacewell argues that the Obama campaign has shifted Wright from being Jeremiah ("among the truth tellers who regularly warn the government that divine destruction is imminent if the nation continued to oppress the powerless.") to Jonah (fleeing from his obligation to preach to those he does not want to deal with -- i.e., mainstream Whites).
It's a good piece -- and there are few more insightful commenters on question of race in America than Professor Harris-Lacewell. Well worth your time.
I believe Jeremiah Wright likes preaching to his own people, black people, embraced by the relative comfort of shared knowledge and practice within the African American church. I do not think he wanted to talk to white America or to try to bridge the painful, difficult, often personally brutalizing, racial divide. I believe that he has great and healing things to say to our nation, but that when called to do so he has resisted because he is angry about the evils of racism, imperialism, patriarchy and partisanship.
It's a good piece -- and there are few more insightful commenters on question of race in America than Professor Harris-Lacewell. Well worth your time.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
The Beauty and The Truth
Democratic Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (NV) is offering a compromise plan to help break the deadlock over nominations for the Federal Elections Commissions. The FEC is moribund at the moment because it doesn't have a quorum. It doesn't have a quorum because all the nominations are tied up over whether Hans von Spakovsky, a Bush administration apparatchik who has dedicated most of his public career at making it harder for the poor and minorities to vote. Von Spakovsky doesn't have the votes to be confirmed on his, which is why Republicans are demanding that all the nominations be grouped together and voted on as a package.
Reid's compromise would guarantee that another (already nominated, non-controversial) GOP FEC candidate would immediately be confirmed to take von Spakovsky's seat if he is rejected. But the compromise is reportedly dead in the water, because Republicans refuse to budge if von Spakovsky is not part of the deal.
But that obscures the real issue. Republicans don't actually care if von Spakovsky gets on the FEC or not. They just know that they can use him to block the nominations in general and make the FEC impotent during the election, removing any risk of independent oversight and making it easier for sleazy and/or illegal campaign tactics to go unabated. The "compromise" is dead because Democrats can't give Republicans what they want -- a free field to break the law in 2008.
Reid's compromise would guarantee that another (already nominated, non-controversial) GOP FEC candidate would immediately be confirmed to take von Spakovsky's seat if he is rejected. But the compromise is reportedly dead in the water, because Republicans refuse to budge if von Spakovsky is not part of the deal.
But that obscures the real issue. Republicans don't actually care if von Spakovsky gets on the FEC or not. They just know that they can use him to block the nominations in general and make the FEC impotent during the election, removing any risk of independent oversight and making it easier for sleazy and/or illegal campaign tactics to go unabated. The "compromise" is dead because Democrats can't give Republicans what they want -- a free field to break the law in 2008.
Compel This!
Monday the Supreme Court, in a 6-3 decision, upheld Indiana's voter ID law. You remember that one: the law which was justified to combat voter fraud, despite the fact that Indiana has never had a voter fraud prosecution in the history of the state? Now, to be fair, Indiana did recently have a problem with fraud in a local mayoral election. But it was perpetuated by absentee ballots -- the only type of voting exempted from the voter ID requirement. In general, the voter fraud "epidemic" is a myth used to suppress legitimate voting by Democratic-leaning voters. So we have a situation where the "interest" Indiana uses to pass a voter-suppression law is literally mythological. Maybe we can convince Maryland to pass a law prohibiting Republicans from voting on the grounds that they're more likely to secretly be fire-breathing dragons. It's no less removed from reality.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
The Verdict
Now I can die happy. 10 seconds from now, when Calculon kills us. -- Harold Zoid.
Ladies and gentleman, the die has been cast, and the (e-)letter is in the (e-)mail. Next year, I will officially join the University of Chicago's class of 2011.
I've been vague about how this whole law/grad school thing was playing out. Didn't want to jinx anything. But now that it's over, I can give y'all the full run down.
In terms of success rate, I batted a solid 8/20 -- 6/9 law, and 2/11 Ph.D (so, less solid on that front). I was admitted at the law schools of UVA, Michigan, Berkeley (Boalt), NYU, Columbia, and Chicago, and rejected at Yale, Harvard, and Stanford (no waitlists for me!). As for the Ph.Ds, I got in at UVA and Berkeley (Jurisprudence and Social Policy for the latter, Political Science for UVA and all the others) and was turned down at (*breath*) Yale, Harvard, Stanford, Chicago, Columbia, NYU, Michigan, Brown, and Princeton. As my roommate said, potentially this was sign that law school was the better place for me. Or as Phoebe and Amber would say, maybe I'm just not bright enough for Ph.D work. As for me, I'm blaming my "interesting" (in the wrong way) statement of research interest (that was by a prof at Berkeley's JSP program -- one of the programs that admitted me!).
But that's old news now, and law school was really always my first choice over grad school. The J.D. I know I need for what I want to do, the Ph.D I specifically hope I don't need.
So why Chicago specifically then? Well, I was always making my choice based on what would best get me positioned to enter legal academia. In the interest of not agonizing over too many choices, I let that cut the list down to NYU, Columbia, and Chicago. NYU had the Furman Academic Fellows program, which looked interesting, but then they didn't admit me to it, which was demoralizing. They also put a time limit on their financial aid offer that expired well before I was ready to make a decision (ironically, it appears they extended the deadline until today without telling me, but by now I'd already dismissed them as an option). That left Chicago and Columbia, the only two schools I actually visited.
Both, it should be said, were fine schools and I felt quite happy and comfortable at each when I visited. When I asked if anyone had any inclination towards one or the other, my adviser at Carleton (who, I believe, is starting to sicken of me) told me: "David, flip a coin if you have to." I didn't quite do that, but I did end up making my decision on very "soft" factors: namely, that something about NYC rubs me the wrong way, and that Chicago's smaller size just felt more comfortable to me. Chicago in general had a "vibe" that I liked -- it reminded me much of Carleton, in fact. Really, I had nothing to go on but my gut instinct, which (very tepidly) leaned towards Chicago. With the deadline looming, and no stronger reason to go one way or the other, I went with it.
So that's that. But I can't resist giving a few superlatives at the end of this process.
The Silent Treatment Award goes to Stanford University, held onto my application wordlessly for about five months before denying me. Harvard took just as long (well, actually they denied me one week before Stanford did), but at least they sent periodic emails letting me know I was still on the planet (not to mention their wonderful J.D. admissions blog). And when I wrote them an email, they wrote back (albeit, to tell me that they don't accept emails, so please mail them). Stanford maintained a studious silence throughout the whole ordeal. I actually wondered if my rejection had got lost in the mail (I assumed rejection, because I figured if I had been admitted they would have followed up at least once to insure I was still alive).
Most Enthusiastic: UC-Berkeley. The Berkeley people were very helpful whenever I wrote to them, but that's not why they get the award. Around the time I got admitted to Berkeley, a spammer got ahold of my telephone number and started making bogus calls to me for about one week. During that week, I got four calls from the spammer -- and five from Berkeley. Advantage, California.
Most Guilt-Inducing: UVA. First, they admitted me to both their J.D. and Ph.D program. Second, one of my former Carleton professors (who now is at UVA) specifically went to bat for me come selection time -- responding to the specific objection that I likely wouldn't attend (prescient, that one). Third, the political science department nominated me for a very prestigious fellowship. All of this occurred with it being extremely unlikely that I'd attend. And then, when I turned down the law school, they asked me to fill out a survey explaining why, which was very awkward.
Oh, and you might be wondering about the Futurama quote at the top of the post. That's because I'm expected PG to send trained assassins out to kill me now. She's graduating law school, she can afford it. So, it's been quite a ride, and nice knowing everyone.
Ladies and gentleman, the die has been cast, and the (e-)letter is in the (e-)mail. Next year, I will officially join the University of Chicago's class of 2011.
I've been vague about how this whole law/grad school thing was playing out. Didn't want to jinx anything. But now that it's over, I can give y'all the full run down.
In terms of success rate, I batted a solid 8/20 -- 6/9 law, and 2/11 Ph.D (so, less solid on that front). I was admitted at the law schools of UVA, Michigan, Berkeley (Boalt), NYU, Columbia, and Chicago, and rejected at Yale, Harvard, and Stanford (no waitlists for me!). As for the Ph.Ds, I got in at UVA and Berkeley (Jurisprudence and Social Policy for the latter, Political Science for UVA and all the others) and was turned down at (*breath*) Yale, Harvard, Stanford, Chicago, Columbia, NYU, Michigan, Brown, and Princeton. As my roommate said, potentially this was sign that law school was the better place for me. Or as Phoebe and Amber would say, maybe I'm just not bright enough for Ph.D work. As for me, I'm blaming my "interesting" (in the wrong way) statement of research interest (that was by a prof at Berkeley's JSP program -- one of the programs that admitted me!).
But that's old news now, and law school was really always my first choice over grad school. The J.D. I know I need for what I want to do, the Ph.D I specifically hope I don't need.
So why Chicago specifically then? Well, I was always making my choice based on what would best get me positioned to enter legal academia. In the interest of not agonizing over too many choices, I let that cut the list down to NYU, Columbia, and Chicago. NYU had the Furman Academic Fellows program, which looked interesting, but then they didn't admit me to it, which was demoralizing. They also put a time limit on their financial aid offer that expired well before I was ready to make a decision (ironically, it appears they extended the deadline until today without telling me, but by now I'd already dismissed them as an option). That left Chicago and Columbia, the only two schools I actually visited.
Both, it should be said, were fine schools and I felt quite happy and comfortable at each when I visited. When I asked if anyone had any inclination towards one or the other, my adviser at Carleton (who, I believe, is starting to sicken of me) told me: "David, flip a coin if you have to." I didn't quite do that, but I did end up making my decision on very "soft" factors: namely, that something about NYC rubs me the wrong way, and that Chicago's smaller size just felt more comfortable to me. Chicago in general had a "vibe" that I liked -- it reminded me much of Carleton, in fact. Really, I had nothing to go on but my gut instinct, which (very tepidly) leaned towards Chicago. With the deadline looming, and no stronger reason to go one way or the other, I went with it.
So that's that. But I can't resist giving a few superlatives at the end of this process.
The Silent Treatment Award goes to Stanford University, held onto my application wordlessly for about five months before denying me. Harvard took just as long (well, actually they denied me one week before Stanford did), but at least they sent periodic emails letting me know I was still on the planet (not to mention their wonderful J.D. admissions blog). And when I wrote them an email, they wrote back (albeit, to tell me that they don't accept emails, so please mail them). Stanford maintained a studious silence throughout the whole ordeal. I actually wondered if my rejection had got lost in the mail (I assumed rejection, because I figured if I had been admitted they would have followed up at least once to insure I was still alive).
Most Enthusiastic: UC-Berkeley. The Berkeley people were very helpful whenever I wrote to them, but that's not why they get the award. Around the time I got admitted to Berkeley, a spammer got ahold of my telephone number and started making bogus calls to me for about one week. During that week, I got four calls from the spammer -- and five from Berkeley. Advantage, California.
Most Guilt-Inducing: UVA. First, they admitted me to both their J.D. and Ph.D program. Second, one of my former Carleton professors (who now is at UVA) specifically went to bat for me come selection time -- responding to the specific objection that I likely wouldn't attend (prescient, that one). Third, the political science department nominated me for a very prestigious fellowship. All of this occurred with it being extremely unlikely that I'd attend. And then, when I turned down the law school, they asked me to fill out a survey explaining why, which was very awkward.
Oh, and you might be wondering about the Futurama quote at the top of the post. That's because I'm expected PG to send trained assassins out to kill me now. She's graduating law school, she can afford it. So, it's been quite a ride, and nice knowing everyone.
The Will to Power
"What do you want to do today, Brain?"
"Same thing we do everyday, Pinky.... Take over the world."
In response to my denial post, Mark argues that America's problem isn't denial but a failure of the will to confront evil. At root, this is Green Laternism gone totally haywire, as Mark seems to think every problem in the whole world could be solved through strong application of American Will. But while this practically unrealistic (not every problem can be solved by mere willpower, and America doesn't possess infinite resources to enact will into policy), the disjuncture with reality is actually less frightening to me than the theory itself. The "will" Mark demands America use would appear to involve the US invading, occupying, bombing, or otherwise attacking a huge chunk (well over half) of the world over the course of the last 60 years.*
But Mark doesn't just want to impose American will on any country. It's not even the relatively simple metric of imposing our will on evil countries. Evilness is certainly a part of Mark's criteria. But the bigger one is alignment. Countries which are doing nothing actively wrong, but seem broadly aligned on an anti-American axis, are legitimate targets of our Will (Chile, 1973). And, as Mark's post was a prolonged justification for allying with undeniably evil groups (such as death squads) so long as they were on "our side", I assume the reverse is also true: a country that is aligned with us ought to be spared facing America's Will -- or even get the support of American Will against rebel forces. Beyond that, for countries or organizations who are not aligned for us or against us (or perhaps, are too unimportant to matter), then evilness becomes the defining factor (Uganda's Lord's Resistance Army, for example).
So, using that as our criteria, which countries in the post-WWII era should have faced (or benefited from!) America's Will? Well, let's start with the one's that Mark appears to explicitly endorse in his post: Chile, Nicaragua, North Korea (he says we shouldn't have accepted the "stalemate" at the end of the Korean War), Vietnam, Uganda. Where else? Well, there are the other locations where America has Exerted Our Will since World War II; places such as Iraq, Columbia, Granada, El Salvador (hell, virtually all of Central America saw US Marines at one point or another during the 20th century), The Balkans, and Iran (imposing the Shah). Each of these would seemingly be okay with Mark. But now let's move into hypotheticals. Where did American Will fail to manifest itself, when it should have?
Start with the Americas. We already mentioned that basically all of Central America was forfeit, but Cuba deserves special mention for being the Communist Big Papa -- and the Bay of Pigs hardly was a sufficient statement of Will. Venezuela, today, is an easy mark (and we did support a coup there). Bolivia? Maybe. Brazil escapes because it went socialist (Lula) after the Cold War ended, but during the Cold War it was an ally (so who cares that it tortured folks constantly?).
In Europe, we have -- the entire Soviet Bloc. And the Soviet Union. But particularly Czechoslovakia and Hungary. Could France be considered anti-American enough to render it vulnerable to America's Will? Maybe.
Africa is another place where we could justify sending troops nearly anywhere this side of Botswana, either to overthrow communist leaning dictatorships or to support Western-leaning regimes against communist backed rebels. But certainly, Libya, Sudan (even prior to Darfur, with the North/South civil war), Ethiopia, Rwanda, Rhodesia (supporting the White apartheid government), South Africa (ditto), and Angola all were legitimate targets of The Will.
The Middle East, amazingly, gets mostly a pass, on the grounds of "alignment". Iraq is an exception -- but only after the Cold War (when they actually were gassing their own people, they're cool. Invading Kuwait is a problem). Syria, too, probably should face the Will of America. But Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Egypt, Qatar, UAE? All okay.
Central Asia is a fun one. Pakistan escapes -- narrowly -- on alignment grounds. Uzbekistan, despite being far eviler than Pakistan, is an easier non-call than Pakistan, as it is firmly on our side. But Afghanistan gets to enjoy US will twice: once in support of the Taliban against the Russians, and once in support of the North Alliance against the Taliban. Iran, obviously, must face American Will again.
East Asia also sees plenty of action. We already got Korea, and China, too, is a definite. Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos are further obvious choices. Indonesia gets supportive Will of America in its anti-communist fight as Suharto slaughtered 300,000 people. He may be a sonofabitch, but he's our sonofabitch, after all.
So what's the final tally? Basically all of Latin America and Eastern Europe, and most of Sub-Saharan Africa. In addition, Chile, Venezuela, Columbia, the USSR, China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Indonesia, Iran (twice), Afghanistan (twice), Iraq, Syria, Korea, and Libya. And possibly France. Some places we did attack (but in many of these, Mark thinks that still our Will was not sufficiently imposed), some we did not
I don't oppose the use of military force in all circumstances. But this...this is imperial hell. I am glad we have not "The Will" to undertake it.
"I believe in something greater than myself. Building a better world. A world without sin...."
"I don't murder children."
"I do. When I have to."
* * *
* In the comments, Mark denies that his "will" is necessarily military force. But every example he's ever given of the proper use of will was a military option, and I can't conceive of a non-military response he would find sufficiently "willful" in most of the countries I'm laying out. Indeed, in some of the cases, he finds even what military response the US did initiate to be insufficient (Vietnam, Central America). But for the sake of defusing conflict, I'll refer to what Mark wants to do to these nations as "imposing our will."
"Same thing we do everyday, Pinky.... Take over the world."
In response to my denial post, Mark argues that America's problem isn't denial but a failure of the will to confront evil. At root, this is Green Laternism gone totally haywire, as Mark seems to think every problem in the whole world could be solved through strong application of American Will. But while this practically unrealistic (not every problem can be solved by mere willpower, and America doesn't possess infinite resources to enact will into policy), the disjuncture with reality is actually less frightening to me than the theory itself. The "will" Mark demands America use would appear to involve the US invading, occupying, bombing, or otherwise attacking a huge chunk (well over half) of the world over the course of the last 60 years.*
But Mark doesn't just want to impose American will on any country. It's not even the relatively simple metric of imposing our will on evil countries. Evilness is certainly a part of Mark's criteria. But the bigger one is alignment. Countries which are doing nothing actively wrong, but seem broadly aligned on an anti-American axis, are legitimate targets of our Will (Chile, 1973). And, as Mark's post was a prolonged justification for allying with undeniably evil groups (such as death squads) so long as they were on "our side", I assume the reverse is also true: a country that is aligned with us ought to be spared facing America's Will -- or even get the support of American Will against rebel forces. Beyond that, for countries or organizations who are not aligned for us or against us (or perhaps, are too unimportant to matter), then evilness becomes the defining factor (Uganda's Lord's Resistance Army, for example).
So, using that as our criteria, which countries in the post-WWII era should have faced (or benefited from!) America's Will? Well, let's start with the one's that Mark appears to explicitly endorse in his post: Chile, Nicaragua, North Korea (he says we shouldn't have accepted the "stalemate" at the end of the Korean War), Vietnam, Uganda. Where else? Well, there are the other locations where America has Exerted Our Will since World War II; places such as Iraq, Columbia, Granada, El Salvador (hell, virtually all of Central America saw US Marines at one point or another during the 20th century), The Balkans, and Iran (imposing the Shah). Each of these would seemingly be okay with Mark. But now let's move into hypotheticals. Where did American Will fail to manifest itself, when it should have?
Start with the Americas. We already mentioned that basically all of Central America was forfeit, but Cuba deserves special mention for being the Communist Big Papa -- and the Bay of Pigs hardly was a sufficient statement of Will. Venezuela, today, is an easy mark (and we did support a coup there). Bolivia? Maybe. Brazil escapes because it went socialist (Lula) after the Cold War ended, but during the Cold War it was an ally (so who cares that it tortured folks constantly?).
In Europe, we have -- the entire Soviet Bloc. And the Soviet Union. But particularly Czechoslovakia and Hungary. Could France be considered anti-American enough to render it vulnerable to America's Will? Maybe.
Africa is another place where we could justify sending troops nearly anywhere this side of Botswana, either to overthrow communist leaning dictatorships or to support Western-leaning regimes against communist backed rebels. But certainly, Libya, Sudan (even prior to Darfur, with the North/South civil war), Ethiopia, Rwanda, Rhodesia (supporting the White apartheid government), South Africa (ditto), and Angola all were legitimate targets of The Will.
The Middle East, amazingly, gets mostly a pass, on the grounds of "alignment". Iraq is an exception -- but only after the Cold War (when they actually were gassing their own people, they're cool. Invading Kuwait is a problem). Syria, too, probably should face the Will of America. But Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Egypt, Qatar, UAE? All okay.
Central Asia is a fun one. Pakistan escapes -- narrowly -- on alignment grounds. Uzbekistan, despite being far eviler than Pakistan, is an easier non-call than Pakistan, as it is firmly on our side. But Afghanistan gets to enjoy US will twice: once in support of the Taliban against the Russians, and once in support of the North Alliance against the Taliban. Iran, obviously, must face American Will again.
East Asia also sees plenty of action. We already got Korea, and China, too, is a definite. Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos are further obvious choices. Indonesia gets supportive Will of America in its anti-communist fight as Suharto slaughtered 300,000 people. He may be a sonofabitch, but he's our sonofabitch, after all.
So what's the final tally? Basically all of Latin America and Eastern Europe, and most of Sub-Saharan Africa. In addition, Chile, Venezuela, Columbia, the USSR, China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Indonesia, Iran (twice), Afghanistan (twice), Iraq, Syria, Korea, and Libya. And possibly France. Some places we did attack (but in many of these, Mark thinks that still our Will was not sufficiently imposed), some we did not
I don't oppose the use of military force in all circumstances. But this...this is imperial hell. I am glad we have not "The Will" to undertake it.
"I believe in something greater than myself. Building a better world. A world without sin...."
"I don't murder children."
"I do. When I have to."
* * *
* In the comments, Mark denies that his "will" is necessarily military force. But every example he's ever given of the proper use of will was a military option, and I can't conceive of a non-military response he would find sufficiently "willful" in most of the countries I'm laying out. Indeed, in some of the cases, he finds even what military response the US did initiate to be insufficient (Vietnam, Central America). But for the sake of defusing conflict, I'll refer to what Mark wants to do to these nations as "imposing our will."
Saturday, April 26, 2008
And Now Columbia
After my successful trip to Chicago last week, the only remaining stop on my voyage before I make my final law school decision is Columbia, for which I depart tomorrow (but actually visit on Monday). No computer, so no blogging until I return (so, Monday evening at the earliest).
After that, May 1st is judgment day.
After that, May 1st is judgment day.
Friday, April 25, 2008
"Door Close"
This makes me unreasonably upset:
The article is a surprisingly interesting essay on elevators. I particularly liked the bit about "smart elevators", in which you input your floor at a central control panel, and it tells you which elevator to take. Consequently, the elevators themselves have no control panel, which apparently makes people feel like they've been kidnapped by a Bond villain.
In most elevators, at least in any built or installed since the early nineties, the door-close button doesn’t work. It is there mainly to make you think it works. (It does work if, say, a fireman needs to take control. But you need a key, and a fire, to do that.) Once you know this, it can be illuminating to watch people compulsively press the door-close button. That the door eventually closes reinforces their belief in the button’s power. It’s a little like prayer.
The article is a surprisingly interesting essay on elevators. I particularly liked the bit about "smart elevators", in which you input your floor at a central control panel, and it tells you which elevator to take. Consequently, the elevators themselves have no control panel, which apparently makes people feel like they've been kidnapped by a Bond villain.
That Which We Deny
Feddie at Southern Appeal wrote a small post regarding some of the more controversial words said by Rev. Jeremiah Wright. Wright claimed his words were being "twisted". Feddie asks how one can twist claiming that the US government is spreading AIDS (which is, of course, false), or that the "chickens came home to roost" on 9/11?
In the comments, I noted that this last statement was, in fact, being twisted insofar as it was being taken as a claim of American moral responsibility or causality for 9/11. What Wright actually was claiming was that the US, too, had supported state-sponsored terrorism in (inter alia) Latin America, and now we were just experiencing what we had already done to others throughout history.
Several commenters ("Petrigu's Ghost", "BillyHW"), though, denied that the US, had in fact, supported terrorism and death squads in Latin America. Now, American complicity in the creation, training, and activities of the death squads is not really a contested fact. Denying it is just as false as Wright's claim that the government is spreading AIDS. Yet while Wright is considered to be a monster, there are no consequences to those who deny American complicity in terrorist activity (indeed, if anything, the public backlash would probably target the truth-speakers). How is this justifiable?
There are, I suppose, ways one could label Wright's falsehood worse than Petrigu's (though in a way, that's a side issue because Wright isn't just being treated comparatively worse -- Petrigu and his ilk will undoubtedly get off scot-free). While denying America's role in the death squads might anger the victims of the atrocities, the harms in question are largely in the past. By contrast, Wright's fiction does real damage right now in terms of hindering public efforts to combat the AIDS crisis.
But in actuality, I think there are real and serious contemporary dangers that manifest themselves when we allow the denial of historical atrocities to proceed. The denial that Petrigu and others indulge in -- denial of responsibility for mass atrocities -- does not just insult the memories of the victims and survivors. It actively paves the way for more similar atrocities to occur. And it is the very strength of the denial instinct that creates the obligation to overcome it. We cannot stand idly by while our cohorts -- by denying the reality of past atrocities -- lay the groundwork for present ones.
I. The Harms of Denial
When accused of grave moral wrongdoing, the first response of everyone is to deny. We deny knowledge, we deny responsibility, we deny the event occurred, we deny the victims even existed (anyone who's seen the Sudanese government's response to attacks over Darfur has seen this in all its horrifying glory). We deny, deny, deny. Being Jewish means observing this phenomena first-hand: not just in Holocaust deniers, but in those who deny the existence of contemporary anti-Semitism, who deny the relevance of anti-Jewish hatred international treatment of Israel, who deny the way that contemporary Christianity silences Jewish voices under the guise of the "Judeo-Christian" worldview. When one lives with oppression that is so real and tangible, and yet still sees the world deny it, one becomes rapidly attuned to just how much denial the world is capable of.
There is a plethora of literature that explicates how important it is to the victims of mass atrocity that the perpetrators accept their responsibility and that the world recognizes the existence and magnitude of the violation. Victims of mass atrocity feel like the world has abandoned them to the killing fields and the rape rooms. When their story is not heard, their experience not verified, it is as if the horrors were being relived. If that was the only reason to oppose the instinct of denial, it would be enough. But denial extends beyond that, and plays a crucial role in the reiteration of mass atrocity in other contexts around the world.
In my post on the resolution recognizing the Armenian Genocide, I noted that such resolutions are not just about historical accuracy, or even comforting the victims and their descendants. It is a fact of genocidal activity (and other moral atrocities) that the perpetrators wish to mask their crimes. Even as they fire the bullet they have already begun burying the bodies. As Charles Briggs wrote, "The architects of genocide are often as concerned with suppressing discourse about the event as with the killing itself."
Those with genocidal ambitions carefully observe the way similar atrocities are treated in the world community when determining whether to enact similar policies in their own nation. Samantha Power used the example of Serbia to illustrate the devastating consequences that silence can create:
Slobodan Milosevic saw that he got away with the brutal suppression of independence movements in Slovenia and Croatia and he reasoned he would pay no price for doing the same in Bosnia and Kosovo. Because so many individual perpetrators were killing for the first time and deciding daily how far they would go, the United States and its European allies missed critical opportunities to try to deter them. When they ignored genocide around the world, the Western powers were not intending to 'green light' the perpetrators. But because the killers told themselves they were doing the world a favor by 'cleansing' the 'undesirables,' some surely interpreted silence as consent or even support.One could also easily use the example of the Holocaust. Hitler famously remarked, "who remembers the Armenians" when deciding to carry out the Final Solution. The lack of any accountability -- even if it is only being remembered as an evil-doer -- is a crucial link in the chain that allows mass atrocity to occur. Consequently, denial about America's role in supporting Central American death squads helps recreate the a pro-murder narrative that encourages other states and organizations who might be tempted to support terror. Albeit indirectly, there is a real and salient link between the denial of America's role in the death squads, and the ongoing killing in Darfur. The latter is nourished and sustained by the former -- specifically, the former's promise that the latter will be tolerated, then ultimately forgotten. But denial's real harms might occur domestically. In my last post, I noted that people have trouble reasoning generally beyond specific problems and contexts they've experienced. When created rules or normative guidelines, we necessarily can only gear them towards problems we can perceive. This simple point becomes chilling when linked up with the logic of atrocity-denial. Insofar as Americans deny their nation's complicity in acts of terroristic violence, we remove the activities from the realm of "problems" we have to be wary of. In order to enact barriers (legal, institutional, psychic, what have you) against the perpetuation of mass atrocity, first we have to recognize in ourselves the potential for engaging in these acts. But denial reifies the opposite -- it allows us to maintain the fiction that such activities are not within the realm of possibility for the United States, and hence blocks the creation and propagation of norms that might guard against it. So long as Americans still can tell themselves "we don't engage in torture" (i.e., engage in denial about what happens in Black Sites and what waterboarding is), we have no need to promulgate strong rules against it (or at the very least, continue conceptualizing it -- and thus gear the rules against it towards -- the behavior of individual troublemakers, rather than official choices of top-level decision makers). So long as we deny that we have supported terrorism, we can refrain from doing anything to insure we don't engage in terrorist activity, because it's not "our problem." The cycle of deny-perpetuate-deny continues unabated because both elements feed into each other: denial of our history of wrongdoing makes it easier to perpetuate crimes, the perpetuation of the crime creates an event that need to be denied. II. Overcoming Denial In the face of all this denial, how do we even learn about mass atrocities at all? Well, there are a couple of ways. The first is that the injustice is so large that it simply cannot be contained. The rupture is too deep, the wounds too wide-spread. I will concede this may happen some of the time, but I do not think often, and only in the most extreme cases. Jack Balkin has written of the paradox in protecting minorities: the most powerless need the most protection, but by virtue of their powerlessness they are unlikely to have enough political weight to be able to demand accountability from elites. The second way mass atrocities get exposed is when it is in the interest of a powerful group to expose it. It is difficult for the weak to deny, not because the weak are more likely to be saints, but because they're much easier to catch. The only reason the Holocaust became anything beyond provincial was because Hitler invaded Poland, thus making it everybody's problem, not just the Jews. Exposing Wright's falsehood was in the interest of elite White power-brokers (obviously more powerful than Wright), so it got exposed. But there is no sufficiently powerful group with an interest in exposing America's support of Central American terrorism. So it stays under wraps. The third way, related to the second, is that the victims managed to muster enough strength to force the world (and their oppressors) to account for their crimes. This was the story of the American Civil Rights movement. For most of America's apartheid regime, Whites did, in fact, deny deny deny that their actions were in any way, shape or form incompatible with liberal norms of liberty and equality. The mass movements of the Civil Rights era gave Blacks enough political and social muscle to force away the veil of deniability and expose the ugly reality within. All three methodologies, though, offer only a faint hope. The first is by and large a crap-shoot, and only applies to a small percentage of cases. The second likewise only applies to those cases where the interests of a victim class intersect with that of an empowered class -- not necessarily a common occurrence. It also provides no hope to those whose oppression is (or was) being carried out by those very elites. The third unreasonably relies on those being crushed to muster enough power to turn the tables on their oppressors, which puts the cart before the horse -- gaining power can't be a prerequisite to remedying your disempowerment. What's needed is to break the cycle at the start: The instinct to deny. We must as a people have the individual and collective courage to admit -- selflessly and on our own initiative -- our own wrongs and aggressively root out others. That is the only ultimate guarantee that they will not be replicated. And it means that those who do engage in denying American atrocities -- such as Feddie's commenters -- are far more dangerous, far worse "fanatics", than anything Jeremiah Wright could be. III. Repositioning the Bayonet The tag-line of Southern Appeal is "giving the bayonet to the dictatorship of relativism." I hesitate to use this as my metaphor, since I have no idea what Feddie's position is on America's terrorist activity in Central America. Perhaps (hopefully) he finds it appalling -- the sort of unforgivable evil that must never be washed over or forgotten -- and I don't want to impute his commenters failure of morality onto him. But I'll use the metaphor because I think it's very illustrative of the final barrier to overcoming denial. Now, I suspect my views on "relativism" are different than Feddie's. But taking the anti-relativism position seriously, it has to be applied universally. That is, the bayonet has to point inward as well as outward. Yet, one rarely sees self-inflicted wounds from the relativism-seeking bayonet. It is very good at attacking others -- people we don't care about or wish to condemn. It is far less adept at piercing our own skin -- our own layer of justification and obfuscation we use to legitimize our own evil acts. So it can attack Burma but not America, German bystanders in the Reich but not White bystanders in the South, Hu Jintao for supporting the Janjaweed but not Ronald Reagan for supporting the death squads. This is why it is so often seen as ethnocentric: the relativism-seeking bayonet seems to stab everyone but its wielder. Of course, nobody likes being stabbed (hence our denial reflex), and so it is difficult for us to turn the bayonet inward. The most fervent proponents of the bayonet are the one's who seem to blanch palest (or sputter reddest) at the prospect of it targeting ourselves. Imagine of Barack Obama gave a speech demanding that the U.S. acknowledge and repent for its role in the death squads? His campaign (to say the least) would be over. Consequently, it is incumbent on the Feddies of the world to be the most aggressive in insuring that America's past and present are not rewritten, because it seems to be his fellow travelers who enable the deny-perpetuate-deny cycle to continue. If this bayonet is to have any claim at universalizability (if it isn't just relativism in shiny garb), giving ourselves a free pass is not a legitimate move. It is a false move, it is a supremely dangerous move, and ultimately it is a killing move. There must be a commitment. We cannot indulge in the luxury of denial. The risks are too great, the costs are too high. Our own mental comfort is not sufficient to rewrite history. If we are to condemn Rev. Wright (as I do) for misleading his flock about AIDS in America, then we must -- with equal fervor and equal resolve -- expel from our fellows those who would deny America's history of terrorism, of violence, and of barbarism. The bayonet must be allowed to point inward.
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