Among moderates and conservatives, there’s a tendency to equate the word “feminism” with its most radical elements only — man-hating, anti-motherhood, “all intercourse is rape” MacKinnon-style feminism. The same moderates and conservatives who align themselves against what they call “feminism” would, for the most part, happily endorse the ideas that women should feel free to have jobs if they want them, find support for their decisions from their family, be payed the same for their work, and have access to reproductive options, from contraception to abortion (altough the latter would elicit some controversy). They’d defend those rights, without once realizing that they were defending what most feminists, male and female, define as feminism.
If I may, I submit that the reason so many of us feel so free to narrow and demonize “feminism” is that we forget the now settled, routine gains that “radical” feminism once procured. A glimpse at Mad Men, or a brief remembrance of decades past, is sufficient to remind us how recently it became permissible and common for women to be able to follow their dreams, whether those dreams involve family, professional achievement, or some mix thereof. And, lest we forget the novelty of these gains, there’s always Robert McDonnell, the Republican gubernatorial candidate for Virginia, to remind us just how far we’ve come.
In 1989, then-Regent University student McDonnell penned a thesis that labeled working women “detrimental” to the family; called contraception “illogical”; advocated for “covenent marriage” (which makes it much harder to divorce); demanded a “Judeo-Christian” focus in the public schools; and, of course, called anything other than a flat-tax “socialist.”
McDonnell claims to have changed; maybe that’s true. But McDonnell’s radical anti-feminist views place him in good company in his party, an increasingly conservative bunch that looks longingly back to a “golden era” that was only truly “golden” for some. That he once opposed women’s equality is a strike against his judgment, potentially a crippling one, and ought to matter.
As a man privileged to know brilliant, successful women, and call them friends, I consider myself particularly indebted to the triumphs of feminism, and particularly appalled by anyone who, now or earlier, would have denied them the chance to excel, or the earned rewards of such success. The lives of all are incalculably enriched by the successes of our peers, regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation; who could deny themselves or their nation such gifts? McDonnell deserves to lose this election, if only as a reminder that America has since come closer to the dream of truly treating all equally.
While others have asked the comparatively tackier question — whether Ted Kennedy’s death itself will push Obama’s health care reforms forward — there’s reason to expect that, leading Democrats notwithstanding, Attorney General Holder’s decision to take the first steps towards prosecuting the perpetrators of torture couldn’t have come at a better time.
As Congress left session, Democratic leaders adopted the “wait and see” strategy for dealing with the poisonous climate of baseless lies and fears created by Republican opponents. Give it a month, let the board clear, and opinion-makers could try to regain control of the debate.
If that strategy is to succeed, Democrats could hardly have asked for a better way to clear the board. Last April, a slim majority of Americans favored an investigation into torture, and that margin seems fairly easy to grow. The Republican hegemony on national security is broken, courtesy Bush’s bumbling and deliberately divisive tactics; its former luminaries, and the torture probes’ key opponents, are wildly unpopular; and Obama can distance himself from the probes, if they start to head south, because the public already expects they’re proceeding in spite of, rather than because of him. Renewing the debate on torture also allows Democrats to play to their newfound strength — the war on terror, which more Americans now trust the Democrats to fight — and solidify it going into 2010.
Still, a probe over torture will have to be negotiated skillfully to remain popular, effective, and honorable. There remains little to be gained by prosecuting the footsoldiers who used torture. “I was just following orders” may be a poor moral excuse, but it’s a fairly good legal one, owing to the critical institutional role of the Office of Legal Counsel, and it has a way of inspiring compassion. A probe narrowly tailored to the architects of the plan, those with the real responsibility, could expiate our collective guilt over the Bush years, with few real political or legal “casualties,” while giving the Democrats a chance to rebuild their national brand and brace for the resurgence of the health care debate.
Whether this is deliberate or not, I don’t know. Democrats have a reputation for guilelessness, arguably stemming from a lack of skill rather than a surfeit of honesty. But…
Although the modern far right is more angry, violent, and visible, thanks to cable news, America has never lacked for hyperbolic, cartoonish criticism. At the outset we shared with the Romans an eagnerness to style our opponents as kings, tyrants, monarchs, despots, or emperors, evoking potent memories of past injustices.
Monarchs were an understandably sore spot for early Americans: they’d suffered under the caprices of one within living memory, and struggled with mind and body to first expel and then ensure against the return of the same. For decades, any political deed carried with it the fear of kingship. America’s first experiment with federal government, the Articles of Confederation, failed because we were too suspicious of central authority, but understandably so. George Washington painstakingly crafted himself into an exemplar of democratic authority, first surrendering his military commission, to prove that America’s liberator would not, in fact, turn into a modern Pompey/Cromwell/Napoleon; then ensuring a civil title for the President, bereft of the trappings of monarchy; and, finally, resigning, to cut short any expectation of lifetime rule.
Modern political namecalling, for better or worse, has evolved significantly. By the 1950s, our domestic political opponents began to take the names of our foreign opponents — those inclined to state power, and those who opposed the sitting President, became “Communists.” It was Sen. Joe McCarthy (R-WI) who began to sever the term from its dictionary meaning: opposing the Senator was enough to make you a Communist, regardless of your opinion of international socialism. Although a few commentators still employ the traditional slurs (“monarchist”), modern epithets — like “Nazi,” “Socialist,” and “Communist” — now occupy the field, carrying with them McCarthy’s definitional disconnect. Lest we forget, socialism requires state ownership (not regulation!!) of the means of production; communism requires that plus the abolition of private property; and Nazism requires a similar command economy, plus the brutal repression of all political dissent. None have happened here, and none will happen here, either.
If this is to be the mode of modern American namecalling, though, I fear we’ve lost something special. The style of calling our opponents “monarchists” had the ring of history and classicism to it. Cries of “monarchism” embodied a uniquely American approach to state power, to so hate monarchy as to make it the prime evil, and while I don’t doubt that Communism and Nazism are in fact greater evils, when it comes to archnemeses, you never forget your first. The weight of history keeps the “monarch” insult well grounded, too, while overuse has unmoored and devalued the evil inherent in, say, the “Nazi” label. If we are to better honor our history, and the victims of modern atrocities like Nazism, it might be best to return to the old style of namecalling. If we can’t civilize our political discourse, at least we might civilise it.
It wasn’t so long ago that, to conservative eyes, the President could do no wrong. No emergency power was too great, too draconian, or too prone to abuse — he must have it! Because, let’s face it, you don’t want the terrorists to win, do you?
Times have changed. After CNET broke a story about a bill that could give the President “emergency powers” over the internet, the conservative side of the tubes went into full panic mode. It’s socialism meets “Fairness Doctrine” — the sum of all fears.
Except, it’s not, really. The bill, S. 773, is an attempt to boost the integrity of the national firewall, to prevent cyberattacks, like the one that crippled Twitter a few weeks back. The means to this indisputably necessary end are, for the most part, blasé: blue ribbon panels, committees, advisors, and money.
Trouble enters at § 18, which provides that the President:
(2) may declare a cybersecurity emergency and order the limitation or shutdown of Internet traffic to and from any compromised Federal Government or United States critical infrastructure information system or network; [. . . .]
(5) shall direct the periodic mapping of Federal Government and United States critical infrastructure information systems or networks, and shall develop metrics to measure the effectiveness of the mapping process;
(6) may order the disconnection of any Federal Government or United States critical infrastructure information systems or networks in the interest of national security;
Expansive control over federal computer systems poses no serious problem. But § 23(3)(B) goes on to define “Federal Government and United States critical infrastructure information systems and networks” to include “[s]tate, local, and nongovernmental information systems and networks in the United States designated by the President as critical infrastructure information systems and networks.” The function of this definition is to include within the swath of regulable networks some computers and systems that aren’t federal, but which are so vitally important to the federal government as to be adjuncts to the government.
I admit to some unease with this plan: it’s not clear how far the § 23(3)(B) definition reaches, and it probably should be. But still, the powers to shut down, map, and disconnect certain computers do not create a power to invade, control, or download information from the same. The reach of the bill should be circumscribed on principle, but the actual dangers to privacy are limited.
Further, for once, this is the right way to draft emergency legislation. Hyperconservative blog RedState draws a comparison between this [non-]seizure of the internet, and Harry Truman’s attempt to literally invade, seize, and use the nation’s steel mills during the Korean War, but the comparison is exactly 180° wrong. For one, no “seizure” would be effected by S. 773, but for another, the steel mill seizure was controversial because Congress said “no,” and President Truman tried to seize the mills anyways. What emerged from Youngstown was a typology of executive power: when the President and Congress cooperate, they can do almost anything together, even on the home front; but when the President acts domestically, against the express direction of Congress, his powers are at their “lowest ebb,” and will almost always fail. The steel seizure was controversial because it fell into the latter category — Congress forbade President Truman from seizing the mills, and he did it anyways — but, because S. 773 is a Senate bill (!!), if passed, it would not run afoul of Youngstown. S. 773 is not controversial for the exact reason that the steel seizure was.
Note, too, that this sort of cooperation between coordinate branches of government, a forward-sighted, democratic method of planning in advance for emergencies, is exactly the sort of process that the Bush Administration repeatedly spurned as a matter of ideology, because people like David Addington felt that the President shouldn’t have to ask Congress. Two years ago, conservatives expected the President to not consult Congress, but do whatever he felt necessary, whenever the mood took him. Today, they don’t even want the President to act with Congress’ express permission. Clearly, when it comes to executive power, conservatives have lost the courage of their convictions. Next time you see a Republican in the White House claiming the need for vast regulatory power, etc., remind them of this day.
No admission of liability, but a hefty bill of attorney’s fees, medial compensatory damages to one plaintiff for being “branded” with the sign of the cross, and nominal damages to all, for a high school science teacher who displayed the Bible and taught it as straight-up science. Victory for the forces of good, lex populus victor, salve NCSE triumphator magna cum auctoritate sapientiaque!
Glenn Beck is down 46 sponsors, still bleeding, and he knows it. In the judgment of industry insiders who’ve “seen it all before,” the clock is ticking. We should be so fortunate. When the axe ultimately drops, though — yes, I’m going to say “when” — the cacaphonous cries of “censorship” from the right shall surely deafen us all. Pre-emptively, then, an explanation of why getting Glenn Beck off the air is probably a good idea.
First, strange-but-true: the modern, ultra-strong First Amendment is a relatively new invention. Until the early 1900s, no-one really took the guarantee of free speech all that seriously. The founding generation banned seditious libel (speaking against the state, so as to “bring it into hatred or contempt”), even though they never enforced it. During World War I, with the full backing of the U.S. Supreme Court, we prosecuted communists for being communists, and citizens for opposing the draft. And, as recently as World War II, communists could be prosecuted for urging the overthrow of the government, even if it wasn’t really going to happen. All such restrictions are unthinkable today, utterly destroyed by Brandenburg v. Ohio, 395 U.S. 444 (1969). Protections for speech likely to incite violence are similarly broad, etc., etc.
All of this is to say that, although it didn’t at first, the modern First Amendment protects a broad swath of activity, even some truly loathsome acts, such as Nazi marches, and cross burnings (under some circumstances). Because of its breadth, the modern First Amendment is a challenge to the American people, that we use our discretion wisely, and for the greater good. The First Amendment presupposes that the best way to get to “truth” and “wisdom” in social and political discourse, the ultimate values in a democracy, is to let the contenders fight it out in the “free marketplace of ideas”; the truth will rise to the top. Thus the Constitution trusts Americans to make intelligent choices; bad speech exists, yes, but it ought to be answered wisely by other citizens, rather than censored, altered, prosecuted, or in any way chilled.
Unfortunately, the system doesn’t always work. The First Amendment, as a system to maximize both truth and liberty, suffers in its efforts towards the former from the same shortcomings that plague mankind as a whole. Namely, intelligent, transcendent truths don’t always sell: they’re boring, and painstakingly difficult to come by. Falsities, on the other hand, are often comforting, sometimes sexy and inflammatory, but always capable of mass-production. Ditto trivialities, which don’t hurt the free marketplace of ideas, but don’t really help either. In an economic market dominated by profit motive only, Falsity will almost always have a leg-up on Truth. And, to make matters worse, when the means of communication are in the hands of only a few, effective corrective measures are hard to come by.
You probably get where I’m headed: the cable news networks, with their focus on the exciting and inflammatory rather than the useful or the important, suck. Glenn Beck embodies that trend, carried to its logical extreme. His shows — yes, I’ve watched or listened to both — play on emotion, to the detriment of logic, and inflame rather than educate. We hear why X or Y is a “communist” or “Nazi” scheme, but not why, what those terms mean, or why, absent hyperbole, we should be concerned about them. It’s political vaudeville or prop comedy, and the books are worse. Whole swaths of the internet are dedicated to disproving the dozens of lies Beck manufactures on a daily basis, but to no effect: with cable networks in the hands of few truly disinterested parties, Beck’s detractors, and the truth, stand no chance against such well-promoted, frequently-aired charisma. Media centralization, careful marketing, and fear have together created a monster immune to “good speech.” Beck’s popularity, predicated on our coarser emotions, and intelligent America’s inability to counter him, have checkmated the First Amendment.
Until now. As I noted, because of Beck’s overreach in calling the first black President a “racist” who “hates white people” (YouTube), he’s lost forty-six advertisers, at last count. When this trend ultimately drives him off the air, it will not be because of government action or power, but a result of the free capital markets reflecting the sensibilities of a free people, finally fed up with malicious, inflammatory, potentially dangerous lies. When Glenn Beck falls, it will be because the First Amendment works; not because it failed. Now, if only it worked faster…
This latest push-poll places beyond a shadow of a doubt the conclusion that the modern Republican Party lacks honesty, nobility of purpose, or any semblance of integrity. They’re rebuilding their coalition on fear and race-baiting, and America still deserves better.
It has been suggested that the government could use voter registration to determine a person’s political affiliation, prompting fears that GOP voters might be discriminated against for medical treatment in a Democrat [sic]-imposed health care rationing system. Does this possibility concern you?
The modern Republican Party is everything that is wrong with America. Who now questions this conclusion? Sensible conservatives, take your party back, for the good of the country.
Last year, we covered an attempt by some Colorado citizens to amend their state constitution to confer due process rights on fetuses, and found it hopelessly flawed. Thankfully, the Colorado electorate agreed, and the amendment failed, but stands to be re-approved for the 2010 ballot. Accordingly, it’s time to examine it again.
Like many “pro-life” regulations, “personhood amendments” pose an insurmountable challenge to conservative activists: how to reconcile an overriding desire to interfere in the lives of others with their traditional free-market instincts, so “poignantly” on display at town halls across the nation. Unfortunately, the casualties of this internal conflict are often women, their children, and their families.
h/t Lauren
Recently, Karl Rove, the father of all lies and the uncle of all half-truths, accused Obama of waging a “permanent campaign.”* Setting aside obvious and continuing concerns about Rove’s habit of hypocrisy, there’s something to be said, actually, about waging a “perpetual campaign,” if it’s organized so as to reap the benefits thereof, while minimizing the detriments.
America is not normally a very political nation. It’s strange, but true. We’ve fallen from our tendency of robust political dialogue à la Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, and instead treat politics as something not to be raised in polite conversation. This concept of manners tends to force politics to the periphery and, to a certain extent, radicalize it. Around campaigns, that changes: the awkward e-mails from relatives (“OBAMA’S A SOCIALIST NAZI MUSLIM”) tick upwards, but so do the casual and educational conversations around dinner tables nationwide. There’s nothing wrong with this aspect of the campaign, and indeed, it’s desirable.
To some extent, Obama’s response to distortions of the health care bill has been geared to that season, when the public was eager and ready to digest new information. The White House’s “Reality Check,” for one, the sitting President’s equivalent of “Fight the Smears,” suffers from low traffic, and even less discussion. Because information and truth are currently the enemies of the Republicans’ position on health care reform, Obama would be well-served to adapt campaign tactics for spreading ideas to his Presidency, to stimulate a productive discussion that could only help the Democrats.
Past events have proved that town halls are probably not the way to go. Planned-in-advance events provide Republican astroturfers a chance to rally the Glenn Beck-crazed masses. Commercial television buys are too expensive, and send the wrong message. 30-second spot ads, with Obama explaining the issues, and impromptu visits throughout the country, could, however, make a difference. The first at least gets information in the open, while the second provides an opportunity to engage real people, without agendas. Presidential visits have a way of spawning their own press coverage, too: any impromptu tour would surely make it to the nightly news.
There’s nothing wrong with “campaigning” in the sense of educating the populace, and creating an atmosphere in which the populace wants to be educated. A “permanent campaign” is only problematic when the campaign itself is problematic, as occurs, say, when you put Karl Rove in charge of it.
* = (Warning — reading the subtitle of Rove’s article,”turning critics into enemies isn’t presidential,” has been known to cause irony overdoses in laboratory animals).
Although I suppose I shouldn’t expect any better, RedState’s obituary for Kennedy sadly typifies conservative America’s reaction to this tragedy. After a very nice testimony to the late Senator Kennedy’s personal charm, it devolves into parroting a distortion (Kennedy ran against Carter for the ’80 nomination: he did not support Reagan!), rebranding him as a bigoted defeatist, and, finally, closes with a tacky joke. Despicable.
Lest we forget, there would not be a black President — of any party — without Ted Kennedy’s work on civil rights. There would not be an American national security policy, for there would be no America, without the calm, reasoned approach to warfare that Senator Kennedy and his brothers embodied. The same hot heads demanding torture and indefinite detention today are those that would have brought us to nuclear war 1962, but for Jack Kennedy. There would be no Medicare but for Senator Kennedy’s fiscal responsibility, spurned by the honorable members opposite, and there would be less help for the poor, but for Senator Kennedy’s compassion. The story of the Kennedy family in government is the story of the triumph of liberalism, as a philosophy for social change, national security, and everything in between. In each major battle of the twentieth century, the forces of the past were dealt a crushing blow, frequently by a Kennedy, and always to our benefit. We can concede the individual personal failures of the Kennedy men without fear, for the magnitude of their legacies far overshadows the petty points of their distractors. In the life of every great man there will be disappointments, great and small, but these terminate with their deaths. The gifts they gave America live on.
He was an American Senator. Honor him.
Update: Senator Hatch (R-UT) sets the gold standard for class. “Cancer may have taken my friend, Ted, from us, but his legacy continues on. Although Ted and I fought over politics most of the time, he was a passionate man who dedicated his life to public service and did a lot of good for a lot of people.”
Update: read Tommy Christopher’s take on the same.