On the day of the dead, when the day itself seems to die, we are told to think of death. We are told to think of the deaths of our countrymen. We are told to think of the deaths of the innocent, massacred and martyred. We are told to think of the deaths brought about in revenge. We are told to think of the deaths of more of our countrymen in this moronic quest for revenge.
We are told to think of the death that could be visited upon us. We are told to think of the death that could be visited on others. We are told to think of the death that will be visited upon our countrymen. We are told to think of the death of our men and women in uniform.
Fuck.
That.
Shit.
Yes, death is frightening. It's the great unknown. Death is the final answer to all the questions of life. Death is the point of no return, the terra incognita we all must one day face. Death is the ultimate darkness with which to frighten.
You know what, though? I will not be controlled by fear of the dark.
Yes, death is a constant presence, even more so when we are reminded constantly that our countrymen are dying. It's always near. Death is the constant companion of life, the dark lady to whom we must all pay her due. Of course she is frightening, but we need not be controlled by this.
I will not curse the darkness. There is an adage. “Better to light a candle that curse the darkness.” Thus is my course set.
Bring your darkest nightmares. The only power that fear of the dark holds over me is that which I grant it, and with this flame I deny it. Even if I'm one man walking this dark road alone, it is better to light one candle and face it bravely than to huddle in the dark and hope the shade of black-upon-black passes quietly in the night. So, light a candle.
And let it burn, for the world to see.
That little flame, that flickering pool of light? That is something worth looking that dark maiden in the eyes for.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
A Constitutional Disaster in the Works?
I suppose it's true that balance is an important thing to find in one's life. It's a shame that political balance so often needs to come not from finding truly balanced politics, but from spanning large boulders precariously across a fulcrum. I suppose this works, at least in as much as it's about all anyone can do, but it does occasionally yield some strikingly bizarre results. This post from ACSBlog, importing this AlterNet post by blockquote, is one of the most supremely silly things I can recall seeing recently. That AlterNet article, in turn, was apparently sparked by this Executive Order, which was written to establish "a comprehensive national policy on the continuity of Federal Government structures and operations and a single National Continuity Coordinator responsible for coordinating the development and implementation of Federal continuity policies." The AlterNet article apparently objected to a phrase in that order which declared that "[t]he President shall lead the activities of the Federal Government for ensuring constitutional government." At this point, I pretty much couldn't help but chuckle.
The AlterNet article goes on to pose the question, "What about the other two co-equal branches of government?" Well, what about them? Apparently, "an official designated by the Chief of Staff to the President shall ensure that the executive branch's COOP and COG policies in support of ECG efforts are appropriately coordinated with those of the legislative and judicial branches in order to ensure interoperability and allocate national assets efficiently to maintain a functioning Federal Government." In context, though, it seems readily apparent to me that the AlterNet article isn't asking about that, but rather, wants to know why the President should think that he (and he alone) feels that he is the one to "lead the activities of the Federal Government." Of course, the answer is that the President likely feels that way because the President is right.
Looking to those other co-equal branches, I'll start out with something easy and obvious: The judiciary does not "lead the ... Federal Government." Indeed, it must be said that, under the Constitutional scheme, the judiciary cannot exercise that kind of power. The power of the courts is a simple one to explain, they decide cases based on the law. In the face of a natural disaster, it's almost impossible that there could even be a case, for the simple reason that you cannot sue the planet. In the face of man made disaster, you may end up with a case eventually, but it isn't something that's going to happen right away; in particular, it isn't something that's going to happen quickly enough to do anyone any good. But even if, for the sake of argument, you could somehow get a case through court quickly enough to be useful, there's still not a lot that the judiciary could do. As Hamilton tells us in Federalist 78, "It may truly be said to have neither FORCE nor WILL, but merely judgment; and must ultimately depend upon the aid of the executive arm even for the efficacy of its judgments." Even in the best of times, I would not look to the "weakest of the three departments of power" for leadership.
The harder question becomes, then, what of Congress? Unlike the judiciary, this isn't an entirely obvious question. Congress, of course, has probably got more power than any other branch in terms of shaping the operation of the government. By the power of Congress, courts may be established or destroyed, executive agencies may be created or dissolved, and laws which control both the common and unusual issues of the nation may be passed. Because it is ultimately they who direct the operation of government, it may fairly be said that Congress is normally responsible for leading the nation. But the very nature of the body makes them ill-suited for leading a crisis. At 535 members in total, the houses of Congress best serve as a large deliberative body, considering and deciding, within Constitutional bounds, on all of the various issues of the day. But as anyone who has worked in a team setting knows, large groups of people are good at expressing and evaluating a wide range of viewpoints, but they are rather bad at making a final decision quickly. And in the case of Congress, any final decision they make must be given to the President before it can take effect.
In looking at the above two branches, a couple of things become obvious. First, both the judiciary and the Congress are entirely dependent on the Executive to give force to their declarations. Second, and more importantly, the Executive is in the unique position of being able to make decisions quickly. Unlike Congress, the Executive needs only the decision of one person -- the President -- in order to make something happen. Unlike the judiciary, the Executive may make decisions pro-actively, and does not need to wait for a need to be presented to him. As Hamilton wrote in Federalist 74, "Of all the cares or concerns of government, the direction of war most peculiarly demands those qualities which distinguish the exercise of power by a single hand. The direction of war implies the direction of the common strength; and the power of directing and employing the common strength, forms a usual and essential part in the definition of the executive authority." The same is no less true of any other situation besides war which requires fast and efficient decision making from its leadership, so this logic surely extends to such catastrophes as contemplated by the Executive Order.
The remainder of the AlterNet article is a fairly standard complaint against the concept of the unitary executive, offers nothing that cannot be found in the hundreds or thousands of nearly identical rants posted all over the internet, and requires no reply which cannot be found in similar volume. One other thing does deserve addressing, though, and that's the question in the head of the article which asks, "If a terrorist attack happens before the 2008 election, could Bush and Cheney use this to avoid relinquishing power to a successor administration?" The answer, of course, is found in the same line which the AlterNet article finds so troubling in the first place. The turnover of power is, by any measure I can think of, one of the "activities of the Federal Government" which is inherent to the "constitutional government," the continuance of which the "President shall ... ensur[e]." Far from running around like Chicken Little worried that the sky is falling, the author should take heart in knowing that whoever should win the presidency in the next election, regardless of party, President Bush has not only not said that he will prevent the leadership change from happening, but has said affirmatively that one of his duties is to ensure that it does.
The AlterNet article goes on to pose the question, "What about the other two co-equal branches of government?" Well, what about them? Apparently, "an official designated by the Chief of Staff to the President shall ensure that the executive branch's COOP and COG policies in support of ECG efforts are appropriately coordinated with those of the legislative and judicial branches in order to ensure interoperability and allocate national assets efficiently to maintain a functioning Federal Government." In context, though, it seems readily apparent to me that the AlterNet article isn't asking about that, but rather, wants to know why the President should think that he (and he alone) feels that he is the one to "lead the activities of the Federal Government." Of course, the answer is that the President likely feels that way because the President is right.
Looking to those other co-equal branches, I'll start out with something easy and obvious: The judiciary does not "lead the ... Federal Government." Indeed, it must be said that, under the Constitutional scheme, the judiciary cannot exercise that kind of power. The power of the courts is a simple one to explain, they decide cases based on the law. In the face of a natural disaster, it's almost impossible that there could even be a case, for the simple reason that you cannot sue the planet. In the face of man made disaster, you may end up with a case eventually, but it isn't something that's going to happen right away; in particular, it isn't something that's going to happen quickly enough to do anyone any good. But even if, for the sake of argument, you could somehow get a case through court quickly enough to be useful, there's still not a lot that the judiciary could do. As Hamilton tells us in Federalist 78, "It may truly be said to have neither FORCE nor WILL, but merely judgment; and must ultimately depend upon the aid of the executive arm even for the efficacy of its judgments." Even in the best of times, I would not look to the "weakest of the three departments of power" for leadership.
The harder question becomes, then, what of Congress? Unlike the judiciary, this isn't an entirely obvious question. Congress, of course, has probably got more power than any other branch in terms of shaping the operation of the government. By the power of Congress, courts may be established or destroyed, executive agencies may be created or dissolved, and laws which control both the common and unusual issues of the nation may be passed. Because it is ultimately they who direct the operation of government, it may fairly be said that Congress is normally responsible for leading the nation. But the very nature of the body makes them ill-suited for leading a crisis. At 535 members in total, the houses of Congress best serve as a large deliberative body, considering and deciding, within Constitutional bounds, on all of the various issues of the day. But as anyone who has worked in a team setting knows, large groups of people are good at expressing and evaluating a wide range of viewpoints, but they are rather bad at making a final decision quickly. And in the case of Congress, any final decision they make must be given to the President before it can take effect.
In looking at the above two branches, a couple of things become obvious. First, both the judiciary and the Congress are entirely dependent on the Executive to give force to their declarations. Second, and more importantly, the Executive is in the unique position of being able to make decisions quickly. Unlike Congress, the Executive needs only the decision of one person -- the President -- in order to make something happen. Unlike the judiciary, the Executive may make decisions pro-actively, and does not need to wait for a need to be presented to him. As Hamilton wrote in Federalist 74, "Of all the cares or concerns of government, the direction of war most peculiarly demands those qualities which distinguish the exercise of power by a single hand. The direction of war implies the direction of the common strength; and the power of directing and employing the common strength, forms a usual and essential part in the definition of the executive authority." The same is no less true of any other situation besides war which requires fast and efficient decision making from its leadership, so this logic surely extends to such catastrophes as contemplated by the Executive Order.
The remainder of the AlterNet article is a fairly standard complaint against the concept of the unitary executive, offers nothing that cannot be found in the hundreds or thousands of nearly identical rants posted all over the internet, and requires no reply which cannot be found in similar volume. One other thing does deserve addressing, though, and that's the question in the head of the article which asks, "If a terrorist attack happens before the 2008 election, could Bush and Cheney use this to avoid relinquishing power to a successor administration?" The answer, of course, is found in the same line which the AlterNet article finds so troubling in the first place. The turnover of power is, by any measure I can think of, one of the "activities of the Federal Government" which is inherent to the "constitutional government," the continuance of which the "President shall ... ensur[e]." Far from running around like Chicken Little worried that the sky is falling, the author should take heart in knowing that whoever should win the presidency in the next election, regardless of party, President Bush has not only not said that he will prevent the leadership change from happening, but has said affirmatively that one of his duties is to ensure that it does.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
A Blazing Missive
One of the few things guaranteed to piss me off is an idea with common currency among the Religious Right. The idea is this: Christians are oppressed in America.
When I first encountered this bizarre idea, I honestly thought it was a joke. I mean, really, who would seriously think that members of a religion which can honestly claim some 85% (or more) of America as adherents could be oppressed in a democratic system?
The answer, sadly, is the Religious Right.
I still have a hard time wrapping my head around some of these ideas, but I'll try anyway. Someone has to keep this blog alive. The name is entirely too cool to just let it die on the vine.
First off, these folks don't like the First Amendment. They simply cannot stand the idea that for the purposes of governance, all religions are to be considered equal, equivalent, and to be treated the same. This is the 'secularism' or occasionally 'humanism' some figures like to rail against. Occasionally, this secular government gets labeled atheistic. After all, it doesn't profess an overarching belief in God, so it must be atheistic, right?
Of course, the answer to this is simple: that's just not right. By that logic, my socks are atheistic, as they do not profess a belief in God. So, I should probably be worried about the salvation of my soles.
I refuse to apologize for the horrible pun. Despite being bad, I think it illustrates my point reasonably well – being secular does not reasonably equate to being atheistic. So, it's simply not true to claim that the US is an atheistic state. At best, the claim is very misleading, and more realistically, it's a malicious lie.
Second, these people believe that having things like evolution instead of creationism in public schools is a form of oppression. Somehow, they simply cannot grasp that one is science and the other religion. I won't go into just how wrong these people are, as that's several other rants worth of material, but it never fails to amaze me how so many people can be so utterly blind to reality.
Third, somehow not granting special privileges to Christians is a form of oppression. Things like openly religious displays on government property, prayer in public schools, prayer in government ceremonies, and similar things must all be overtly Christian. Otherwise, it's a form of oppression, in some magical and mysterious manner. Having none of the above is bad enough. Should someone not Christian (usually a Jew, as it happens) run into and object to one of the above, this same mysterious logic dictates that said person is evil, unamerican, unpatriotic, and waging war on all of Christianity.
Of course. As we all know, making people who do not share your religion welcome is the same as oppressing those who do share your religion.
Ugh. The fires raging within my brain are beginning to drive me past coherence, so I'll conclude. These people are insane. They literally have lost touch with reality and are living in a fantasy land where history, science, physics, and basic human rights all don't line up with what the rest of the world knows. These people are literally theocratic, and don't understand the most important effect of such: it makes them unpatriotic. It makes them unamerican.
It makes them everything this country rightly stands against. Saudi Arabia is a theocracy. Iran is a theocracy. At no point in history has religious rule ever worked out well. It always results in oppression and the ruled being deprived of their basic rights. Thomas Jefferson was right:
As I am unable to let it be at that, one more:
When I first encountered this bizarre idea, I honestly thought it was a joke. I mean, really, who would seriously think that members of a religion which can honestly claim some 85% (or more) of America as adherents could be oppressed in a democratic system?
The answer, sadly, is the Religious Right.
I still have a hard time wrapping my head around some of these ideas, but I'll try anyway. Someone has to keep this blog alive. The name is entirely too cool to just let it die on the vine.
First off, these folks don't like the First Amendment. They simply cannot stand the idea that for the purposes of governance, all religions are to be considered equal, equivalent, and to be treated the same. This is the 'secularism' or occasionally 'humanism' some figures like to rail against. Occasionally, this secular government gets labeled atheistic. After all, it doesn't profess an overarching belief in God, so it must be atheistic, right?
Of course, the answer to this is simple: that's just not right. By that logic, my socks are atheistic, as they do not profess a belief in God. So, I should probably be worried about the salvation of my soles.
I refuse to apologize for the horrible pun. Despite being bad, I think it illustrates my point reasonably well – being secular does not reasonably equate to being atheistic. So, it's simply not true to claim that the US is an atheistic state. At best, the claim is very misleading, and more realistically, it's a malicious lie.
Second, these people believe that having things like evolution instead of creationism in public schools is a form of oppression. Somehow, they simply cannot grasp that one is science and the other religion. I won't go into just how wrong these people are, as that's several other rants worth of material, but it never fails to amaze me how so many people can be so utterly blind to reality.
Third, somehow not granting special privileges to Christians is a form of oppression. Things like openly religious displays on government property, prayer in public schools, prayer in government ceremonies, and similar things must all be overtly Christian. Otherwise, it's a form of oppression, in some magical and mysterious manner. Having none of the above is bad enough. Should someone not Christian (usually a Jew, as it happens) run into and object to one of the above, this same mysterious logic dictates that said person is evil, unamerican, unpatriotic, and waging war on all of Christianity.
Of course. As we all know, making people who do not share your religion welcome is the same as oppressing those who do share your religion.
Ugh. The fires raging within my brain are beginning to drive me past coherence, so I'll conclude. These people are insane. They literally have lost touch with reality and are living in a fantasy land where history, science, physics, and basic human rights all don't line up with what the rest of the world knows. These people are literally theocratic, and don't understand the most important effect of such: it makes them unpatriotic. It makes them unamerican.
It makes them everything this country rightly stands against. Saudi Arabia is a theocracy. Iran is a theocracy. At no point in history has religious rule ever worked out well. It always results in oppression and the ruled being deprived of their basic rights. Thomas Jefferson was right:
In every country and in every age, the priest has been hostile to liberty. He is always in alliance with the despot, abetting his abuses in return for protection to his own.
As I am unable to let it be at that, one more:
History, I believe, furnishes no example of a priest-ridden people maintaining a free civil government. This marks the lowest grade of ignorance of which their civil as well as religious leaders will always avail themselves for their own purposes.
Friday, June 8, 2007
The Revealing Flame - in praise of satire
Satire is a fine art, and yet a violent practice. When done correctly, it strips back the protective shadows cloaking an absurd idea or absurd actions. Then, stripped of their shield, they are made to parade to the world in the brightest light the satirist can bring to bear.
With writers such as Voltaire being satirists, the brightest light that can be brought is best described as blinding in its intensity. In his classic piece “Plato's Dream”, he quite clearly lampoons the idea of a perfect creator God. Voltaire used little more than logic and a touch imagination to achieve this literary feat in less than two pages.
Go on. Read it. I'll be here when you get back, I promise.
Now, there are several important lessons in there regarding satire. The first is that satire is at its most powerful when serving as a tool against those in power. It is far less effective when utilized by the powerful to mock the powerless. It comes across as crass, tasteless, and arrogant. When used by the weak, satire is generally viewed as clever and witty. Obviously, this only applies when satire is utilized politically, and make no mistake about it, Voltaire was a political satirist.
The second is that satire is often unpopular with those in power. Here, Voltaire's goals required his writing be rather plain about making its point. A subtly written work would not do, as that carried the risk of many missing the point. While written in the form of a dream of a man long dead, his attack on the Church was obvious. As Voltaire was a prominent writer in his time, he doubtless drew fire from the Church for this quite clear and compelling attack. Unfortunately, I don't know any details how the Church might have responded, but I trust that there was at least one smear campaign aimed at out dear historical friend.
There are other, more sublte, kinds of satire. Again, I look to European history for an example.
In 1702, there was a bit of a question of religion in England. On the one hand was the official Church of England, headed by the newly crowned Queen Anne. On the other hand was the Presbyterian Dissenters, who did not agree with the Church of England. The details of the doctrinal disputes are both arcane to be as well as irrelevant. Anyway, one of the effects of the CoE being the state religion was that one had to be a member to hold public office. There were a number of other side effects to subscribing to a different religion, such as having somewhat limited civil liberties when compared to an Anglican.
When Queen Anne took the throne, it came as encouraging news to the High Flyers, who wished for the Anglican church to be the only church in England. The coronation was also followed by a number of very physical attacks on Dissenters and their properties and holdings. For obvious reasons, the Protestant and Presbyterian Dissenters didn't like this much. Daniel Defoe, later to write Robinson Crusoe, was one of them. He turned his sharp wit and mind to making a satirical point.
So, he authored a pamphlet entitled The Shortest Way with the Dissenters. Written in the form of a sermon, it advocated a rather unpleasant method of dealing with the titular subject. After thoroughly vilifying the Dissenters, it went on to propose and attempt to moralize the wholesale slaughter of the Dissenters. I mean that quite literally.
It caused quite a stir, as one might imagine. Some took the position that the actions advocated simply went too far, were immoral, or were otherwise unacceptable. More disturbingly, others agreed with the propositions put forth in Defoe's work. When it was revealed that the author was himself an Dissenter, this latter group was not pleased. They had been suckered in by a position with which they agreed, but had been unwilling to voice. Moreover, it was not one publicly acceptable. They'd been had, dragged out into the merciless light of the public eye, and held up for the world to mock.
This is an excellent illustration of a different sort of satire from Voltaire's. Voltaire's work is fairly self-contained, in that it both constructs and ridicules the concept at hand. This has the benefit of making it quite straightforward in its way, as well as not tying it to a particular historical reference frame. However, this can also weaken the overall impact by obscuring the purpose.
Defoe's work, on the other hand, only constructs the idea. Satirists like Defoe work by setting traps, into which their unwitting rhetorical opponents obligingly fall. Here, those so entrapped were those who agreed with The Shortest Way on how to deal with Dissenters. While only effective as satire within its proper historical context, Defoe's work was quite potent. If memory serves, it embarrassed no few High Flyers, and made Defoe's point quite well. It may even have swayed public opinion some, I do not know. Regardless, his point was made, and would not soon be forgotten.
So, what is satire? Satire is the the blaze brought to bear in the battle that is public opinion. It can be subtle and powerful, at the cost of greatly angering those made to dance naked before the jeering world. It can be blunt, at the cost of readership and influence, but have more lasting impact.
The two types are often commingled, creating a work that strongly resembles the views of the group being satirized, but being ever-so-slightly over the top. This allows both for those whom mostly agree to be fooled (maybe) and for those opposed to recognize and chuckle at the satirical wit therein.
Want a good example? Go look up blogs4brownback. I refuse to link to it, but that place is nuts. It's one of those things that I very much wish was satire, because it is very much over the top of what one might think.
Unfortunately, certain schools of thought have proven themselves almost impossible to satirize effectively. See, being over the top requires that there be a known top to be over. With the more radical arm of the modern Republican party, a would-be satirist has to keep readjusting to a new, higher, and just weirder top.
With writers such as Voltaire being satirists, the brightest light that can be brought is best described as blinding in its intensity. In his classic piece “Plato's Dream”, he quite clearly lampoons the idea of a perfect creator God. Voltaire used little more than logic and a touch imagination to achieve this literary feat in less than two pages.
Go on. Read it. I'll be here when you get back, I promise.
Now, there are several important lessons in there regarding satire. The first is that satire is at its most powerful when serving as a tool against those in power. It is far less effective when utilized by the powerful to mock the powerless. It comes across as crass, tasteless, and arrogant. When used by the weak, satire is generally viewed as clever and witty. Obviously, this only applies when satire is utilized politically, and make no mistake about it, Voltaire was a political satirist.
The second is that satire is often unpopular with those in power. Here, Voltaire's goals required his writing be rather plain about making its point. A subtly written work would not do, as that carried the risk of many missing the point. While written in the form of a dream of a man long dead, his attack on the Church was obvious. As Voltaire was a prominent writer in his time, he doubtless drew fire from the Church for this quite clear and compelling attack. Unfortunately, I don't know any details how the Church might have responded, but I trust that there was at least one smear campaign aimed at out dear historical friend.
There are other, more sublte, kinds of satire. Again, I look to European history for an example.
In 1702, there was a bit of a question of religion in England. On the one hand was the official Church of England, headed by the newly crowned Queen Anne. On the other hand was the Presbyterian Dissenters, who did not agree with the Church of England. The details of the doctrinal disputes are both arcane to be as well as irrelevant. Anyway, one of the effects of the CoE being the state religion was that one had to be a member to hold public office. There were a number of other side effects to subscribing to a different religion, such as having somewhat limited civil liberties when compared to an Anglican.
When Queen Anne took the throne, it came as encouraging news to the High Flyers, who wished for the Anglican church to be the only church in England. The coronation was also followed by a number of very physical attacks on Dissenters and their properties and holdings. For obvious reasons, the Protestant and Presbyterian Dissenters didn't like this much. Daniel Defoe, later to write Robinson Crusoe, was one of them. He turned his sharp wit and mind to making a satirical point.
So, he authored a pamphlet entitled The Shortest Way with the Dissenters. Written in the form of a sermon, it advocated a rather unpleasant method of dealing with the titular subject. After thoroughly vilifying the Dissenters, it went on to propose and attempt to moralize the wholesale slaughter of the Dissenters. I mean that quite literally.
It caused quite a stir, as one might imagine. Some took the position that the actions advocated simply went too far, were immoral, or were otherwise unacceptable. More disturbingly, others agreed with the propositions put forth in Defoe's work. When it was revealed that the author was himself an Dissenter, this latter group was not pleased. They had been suckered in by a position with which they agreed, but had been unwilling to voice. Moreover, it was not one publicly acceptable. They'd been had, dragged out into the merciless light of the public eye, and held up for the world to mock.
This is an excellent illustration of a different sort of satire from Voltaire's. Voltaire's work is fairly self-contained, in that it both constructs and ridicules the concept at hand. This has the benefit of making it quite straightforward in its way, as well as not tying it to a particular historical reference frame. However, this can also weaken the overall impact by obscuring the purpose.
Defoe's work, on the other hand, only constructs the idea. Satirists like Defoe work by setting traps, into which their unwitting rhetorical opponents obligingly fall. Here, those so entrapped were those who agreed with The Shortest Way on how to deal with Dissenters. While only effective as satire within its proper historical context, Defoe's work was quite potent. If memory serves, it embarrassed no few High Flyers, and made Defoe's point quite well. It may even have swayed public opinion some, I do not know. Regardless, his point was made, and would not soon be forgotten.
So, what is satire? Satire is the the blaze brought to bear in the battle that is public opinion. It can be subtle and powerful, at the cost of greatly angering those made to dance naked before the jeering world. It can be blunt, at the cost of readership and influence, but have more lasting impact.
The two types are often commingled, creating a work that strongly resembles the views of the group being satirized, but being ever-so-slightly over the top. This allows both for those whom mostly agree to be fooled (maybe) and for those opposed to recognize and chuckle at the satirical wit therein.
Want a good example? Go look up blogs4brownback. I refuse to link to it, but that place is nuts. It's one of those things that I very much wish was satire, because it is very much over the top of what one might think.
Unfortunately, certain schools of thought have proven themselves almost impossible to satirize effectively. See, being over the top requires that there be a known top to be over. With the more radical arm of the modern Republican party, a would-be satirist has to keep readjusting to a new, higher, and just weirder top.
Monday, June 4, 2007
A puff of smoke
We're not dead here. Really. I've got a few ideas in the works. The first one is "Satire - The Revealing Flame". Basically, a post in praise of satire and emphasizing its social and political import. The second idea I'm toying with involves how religious and moral arguments are usually used not as arguments themselves, but rather to blow smoke and conceal something else.
Alp, as always, has his own ideas.
More whenever we can, although if anyone has a subject they'd like me to write on, I can try.
Alp, as always, has his own ideas.
More whenever we can, although if anyone has a subject they'd like me to write on, I can try.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
The Ember and the Inferno
There is a bumper-sticker that read as follows:
It's not just political and feminist. It's also right. It's right in both the intended specific sense and in a more general one. The latter, I find, is far more significant. To wit:
To beat my own drum a bit, the Sons of Liberty didn't have the impact they did by being nice and politely asking the crown to fuck off. No, they did it by being utter bastards about what they wanted and how they meant to get it. The same goes for the whole of the American Revolution – the Declaration of Independence was hardly nice. Patrick Henry didn't move the Virginia House of Burgesses to war by being nice, polite, or courteous. He did it with passion, with rhetoric, and with a raging inferno in his belly when he spoke:
There are three slightly more modern movements deserving of examination here. Specifically, the abolition movement, the suffragettes, and the civil rights movement. All of them have engraved deeply their respective marks into the bedrock of American history. Moreover, none of them did it by being polite and well-behaved. To quote the legendary Mr. Henry once more, “I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past.“. To those ends, we look to our own past for guidance.
First, the abolitionists. The most obvious and one of the best known acts engaged in was the Underground Railroad. While not violent, the Underground Railroad was an act of active dissent against slavery. It got stuff done. It pissed people off. It certainly polarized opinions, and the knowledge that their neighbors were taking such risks in order to combat slavery likely had some impact on the general opinion towards the subject.
More to the point, abolitionists can and did take quite overt action against slavery. In the wake of the fugitive slave laws, some states passed legislation designed to actively hinder those very laws. Among them was Michigan, which did so by guaranteeing anyone claimed as a fugitive slave rights to a jury trial, writ of habeas corpus, appeal, and bail. Additionally, there were stiff penalties for falsely claiming a someone to be a slave, and purported fugitives could not be held in public jails or other public buildings. (source)
Abolitionists and their opponents were usually in geographically distinct areas, so more direct conflict was usually limited.
Except for Bleeding Kansas and John Brown at Harper's Ferry. I don't care to go into those, but they were far from polite.
Then there was Uncle Tom's Cabin, which had two principle effects. First and foremost, it converted people to the abolitionist cause in the North. It was an immensely popular work, and its core message of the immorality of slavery resonated strongly in a culture that already disapproved of the practice.
Second, it greatly incensed the South. For obvious reasons, the South didn't like Stowe's book. It was generally viewed and propaganda and simply wrong in its portrayal of slavery, nevermind the moral message. To be fair, Stowe was an abolitionist, and certainly had an agenda. This reaction would only lend its message weight in the North. After all, they wouldn't be so angry if it wasn't accurate, right?
Stowe wasn't nice, and she didn't pull her punches. She wasn't out to take a moderate position, and most certainly did not adopt one. Her position was plain: slavery was immoral. The implication was that it should be stopped immediately, and that was quite the extreme position.
Enough about the abolitionists. There's enough history there for me to go on for a very long time, but it isn't wise the keep the suffragettes waiting. They often did not take kindly to such.
In the colonial and immediately post-colonial periods of American history, the women's suffrage movement was a fairly small and insignificant thing. It wasn't until the Reconstruction period that the movement began to intensify, particularly in clashes over the Fifteenth Amendment. The suffragists wanted the amendment to protect the rights of women as well, and as originally written would have done so. It was subsequently changed to remove such provisions, becoming the abolitionist work we now know.
It is notable that several states granted women suffrage well before it was done nationally. Specifically, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Jersey. In Illinois, in 1913, the suffragists secured for women of that state the right to vote in Presidential election. They did so by directly pressuring the legislature, along with other fairly extreme acts such as fetching House members from their homes when their bill came up for voting.
The suffragists also staged a public protest on March 3, 1913. In Washinton D.C., several thousand suffragists lined up and marched down Pennsylvania Avenue, where a far greater number had lined up to watch. Predictably, the crowd reacted badly, eventually becoming violent. When the local police failed to control the crowd, the cavalry was called in. A number of women were hospitalized.
In the wake of such an event, some might conclude that the women's suffrage movement lacked the support it required to succeed. The suffragists appear to have concluded the opposite: the strong reaction meant that they did indeed have wide support.
Alice Paul lead the formation of the National Women's Party in 1916. They adopted strong and disruptive tactics, such as parades, pickets, demonstrations, and hunger strikes. In January of 1917, they did what no one before had dared: they picketed the White House itself. In July, many picketers were arrested on charges of obstructing traffic and incarcerated at a workhouse.
The promptly went on a hunger strike. They were force-fed with tubes. This news made its way to the media, where public sympathies shifted somewhat in favor of the women. This, combined with continuing demonstrations and the resulting press coverage, led President Wilson to announce support for women's suffrage in January of 1918.
After several failed attempts, Congress passed the Nineteenth Amendment on June 4, 1919. Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin all ratified it in six days, on the 10th, while Georgia and Alabama rushed to reject it. It would ratified by thirty-two more states between then and March 22, 1920, when Washington became the 35th state to ratify. It would take until August for Tennessee to follow suit, making the Nineteenth Amendment law.
A bit of an interesting story there, actually. Predictably, with the amendment one state away from ratification, forces for and against ratification rallied to Nashville. After all, it was either the final hurdle or a last stand, depending on ones position.
The first roll call on the subject came up as a 48-48 deadlock, with chaos breaking loose upon the floor when this was announced. Order was eventually restored, and the vote taken again. Once more, a deadlock of 48-48 was the result. Thus, a third vote was in order.
Somewhere along the line, the mother of Harry T. Burn, a young Representative who had been in the anti-suffragist camp, saw fit to send her son a letter. In short, she told him to vote for ratification. His mothers pleas won out over his constituency, and he voted for ratification. Shortly afterwards, two other Representative, one of them the Speaker, also changed their votes to 'aye', yielding ratification.
The women of America had gained the right to vote, even in the Southern states that had rejected the idea. They didn't gain it by being nice, quiet, or polite. They gained the right to vote via demonstration, protest, and eventually, by leveraging personal relationships. To be sure, they were not well-behaved women, and they did indeed make history.
For the sake of brevity (ha!), I'm going to skip the civil rights movement. This post is long enough as is. Before I close, however, some concluding remarks.
As romantic as it is to think that silent desire for some will sway a nation and its laws, both history and reality expose this as a sham. Neither the abolitionists nor the suffragists gained their eventual goals by sitting on their hands and wishing. They worked for what they wanted, knowing that change is only ever effected by those willing to work long, hard, and loudly for it. They knew that a smoldering ember gives little heat, little light, little smoke, and will escape the notice of most.
So they became the raging inferno, and illumined their world.
well-behaved women rarely make history
It's not just political and feminist. It's also right. It's right in both the intended specific sense and in a more general one. The latter, I find, is far more significant. To wit:
well-behaved people rarely change anything
To beat my own drum a bit, the Sons of Liberty didn't have the impact they did by being nice and politely asking the crown to fuck off. No, they did it by being utter bastards about what they wanted and how they meant to get it. The same goes for the whole of the American Revolution – the Declaration of Independence was hardly nice. Patrick Henry didn't move the Virginia House of Burgesses to war by being nice, polite, or courteous. He did it with passion, with rhetoric, and with a raging inferno in his belly when he spoke:
It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!(source)
There are three slightly more modern movements deserving of examination here. Specifically, the abolition movement, the suffragettes, and the civil rights movement. All of them have engraved deeply their respective marks into the bedrock of American history. Moreover, none of them did it by being polite and well-behaved. To quote the legendary Mr. Henry once more, “I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past.“. To those ends, we look to our own past for guidance.
First, the abolitionists. The most obvious and one of the best known acts engaged in was the Underground Railroad. While not violent, the Underground Railroad was an act of active dissent against slavery. It got stuff done. It pissed people off. It certainly polarized opinions, and the knowledge that their neighbors were taking such risks in order to combat slavery likely had some impact on the general opinion towards the subject.
More to the point, abolitionists can and did take quite overt action against slavery. In the wake of the fugitive slave laws, some states passed legislation designed to actively hinder those very laws. Among them was Michigan, which did so by guaranteeing anyone claimed as a fugitive slave rights to a jury trial, writ of habeas corpus, appeal, and bail. Additionally, there were stiff penalties for falsely claiming a someone to be a slave, and purported fugitives could not be held in public jails or other public buildings. (source)
Abolitionists and their opponents were usually in geographically distinct areas, so more direct conflict was usually limited.
Except for Bleeding Kansas and John Brown at Harper's Ferry. I don't care to go into those, but they were far from polite.
Then there was Uncle Tom's Cabin, which had two principle effects. First and foremost, it converted people to the abolitionist cause in the North. It was an immensely popular work, and its core message of the immorality of slavery resonated strongly in a culture that already disapproved of the practice.
Second, it greatly incensed the South. For obvious reasons, the South didn't like Stowe's book. It was generally viewed and propaganda and simply wrong in its portrayal of slavery, nevermind the moral message. To be fair, Stowe was an abolitionist, and certainly had an agenda. This reaction would only lend its message weight in the North. After all, they wouldn't be so angry if it wasn't accurate, right?
Stowe wasn't nice, and she didn't pull her punches. She wasn't out to take a moderate position, and most certainly did not adopt one. Her position was plain: slavery was immoral. The implication was that it should be stopped immediately, and that was quite the extreme position.
Enough about the abolitionists. There's enough history there for me to go on for a very long time, but it isn't wise the keep the suffragettes waiting. They often did not take kindly to such.
In the colonial and immediately post-colonial periods of American history, the women's suffrage movement was a fairly small and insignificant thing. It wasn't until the Reconstruction period that the movement began to intensify, particularly in clashes over the Fifteenth Amendment. The suffragists wanted the amendment to protect the rights of women as well, and as originally written would have done so. It was subsequently changed to remove such provisions, becoming the abolitionist work we now know.
It is notable that several states granted women suffrage well before it was done nationally. Specifically, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Jersey. In Illinois, in 1913, the suffragists secured for women of that state the right to vote in Presidential election. They did so by directly pressuring the legislature, along with other fairly extreme acts such as fetching House members from their homes when their bill came up for voting.
The suffragists also staged a public protest on March 3, 1913. In Washinton D.C., several thousand suffragists lined up and marched down Pennsylvania Avenue, where a far greater number had lined up to watch. Predictably, the crowd reacted badly, eventually becoming violent. When the local police failed to control the crowd, the cavalry was called in. A number of women were hospitalized.
In the wake of such an event, some might conclude that the women's suffrage movement lacked the support it required to succeed. The suffragists appear to have concluded the opposite: the strong reaction meant that they did indeed have wide support.
Alice Paul lead the formation of the National Women's Party in 1916. They adopted strong and disruptive tactics, such as parades, pickets, demonstrations, and hunger strikes. In January of 1917, they did what no one before had dared: they picketed the White House itself. In July, many picketers were arrested on charges of obstructing traffic and incarcerated at a workhouse.
The promptly went on a hunger strike. They were force-fed with tubes. This news made its way to the media, where public sympathies shifted somewhat in favor of the women. This, combined with continuing demonstrations and the resulting press coverage, led President Wilson to announce support for women's suffrage in January of 1918.
After several failed attempts, Congress passed the Nineteenth Amendment on June 4, 1919. Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin all ratified it in six days, on the 10th, while Georgia and Alabama rushed to reject it. It would ratified by thirty-two more states between then and March 22, 1920, when Washington became the 35th state to ratify. It would take until August for Tennessee to follow suit, making the Nineteenth Amendment law.
A bit of an interesting story there, actually. Predictably, with the amendment one state away from ratification, forces for and against ratification rallied to Nashville. After all, it was either the final hurdle or a last stand, depending on ones position.
The first roll call on the subject came up as a 48-48 deadlock, with chaos breaking loose upon the floor when this was announced. Order was eventually restored, and the vote taken again. Once more, a deadlock of 48-48 was the result. Thus, a third vote was in order.
Somewhere along the line, the mother of Harry T. Burn, a young Representative who had been in the anti-suffragist camp, saw fit to send her son a letter. In short, she told him to vote for ratification. His mothers pleas won out over his constituency, and he voted for ratification. Shortly afterwards, two other Representative, one of them the Speaker, also changed their votes to 'aye', yielding ratification.
The women of America had gained the right to vote, even in the Southern states that had rejected the idea. They didn't gain it by being nice, quiet, or polite. They gained the right to vote via demonstration, protest, and eventually, by leveraging personal relationships. To be sure, they were not well-behaved women, and they did indeed make history.
For the sake of brevity (ha!), I'm going to skip the civil rights movement. This post is long enough as is. Before I close, however, some concluding remarks.
As romantic as it is to think that silent desire for some will sway a nation and its laws, both history and reality expose this as a sham. Neither the abolitionists nor the suffragists gained their eventual goals by sitting on their hands and wishing. They worked for what they wanted, knowing that change is only ever effected by those willing to work long, hard, and loudly for it. They knew that a smoldering ember gives little heat, little light, little smoke, and will escape the notice of most.
So they became the raging inferno, and illumined their world.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Death of an Icon
Well, it appears that as of May 15th, Jerry Falwell is dead. An evangelist during his life, Jerry is perhaps most known for the political controversy which he was able to stir up around him. He was outspoken on a great many issues of the day, whichever day he happened to be speaking about. From segregation to abortion and gay rights, Israel to 9/11, he was not one to be shy about offering his views. With the backing of his ministry, in the name of the Lord, he attracted an audience of believers and detracters, and polarized the political debate. His death has already renewed debate about the positions he held in life; I will not belabor this place with more of the same. Others, with far more historically oriented minds than mine, will surely be able to do a better job of deciding what his legacy will be. So I will take a different niche; what legacy should we be taking from his ministry?
On pretty much every position he's taken, it's probably fair to say that Falwell was sitting at something of an extreme. Actually, forget "something of," the man was out there. So far out there, in fact, that there were really only two things that could possibly come of it: Exposure of issues and polarization. Both are in some sense necessary for any good political discourse, but neither is all that useful for actually bringing about a resolution. He is, in a way, the antithesis of a great many modern civil rights movements, embodying many of the same features that have led me to conclude that, although I'm all for civil rights, I'm very much against most civil rights movements.
What too many people in modern politics tend to forget is that polarization isn't the end of the battle. You can't have a conversation unless you manage to get people on opposing sides of the issue, but you can't reach a conclusion until you start finding some common ground on which to bring people back together. Our political structures and political people have gotten extremely good at the former, but virtually nobody of consequence is willing to take the effort to follow through on the latter. Of course, it's not as glamorous as splitting the public, and it usually won't make the people who do it famous within their lifetime. But then, as I read on a billboard on one my recent travels, "Life is short, eternety isn't." The trouble with Falwell, and those of his sort, is that they're so interested in life, that they end up forgetting abot eternety -- occasionally quite ironically.
These days, where we can probably see this best is in the battles across the several states to figure out how to define marriage. It should come as no surprise to anyone that Falwell didn't much like homosexuality; he's even gone so far as to blame the practice as being one of the contributing factors in 9/11. But leaving that aside for now, we can make some general observations about homosexual life -- marriage is a big deal, but civil unions won't quite do. On the flip side, however, people are far more willing to accept civil unions than marriage. But being forced to choose marriage or nothing, the trend has been very much a push toward nothingness, with many more states amending their constitutions to prevent any coupling than passing laws to provide even minimal rights of union. This is good politics, majority choice under the rule of law, people exercising the legislative or referential systems to codify their views, and to protect themselves from what they feel may be credible threats. But it's a loss for homosexual advocacy as they fail not only to win what they most desire, but actually lose ground in trying to get there. At a time when more people than ever are willing to accept at least limited equality, it should be stunning that society is actually progressing in the opposite direction.
It is, though, that all or nothing attitude that individuals like Falwell embody perfectly. One can hope, and I think we should, that with his passing, a new dialogue may develop. A dialogue built not on polarization, but unification. A conversation willing to accept the civil unions and forego marriage, at least in the near term, rather than losing everything all at once. For that kind of dialogue is a constructive one, not to mention completely necessary.
I'm sure that what we'll end up seeing are conservatives mourning his loss and liberals celebrating his demise. I hope we don't, for there's nothing to gain from it, but I'm sure we will. That, to be sure, is the world in which we live.
On pretty much every position he's taken, it's probably fair to say that Falwell was sitting at something of an extreme. Actually, forget "something of," the man was out there. So far out there, in fact, that there were really only two things that could possibly come of it: Exposure of issues and polarization. Both are in some sense necessary for any good political discourse, but neither is all that useful for actually bringing about a resolution. He is, in a way, the antithesis of a great many modern civil rights movements, embodying many of the same features that have led me to conclude that, although I'm all for civil rights, I'm very much against most civil rights movements.
What too many people in modern politics tend to forget is that polarization isn't the end of the battle. You can't have a conversation unless you manage to get people on opposing sides of the issue, but you can't reach a conclusion until you start finding some common ground on which to bring people back together. Our political structures and political people have gotten extremely good at the former, but virtually nobody of consequence is willing to take the effort to follow through on the latter. Of course, it's not as glamorous as splitting the public, and it usually won't make the people who do it famous within their lifetime. But then, as I read on a billboard on one my recent travels, "Life is short, eternety isn't." The trouble with Falwell, and those of his sort, is that they're so interested in life, that they end up forgetting abot eternety -- occasionally quite ironically.
These days, where we can probably see this best is in the battles across the several states to figure out how to define marriage. It should come as no surprise to anyone that Falwell didn't much like homosexuality; he's even gone so far as to blame the practice as being one of the contributing factors in 9/11. But leaving that aside for now, we can make some general observations about homosexual life -- marriage is a big deal, but civil unions won't quite do. On the flip side, however, people are far more willing to accept civil unions than marriage. But being forced to choose marriage or nothing, the trend has been very much a push toward nothingness, with many more states amending their constitutions to prevent any coupling than passing laws to provide even minimal rights of union. This is good politics, majority choice under the rule of law, people exercising the legislative or referential systems to codify their views, and to protect themselves from what they feel may be credible threats. But it's a loss for homosexual advocacy as they fail not only to win what they most desire, but actually lose ground in trying to get there. At a time when more people than ever are willing to accept at least limited equality, it should be stunning that society is actually progressing in the opposite direction.
It is, though, that all or nothing attitude that individuals like Falwell embody perfectly. One can hope, and I think we should, that with his passing, a new dialogue may develop. A dialogue built not on polarization, but unification. A conversation willing to accept the civil unions and forego marriage, at least in the near term, rather than losing everything all at once. For that kind of dialogue is a constructive one, not to mention completely necessary.
I'm sure that what we'll end up seeing are conservatives mourning his loss and liberals celebrating his demise. I hope we don't, for there's nothing to gain from it, but I'm sure we will. That, to be sure, is the world in which we live.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)