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What Trump Revolution? (Concluded)

The real takeaway from the 2016 election is not that Trump did so well, but that Clinton did so poorly. Even with more voters in 2016 than 2012, Clinton got slightly fewer votes than Obama—65,853,516 to 65,899,660—with a big drop in the percentage of the ballots. Obama got a majority of the vote, 51.6 percent, while Clinton got 48.18 percent. Trump did not get a higher percentage than Romney four years earlier, but Clinton got significantly less than Obama. Wasn’t the revolution not so much for Trump as against Clinton?

Perhaps the real revolution in 2016 was not for Trump but in favor of third parties. Obama and Romney together got 98.8 percent of the vote. Clinton and Trump together got 94.3 percent. The combined Libertarian and Green vote increased by over 300 percent. That third-party total went from 1.7 million in 2012 to 5.9 million in 2016.

Much has been made of states that Obama won, but whose electoral votes went to Trump and swung the election to him. Let’s look more closely at three of them: Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin.

Trump did significantly better than Romney had done in Pennsylvania. Trump got 2,912,941 votes while Romney got 2,619,583. This increase had two components. About 376,000 more ballots were cast in 2016 than in 2012, but in addition Trump did better percentagewise. He got 48.8 percent (Clinton got 47.6 percent) while Romney got 46.8 percent (Obama got 52.0 percent) of the Pennsylvania vote. This would indicate some sort of Trump Revolution, but, if so, it was a limited one. It did not reach a majority. But notice something else. Trump and Clinton together garnered 96.4 percent of the total ballots, while in 2012, the major candidates received 98.8 percent. The third parties nearly trebled their votes in the four years, from 69,000 to 192,000. Their share went from 1.3 percent in 2012 to 3.6 in 2016. Trump won the Pennsylvania plurality by 70,000 votes while the third-party votes increased by much more than that. If Pennsylvania indicated a Trump Revolution, it also indicated a Third-Party Revolution, a move to third parties that allowed Trump to get the plurality and Pennsylvania’s electoral votes. Remember Stacey who could not vote for Trump, but distrusted Clinton so she voted Green? We don’t know how she would have voted if there had been a different Democratic candidate, but did Trump really carry Pennsylvania because of a Trump Revolution or because Clinton, whatever the reasons, was not a good candidate and a sizeable number of voters went to third parties as a result?

The Michigan turnout did not increase in 2016 as much as the Pennsylvania vote did—65,000 more ballots were cast than in 2012. Trump, however, did get 265,00 more votes than Romney and garnered 47.3 percent of the total compared to Romney’s 44.6. But again “others” made the difference. In 2012, only 1.4 percent of the ballots were not cast for the major parties, while in 2016 it was 5.2 percent, with the totals increasing from 65,000 to 250,000. Trump’s plurality (again not a majority) was a mere 10,000 votes. The move to third parties again allowed him to win a plurality and get all of Michigan’s electoral votes.

In Wisconsin, 128,000 fewer ballots were cast in 2016 than four years earlier, and Trump got only 1,500 more votes than Romney. That doesn’t indicate a Trump Revolution as much as a lack of enthusiasm for both major candidates. However, Trump did win the plurality at 47.9 percent compared to Romney’s losing percentage at 45.9. Trump’s margin was 27,000 votes, and again the third parties swung the state. In 2012, they got 28,000 votes and 0.9 percent of the total. In 2016, third parties garnered 137,000 votes accounting for 5.4%.

What does this indicate? Was there a Trump Revolution that has changed the electoral landscape? Trump took these three key states, but he did not get a majority in any of them. In other words, the majority actually voted against Trump. In each of them, he won because Clinton performed poorly as much as Trump performed well. As a result, the third parties surged tipping each state to Trump.

What does this mean for the future? Is there an enduring Trump Revolution that has shifted the electoral patterns? Perhaps the first thing to note is that, of course, he did not get the majority of the vote in the country. He did not even get the plurality. What is seldom noted is that the percentage he did get was not better than what Romney got four years earlier. This certainly is not a revolution.

In some key states, however, he did do better than Romney, but even so, he did not get a majority in them, and third parties surged. Of course, the best guarantee of his winning such states the next time is to get more than 50 percent of the vote. At least so far, however, polls do not indicate that this is likely. Trump’s favorability ratings consistently hover just above 40 percent, and while he does much to appeal to what is called his base, he is not attracting voters outside that base.

If his support continues at less than 50 percent, Trump has to pray (although I doubt he does) that the third-party surge will continue on into the next presidential election, so he can win electoral votes with only pluralities. The real question, then, for the future is not whether there has been a Trump Revolution, but whether there has been a Third-Party Revolution. That seems unlikely. Wasn’t the increase in third-party votes in 2016 just the result, a circumstance unlikely to repeat itself?

 

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What Trump Revolution? (continued)

Many of the analyses of why Trump won are based on the premise that the 2016 election produced an enduring, seismic shift in the electorate.  An anecdote in Eliza Griswold’s book should make us rethink whether there truly was such a Trump Revolution. Amity and Prosperity is the story of a rural family in southwestern Pennsylvania and the problems they face when fracking starts nearby. Stacey, the main character, “didn’t buy the Trump craze” in 2016. Although she had had troubles with the EPA, she thought it should exist. She doubted that fracking could save Appalachia. Trump, to her, was just another pandering politician. On the other hand, she did not like Hillary Clinton either. She thought that Clinton was corrupt and no better on fracking than Trump. Stacey voted for the Green Party candidate, Jill Stein.

So, did Trump actually attract a new crop of voters to the Republican candidate? The answer seems to be yes. Many counties, like Stacey’s, swung from Obama in 2012 to Trump four years later. But perhaps many of the new Republican voters were not swinging to Trump as much as they were swinging away from Clinton. It turns out that for large swathes of previously Democratic voters she was not an attractive candidate. Some of those voters stayed home; some voted for Trump; and some voted for a third-party candidate. Why the antipathy for Clinton? Many reasons have been given. Some of her supporters claim that it was because she is a woman. Perhaps that was part of it. I once said to a friend who wanted to sit out the election because he liked neither major candidate, “Assess how you feel about Bill Clinton. Is your assessment of Hillary Clinton lower? If so, why? Her policies are similar to his and she has had more experience than he had when he ran for President. How much of the lower assessment is merely because she is a woman?” He pondered and just replied that for whatever the reason, he was not as enthusiastic about her as he had been for Bill. (He did end up voting for Hillary because he came to believe it was most to stop the Donald.)

I was not an enthusiastic supporter of hers, and I hope her gender was not the reason. I would like to think my lack of enthusiasm had good reasons, but I am not sure that another phenomenon did not affect me as well as many others. Hillary Clinton has been regularly attacked by the right wing for a long time, at least since her husband ran for the presidency a quarter-century ago. Few modern public figures have been vilified as much and for as long as she has been. This drumbeat of castigation surely affected many, and I wondered if I were truly immune. As Pierre Augustin Caron de Beumarchais has been quoted as saying, “Villify! Villify! Some of it will always stick.”

No matter whether those who distrusted Clinton had good reasons or not, many in 2016 found they could not vote for her, and at least some of them voted for Trump. If, however, these Trump votes were not as much affirmative votes for him as votes against Clinton, they don’t seem to herald an enduring Trump Revolution.

On the other hand, much reporting indicates that many previous Obama voters were affirmatively attracted to Trump and that is what made for the Trump Revolt. The implication is that something historic was going on, but that assumption should be questioned. Doesn’t something similar happen every time the White House changes parties? When Kennedy succeeded Eisenhower, at least some Ike voters did not vote for the 1960 Republican candidate. Similar electoral movements have occurred when Nixon, Carter, Reagan, Clinton, George W. Bush, and Obama were elected president. Was the Trump election really different?

We also know (although he may not want to believe it) that Trump did not even get the plurality of the vote. Whatever the revolution, it was not a majority one. And even if it is true that he attracted many voters that had not before voted Republican, we should also realize that he drove away many voters who could have been expected to vote Republican.

Compare 2012 and 2016 election results. (Different sources do not always give the same nationwide vote totals, but, for consistency, I am using figures from the Federal Election Commission website.) In 2012, Mitt Romney got 60,932,152 votes. Four years later, Trump received 62,984,825. Trump got two million more votes than Romney but that does not mean that he made great inroads into previously Democratic voters.          Instead, about 7.5 million more people voted in 2016 than 2012. With more voters as the country’s population increased, it is not surprising that Trump got more votes than Romney. More interesting than the vote totals for Romney and Trump is the percentage of the vote for each. Romney received 47.21 percent of the nationwide ballots, while Trump got 46.09 percent. In other words, there was no dramatic swing to him compared to the previous election. Analyses I have seen expend a good deal of effort dissecting the voters Trump attracted; they also ought to equally examine the voters Trump drove away. For example, The Great Revolt: Inside the Populist Coalition Reshaping American Politics mentions that “Trump’s margin was weaker than Romney’s in 86 of the 100 most educated counties—a fact that held true regardless of the jurisdiction’s normal partisan leanings.” But the authors set out only to interview voters in some swing states who shifted from Obama to Trump when there were at least as many voters who swung away from him. If that first group constitutes some new populist coalition, how should we label the at-least-as-significant second group?

(concluded October 12)

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What Trump Revolution?

 

Trump won. People were shocked. Analyses followed. I have had conversations, heard talks, looked at websites, read newspapers and magazine articles that seek to explain how we got our President. I have also read books that shed varying degrees of light on 2016, including Eliza Griswold, Amity and Prosperity: One Family and the Fracturing of America; Jennifer Haigh, Heat and Light; Salena Zito and Brad Todd, The Great Revolt: Inside the Populist Coalition Reshaping American Politics: Arlie Russell Hochschild, Strangers in Their Own Land; Amy Goldstein, Janesville: An American Story: and J.D. Vance, Hillbilly Elegy.

All these books have merit. They indicate that there was not one, simple answer as to how it happened, but all point to a white working-class economic insecurity that was a major force. For some, this got tied up with a racial resentment that included hostility to legal and illegal immigrants. Some felt that “Washington” had intruded too much into their lives and had made the country worse.

One author suggests that strong roots of the surprise victory go back to the Vietnam War. The contention is that many from the Rust Belt and Appalachia who believed in America and its leaders went off to war forty years ago. They were not welcomed back as heroes, but, instead, were shunned by the country that had sent them off. They left with expectations of lives of increasing prosperity, which the factories and mines had given previous generations, but returned to an industrial economy in decline. The coastal elites and Washington did not seem to care about them or their increasing economic plight until Trump came along. I thought there might be merit in this analysis, and if so, perhaps it should be extended to our more recent Mideast wars. How can you not feel disillusionment if you suffered the privations and horrors of Afghanistan and Iraq and returned to parts of America in decline with the powerful indifferent to those declines?

Zito and Todd’s book presents a different insight. The authors interviewed voters in Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Iowa who voted for Obama in 2012 and for Trump four years later. One of those interviewees referred to the Trump converts as “this interesting group of people who placed him in the White House because a variety of different people wanted to be part of something larger than themselves. It means it makes me more important, it makes the individual more important, believing that they are contributing directly or indirectly to whatever they are doing.” And when I look at the audiences at a Trump rally, including the ones after he was elected, the audience gives the impression of not being merely a collection of individuals, but as being a component of a movement that transcends the individuals.

I was reminded of a book I read decades ago, The Romance of American Communism by Vivian Gornick. She interviewed Americans who had subscribed to communism in the 1930s and stayed with the Party until 1956. I was struck by what seemed to be a religious-like fervor in many who must have been atheists. They did not expect that communism’s promises would be fulfilled in their lifetime but still enthusiastically supported the cause because they were part of movement bigger than themselves and hoping to bring about a better world after they were gone. One of them said, “It was life, the only life I ever knew, and it was alive. Intense, absorbing, filled with a kind of comradeship I never again expect to know. . . . We literally felt we were making history.”

Or as George Orwell wrote in 1984: “Alone—free—the human being is always defeated. It must be so, because every human being is doomed to die, which is the greatest of all failures. But if he can make complete, utter submission, if he can escape from his identity, if he can merge himself in the Party so that he is the Party, then he is all-powerful and immortal.”

People want to feel that they are part of something bigger than themselves. They feel power being part of a movement. They feel important being in the vanguard of a new history. People have felt that from Trump; they feel that they are transforming America. Reagan gave that transformative feeling, and so did Obama to many. Hillary Clinton may have given a comparable feeling to some, but that movement feeling was smaller than it was for Trump and for Obama. By allying yourself with Trump, you hoped to become part of something more important than yourself.

 

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First Sentences

“Physicist Leonardo Vetra smelled burning flesh, and he knew it was his own.” Dan Brown, Angels & Demons.

“The blood is still rolling off my flak jacket from the hole in my shoulder and there are bullets cracking into the sand all around me.” Ron Kovic, Born on the Fourth of July.

“In eighteenth-century France there lived a man who was one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages.” Patrick Suskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer.

“By the time Edwin Rist stepped off the train onto the platform at Tring, forty miles north of London, it was already quite late.” Kirk Wallace Johnson, The Feather Thief: Beauty, Obsession, and the Natural History Heist of the Century.

“Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin.” A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh.

“Elizabeth Anne Holmes knew she wanted to be a successful entrepreneur from a young age.” John Carreyrou, Bad Blood: Secret and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup.

“Whenever my mother talks to me, she begins the conversation as if we were already in the middle of an argument.” Amy Tan, The Kitchen God’s Wife.

“A free society can exist only when public spirit is balanced by an equal inclination of men to mind their own business.” Edward A. Shils, The Torment of Secrecy: The Background and Consequences of American Security Policies.

“When you work in the glove department at Neiman’s, you are selling things that nobody buys anymore.” Steve Martin, Shopgirl.

“On a humid Monday night in the summer of 1965, after finding an eight-dollar hotel room in the then economically friendly city of San Francisco, I lugged my banjo and black, hard-shell prop case ten sweaty blocks uphill to the Coffee and Confusion, where I had signed up to play for free.” Steve Martin, Born Standing Up.

“I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice—not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God.” John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany.

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Liar, Liar, You Can’t Tell a Liar

[This post is drawn from The American Jury System by Randolph N. Jonakait]

She said. He denied. Many people heard the testimonies. Many decided that one or the other was lying without thinking much about how they reached their conclusions. Most of us filtered what we saw and heard through existing beliefs, biases, and prejudices and that, of course, affected our credibility assessments of Dr. Ford and Judge Kavanaugh. However,many, maybe most of us, feel we are good at spotting liars from subtle cues—awkward posture, a bead of sweat on the upper lip, hesitations in speech, the tone of voice, the movement of hands, the shifting of eyes. If that is what most of us feel, most of us are wrong.

Studies of the determination of lies from nonverbal behavior have found that people correctly spot a lie from 54 to 57 percent of the time, barely above the random guessing level of 50 percent. We are not good at this, and I was not surprised to hear the conclusions drawn that Kavanaugh’s evident anger indicated he was lying and also that Kavanaugh’s anger meant he was telling the truth.

One reason that liars are not easily detected by nonverbal behavior is that most people are proficient liars. This is in part because we get so much practice. One study had participants keep a diary for a week of conversations that lasted for at least ten minutes and record the lies they told during these exchanges. The study revealed “that lying is a daily event. On average, people lied almost twice a day or in one quarter of the ten-minute interactions. Of all the people they interacted with during the week, they lied to 34%.” Perhaps because people lie so often “there is no typical non-verbal behavior which is associated with deception. That is, not all liars show the same behavior in the same situation, and behaviors will differ across deceptive situations. . . . The complicated relationship between non-verbal behavior and deception makes it very difficult or even impossible to draw firm conclusions about deception solely on the basis of someone’s behavior.” The problems of correctly detecting deception are compounded by the fact that lying is easier and consequently harder to detect when the liar has had time to plan the lie—like for testimony at a congressional hearing.

The lack of ability to detect lies extends across the board. It is not correlated with gender or age. Men are not more skilled than women; older people are not superior to younger ones. A person’s confidence in being able to spot liars does not correlate with the ability to do so. Lie detecting ability does not correlate with experience in interviewing or with professions involving the detecting of deception. A summary of studies involving federal law enforcement personnel, federal polygraphers, and police found that most fell in the range of 45 to 60 percent accuracy in lie detection, with an average accuracy rate of 54 percent. In other words, they do no better than the rest of us in detecting lies from nonverbal behavior. The major difference is that the police are, unjustifiably, more confident than the general public in their assessments.

Trial judges, who often must assess the credibility of witnesses, are no different. Studies have shown that judges are like “ordinary” people in this regard. A research summary states, “Trial court judges . . . demonstrated little more skill at picking out prevaricators than a pipe fitter or a bus driver pulled from the street.”

One of the reasons we are not good lie-catchers is our frequent failure to receive feedback that facilitates learning. A leading researcher maintains that people fail to obtain “adequate information as to whether their truth/lie judgments are either right or wrong.” If we don’t learn whether our assessments are correct, we have no way to improve our lie-detecting performance.

Just watching and listening to testimony is not a good way to determine what is truthful. If we want the truth, we need more than our gut instincts about who has testified truthfully. If a child is thought to have had cookies before dinner, a parent really wanting the facts does more than listen to the kid. The parent peers into the cookie jar to see if anything is missing and looks for tell-tale signs of melted chocolate chips. If a plane crashes, investigators seeking the causes go to the crash site to inspect; they question witnesses; they seek out and examine cockpit and control tower voice and data recorders; and so on. You want the truth, collect information. Investigate. Ask more questions based on the gained knowledge.

Think about the great movie, My Cousin Vinny. The witnesses have painted a stark picture of the two youts’ guilt, but finally, Vinny investigates. He learns of dirty windows and obscuring trees and bushes and now can ask informed questions casting doubt on what witnesses were positive about. He learns about cooking times of real and instant grits and establishes that the time frame presented by a witness cannot be correct. Vinny only becomes a lawyer when he learns that meaningful questions that might lead to the truth can only happen after investigation.

If you want the truth about the event, don’t just judge what she said and he denied. Collect all the information you can about the event. Then it is time to ask informed questions based upon what has been learned. Use common sense and your life’s experiences about how people behave, but also listen to what others have learned about behaviors, such as of sexual assault victims and teenage drinkers. Now examine all the pieces of information to see how they do or don’t fit together. Is one version of the event more coherent, consistent, plausible, and complete than another? Only then is it time to judge.

Ask Cousin Vinny. If you want truth, first have a thorough investigation.

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The DSK Bar–Danish Edition

The woman came into the DSK bar looking as if she were trying to find someone. She sat on a stool next to me. I returned to my book, but she soon asked me if I knew the bar’s owner. I pointed her out. The woman, whose name I no longer remember but I’ll call Brigitte, went over to the owner and after a short conversation, left. A few weeks later, I learned that Brigitte had been hired as the bar’s manager. 

Over the next month or so, I found out that she was married to a Frenchman who cooked in a restaurant a couple miles away. She, however, had been born and raised in Denmark. I asked if she was aware of the book The Year of Living Danishly by Helen Russell, which I had recently read. She was not but asked me about it.  

I told her that Russell, who is English and had edited a British magazine, moved to Denmark when her husband got a job with, what else, the Lego Company. Russell had seen surveys that placed Denmark at the top of lists with the happiest populace. She set out to figure out why because she learned quickly that there were some reasons not to be happy about in her new home. It has a harsh climate and high taxes. (When a Britisher complains that somewhere else has an unpleasant climate, you can be damn sure that the weather is not an attraction.) Russell soon realized, however, that the Danish had learned to cope with and accept the weather. They also did not bitch much about the taxes because the country used them to provide excellent health care, education, childcare, and other social services. In addition, partly because of the tax structure, extremes in wealth were much less than in England. Riches were seldom flaunted, and few people seemed to think they would be happier if they only had a few more euros. Russell thought that this led to more contentment throughout Danish society than what she observed in Great Britain. 

Perhaps the biggest surprise for Russell and her husband was the many fewer hours the Danes worked compared to the English. The Danes had a lot of days off for holidays and national celebrations and were provided with extensive vacation time. In addition, the Danish work day is short. Her husband came home from work much earlier every day than he had in England. Danish life was not simply work, eat, and sleep. The Danes had time for other activities, which they did in abundance. They did them, however, in a different fashion from the way Russell was used to. Danes seldom acted by themselves or just with another person or couple. Instead, they did them in groups. There were clubs for almost everything, from biking to knitting, and the Danes regularly participated in club activities. As a result, Russell realized, the Danes were almost always connected to others.  

Russell, however, was struck by an anomaly. She noted that many studies had found a positive correlation between happiness and religion, but Denmark, which is not very religious, belied that. She was not surprised by the lack of religiosity. She cited studies concluding that the better educated and wealthier the country is the less likely its population believes in a higher being and participates in religious rituals. Russell noted that the USA is an outlier for this correlation—a country that is wealthy and highly educated, but still high in religious practices and beliefs. Russell went on to say, however, that America may have much in common with third world countries. Unlike highly taxed Denmark, the US lacks universal healthcare, has scant job security, and has a flimsy welfare net. Perhaps, she speculated, people are less likely to need a God if they live somewhere that is safe, stable, and prosperous. In other words, those in a secure and prosperous land, living without fear of health and financial disasters, are more likely to be happy than those in a more god-fearing country without universal healthcare, good job security, and a tightly knit welfare net. 

Helen Russell also found that several clichés about Denmark were true. First, there were a lot of candles. Lots and lots of them. (Get your hygge on.) Second, she discovered that its reputation for excellent pastries was well deserved. She mentioned this repeatedly, and it was clear that she had much firsthand (firstmouth?} experience to back up the claim. 

The bar manager listened with interest to Russell’s exposition of Denmark’s strengths. Brigette did not agree. She did not think of Denmark as a place to be happy. Instead, it was a land of enforced conformity that undercut individuality. Brigette had been happy to leave her homeland and had no desire to return. (Yes, she did know who Victor Borge was. I did not ask her about Hamlet.) 

Brigitte did not remain as bar manager for long. I was told that she and her husband moved to France. I hope she is happy.

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Snippets

I overheard the man say, “I tried to get a haircut today, but all the barbers were closed for Yom Kippur.” I had some questions.

 

I had an interesting dinner conversation about whether parents should distribute money equally to their children or give more to those who have the greatest need. No consensus. What do you think?

 

Years ago a man at my door told me that he was collecting signatures so that one of the communist parties could get on the ballot. I signed it thinking that people should have the chance to vote communist if they want to. That was democracy. But I have wondered if my action placed me on an FBI or other national security watch list. I have thought of filing a Freedom of Information Act request to see what the FBI has recorded about me, but then I wondered about how I would feel if they had no such entries. I might feel as if my life had been wasted.

 

“There are grounds for suspecting, in other words, that there exists a secret constitution, whose first article runs: The security of power is based on the insecurity of the citizens.” Leonardo Sciascia, Death and the Knight (translated from the Italian by Joseph Farrell.)

 

I am not proud that in scanning the obituaries I feel some satisfaction when I find that a vegan has died of cancer.

 

Even though I am told that meditation can have wonderful effects, I don’t do it. I am afraid that it might give me inner peace.

 

“So, a little morphine, a good sweat, and a bowel movement—the cure for everything that ails you.” Charles Frazier, Varina.

 

At the performance, Temesgen Zeleke played the Ethiopian krar lyre. An interesting instrument, but who knew? His bio said that he “performs regularly with Ethiojazz legend Mulatu Astatke.” Who knew that?

 

A half dozen baseball scouts were sitting nearby at a Staten Island Yankees baseball game. Most were young; some looked as if they might have been in high school last May. I was not surprised when I saw one put his retainers in.

 

At a New York Yankees game, the message board proclaimed, “Susan G, I married you because you are a Yankee fan.” Is that romantic? He married not for her eyes or thoughtfulness or sexiness or love. It would be much more meaningful if he married her even though she was a Yankee fan.

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The Politically Incorrect Confirmation Hearings

 

John F. Kennedy’s watershed speech to the Greater Houston Ministerial Association in September 1960 still reverberates. Kennedy, of course, was a Catholic, and a group of Protestant ministers that election year had promised to “oppose with all powers at our command, the election of a Catholic to the Presidency of the United States.” Norman Vincent Peale, one of the most revered clergymen in the country, headed another religious group that stated that the Catholic Church was a “political as well as a religious organization” that had frequently repudiated the sacred principle “that every man shall be free to follow the dictates of his conscience in religious matters.” Protestants and Other Americans United for the Separation of Church and State stated that it could not avoid the “fact that one church in the U.S., the largest church operating on American soil, officially supports a world-wide policy of partial union of church and state where it has the power to enforce such a policy.”

In his masterful Houston speech, Kennedy responded:

I believe in an America where the separation of church and state is absolute, where no Catholic prelate would tell the president (should he be Catholic) how to act, and no Protestant minister would tell his parishioners for whom to vote; where no church or church school is granted any public funds or political preference; and where no man is denied public office merely because his religion differs from the president who might appoint him or the people who might elect him.

I believe in an America that is officially neither Catholic, Protestant nor Jewish; where no public official either requests or accepts instructions on public policy from the Pope, the National Council of Churches or any other ecclesiastical source; where no religious body seeks to impose its will directly or indirectly upon the general populace or the public acts of its officials; and where religious liberty is so indivisible that an act against one church is treated as an act against all. . . .

Whatever issue may come before me as president — on birth control, divorce, censorship, gambling or any other subject — I will make my decision in accordance with these views, in accordance with what my conscience tells me to be the national interest, and without regard to outside religious pressures or dictates. And no power or threat of punishment could cause me to decide otherwise.

But if the time should ever come — and I do not concede any conflict to be even remotely possible — when my office would require me to either violate my conscience or violate the national interest, then I would resign the office; and I hope any conscientious public servant would do the same.

Kennedy’s speech defused his “Catholic issue,” helped him win the election, and has had a lasting effect. Mainstream figures no longer question a Catholic’s fitness for the presidency. I don’t remember John Kerry’s religion being raised in a negative way at all when he ran for president. Indeed, we have gone further. Polite political society tends to eschew any questions about how an office seeker’s religious beliefs might affect his governmental performance. (See, e.g., Mitt Romney.) Even if, however, this is generally a good thing, there are times that we should drop this political correctness.

Stretch your mind to the now unthinkable and imagine that a practicing  Muslim has been nominated to the Supreme Court. Should Senators inquire how the nominee’s religious beliefs might affect his judicial duties? Should he be asked about his views of Sharia law and how those views might influence his interpretation of the Constitution? Should he be asked about Islamic beliefs concerning the roles of women in society and how this might affect his constitutional interpretation?

Look again at what Kennedy pledged. He stated that if his presidential duties conflicted with his religious conscience, he would resign the presidency. He, in effect, promised to be a secular president. Should we demand that the hypothetical Muslim Supreme Court nominee make similar promises and then gauge the sincerity of his response?

Perhaps the most significant development from Kennedy’s speech has been on the Supreme Court. We have not elected another Catholic as President, but the Supreme Court, which for generations had but one Roman Catholic, now has five Catholics out of the eight justices. The conservative bloc of four are all Catholic men: John Roberts, Clarence Thomas, Samuel Alito, and Neil Gorsuch, three of whom were educated in Catholic schools. Brett Kavanaugh, also educated in Catholic schools, if confirmed, is expected to join those four men on the conservative wing of the Court.

Kavanaugh’s confirmation process, however, has avoided important issues. I am not referring here to Professor Ford’s allegations and whether she or the nominee have been treated fairly, but to the politically incorrect topic of Kavanaugh’s religious views. JFK, who attended public schools, maintained that his religious views were irrelevant in his quest for the White House. In that Houston speech, he stated, “I am not the Catholic candidate for president. I am the Democratic Party’s candidate for president, who happens to be Catholic.” Even so, Protestant evangelicals opposed Kennedy. Evangelicals today, on the other hand, enthusiastically ly support Kavanaugh. Why? Because part of the reason that Kavanaugh was nominated and has such support is because it is believed that his religious background will affect his constitutional interpretations. Thus, his religious views are germane to whether he should be on the Supreme Court, and he should be asked about them.

For example: Does he believe that abortion is a sin? If ruling as a justice would preserve a woman’s right to choose, would he be committing a sin? Does he believe that artificial contraception is a sin? Would he feel that he is committing a sin if he preserved or extended people’s access to birth control? Are LGBTQ people committing sins because of their sexuality? Would he be committing a sin if he preserves, recognizes, or extends their constitutional rights? And furthermore, Judge Kavanaugh, do you believe that it is God’s will that women have a limited role in the Catholic Church? How does that affect your views about the issues that affect women’s role in society that come before the Court? Have the sexual abuse scandals in the Church affected your thinking about other sexual abuse and harassment claims that come to court? Would you resign if your faith conflicts with your duties as a Supreme Court Justice?

John F. Kennedy addressed the connection between his religious beliefs and his governmental duties. We should end the present incorrect political correctness and seek answers to such questions from a Supreme Court nominee.

RELATED POST: https://ameliasdad.blog/?s=borked

Posted on by rjonakait

The New Left Needs Epithets

I occasionally receive emails from someone who monitors right wing media, and they indicate that those on the far right often castigate other conservatives. These far rightists seem to nitpick over some of the smallest details and claim that others are not truly conservative—that they are in, essence, illegitimate conservatives. In 2016, the term “cuckservative” started appearing more often to denigrate those who did not hold the right right views, although I would not be surprised if other terms, unbeknownst to me, have now emerged.

This looks like an extension of the RINO movement–Republican In Name Only–starting in the 1990s. (Of course, there were similar attempts to purge even earlier, but without the RINO name. Remember Rockefeller Republicans?) But the name calling over ideological lint mostly makes me think back to the beginning of my legal career when I worked with various people who regarded themselves as socialists. These people had long, arcane arguments among themselves, although I believe they would have said that they had political discussions. When they started arguing about which socialist organization most resolutely carried forward or subverted Trotskyite principles, I did not laugh; I tuned out.

I had little interest in their disputes because I did not even know what they meant by socialism. I gathered it somehow differed from communism, but I thought that both involved the state or the government or the workers owning or controlling the means of production. Their discussions over arcane positions just seemed silly since it seemed clear that no socialist was going to be elected to office.

I did remember one Frank Zeidler, a socialist, who had been mayor of Milwaukee throughout the 1950s. While my impression was that he had been regarded as a good mayor, I did not know how as a socialist his positions were different from others who might have thought of themselves as progressive or liberal. (Zeidler, I believe, was aided because Milwaukee’s mayoralty election was nonpartisan, and he did not have to run under a socialist party label.) I did not know what in America makes a person a socialist.

I also knew that in the early and mid-twentieth century, people proclaiming themselves socialist were elected to various offices, but I had assumed that no socialist would ever be elected again. Thus, I was surprised when I first learned that Bernie Sanders, one-time mayor of Burlington, Vermont, and then U.S. Senator from Vermont, was a Democratic Socialist and that others now adopt that banner. If Democratic Socialism is a new movement, I don’t know what it means. If you do, let me know. I recently asked friends what Democratic Socialism was. Both quickly replied, “It’s what used to be called liberalism.” Indeed, in running for the Democratic nomination for President, Sanders seemed to indicate that he was not much different from other Democrats, and his ideas could fit within that party. Why else would he have sought to be head of that party?

I can’t take this new left seriously. It should learn from the alt-right who seems to have learned from the old left. To be seen as a new ideological movement, this new left needs to find things to argue about among themselves for the sake of purity. I don’t mean that there must be cell meetings where the true meaning of Bakunin’s collectivist anarchism is so furiously debated that violence is imminent. However, a political movement, to be a viable, apparently has to find ways to denigrate others who seem to hold similar, but not precisely the same, views.

Insults have to be found. I am told that “cuckservative” is a mashup of cuckold and conservative. The new Democratic Socialists need something like that. How about pervgressive? So for example, that president said he cared about liberal and progressive issues, but helped the deregulation of the investment industry, which aided his friends and donors on Wall Street; hurt American workers with NAFTA; signed a law that made it easier to discriminate in the guise of religion; supported the near gutting of habeas corpus; backed draconian drug sentences that disproportionately affected non-whites; did little to nothing about the stagnation of middle-class wages; and set back the reform of health care. That president was a real pervgressive.

RELATED POST: https://ameliasdad.blog/?s=derrida

 

Posted on by rjonakait

Brendan Fraser’s Belly

I would like to give the impression that I am an intrinsically intellectual, sophisticated being. Surely there must be some truth in that. I have read Austen and Dickens and Dreiser and Dos Passos and Fitzgerald and Atwood and Franzen. I have read Kant and Locke and Neibuhr. I have discussed whether the Guns of August did capture the causes of World War I and whether the Trail of Tears was one of the roots of the Civil War. Even before the bubble burst, I had discussions about how the subprime market was going to cause problems. I have listened to Mahler and Dvorak. I have made quenelle and polenta with a chicken liver sauce. I know a fair amount of Cole Porter and Gershwin. I can discourse on the famous fighter plane scene in the Best Years of our Life and Brando’s role as a disabled soldier. I, of course, know the difference between robbery and burglary, and perhaps the differences between a bordeaux, burgundy, and a barolo. I have taken a course on Renaissance art and admired Michelangelo’s David.

Sometimes, however, I feel that this is all a fraudulent front because I know that I am attracted to low pursuits. I have, for example, loved the hardly-high humor of Jay Ward. He first got me with Crusader Rabbit and Tom Terrific and the exclamation of Wow-watausa, Wisconsin. His most enduring creations, of course, are Rocky and Bullwinkle. I enjoy the flying squirrel, the moose, Boris, and Natasha, but when I think of Jay Ward I dredge up memories of the many Saturday mornings in my early twenties when death from a hangover approached. I got through the queasy feelings by having a beer and a lot of chocolate and watching George of the Jungle on TV. I can’t sing, but in my mind I can still hear the theme song, with the line, “Watch out for that treeeeee.”

I did not want to wreck my memories of the animated version and how much it helped me on those Saturday mornings, so I did not see the live movie of “George of the Jungle” in the theater, but eventually I saw it on TV, and to my surprise, liked it. It was the first time I had seen Brendan Fraser, who to my male eye, looked gorgeous. I don’t think I had ever seen a better-looking person. (Yes, I admire beauty in all genders. So does the spouse, and we often point out three-blockers—someone who it is worth going three blocks out of your way to get a glimpse of–to each other.)

I did not think about Fraser one way or the other after that, at least for a while.  I have not seen him in most of his blockbuster movies, but then I saw him in Gods and Monsters, with Ian McKellen, where both he and McKellen were terrific and in The Quiet American, where both he and Michael Caine were terrific (or as I think of it, tom-terrific.) Those movies made me see Fraser as a fine actor, so when a few years back he came to Broadway, I went to see him. (Or to be more honest, memories of those movies and a discount ticket got me to the theater.) The play was an English adaptation of a Norwegian novel and movie based on that novel, Elling. The play had its problems, but Fraser was good, as was the woman, Jennifer Coolidge. The evening was made, however, by the performance of Frazer’s co-star, Denis O’Hare. But, I shamefacedly confess, I was most pleased by something else. I loved seeing Fraser in his underwear. No, this was not out of prurient interest or another of my admirations for physical beauty. Instead I took a certain delight because his belly looked almost like mine. By that, I mean protruding, rounded, you know what I mean. At first I thought it was stage padding, but I took some pleasure in the fact that as the play went on, the curved tummy seemed real.

My pleasure was not entirely pleasing. It conflicted with that projected savoir-faire image. But I knew that my delight was not out of keeping with at least part of me. In addition to some other low pursuits, I can like low comedy, although I maintain that Jay Ward’s humor was far above that. (I do confess, however, that I think Curly was a great comedian, and there is nothing sophisticated about the Three Stooges humor.) I just hope that this lowness in me that I felt in the theater that does not rule out all chances of intellectualism and sophistication, but I also know that I always have at least a little inward smile whenever I see a man who has hit middle age with a prominent belly. Except when I look in the mirror.