Posted on by rjonakait

Twelve Ways to Win

In the last post, “77 Million,” I wrote that the real story of the last presidential election was not the switch to Trump, which was not large, but the “lost votes,” the many who had voted for Biden but did not vote at all this year. A story in a Pennsylvania news source neatly illustrates the point. A Philadelphia district that is overwhelmingly Black had shifted to Trump, but in that district Trump had gotten only three more votes than he had in 2020. Harris, however, had received 81 fewer ballots than Biden had four years earlier.

After the previous post, a friend said that he agreed with my analysis but wondered what my explanation was for the lost votes. I thought more about that and realized that I did not have a single overarching explanation but only a collection of partial possibilities. Here are some of them.

One. Donald Trump is a remarkable politician. His dominant qualities—liar, ignoramus, bully, fearmonger, bad economist, embarrassing dancer—should make him a laughingstock, but despite these characteristics, or perhaps because of them, he connects deeply with a broad swath of Americans. They are devoted to him like teenage girls to a K-pop boy band. There’s a major difference, however: American devotion to him has not been a passing fancy; we don’t seem to grow out of it. Other presidents—Reagan, Clinton, Obama—had devoted admirers, but not like Trump. To me the attraction is inexplicable, but I recognize his draw.

Two. Americans have short memories, and Trump benefited. In 2020, almost all voters held strong and accurate images of the Trump presidency. Despite the pandemic, the economy was about the same as it was under Obama, with some indicators stronger and some weaker than in the previous four years. (E.g., inflation was low under Trump, but it was even lower under Obama.) However, all was not well in the country. Crime had started to increase under Trump which was disturbing. Life expectancy had started to fall even apart from the pandemic. The border was a problem, and Trump had failed to fix it. Even Obama had deported more people than Trump had. Trump’s wall seemed a joke. His attempts to erase the Affordable Care Act were disturbing. Deficits skyrocketed. He played footsy with dictators, which was disturbing. His many grift-like actions were disturbing. A lot of things were disturbing, but that was all forgotten four years later. Moreover, of all the bad things that were predicted to happen because of his four years did not happen. For example, Biden continued the China tariffs that liberals had decried ruinous. Biden continued Trump border policies that were labeled ineffectual and heartless. More and more politicians supported the border wall. Trump was still the same Trump, but to many he did not look as bad as he had in 2020.

Three. Americans are not only forgetful; they are ignorant. Americans want simple answers, and Trump benefited. The border problem has many causes. We need a reform of our immigration laws. We need more border agents. We need more immigration judges. The problem is fueled by criminal gangs and political unrest in various countries. The problem is exacerbated by poor economies in various countries. It is intensified by the wider spread of media coverage that tells more and more people that they can find a better life if they can get to the U.S. And so on. Americans don’t want to confront such complexities. They don’t want to concede that the problem has been years in the making. They want a simple answer. And to many, the border problem is simply the fault of the Biden-Harris administration. (When conservatives refer to 2017 to 2021, they never say the Trump-Pence administration.)

More simplistic thinking follows: If the border were tightened, for example, we could tackle our fentanyl problem. (We have already forgotten that Trump promised to solve the fentanyl crisis when he ran in 2016.) Inflation. Well, inflation was the consequence of many complex events, but Americans didn’t want to understand that. Neither did we want to know that many developed countries had a worse inflation problem than we had, and that perhaps our inflation, bad as it was, was not so bad. Americans did not want to hear that gas and oil trade in an international market, that supply chains are international, and that the U.S. government does not control these markets. Instead, we want a simple answer, and that answer was that inflation was the fault of the Biden-Harris administration.

Four. Fear sells, and Trump benefited. Many campaigns have tried to make the electorate fearful about the consequences of the other side’s actions. In the first election I paid attention to, JFK stressed a “missile gap” at a time when nuclear concerns were high. (That gap seemed to disappear once he took office.) This year Trump and his acolytes did a much better job of spreading fear than the other side—fear of crime generally, fear of immigrant crime more specifically, fear of immigration, fear of fentanyl, fear of transgender people. That last fear should not be underestimated. For most of the election season, I was in Pennsylvania, a swing state for the presidential election with a closely contested Senate seat and several close House races. It seemed as if every third political ad — and the ads ran nonstop — by those on the right brought up Democratic support for trans people. They damned Harris for supporting government payment for gender-transforming operations. They hinted that Democratic candidates were going to allow trans people to play girls’ sports and use girls’ bathrooms. This country may have become more accepting of gays, but many, many Americans see trans people as unsettling and dangerous. Trump and his supporters benefited.

Five. The media has had a fixation on Trump, and Trump benefited. News sources, including, or perhaps especially, liberal ones reported at length whatever Trump was doing or saying. This was not totally surprising. In the run-up to the election, Trump was on the receiving end of multiple lawsuits including his conviction of 34 felony counts in New York. Nevertheless, this coverage overwhelmed coverage of Biden’s accomplishments (how many of us can summarize what is in the Inflation Reduction Act?) and explanations for problems like rising prices or the border. Since memory-impaired Americans seemed less concerned about the bizarre and dangerous behavior of Trump in 2024 than they were in 2020, the media did Trump a favor by focusing on him and not other things.

Six. We don’t know how to handle misinformation, and that benefited Trump, too. A higher percentage of misinformation came from the right than the left, and listeners ate it up.

Seven. Liberals and Democrats are poor at messaging. Who named it the Inflation Reduction Act? I know. I know. It was meant to reduce inflation, and it certainly did help. But it was hard not to hear it as a laugh line when the cost of milk and eggs and gas and mortgages was unusually high. Why didn’t they change the name and start focusing on all the good the Act accomplished?

Eight. But perhaps the chief cause of Trump’s (narrow) victory came throughout Biden’s term. While Americans were concerned about the border and inflation, Biden seemed indifferent to those problems. He might have been able to do little or nothing about them, but he should have appeared more concerned about them. He did not. And Trump won.

Similarly, every third ad against Harris I saw featured her being asked what she would have done differently from Biden. The response was the blank look of a doe in the headlights with the answer of “nothing.” It was powerful each time, and I saw it many, many times. Such a question had to be anticipated. How could she not have had a better immediate response? (Later on — too later on — she did.) There was also the never-ending clip of her crowing about the success of “Bidenomics.” Democrats should have been ready to explain what they were hoping to accomplish and what they had accomplished. They did not. And Trump won.

Nine. In the eyes of many Americans the Democratic Party does not stand for anything, and Trump benefited. Worse: Democrats were seen as the party that stood for trans rights, defunding the police, DEI, and critical race theory. But what else? For many, Democrats didn’t stand for anything that benefited “ordinary” people. Biden’s support for the United Auto Workers made no dint in this perception.

Ten. Covid hurt Trump in 2020. It helped him this year. His inconsistent and bizarre reactions to the pandemic were fresh four years ago. Now many have selective memories of that time. Unless personally affected, few seem to remember that one million American died. Instead, today Covid is remembered by many as a time of unnecessary school closings that harmed kids and strained parents; of unnecessary face masks; of governmental overreach on vaccines and social distancing. These are all reasons to distrust the government, and Trumps surrogates did a great job of reminding us of this distrust. At the same time, some see the Democrats as the ones who believe in big government of the sort that made Covid more hellish. Trump benefited.

Eleven. Many are not ready for a woman to be the Commander-in-Chief. We cannot discount that this country continues to have a strong strain of misogyny. Trump benefited big time from it.

Twelve. What do you think contributed? I’d love to hear them.

Posted on by rjonakait

In the Realm of the Aged

I am a ‘tweener. I am older than Trump and younger than Biden. Knowing how age has affected me, I am concerned about the ages of both presidential candidates.

I, like almost everyone in my age bracket, suffers from the oft embarrassing tip-of-the-tongue syndrome. For example, an actor was in an ad. I tried to name him. I could say he was great in that movie with Jodie Foster, Silence of the Lambs. His name was on the tip of my tongue, but it did not immediately emerge. Of course, something like this happened when I was younger but not as often.

I have a related problem to the answer that won’t quite emerge. Sometimes I hear myself utter X and immediately know that X is not right. In a moment I may know I meant Y, and then I must quickly decide whether correcting myself is worth it.

This disturbs me, perhaps more than most others because I took pride in my trivia abilities. And, while I occasionally used to participate in trivia contests, I have vowed to eschew all future ones since they just make me feel old. Many of the questions have pop culture references that are too recent for me. That makes me feel old. I know I once knew the answer to some questions that I no longer know. That makes me feel old. And other questions produce that tip-of-the-tongue thing where only sometimes the answer emerges quickly enough to be useful. And that makes me feel old. The answers I can contribute to my trivia team do not make up for the inadequate, aged feelings, and I have retired from trivia.

Should these cognitive hiccups, which are normal in the aging process, disqualify me from being president? They should be put into context. I feel many of my cognitive powers are as strong — or at least nearly as strong — as ever, and perhaps some of the time even better now than before. I reason and think as well as any time in my adulthood. Whatever you might think of the quality of this blog, it would not have been better in 1980 or 2000. I no longer practice law, but I believe that I could write a brief of as good quality as I did in the past. I don’t believe that my mind has deteriorated in thinking about all sorts of problems and may even be better now because I bring more experiences and knowledge to bear.

The qualifying cognitive abilities to be president should not be determined by trivia gotcha questions, such as, Who is the leader of Kazakhstan? (Kazakhstan by land mass is one of the world’s ten largest nations. Can you name the other nine?) We should realize considering the magnitude of the job, that no person can know on their own everything they need to know to be an effective president. Instead, in judging a president or candidate, we need to know what kind of advisors he or she is likely to have. Will they be knowledgeable about Kazakhstan or whatever is the immediate matter of concern? Will they be able to present to a president in a comprehensible way what a president should know about the topic? Will they present all the information or only what they think the president will want to hear? If asked for opinions and recommendations, will they give unfiltered ones? Then our attention should turn to the president or presidential candidates. How well can these people absorb new information and analyze it? In other words, how well can the person learn and think?

However, we should remember that the learning and thinking required of a president is different from other successful folk. Generally, those who think and learn well do so only in a narrow path, and it is often embarrassing when they opine outside their lane. We have often seen the truth of what a wise person said: “Every person who has become famous for something ought to pray not to be interviewed on other things.” On the other hand, the president is a generalist. He or she must make decisions that span the globe and span multitudinous areas of expertise. A president must be able to learn and think about not just one subject but a whole world of subjects.

The public seldom gets direct knowledge about the crucial learning and thinking abilities of presidents or would-be presidents. We can only infer from other signals. How much a person does know about a range of topics is an indicator of how well that person has learned and, presumably, can learn. Whether a person indicates curiosity about a range of topics indicates a desire to learn.

There is another factor in this cognitive journey. I was once a trial attorney, and I believe that I could cross-examine and sum up as well as I did in days of yore. But a trial takes a lot of energy. Attention needs to be paid every moment during often long court days. After court ends, the attorney must retreat back to the office for hours of preparation for the next day. It can be exhausting. I know that I do not have the energy I once had, and it is possible, perhaps probable, that days of trial would sap my mental acuity. The energy to be a good president must be exponentially higher. Even if a person is able to think and reason well about a broad range of topics, energy, especially as the person ages, may wane in ways that affect mental acuity.

I am old. I believe that I still have a good mind. Even so, I am concerned about how the age of our candidates affects their mental abilities. However, the mental acuity of our leaders should always concern us. Gaffes in speech are not by themselves important. What truly matters is how well the person can learn, analyze, and make decisions and who the advisors will be.

Now. Examine for yourself the two gentlemen under consideration.

Posted on by rjonakait

High-Priced Gas

          People are complaining about gasoline prices. This has a note of irony since many are willing to pay more per gallon of bottled water than they do for gas. Water has regularly cost more than gas even though it is only a miniscule percentage of us who can’t just open a kitchen tap and get safe water.

          High-cost gasoline, however, has widespread economic effects, and it has a political impact that high-priced water does not. The president must at least look as if he is trying to tame the cost of gasoline even though we know that he can do very little in the short run to affect gas prices. Governors have suspended state gas taxes–modest help to the driving public. In a Catch-22 situation, suspending gas taxes limits income needed for road construction and maintenance. Voters, who may grumble about the rising price of gas, speak regularly about the substandard state of the roads.

          These politically understandable actions, however, do not address the more important issue: gasoline-powered cars cause pollution, which harms health and contributes to the death of many. Data show that gasoline-powered cars are a major part of the problem of climate change. We should be using less gasoline, but, once again, the present crisis indicates that we are not about to give up our combustion engines.

          People need cars to get to work, schools, and the grocery store. We have built a country that depends on private vehicles, and it is hard to see the path to a lesser dependence on them. Consciously or not, inexpensive gasoline has helped shape our work, housing, schooling, and recreational choices, and climate change and pollution have been the result.

          We have seen a move to electric and hybrid vehicles, and that is a good thing. Newer cars need less gas than cars made a generation ago, and there is renewed talk that car companies should increase the gas mileage for their fleets. Still, even among my friends who hug trees and clean streams, many of us drive bigger vehicles with lower gas mileage than we need. We are reluctant to give up big cars and trucks. It’s our God-given right, a right encouraged by cheap gas.

          Higher gas prices could be an impetus to lower our dependence on oil. Even so and even though our president and other sensible leaders believe we should act on climate change, politicians know that expensive gas can kill a political career. The governmental responses have been especially discouraging because they have not been targeted to help those most who are truly harmed by the pump prices—the non-wealthy working people with families who, in our present societal structure, must use their cars extensively.

          For many of us, our cars and how much we drive them are luxuries. Higher gas prices should be an incentive for us to burn less gas. And, of course, that would mean that oil companies had reduced profits. Many politicians will avoid that hard fight. After all, oil companies give big money to campaigns. It’s easier to blame the opposing party for high prices.

          The present situation is another reminder that the road to a better climate is hard and filled with potholes. Perhaps we should just give up the notion that we can stop the atmospheric devastation and figure out how to adapt to the inevitable.

Posted on by rjonakait

To Save Your Soul

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, and although Trump may have suggested that Joe Biden is somehow bad for the religious, voters don’t seem to be for or against the former Vice President because he is a Catholic. 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. (For example, there was little discussion of Mitt Romney’s Mormonism.) Even if, however, this is generally a good thing, there are times that we should drop this political correctness.

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 highest court, which for generations had but one Roman Catholic, now has six Catholics out of the eight justices. The conservative bloc of five are all Catholic men: John Roberts, Clarence Thomas, Samuel Alito, Neil Gorsuch, and Brett Kavanaugh, and Amy Coney Barrett, also a Catholic, if confirmed, is expected to join those five men on the conservative wing of the Court. (On the liberal side, Sonia Sotomayor is also Catholic.) This Catholic domination of our highest court draws only a few comments as has the waning of white Anglo-Saxon Protestants on the judiciary, but, of course, it was once much different. Aristide R. Zolberg in A Nation by Design: Immigration Policy in the Fashioning of America (2008) reports that of the federal judges appointed by Harding, Coolidge, and Hoover, 170 were Protestant, 8 Catholic, and 8 Jewish. (Change came with FDR. Over a quarter of his judicial appointments were Catholic.)

 JFK, who attended public schools, maintained that his religious views were irrelevant in his quest for the White House. In that 1960 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. His speech may have diffused some anti-Catholic animus, but the evangelicals sixty years ago were still more than a little suspicious of a Catholic president.

The world is different today. Evangelicals today enthusiastically support Amy Coney Barrett. Their support is not in spite of her Catholicism but because of it. They assume that her religious background foretells constitutional and statutory interpretations that evangelicals and other conservatives want. Ads supporting Barrett’s nomination highlight that she is “grounded in faith” and is a “proud Christian.” What is widely reported to be her deep devotion to her religion is part of the reason she was nominated and is given as a reason she should be confirmed.

I expect, however, that she will maintain that her decisions will only be what the law and Constitution require and not because of her religion. She will in effect make a JFK-like pledge to be a secular justice in spite of what those ads and her supporters hint at. Conservatives will fulminate at any mention of religion in the confirmation hearing and suggest that questions that touch on her Catholicism would be an attack on religion that are un-American in our tolerant country. But there are questions that should be asked, and they are not an attack on religion. If, for example, a judicial candidate held a million dollars of stock in IBM, a Senator should be concerned about whether these holdings might affect the candidate’s potential decisions if IBM was a litigant before the court. Such Senatorial questions would not be an attack on the stock holding but a question about a potential conflict of interest.

Money, which can cause conflicts for judges, is a relatively trivial matter compared to concerns for devout Christians such as Barrett about immortal souls and eternal damnation. I am not a Catholic theologian, but my understanding is that the Catholic church maintains that abortion is a mortal sin, brings automatic excommunication, and, if unrepented, results in eternal damnation upon the sinner. In our country of the free exercise of religion, Barrett is entitled to those beliefs and no government official should criticize her for them. On the other hand, it is fair to ask whether those religious views would affect her secular job of being a Supreme Court Justice. Of course, state restrictions on abortions and even whether Roe v. Wade should stand may come to the court. Would Barrett be enabling others to commit a mortal sin if she believed that a pro-choice outcome was the correct legal decision? Would she herself be committing a sin by making a legal decision that goes against Church doctrine? Would she believe that she is putting her soul in jeopardy? I don’t know if the Church has ever denied sacraments to a judge because of judicial rulings, but at least some powerful Church officials have said that legislators who support pro-choice positions should be denied mass, an essential sacrament for a Roman Catholic. (Some church officials have aimed more widely than just at legislators. Last week a news story from La Crosse, Wisconsin, reported, “At St. James the Less, where the faithful eschewed masks, the Rev. James Altman denounced the Democrats. ‘You cannot be Catholic and be a Democrat, period,’ he said in a YouTube Video.”)

          Such questions are not attacking her religious beliefs but inquiring about impartiality. Can you be impartial in your judicial rulings if by your beliefs you are putting the immortal souls of others, and perhaps your own, in jeopardy? (Of course, such questions would be appropriate about issues other than Roe v. Wade and might also be asked about artificial contraception and LBGTQ rights.) And the real issue is not just impartiality, but the appearance of impartiality. A federal statute states, “Any justice, judge, or magistrate judge of the United States shall disqualify himself in any proceeding in which his impartiality might reasonably be questioned.” The judge must not just convince herself that she is impartial, she must appear to be impartial to others.

          Barrett co-authored a law review article in 1998 that is relevant for her confirmation. She considered that our Constitution permits capital punishment but that the Catholic church finds the death penalty immoral, placing Catholic judges in a moral and legal bind. The abstract to the article states that “litigants and the general public are entitled to impartial justice, which may be something a judge who is heedful of ecclesiastical pronouncements cannot dispense. .  . . While mere identification of a judge as Catholic is not sufficient reason for recusal under federal law, the authors suggest that the moral impossibility of enforcing capital punishment in such cases as sentencing, enforcing jury recommendations, and affirming are in fact reasons for not participating.” The secular law may authorize a death sentence, but Barrett suggests that a Catholic judge cannot impose capital punishment and goes on to maintain that a Catholic judge should recuse herself in the death penalty.

          The law review article was about the death penalty, but it seems to be an illustration of a broader position. If a Catholic judge has to choose between the law and moral strictures as laid down by the Church, the Catholic judge must take the moral road. However, that judge can avoid the dilemma through recusal.  The judge must remove herself from a case that presents such a conflict.

          Barrett, however, might think that there is no dilemma for her when it comes to abortion. She may believe that the Constitution does not protect a woman’s right to choose, a defensible position, and therefore conclude that there is no conflict between the law and her Catholic faith. But the litigants and public are entitled not only to impartial justice but also to the appearance of impartial justice. Just as a judge may sincerely maintain that his decision favoring IBM was impartial, others may think that his stock in IBM at least subconsciously affected the decision. There are reasons to question his impartiality. Barrett may sincerely maintain that she is being impartial in finding no constitutional right protecting abortion, but others will think that her faith affected her judgment at least subconsciously.

          The Senate Judiciary Committee should explore these issues with Amy Coney Barrett. Unless Barrett addresses them in a convincing manner, her intellectual integrity will be suspect, and that is neither good for her nor the Supreme Court.

The dilemma for the Catholic Supreme Court Justice between the law and the Catholic faith on morality does not mean that Barrett’s nomination to the Supreme Court should be rejected. A judge is different from a president. John F. Kennedy pledged that if his presidential duties conflicted with his religious conscience, he would resign the presidency. A president, however, does not have the ability to avoid issues through a recusal. A Supreme Court Justice, however, can avoid having to make decisions when there is an apparent conflict between her religious and secular duties, as there is for a Catholic judge in death penalty cases.

The Senate should be asking Barrett to pledge that when she believes that a legal decision might put her soul or the souls of others in mortal jeopardy, she will recuse herself. This would not be an attack on religion, but an attempt to secure the impartiality and the appearance of impartiality of our Supreme Court.

I can hear you saying, “But the other judges were not asked to make such a pledge.” And I answer, “They should have been.”

Posted on by rjonakait

Apology Accepted?

Recent calls have issued for Joe Biden to apologize for his treatment of Anita Hill. Whatever is right about that matter, I point out that Biden has apologized for actions taken decades ago. He did announce his regret, for example, for championing legislation that required harsh sentences for drug offenses, laws that helped lead to our country’s incredibly high incarceration rates.

But he is not the only public figure to backtrack. Kirsten Gillebrand, New York Senator now running for President, has walked back some of her views on immigration. Hillary Clinton in the 2016 campaign expressed regret for using the term “superpredators” two decades before. Indeed, it is not uncommon for those seeking public office to confess the error of past ways. (Of course, I don’t expect our current president to be in this throng. An apology from him is as likely as me snuggling up to a snot otter—see the last post.)

It is not just politicians seeking votes from the electorate who indicate that a view they once held has been replaced by a new position. The now Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh falls into that category. Kavanaugh worked for Ken Starr as Starr Javert-like pursued President Clinton. Kavanaugh doing his Starr turn sought the impeachment of President Clinton and stated at the time that sitting presidents did not have immunity from criminal liability. That criminal liability view changed, however. Kavanaugh indicated he saw the error of his earlier position when he served in the administration of President Bush (the elder) and witnessed firsthand the burdens of the presidency.

Of course, not every office holder or seeker announces a mea culpa when confronted with an inconvenient earlier statement. Often the public figure maintains that the previous statement has been taken out of context, or a twist is given to the long-ago position to make it seem not so bad, and assurances are given that the nominee has always believed something that is now politically palatable.

William Rehnquist in his hearings for both his confirmations as Associate Justice and Chief Justice of the Supreme Court fell into that category. Rehnquist, as a recent law school graduate, had been a clerk to Supreme Court Justice Robert Jackson. In that position while the landmark desegregation decision Brown v. Board of Education was pending, he had written a memorandum that defended the “separate-but-equal doctrine” justifying segregated schools. Saying that Brown was wrongly decided was not a way to get confirmation to Supreme Court positions in 1971 and 1986. Rehnquist testified in hearings in those years that the memo did not express his views, but those Justice Jackson, who conveniently or not, had passed on to the big schoolroom in the sky by then.

While Rehnquist maintained that he had held the “right” views all along, Biden, Gillebrand, Clinton, Kavanaugh, and many other public figures acknowledge a previous position while also stating that experience has led them to change their views. A knee jerk response is to see the newly stated belief as politically expedient and to think less of the person who enunciates it; to see that person as one whose beliefs are formed merely by testing which way the political wind blows.

We should not be too hasty in reaching the conclusion that a changed position is always cynical expediency. We would be telling our leaders that they should only believe what they did twenty, thirty, or forty years ago. The person who remains steadfast to all opinions and beliefs is a person who has gained no new knowledge, who has not learned from experience. In other words, a fool. I am reminded of a character in the play Wolf Hall who concluded that Thomas Moore could not be trusted because Moore continued to believe everything he had learned growing up. On the other hand, we don’t want someone who merely tergiversates. The person who repeatedly swings rapidly from one opinion to another can’t be a good leader.

(Continued May 6)