Allen and Joe

After he called members of Congress’ Progressive Caucus “Communists,” several commentators compared Congressman Allen West to Joe McCarthy.

It’s a bad comparison.

McCarthy’s charges were dishonest at best, paranoid at worst, and he did a lot of damage to a lot of of people and to the country as a whole. But give him credit for one thing–he did know what a communist was.

West, on the other hand, is a loon and an embarrassment even by the standards of today’s Tea Party GOP. (Google him if you are unfamiliar with his delusional worldview.) I doubt he could define “communist” if his life depended on it. His latest paranoid rant is worth mentioning only because it is a slightly exaggerated example of a much more common–and worrisome–aspect of what passes for political discourse these days.

Increasingly, Americans use words as epithets, rather than to communicate ideas. Terms like “liberal” “evangelical” “socialist” “fascist” and the like are thrown around by people who clearly have no idea what those labels mean. The result is that we no longer have arguments between people who hold different points of view, we have tantrums. As a colleague of mine noted a few months ago, after one  disheartening episode of political pique, when a serious legislator suggests a course of action, he won’t be countered with reasons why that proposal is flawed, but with the functional equivalent of “you’re a poopy-head!”

In a sane world, people like Allen West would be medicated, not elected to Congress.

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I Just Don’t Understand

There are a lot of positions conservatives take that I understand, although I disagree with them. There are sincere anti-abortion people who believe life begins at conception, for example. Belief in “fiscal responsibility” leads many people to draw (bad) analogies to household budgets and disputes over what sorts of behaviors actually are fiscally responsible.

I even understand–I think–where less intellectually respectable positions come from. The desire to roll back women’s rights to birth control, equal pay and similar markers of equality, the hysterical response to same-sex marriage (or even equal civil rights) for GLBT folks, the punitive attitudes toward immigrants and similar attitudes are pretty clearly part and parcel of a profound unease with contemporary realities, and a desire to return to a (largely imaginary) past.

But what in the world motivates opposition to mass transit?

A couple of years ago, Chris Christie–the Republican Governor of New Jersey–killed one of the most important transit projects in the country: a tunnel that would have linked his state to Manhattan and relieved the congestion that currently chokes both. At the time, he claimed his reasons were financial–that New Jersey’s share of the costs were simply too high.

Yesterday, it turned out he was lying.  Not mistaken, not misinformed. Lying.

I hope everyone reading this will click through and read the whole report. This is absolutely bizarre behavior, but what makes it worse is a passing reference in the article to the fact that opposition to mass transit has become part of the conservative “creed.”

Why in the world would someone have a philosophical opposition to transit? I certainly understand believing that a particular project is not well thought-out, or too expensive or otherwise flawed, but opposition to all mass transit? To suggest such a belief sounds paranoid.

The tunnel Christie killed is desperately needed, and had been planned for many years. It would have relieved congestion and helped the environment (okay, I realize that conservatives also reject science and the fact of climate change, but still). If built on schedule, it would also have created jobs at a time when those jobs were desperately needed.

I thought Christie was stupid and short-sighted for pulling the plug over up-front costs that would be recouped (many times over) over the long-term. But stupid and short-sighted are explicable; flat-out lying in order to justify an otherwise inexplicable decision is beyond my ability to understand.

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The Legacy of “Our Man Mitch”

The NorthWest Times of Indiana has an article detailing the devastation that tax caps are visiting on Indiana’s municipalities. We can thank Mitch Daniels for leading the charge to place these caps in the state’s constitution, where they will continue to strangle local governments until we manage the difficult job of passing a constitutional amendment.

WTHR relayed the result of an environmental group’s investigation that found Indiana’s rivers and streams the most polluted in the nation–no surprise to local environmentalists, who have witnessed the Administration’s distaste for environmental regulation.

Indiana’s much-touted “balanced budget” was achieved without touching tax breaks for business (and in some cases, by increasing them)–by cutting programs that aid those poor and disadvantaged citizens least able to access the political process or otherwise protect themselves.

And–as we’ve seen over the past couple of months–there’s mounting evidence that this Administration can’t even keep its own books.

Add to these “factoids” the war this administration has waged against public workers, it’s divisive, politically-motivated attack on private-sector unions, its willingness to sell off state assets and privatize everything in sight, and we are left with a legacy that will last long after Mitch mounts his motorcycle and rides off into the sunset.

You’ve got to give the Governor credit: he has created a persona that is entirely at odds with reality. Mitch “the knife” was a disaster as Budget Director; he took Clinton’s healthy budget and proceeded to facilitate creation of Bush’s enormous deficits. His reputation as a businessman, rather than a politician, rests on jobs in “government affairs”–that is, as a lobbyist. His standing in the national party rests on a fiction of fiscal expertise and a contrast with undeniably pathetic competition.

Whoever wins the gubernatorial election in November will inherit a broken state that has steadily been stripped of the tools needed to fix it. Of course, if that person is Mike Pence, he won’t notice. He’ll just add a dash of theocracy and an emphasis on social issues, and finish the task of turning Indiana into Mississippi.

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Loss of Trust

In 2009, I wrote a book titled Distrust, American Style in which I argued that a loss of trust in our social institutions–and especially in our government–has had significant negative consequences for our ability to function as a productive society.

Things haven’t improved since 2009. If anything, our levels of distrust have continued to grow, and for good reason.

A couple of days ago, major news outlets reported the emergence of a legal memorandum generated during the George W. Bush Administration. There was evidence that the Administration had attempted to destroy all copies, for obvious reasons: the memorandum opined that the “enhanced interrogation” techniques being employed and defended by the Bush Administration were war crimes. Whether one agrees with that assessment or with the more accommodating analysis provided by John Yoo, it is clear that the White House was aware that their actions raised significant legal and constitutional issues, and that it was prepared to ignore both those issues and the rule of law.

It would be comforting to conclude that such actions were confined to one rogue Administration, or at least to the federal level, but evidence suggests otherwise; in fact, there has been a rash of disclosures of local-level prosecutorial misconduct recently.  In Illinois, a recent investigation of the criminal justice system uncovered evidence that–among other improprieties–prosecutors had failed to turn over documents in their possession proving that a man convicted of double murder in 1992 could not possibly have committed the crime he was accused of — because he was in police custody at the time. (But the police managed to get him to sign a confession. It is estimated that some 25% of criminal confessions are extracted from people who are actually innocent of the crime to which they confess–another rather disturbing bit of data.)

Add to such unsettling disclosures the constant drum-beat reporting corporate misdeeds, and the pervasive belief that wealthy individuals are able to “game the system” in their favor–able to buy favorable tax treatment, able to escape regulation, able to evade the consequences of predatory behaviors, able to elect public officials that will do their bidding–and you get a level of cynicism that undermines social cohesiveness and our ability to come together to address the issues that face us.

When people no longer trust our governing institutions, it is easy to sell them conspiracy theories. It is easy to turn groups against each other. (Want evidence? Look at the recent disclosures about the tactics employed by the National Organization for Marriage!)

We can’t rebuild trust by wishing it back. It will take a national effort to insure that our institutions are trustworthy–beginning with government. Because if we don’t trust our common institutions–government, yes, but also the church, major league sports, businesses and financial institutions, none of which have exactly covered themselves with glory lately–we certainly aren’t going to trust each other.

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Religious War and Peace

Since today marks both Passover and Easter, it seems appropriate to consider the role of religion in American life–or at least, theories addressing that role.

So in today’s New York Times, Ross Douthat bemoans the disappearance of what he calls “the religious center”–what many of us who are not Christians experienced as something rather less benign than the unifying force he nostalgically remembers. The problem with a generally accepted religious identity is that those who don’t share that identity are marginalized, forced out of not just the religious but also the civic mainstream.

As Douthat recognizes, the radical diversity that characterizes the modern era makes that sort of religious and civic uniformity impossible.

There’s an old rhyme: “Twixt optimist and pessimist, the difference is droll; the optimist sees the doughnut, the pessimist the hole.” Douthat ignores the “doughnut” of greater civic inclusiveness and focuses upon the “hole” of diminished identification with community.

It’s easy to fault Douthat’s indifference to the merits of inclusiveness, but there is more than a nugget of truth to his assertion that a country needs an overarching theology to which most citizens subscribe. The problem lies in identifying that theology in a way that respects  our religious diversity and our constitutional commitment to religious autonomy.

The United States is one of the most religiously diverse countries in the world. Furthermore, even though the U.S. remains predominantly Christian, doctrinal differences among Christian denominations are often as deep as the differences between Christians and Jews or Muslims. Adherents of virtually every religion on the globe live in the U.S., and recent polls put the number of secular Americans (those unaffiliated with any religious body) at approximately 16%.

Douthat is certainly correct that this diversity poses a significant challenge to America’s social and governing institutions: what commonalities enable and define the collective civic enterprise? What makes one an American? The United States’ national motto is e pluribus unum, “out of the many, one.” Prominent social and political theorists have long argued that a common belief structure, or “civil religion,” is required in order to turn the many into the one.

The term “civil religion” was first popularized in 1967 by Robert N. Bellah, in an article that remains the standard reference for the concept. The proper content of such a civil religion, however, has been the subject of debate since the Revolutionary War. Over the past decades, as the nation’s diversity has dramatically increased, that debate has taken on added urgency, with political theorists, sociologists and scholars of religion all offering their perspectives to political and religious leaders.  (Douthat’s column betrayed no awareness  of or familiarity with that ongoing discussion.)

In a culture as diverse as that of the United States, a “civil religion” or common value structure provides citizens with a sense of common purpose and identity. Despite the claims of some conservative Christians, Christianity does not provide that social glue; the United States is not and has never been an officially Christian Nation, although it has historically been culturally Protestant.

As I wrote in a brief article a few years ago,

“The U.S. Constitution contains no reference to deity, and specifically rejects the use of any religious test for citizenship or public office. In order to be consistent with the Constitution, any civil religion must respect the nation’s commitment to individual autonomy in matters of belief, while still providing an overarching value structure to which most, if not all, citizens can subscribe. This is no small task in a nation founded upon the principle that government must be neutral among belief systems. This constitutionally-required state neutrality has long been a source of considerable political tension between citizens intent upon imposing their religious beliefs on their neighbors and those who reject efforts to enforce religious hegemony. Thus far, no proposed value system or theorized civil religion has been entirely able to resolve that conflict. To the extent that Americans do endorse an overarching ideology or civil religion, it is a belief system based upon the values of individual liberty and equal rights enshrined in the U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights.”

America’s founding principles–set out in the Declaration, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights–provide the only content of a “civil religion” capable of providing both the requisite “social glue” and respect for individuals’ right to their own religious convictions.

That sort of civil religion will never satisfy those who believe they are called by their God to impose their “Truth” on their neighbors, but the alternative is the sort of religio-political warfare that has become depressingly familiar, and that Douthat quite properly criticizes.

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