The Naked Quad Run (or “NQR”), a tradition at Tufts that consists of students sprinting naked through a snowy campus, is utterly ridiculous. Its end has been a long time coming and allowing it to continue would be indefensible. Or would it?
Running naked across campus is certainly objectionable, although baring it all for the world to see is hardly unique to the NQR. Streaking has a long history across campuses all over the country. And, though admittedly streaking is usually a solitary activity, naked winter runs, or just barely clothed ones, aren’t difficult to find either. Every year in December the Boston Globe carries pictures from a popular “Santa Speedo Run” that goes on in the Back Bay. And neither is drinking and running a novel combination—the Ras na hEireann, a 5k which took place only recently starting in Davis Square, included no less than 14 bars as sponsors, advertised post-race craic, and included a map to allow runners to easily get to the bars after the race.
An important difference between these sanctioned 5ks and the NQR, of course, is that they don’t encourage underage drinking. Sadly, as President Bacow himself will tell you, too much underage and binge drinking occurs at Tufts. The same is true in campuses across the country. For too many young people college is filled with weekend after weekend that they can’t remember. Although most students will grow out of this pattern, for some it will lead to lifelong dependency, potentially serious health effects, and, for a few, even to death. But ending the NQR won’t address these problems. Tufts students will continue to drink.
All of this isn’t to say the NQR isn’t ridiculous. It certainly is. But it is too easy for people outside the Tufts community to scoff and roll their eyes. The fact of the matter is that the ridiculousness is exactly what the thing is about. Regardless of what anyone else thinks, many Tufts students found the NQR to be an invaluable opportunity to blow off steam, bond as fellow Jumbos, and to create valuable college memories. While we all might prefer if Tufts students spent their free time working in soup kitchens (and many Tufts students do), it just isn’t going to happen.
The real question is what the Tufts student body will choose to replace the NQR with. I’m sure many students will feel betrayed by having a long running tradition unilaterally ended by a President who already has one foot out the door. But it could be an opportunity to do some good, and possibly some good for the larger community. The NQR isn’t Tufts only running tradition, after all. Every year Tufts sends two hundred runners to the Boston Marathon and raises large sums for scientific research. On April 10th of this year, Tufts will also host a 5K to raise money for a youth village in Rwanda. Given that the NQR began as a way to protest coed housing on campus, it might be possible to have a FCQR (Fully Clothed Quad Run) to raise money for a local women’s charity or scholarship. Surely something productive can come from the end of the NQR.
In other words, if the NQR has been a source of tension between Tufts and the surrounding community in the past it’s that much more important to think constructively about what can be done now that it’s finished. Failing to do so would be more indefensible than the NQR was in the first place.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The Country After Tucson
More than a month has passed since the shootings that occurred in Tucson, Arizona that left nineteen wounded, including Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, and six dead, including Chief Judge John Roll and nine year old Christina-Taylor Green. Now that some time has passed, it is worth taking a moment to look back at what happened, how we reacted to it, and what we might learn from both.
Immediately following the January 8th shootings there was a brief, stunned silence. Soon after came muted bickering that gathered strength until the Wednesday after the event. On that evening, President Obama gave a speech that gracefully captured the moment and consoled the nation. The President’s speech marked a turning point in the national consciousness. As with any tragedy, having come somewhat to terms with what had happened, the nation felt a strong desire to move forward. But doing so prematurely would be a mistake.
The President’s speech was undoubtedly about healing. And it was also about tamping down on the fiery rhetoric that pervades our national conversation. But it didn’t seek those things as an end in themselves. The speech was a call to action. It sought to cool our national rhetoric because it is the best way for us to work together effectively.
Unfortunately, it is in untangling the skein of problems that led to those shootings on January 8th that we have most failed. The two most obvious issues raised by the shooting are the effectiveness of our gun control laws and our mental health services. But virtually nothing of consequence has been said about how to address those two topics since that tragic day.
On mental health issues, we are stuck trying to find a perfect balance between public safety and individual liberty. Following years of forced institutionalization in the early to mid-twentieth century we have abhorred the idea of forced commitment absent overwhelming evidence. As a result, people who need assistance and supervision, but will not seek it themselves, are left to their own devices.
On gun rights, the national conversation was stillborn. Attempts to reenact the Federal Assaults Weapons Ban, lapsed since 2004, have repeatedly proven fruitless. Representative Carolyn McCarthy’s (D-NY) less ambitious effort to limit the sale of clips with more than 10 rounds has been equally unsuccessful. Even legislation by Republican Congressman Peter King (NY) preventing citizens from bringing firearms within 1000 feet of government officials--enacted in direct response to the shooting of Representative Giffords--looks unlikely to pass.
None of these solutions are without valid complaints. They may not even represent the best way to move forward. But there must be a way forward. Of all the possible responses to the shootings in Tucson, the most troubling is the assertion by some guns rights supporters that, no matter what, people who truly wish to commit crimes will do so. In no other aspect of life do we accept such unabashed defeatism. Earthquakes, too, will happen, and that has not prevented us from strengthening building codes, developing early warning mechanisms, and attempting to protect ourselves in a thousand different ways. People who argue forcefully of the need for thirty-three round clips also need to provide forceful ideas and solutions as to how tragedies like what occurred in Tucson this can be avoided in the future.
To date, neither side of the aisle has forged a path forward. The President, so eloquent in his speech, has chosen not to speak out directly on these issues, presumably preferring to wait until we have a greater distance from the acts of that horrible day. We now have such a distance. Of course, that doesn’t mean that there are not people who will claim the tragedy is being used for political gain. But there will always be such people. The people of the United States understand that that not every attempt to address the cause of a tragedy is a politicization of that tragedy. Indeed, they understand that failing to even attempt to address the underlying causes of the shootings in Tucson would be a tragedy in of itself.
Immediately following the January 8th shootings there was a brief, stunned silence. Soon after came muted bickering that gathered strength until the Wednesday after the event. On that evening, President Obama gave a speech that gracefully captured the moment and consoled the nation. The President’s speech marked a turning point in the national consciousness. As with any tragedy, having come somewhat to terms with what had happened, the nation felt a strong desire to move forward. But doing so prematurely would be a mistake.
The President’s speech was undoubtedly about healing. And it was also about tamping down on the fiery rhetoric that pervades our national conversation. But it didn’t seek those things as an end in themselves. The speech was a call to action. It sought to cool our national rhetoric because it is the best way for us to work together effectively.
Unfortunately, it is in untangling the skein of problems that led to those shootings on January 8th that we have most failed. The two most obvious issues raised by the shooting are the effectiveness of our gun control laws and our mental health services. But virtually nothing of consequence has been said about how to address those two topics since that tragic day.
On mental health issues, we are stuck trying to find a perfect balance between public safety and individual liberty. Following years of forced institutionalization in the early to mid-twentieth century we have abhorred the idea of forced commitment absent overwhelming evidence. As a result, people who need assistance and supervision, but will not seek it themselves, are left to their own devices.
On gun rights, the national conversation was stillborn. Attempts to reenact the Federal Assaults Weapons Ban, lapsed since 2004, have repeatedly proven fruitless. Representative Carolyn McCarthy’s (D-NY) less ambitious effort to limit the sale of clips with more than 10 rounds has been equally unsuccessful. Even legislation by Republican Congressman Peter King (NY) preventing citizens from bringing firearms within 1000 feet of government officials--enacted in direct response to the shooting of Representative Giffords--looks unlikely to pass.
None of these solutions are without valid complaints. They may not even represent the best way to move forward. But there must be a way forward. Of all the possible responses to the shootings in Tucson, the most troubling is the assertion by some guns rights supporters that, no matter what, people who truly wish to commit crimes will do so. In no other aspect of life do we accept such unabashed defeatism. Earthquakes, too, will happen, and that has not prevented us from strengthening building codes, developing early warning mechanisms, and attempting to protect ourselves in a thousand different ways. People who argue forcefully of the need for thirty-three round clips also need to provide forceful ideas and solutions as to how tragedies like what occurred in Tucson this can be avoided in the future.
To date, neither side of the aisle has forged a path forward. The President, so eloquent in his speech, has chosen not to speak out directly on these issues, presumably preferring to wait until we have a greater distance from the acts of that horrible day. We now have such a distance. Of course, that doesn’t mean that there are not people who will claim the tragedy is being used for political gain. But there will always be such people. The people of the United States understand that that not every attempt to address the cause of a tragedy is a politicization of that tragedy. Indeed, they understand that failing to even attempt to address the underlying causes of the shootings in Tucson would be a tragedy in of itself.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Future of the Senate
The Future of the Senate
by Chris Boundy
Over the last year or so, the Senate has lost three of its most well regarded and longest serving members: Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska, Senator Robert Byrd of West Virginia, and of course our own Senator Kennedy. At the same time, some of those seeking membership to Congress’ upper chamber are openly disdainful of the deliberative nature and the bipartisanship that are the sine qua non of the Senate. What does this change mean for the bodies future?
The influence of any three men in a body of a hundred should not be overestimated. But included in these three are the longest serving Senator in history, the fourth longest serving Senator in history, and the longest serving Republican Senator in history. Together they represented nearly a hundred and forty years of legislative knowledge and experience.
More important than simple longevity, however, is that each man had a deep love for the Senate as an institution. Each understood its history and, indeed, had been a member long enough to shape a large part of that history. Each had an impressive knowledge of parliamentary procedure, gained over decades of experience, and was fiercely protective of his home states’ interests. And, perhaps most importantly, over a long career each had the opportunity to work with colleagues from the opposing party and to understand the importance of maintaining working relations with people they might work with for years to come.
None of these men were saints. From Chappaquiddick to the Bridge to Nowhere to a youthful membership in the Klu Klux Klan, each man suffered personal and professional travails. But they each shared a common, vital idea of what the Senate was and the role it should play in American society.
We often forget, but the Senate is something of an oddity in our democratic system. What, after all, is the explanation for giving a state with the population of Delaware the same representation as a state the size of California? At the Founding, smaller states argued that they needed protection against larger states. If this argument once had some validity, it is difficult to argue any survives. States interests align along many axes—business interests, populations, geographic region---but size qua size is not one of them.
The true benefit of the Senate lies not in each state having an equal number of representatives, but in the Senate being a smaller chamber. Whereas Representatives in the House have only two-year terms and over four hundred colleagues, Senators, over the course of their six years, have ample time to get to know their less than a hundred colleagues. When disagreements arise, Senators are in a better position to understand and discuss issues with the opposition.
Indeed, the filibuster, a uniquely Senatorial creation, is a perfect example of this difference. The rule was originally meant to allow full and free debate. Although the lower house might impose time restrictions, it was thought that in the Senate each member should have enough time to fully speak his views. While allowing a Senator to speak at length incidentally impeded Senate business, this was believed to be an acceptable trade off for allowing Senators whatever time they might need to argue issues of national import.
In more modern times, the situation has exactly reversed and the filibuster has become a means to stifle debate. Accordingly, a movement has begun to abolish it. But, as proponents of the rule correctly point out, the problem is not in the rule itself, but in how it is used. Any tool can be a weapon if you hold it right, and there is not shortage of parliamentary maneuvers for blocking Senate business. The larger problem is the discord within the Senate itself.
And that discord is a problem that seems unlikely to abate anytime soon. To the contrary, a group of conservative Senate candidates, including members of the Tea Party, have made disdain for the collegiality and deliberative nature of the Senate part of their campaigns. Of course, it remains to be seen how successful these conservative candidates will be in the general elections in November. Regardless, collegiality and deliberation are central to what the Senate is, and the United States has little use for an upper body that is equally rancorous, but otherwise only a smaller and less democratic version of the House. And that is something that Senators Kennedy, Stevens, and Byrd each understood only too well.
by Chris Boundy
Over the last year or so, the Senate has lost three of its most well regarded and longest serving members: Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska, Senator Robert Byrd of West Virginia, and of course our own Senator Kennedy. At the same time, some of those seeking membership to Congress’ upper chamber are openly disdainful of the deliberative nature and the bipartisanship that are the sine qua non of the Senate. What does this change mean for the bodies future?
The influence of any three men in a body of a hundred should not be overestimated. But included in these three are the longest serving Senator in history, the fourth longest serving Senator in history, and the longest serving Republican Senator in history. Together they represented nearly a hundred and forty years of legislative knowledge and experience.
More important than simple longevity, however, is that each man had a deep love for the Senate as an institution. Each understood its history and, indeed, had been a member long enough to shape a large part of that history. Each had an impressive knowledge of parliamentary procedure, gained over decades of experience, and was fiercely protective of his home states’ interests. And, perhaps most importantly, over a long career each had the opportunity to work with colleagues from the opposing party and to understand the importance of maintaining working relations with people they might work with for years to come.
None of these men were saints. From Chappaquiddick to the Bridge to Nowhere to a youthful membership in the Klu Klux Klan, each man suffered personal and professional travails. But they each shared a common, vital idea of what the Senate was and the role it should play in American society.
We often forget, but the Senate is something of an oddity in our democratic system. What, after all, is the explanation for giving a state with the population of Delaware the same representation as a state the size of California? At the Founding, smaller states argued that they needed protection against larger states. If this argument once had some validity, it is difficult to argue any survives. States interests align along many axes—business interests, populations, geographic region---but size qua size is not one of them.
The true benefit of the Senate lies not in each state having an equal number of representatives, but in the Senate being a smaller chamber. Whereas Representatives in the House have only two-year terms and over four hundred colleagues, Senators, over the course of their six years, have ample time to get to know their less than a hundred colleagues. When disagreements arise, Senators are in a better position to understand and discuss issues with the opposition.
Indeed, the filibuster, a uniquely Senatorial creation, is a perfect example of this difference. The rule was originally meant to allow full and free debate. Although the lower house might impose time restrictions, it was thought that in the Senate each member should have enough time to fully speak his views. While allowing a Senator to speak at length incidentally impeded Senate business, this was believed to be an acceptable trade off for allowing Senators whatever time they might need to argue issues of national import.
In more modern times, the situation has exactly reversed and the filibuster has become a means to stifle debate. Accordingly, a movement has begun to abolish it. But, as proponents of the rule correctly point out, the problem is not in the rule itself, but in how it is used. Any tool can be a weapon if you hold it right, and there is not shortage of parliamentary maneuvers for blocking Senate business. The larger problem is the discord within the Senate itself.
And that discord is a problem that seems unlikely to abate anytime soon. To the contrary, a group of conservative Senate candidates, including members of the Tea Party, have made disdain for the collegiality and deliberative nature of the Senate part of their campaigns. Of course, it remains to be seen how successful these conservative candidates will be in the general elections in November. Regardless, collegiality and deliberation are central to what the Senate is, and the United States has little use for an upper body that is equally rancorous, but otherwise only a smaller and less democratic version of the House. And that is something that Senators Kennedy, Stevens, and Byrd each understood only too well.
What Can Democrats Learn From Frank Skeffington?
“What Can Democrats Learn From Frank Skeffington?”
by Chris Boundy
In Edwin O’Connor’s classic tale of city politics, The Last Hurrah, a mayoral campaign is fought in a large city (often identified as Boston) in the early 20th century. The incumbent, Frank Skeffington, has experience, a strong intuitive sense for politics, and an astounding charisma on his side. His opponent, Kevin McCluskey, is a handsome young war veteran with no political experience but who enjoys the support of a powerful group of newspapermen and financial backers. In the shocking conclusion Skeffington loses the election to McCluskey in a landslide.
In the end, Skeffington is undone through no fault of his own. Time has simply passed him by. A younger generation of voters now holds sway, and they are used to relying on the federal, not local, government for their needs. They are also more comfortable with television, a medium that Skeffington uses, but does not prefer, but that McCluskey excels at. In fact, the bulk of McCluskey’s campaign is tightly choreographed commercials that showcase his attractive family and home life. McCluskey’s backers recognize early that this new medium can showcase their candidate’s strengths while minimizing his weaknesses. In the end this awareness makes all the difference.
In our own day television hardly remains a novel medium. Still, technology has continued to evolve and politicians continue to learn, eventually, how to harness it to their needs. For instance, two and a half million people currently “like” Sarah Palin on Facebook, and she has more than three hundred thousand followers on Twitter. In the age of smart phones, that means that Palin’s thoughts can potentially reach millions of supporters instantly, no matter where they are or what they are doing. Moreover, both mediums encourage the kind of brief, catchy statements that Palin excels at, while discouraging longer more developed analysis that, at least according to her critics, Palin is less capable of.
The implications of her mastery of these new mediums often goes unappreciated. As Palin prepares for what most people assume is a presidential run there has been much talk about how she has failed to lay the proper groundwork for her campaign, either by not building relationships with party officials and media in early primary states, by not raising sufficient funds, or by not yet organizing her supporters effectively for a national campaign. But if Palin’s post-gubernatorial career has taught the world anything it’s that if she continues to keep in touch with and broaden her base, the necessary doors will open for her. Why cultivate relationships with the politicians and newspapers in Iowa and New Hampshire? If she builds her base sufficiently than both will come to her. As for raising money and organizing, it was, ironically enough, President Obama’s 2008 campaign that truly demonstrated the power of the Internet to do both. Given Palin’s success using the Internet so far, she might well feel confident about her ability to copy, and potentially improve, President Obama’s previous successes in these areas.
Undoubtedly, if asked, the Palin Campaign would claim that they identified the political potential for Twitter and Facebook early on and planned from the beginning to use them as an engine to power their political activities. Personally, I think it’s more likely that following several calamitous interactions with traditional media outlets, the Palin Campaign simply identified the avenues available to them and, by chance, those avenues had developed to the point where they could be used effectively as political tools. Whichever way the direction of causation runs, however, the end results are the same.
At the end of The Last Hurrah, O’Connor is carefully agnostic about whether McCluskey’s election will have a positive or negative impact on the city. McCluskey has shown precious little ability to assert his own views when faced with pressure from his backers. Skeffington, on the other hand, while likeable, is a bit of a rogue and has never been opposed to a little, or a lot, of graft. What is clear is that politics in the city are forever changed and that future campaign will need to take account of these changed realities if the wish to be successful. Failing to do so invites the kind of landslide that was the end of Frank Skeffington.
by Chris Boundy
In Edwin O’Connor’s classic tale of city politics, The Last Hurrah, a mayoral campaign is fought in a large city (often identified as Boston) in the early 20th century. The incumbent, Frank Skeffington, has experience, a strong intuitive sense for politics, and an astounding charisma on his side. His opponent, Kevin McCluskey, is a handsome young war veteran with no political experience but who enjoys the support of a powerful group of newspapermen and financial backers. In the shocking conclusion Skeffington loses the election to McCluskey in a landslide.
In the end, Skeffington is undone through no fault of his own. Time has simply passed him by. A younger generation of voters now holds sway, and they are used to relying on the federal, not local, government for their needs. They are also more comfortable with television, a medium that Skeffington uses, but does not prefer, but that McCluskey excels at. In fact, the bulk of McCluskey’s campaign is tightly choreographed commercials that showcase his attractive family and home life. McCluskey’s backers recognize early that this new medium can showcase their candidate’s strengths while minimizing his weaknesses. In the end this awareness makes all the difference.
In our own day television hardly remains a novel medium. Still, technology has continued to evolve and politicians continue to learn, eventually, how to harness it to their needs. For instance, two and a half million people currently “like” Sarah Palin on Facebook, and she has more than three hundred thousand followers on Twitter. In the age of smart phones, that means that Palin’s thoughts can potentially reach millions of supporters instantly, no matter where they are or what they are doing. Moreover, both mediums encourage the kind of brief, catchy statements that Palin excels at, while discouraging longer more developed analysis that, at least according to her critics, Palin is less capable of.
The implications of her mastery of these new mediums often goes unappreciated. As Palin prepares for what most people assume is a presidential run there has been much talk about how she has failed to lay the proper groundwork for her campaign, either by not building relationships with party officials and media in early primary states, by not raising sufficient funds, or by not yet organizing her supporters effectively for a national campaign. But if Palin’s post-gubernatorial career has taught the world anything it’s that if she continues to keep in touch with and broaden her base, the necessary doors will open for her. Why cultivate relationships with the politicians and newspapers in Iowa and New Hampshire? If she builds her base sufficiently than both will come to her. As for raising money and organizing, it was, ironically enough, President Obama’s 2008 campaign that truly demonstrated the power of the Internet to do both. Given Palin’s success using the Internet so far, she might well feel confident about her ability to copy, and potentially improve, President Obama’s previous successes in these areas.
Undoubtedly, if asked, the Palin Campaign would claim that they identified the political potential for Twitter and Facebook early on and planned from the beginning to use them as an engine to power their political activities. Personally, I think it’s more likely that following several calamitous interactions with traditional media outlets, the Palin Campaign simply identified the avenues available to them and, by chance, those avenues had developed to the point where they could be used effectively as political tools. Whichever way the direction of causation runs, however, the end results are the same.
At the end of The Last Hurrah, O’Connor is carefully agnostic about whether McCluskey’s election will have a positive or negative impact on the city. McCluskey has shown precious little ability to assert his own views when faced with pressure from his backers. Skeffington, on the other hand, while likeable, is a bit of a rogue and has never been opposed to a little, or a lot, of graft. What is clear is that politics in the city are forever changed and that future campaign will need to take account of these changed realities if the wish to be successful. Failing to do so invites the kind of landslide that was the end of Frank Skeffington.
The Aftermath
“The Aftermath”
by Christopher Boundy
January 10, 2011
In the reporting that followed the shootings in Tucson, Arizona many state and federal legislators who knew Representative Gabrielle Giffords were interviewed. One common theme that emerged, besides a heartfelt admiration for Rep. Giffords and sympathy for the victims of the attacks, was that each of Giffords’ colleagues had received violent threats in the past. These threats came without regard to whether the individual worked at the state or federal level, and without regard to party affiliation or ideology. It was a sober reminder of the dangers that all our elected officials face in the performance of their duties.
Given this reminder of the courage our legislators regularly display, it was disappointing to see how quickly the partisan jockeying began following the shootings. Liberals and various news commentators quickly began drawing a connection between the sharp rhetoric currently permeating our national politics and the violence that occurred on January 8th. It did not take long for Sarah Palin’s famous poster, identifying vulnerable Congressional districts with crosshairs, to be unearthed and spread across the Internet. Although Palin herself has remained notably silent, other conservatives quickly mounted a defense and began countercharging that the shootings, a national tragedy, were not the kind of things that should be politicized to push an ideological agenda. The fact that Jared Lee Loughner listed the Communist Manifesto as a favorite novel was duly noted.
What the shooters motivations actually were is unclear and probably will remain so for some time. Those motivations will undoubtedly be the subject of intense investigation over the coming months by federal and local law enforcement officials. But, right now, it’s unclear whether Loughner followed national politics at all, or if he even knows who Sarah Palin is.
In a way, that makes Loughner’s actions even more frightening. They were the arbitrary actions of a young man who is either completely delusional or deeply evil. But the very fact that Loughner’s actions were so despicable casts a revealing light on the current level of partisanship in our capital. Republicans, Democrats and their backers may consider their opponents to be enemies. They may consider them to be wrongheaded, dishonest, and foolish. Even devious. But the overheated rhetoric and inflamed tempers in Washington pale next to the example of hatred that took place in Tucson only days ago. Similarly, while it is surely premature to blame sharp political rhetoric for Loughner’s actions, the attacks themselves underscore why such comments have no place in modern political conversation. It’s difficult to now think of a candidate for office suggesting that their supporters “reload” when confronting political opposition.
In the end, Loughner’s attack on Rep. Giffords was an attack on democracy itself. The attack directly threatened the face-to-face interaction that is necessary to a representative democracy and both legislators and their constituents will be tempted to avoid exposing themselves to similar dangers in the future in the future. But there is no hiding from some threats. And that fact should drive us together, not pull us apart.
by Christopher Boundy
January 10, 2011
In the reporting that followed the shootings in Tucson, Arizona many state and federal legislators who knew Representative Gabrielle Giffords were interviewed. One common theme that emerged, besides a heartfelt admiration for Rep. Giffords and sympathy for the victims of the attacks, was that each of Giffords’ colleagues had received violent threats in the past. These threats came without regard to whether the individual worked at the state or federal level, and without regard to party affiliation or ideology. It was a sober reminder of the dangers that all our elected officials face in the performance of their duties.
Given this reminder of the courage our legislators regularly display, it was disappointing to see how quickly the partisan jockeying began following the shootings. Liberals and various news commentators quickly began drawing a connection between the sharp rhetoric currently permeating our national politics and the violence that occurred on January 8th. It did not take long for Sarah Palin’s famous poster, identifying vulnerable Congressional districts with crosshairs, to be unearthed and spread across the Internet. Although Palin herself has remained notably silent, other conservatives quickly mounted a defense and began countercharging that the shootings, a national tragedy, were not the kind of things that should be politicized to push an ideological agenda. The fact that Jared Lee Loughner listed the Communist Manifesto as a favorite novel was duly noted.
What the shooters motivations actually were is unclear and probably will remain so for some time. Those motivations will undoubtedly be the subject of intense investigation over the coming months by federal and local law enforcement officials. But, right now, it’s unclear whether Loughner followed national politics at all, or if he even knows who Sarah Palin is.
In a way, that makes Loughner’s actions even more frightening. They were the arbitrary actions of a young man who is either completely delusional or deeply evil. But the very fact that Loughner’s actions were so despicable casts a revealing light on the current level of partisanship in our capital. Republicans, Democrats and their backers may consider their opponents to be enemies. They may consider them to be wrongheaded, dishonest, and foolish. Even devious. But the overheated rhetoric and inflamed tempers in Washington pale next to the example of hatred that took place in Tucson only days ago. Similarly, while it is surely premature to blame sharp political rhetoric for Loughner’s actions, the attacks themselves underscore why such comments have no place in modern political conversation. It’s difficult to now think of a candidate for office suggesting that their supporters “reload” when confronting political opposition.
In the end, Loughner’s attack on Rep. Giffords was an attack on democracy itself. The attack directly threatened the face-to-face interaction that is necessary to a representative democracy and both legislators and their constituents will be tempted to avoid exposing themselves to similar dangers in the future in the future. But there is no hiding from some threats. And that fact should drive us together, not pull us apart.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Democratic Allergies
Last week the world witnessed a historic election in Great Britain. Following a tightly fought campaign, the country emerged not only with its youngest Prime Minister in two hundred years and its first coalition government in sixty years, but it also with the first Conservative-Liberal Democrat Coalition in its history.
This change didn’t come about easily. The elections didn’t give any party a clear majority, leaving the parties to hash out a coalition government. Several tense days of backroom negotiations followed. Eventually, the Liberal Democrats threw their lot in with Conservatives—for a hefty price. Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democrats, wrangled the position of Deputy Prime Minister, and six other Liberal Democrats secured ministerial posts in the new government.
Equally importantly, the Lib Dems secured a Conservative promise to put an important piece of election reform before the voters—a proposal to switch from first-past-the-post voting to an alternative vote system where voters rank their nominee preference (known in the U.S. as an instant run off system). The change could have serious consequences—according to some estimates the Liberal Democrats would have picked up fifty more seats with the alternative vote. Lib Dems have argued that in the first-past-the-post system a third party vote is often thrown away—something that third parties in the U.S. can surely sympathize with. But why has bringing this relatively straightforward issue before the voters been so difficult? The fact that Lib Dems could only secure the promise for a referendum now, after years of effort, when they were essentially placed in the role of kingmakers, gives some indication of how hard it can be to bring about electoral reform even in advanced democracies.
The last truly tumultuous election in the U.S. occurred in 2000. But for all the anger and disappointment that election caused, the 2000 election led to very little discussion, much less change, in our electoral process. Indeed, there seems to be an unnatural allergy to even discussing alterations. For example, one of the last major third parties movements in the U.S., the Green Party, was blamed for Democrat’s loss of the Presidential election in 2000. The fact that the Green Party won millions of votes in Florida, and that the Democratic Party won many millions more than that, however, didn’t lead to a discussion of why Florida’s electoral votes should all go to the Republican candidate. Similarly, even though the Electoral College gave the Presidency to George Bush despite the fact that Al Gore won the popular vote, no movement materialized to remove that antiquated mechanism. And anger at the Supreme Court didn’t lead to a discussion of term limits for Supreme Court justices or of the merits of judicial review of non-constitutional questions.
A more immediately relevant example is the issue of redistricting. Following the 2010 Census the governing party in many states will have the chance to redraw electoral district lines. In theory, the lines should be redrawn to reflect changes in population, but the reality of redistricting—so long accepted now as to be taken for granted—is that it gives the ruling party the opportunity to draw lines around its constituency. It is the democratic process backwards: The representatives are choosing their constituency.
While the newspaper editor who coined the term “gerrymandering” should receive great credit for cleverness, he did no favor for democracy. The term allows too many people, including those who know better, to think of the practice as an excusable eccentricity; a benign oddity of the U.S. system. In truth, the world would be a better place if the gerrymander were extinct. Incumbents should not be able to tailor their districts to ensure their reelection. How can an election be free and fair when one side is choosing who votes?
This failure to discuss inadequacies in our electoral processes is particularly odd for a country that takes such pride in its democracy, and that exports it so vigorously. Indeed, it is in the best of American traditions to innovate, to take risks, and to continually pursue perfection. These attributes are needed as much, if not more, in the realm of governance than business. Yet it is there that they are almost completely lacking. The U.S. would be much better off if we, like our cousins the British, worked to develop a resistance to this highly peculiar, and insidious, allergy.
This change didn’t come about easily. The elections didn’t give any party a clear majority, leaving the parties to hash out a coalition government. Several tense days of backroom negotiations followed. Eventually, the Liberal Democrats threw their lot in with Conservatives—for a hefty price. Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democrats, wrangled the position of Deputy Prime Minister, and six other Liberal Democrats secured ministerial posts in the new government.
Equally importantly, the Lib Dems secured a Conservative promise to put an important piece of election reform before the voters—a proposal to switch from first-past-the-post voting to an alternative vote system where voters rank their nominee preference (known in the U.S. as an instant run off system). The change could have serious consequences—according to some estimates the Liberal Democrats would have picked up fifty more seats with the alternative vote. Lib Dems have argued that in the first-past-the-post system a third party vote is often thrown away—something that third parties in the U.S. can surely sympathize with. But why has bringing this relatively straightforward issue before the voters been so difficult? The fact that Lib Dems could only secure the promise for a referendum now, after years of effort, when they were essentially placed in the role of kingmakers, gives some indication of how hard it can be to bring about electoral reform even in advanced democracies.
The last truly tumultuous election in the U.S. occurred in 2000. But for all the anger and disappointment that election caused, the 2000 election led to very little discussion, much less change, in our electoral process. Indeed, there seems to be an unnatural allergy to even discussing alterations. For example, one of the last major third parties movements in the U.S., the Green Party, was blamed for Democrat’s loss of the Presidential election in 2000. The fact that the Green Party won millions of votes in Florida, and that the Democratic Party won many millions more than that, however, didn’t lead to a discussion of why Florida’s electoral votes should all go to the Republican candidate. Similarly, even though the Electoral College gave the Presidency to George Bush despite the fact that Al Gore won the popular vote, no movement materialized to remove that antiquated mechanism. And anger at the Supreme Court didn’t lead to a discussion of term limits for Supreme Court justices or of the merits of judicial review of non-constitutional questions.
A more immediately relevant example is the issue of redistricting. Following the 2010 Census the governing party in many states will have the chance to redraw electoral district lines. In theory, the lines should be redrawn to reflect changes in population, but the reality of redistricting—so long accepted now as to be taken for granted—is that it gives the ruling party the opportunity to draw lines around its constituency. It is the democratic process backwards: The representatives are choosing their constituency.
While the newspaper editor who coined the term “gerrymandering” should receive great credit for cleverness, he did no favor for democracy. The term allows too many people, including those who know better, to think of the practice as an excusable eccentricity; a benign oddity of the U.S. system. In truth, the world would be a better place if the gerrymander were extinct. Incumbents should not be able to tailor their districts to ensure their reelection. How can an election be free and fair when one side is choosing who votes?
This failure to discuss inadequacies in our electoral processes is particularly odd for a country that takes such pride in its democracy, and that exports it so vigorously. Indeed, it is in the best of American traditions to innovate, to take risks, and to continually pursue perfection. These attributes are needed as much, if not more, in the realm of governance than business. Yet it is there that they are almost completely lacking. The U.S. would be much better off if we, like our cousins the British, worked to develop a resistance to this highly peculiar, and insidious, allergy.
“Memorial Day”
By its nature, Memorial Day is solemn. Many Americans spent this past Memorial Day at cemeteries, visiting those they knew or didn’t know, who fought and died in America’s wars. Surprisingly, this somber practice is currently at the heart of a case before the U.S. Supreme Court. The case involves Albert Snyder, the father Marine Lance Cpl. Matthew Snyder, who was killed in Iraq, and the Westboro Baptist Church. The Westboro Baptist Church has made a name for itself over the years by protesting at military funerals and it is now seeking formal protection the practice. The case requires a balancing of the father’ right to privacy and the solemnity of his son’s burial against the Westboro Baptist Church’s First Amendment right to freedom of expression. The Federal District Court for Maryland ruled for Mr. Snyder, but the Court of Appeals reversed.
The Westboro Baptist Church‘s protests are not about Mr. Snyder’s son per se. To the Westboro Baptist Church, all the tragedies that the U.S. suffers, from hurricanes to tornadoes to the deaths of soldiers, are the result of what they take to be America’s permissive attitude toward homosexuality. America is the new Gomorrah. Protesting at soldier’s funerals is only a ploy to get them attention beyond what their message or numbers merit. Although they keep up a busy schedule, most of their protests only include a few church members flown in from their home church in Kansas.
Knowing this hardly makes the Westboro Baptist Church’s actions more forgivable. It takes a fearsome devotion to the First Amendment to defend allowing a group like Westboro Baptist Church to broadcast their bizarre take on world affairs. In many other parts of the world even considering it would be unthinkable. In Germany, and in many countries in Europe, Holocaust Denial is illegal. In Britain, libel laws are so loose that one can be prosecuted for something said in another country. The vigour with which we defend freedom of speech in the U.S. is unique.
There are limitations, of course. You can’t yell “Fire” during a packed showing of “Avatar,” and if you harangue someone viciously enough to get slugged, the First Amendment won’t protect you. But how many other countries in the world would allow a group of Nazi’s march through a town with a large population of Jews, as we did in Skokie, Illinois? Not very many. So the question we have to ask each other is: Is this type of Exceptionalism really in our best interest?
But looking at the question this way makes it clear that the problem isn’t the First Amendment at all. While it’s true that the First Amendment allows the Westboro Baptist Church to carry out its protests, it isn’t the reason they are successful. The Westboro Baptist Church isn’t a civil liberties organization—they protest at soldier’s funerals because they know it will attract a large amount of news coverage. And it is not the First Amendment that gives them that platform—it is us. If we failed to pay attention, the Westboro Baptist Church would seek ways to get their message out. Could we collectively turn away? There’s good reason for doubt. Newspapers, television stations and websites, like any good businesses, will always find room to publish stories that sell, and outrage has a good track record for sales.
It is worth trying, however, if only because the alternative is so unappealing. Whether the First Amendment serves our interests well or poorly, we shouldn’t carve it up for fringe groups like the Westboro Baptist Church. Where would it end? After all, a group that is willing to protest at funerals would probably be willing to engage in other shocking behavior to get attention. Maybe mass flag burnings? Should we write that out of the First Amendment as well?
Nothing good can come by letting fringe groups like the Westboro Baptist Church rewrite our First Amendment jurisprudence. Whether the freedom of speech as it is practiced in the United States is superior to its treatment in the rest of the world is up for debate. If we should ever wish to change our stance, however, we should make sure we are doing it for the right reasons and not the wrong ones.
The Westboro Baptist Church‘s protests are not about Mr. Snyder’s son per se. To the Westboro Baptist Church, all the tragedies that the U.S. suffers, from hurricanes to tornadoes to the deaths of soldiers, are the result of what they take to be America’s permissive attitude toward homosexuality. America is the new Gomorrah. Protesting at soldier’s funerals is only a ploy to get them attention beyond what their message or numbers merit. Although they keep up a busy schedule, most of their protests only include a few church members flown in from their home church in Kansas.
Knowing this hardly makes the Westboro Baptist Church’s actions more forgivable. It takes a fearsome devotion to the First Amendment to defend allowing a group like Westboro Baptist Church to broadcast their bizarre take on world affairs. In many other parts of the world even considering it would be unthinkable. In Germany, and in many countries in Europe, Holocaust Denial is illegal. In Britain, libel laws are so loose that one can be prosecuted for something said in another country. The vigour with which we defend freedom of speech in the U.S. is unique.
There are limitations, of course. You can’t yell “Fire” during a packed showing of “Avatar,” and if you harangue someone viciously enough to get slugged, the First Amendment won’t protect you. But how many other countries in the world would allow a group of Nazi’s march through a town with a large population of Jews, as we did in Skokie, Illinois? Not very many. So the question we have to ask each other is: Is this type of Exceptionalism really in our best interest?
But looking at the question this way makes it clear that the problem isn’t the First Amendment at all. While it’s true that the First Amendment allows the Westboro Baptist Church to carry out its protests, it isn’t the reason they are successful. The Westboro Baptist Church isn’t a civil liberties organization—they protest at soldier’s funerals because they know it will attract a large amount of news coverage. And it is not the First Amendment that gives them that platform—it is us. If we failed to pay attention, the Westboro Baptist Church would seek ways to get their message out. Could we collectively turn away? There’s good reason for doubt. Newspapers, television stations and websites, like any good businesses, will always find room to publish stories that sell, and outrage has a good track record for sales.
It is worth trying, however, if only because the alternative is so unappealing. Whether the First Amendment serves our interests well or poorly, we shouldn’t carve it up for fringe groups like the Westboro Baptist Church. Where would it end? After all, a group that is willing to protest at funerals would probably be willing to engage in other shocking behavior to get attention. Maybe mass flag burnings? Should we write that out of the First Amendment as well?
Nothing good can come by letting fringe groups like the Westboro Baptist Church rewrite our First Amendment jurisprudence. Whether the freedom of speech as it is practiced in the United States is superior to its treatment in the rest of the world is up for debate. If we should ever wish to change our stance, however, we should make sure we are doing it for the right reasons and not the wrong ones.
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