Monday, January 15, 2024

You shouldn't vote for Trump.

I don’t blog (much) anymore; I have kids and a full-time job, and I don’t follow politics as a hobby much either. It’s all too pointless.

But we are entering the nomination season, and I have some thoughts on the general knowledge problem that we face, and I wanted to share them.


Welcome to the Fog


Congratulations! You’re an American voter. You have been blessed with the enormous responsibility of determining which single human is empowered with the ability to destroy the entire world, many times over. It is an awesome responsibility and is fortunately distributed across over 200 million other people and an Electoral College, so it’s not all on you.


But it does mean that we ought to take our job seriously: our vote should be for the person we think is most likely to wield the awesome power of the presidency responsibly.


Starting from that premise, we have a problem: as voters, we don’t really know anything about the people we’re voting for. Oh sure, we see them on TV, or on social media, or maybe even for a few minutes at a rally. If you’re really fortunate, you may have had the opportunity to have a one-on-one conversation with the person for 5 or 10 minutes. I’ve personally met Kate Brown and a couple of other minor public figures in various contexts.


I don’t know anything about them, because it’s all a facade–in public, the politician’s job is to play a character. So I’ve met some characters, and I’ve seen some characters be played on TV.


If you actually feel like you know a politician personally, it’s because they’re very good at playing their character. You don’t. I promise you, you don’t; there is simply no reason to believe that the figure that a politician plays in the public sphere is genuine. Stated differently, the politician you think feels your pain is very good at making you think they feel your pain. Absent other evidence, there is no reason to believe that it’s genuine.


This is all fatalistic, to some extent–how do I know if what I see and feel is real if it’s all a big act?


Fortunately, there is a way forward. The responsible voter needs to rely on evidence. There are two types: what actually happened–the historical record or the politician’s actual record of action, and the more important one for the 2024 election, which is testimonial evidence.


Seeing Through the Fog


Most of us don’t have access to the inner thoughts and actions of a politician. However, some of us do. Some people actually do work in the political field and release their thoughts via some mechanism: direct interviews, memoirs, press leaks, etc. These are people with the insight and access that can help us understand what it is we’re seeing.


Generally speaking, we should start with the actual record, and then supplement with testimonial evidence, and then make our decision. Normally, I would say that the record is where you start–how did a politician do in office. Testimonial evidence also needs to be taken with a measure of salt. The people making their statements are also putting on a facade or playing a character. Any effusive praise of someone should be weighed against why they are issuing the praise at all–are they trying to protect their own interests? Is it for future advancement? Are they trying to defend or build a legacy? We have to try to read between the lines, and read in context, to understand what it is we’re seeing.


So what testimonial evidence should we believe? These are the types of evidence that I tend to count for more:


  • When multiple sources from different perspectives present the same fact pattern;

  • When someone makes an explicit argument against interest;

  • When someone’s previous testimonial evidence has been validated;

  • When someone wrote something for publication after they died.


But the key requirement is that we have to triangulate the evidence and try to figure out The Truth. Yes, there is capital-T Truth, not “My Truth.” We need to combine available evidence in the most logical, persuasive possible way to explain what the Truth is, and then make our decision based upon it and how that meshes with our own values.


Is this easy? No! It’s not, actually. But it is what good citizenship requires–you have an awesome responsibility, and you ought to take it seriously.


The Relevant Testimonial Evidence


Normally, we start from the record, unless testimonial evidence is compelling enough to say otherwise. In this case, I believe it is. Let’s go down the list.


Rex Tillerson was Trump’s handpicked Secretary of State. Tillerson certainly had a lot of time and exposure to Trump. Here’s some highlights from his assessment:


  • On Trump’s disparagement of American allies: “He saw those as people who were weak. He used to say that over and over again. I don’t know why he viewed them as weak, other than they were overseeing free countries.”

  • On China: “We’re nowhere with China on national security. We’re in a worse place today than we were before he came in, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

  • On his general knowledge: “His understanding of global events, his understanding of global history, his understanding of U.S. history was really limited. It’s really hard to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t even understand the concept for why we’re talking about this.”

  • On his lack of focus: “I used to go into meetings with a list of four to five things I needed to talk to him about, and I quickly learned that if I got to three, it was a home run, and I realized getting two that were meaningful was probably the best objective.”

  • On his inability to distinguish between truth and fiction: I think the other challenge that I came to realize early on is there were so many people who had access to his ear who were telling him things, most of which were untrue, and then he began to listen to those voices and form a view that had no basis in fact. So then you spent an inordinate amount of time working through why that’s not true, working through why that’s not factual, working through why that’s not the basis on which you want to understand this, you need to set that aside, let’s talk about what’s real. I think that was as big a challenge as anything.”


How about James Mattis? Mattis was Trump’s Secretary of Defense, a man who loathes politics and the media. Here’s Mattis on Trump:


  • On the George Floyd protests and Trump’s response: “When I joined the military, some 50 years ago, I swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution. Never did I dream that troops taking that same oath would be ordered under any circumstance to violate the Constitutional rights of their fellow citizens—much less to provide a bizarre photo op for the elected commander-in-chief, with military leadership standing alongside.”

  • “We know that we are better than the abuse of executive authority that we witnessed in Lafayette Square. We must reject and hold accountable those in office who would make a mockery of our Constitution.”

  • On 1/6: “His use of the Presidency to destroy trust in our election and to poison our respect for fellow citizens has been enabled by pseudo political leaders whose names will live in infamy as profiles in cowardice.”


What about John Kelly? Kelly was Trump’s second Chief of Staff and worked extremely closely with Trump.


  • “What can I add that has not already been said? A person that thinks those who defend their country in uniform, or are shot down or seriously wounded in combat, or spend years being tortured as POWs are all ‘suckers’ because ‘there is nothing in it for them.’ A person that did not want to be seen in the presence of military amputees because ‘it doesn’t look good for me.’ A person who demonstrated open contempt for a Gold Star family – for all Gold Star families – on TV during the 2016 campaign, and rants that our most precious heroes who gave their lives in America’s defense are ‘losers’ and wouldn’t visit their graves in France.

  • “A person who is not truthful regarding his position on the protection of unborn life, on women, on minorities, on evangelical Christians, on Jews, on working men and women. A person that has no idea what America stands for and has no idea what America is all about. A person who cavalierly suggests that a selfless warrior who has served his country for 40 years in peacetime and war should lose his life for treason – in expectation that someone will take action. A person who admires autocrats and murderous dictators. A person that has nothing but contempt for our democratic institutions, our Constitution, and the rule of law.”


Harsh words. Or Mark Esper, another man who served as Secretary of Defense:


  • “I think he’s unfit for office. … He puts himself before country. His actions are all about him and not about the country. And then, of course, I believe he has integrity and character issues as well.”


Or Dan Coats, his Director of National Intelligence:


  • “To him, a lie is not a lie. It’s just what he thinks. He doesn’t know the difference between the truth and a lie.”


Or Bill Barr? Barr was a loyal soldier for Trump almost until the very end:


  • “He is a consummate narcissist. And he constantly engages in reckless conduct. … He will always put his own interests, and gratifying his own ego, ahead of everything else, including the country’s interests. Our country can’t, you know, can’t be a therapy session for you know, a troubled man like this.”


This Cassidy Hutchison story is really useful as well. In response to a Republican lawmaker who asked her to reflect on what she was doing, she said:


  • “I hadn’t liked who I was, for a while. I knew in that moment I had to correct course for myself and come back to the person I wanted to be and the person I saw myself becoming when I entered public service.”


Trump tempts people to do bad things. He is good at it because it sometimes feels good to do bad things, or because they think the particular bad things are actually good. Sometimes they feel like the right things. He draws people to the darkness.


You can ignore this testimonial evidence–what it shows is an overwhelming fact pattern of people with direct access to Trump saying that he should not be allowed anywhere near the White House again. But you shouldn’t.


But what about the policy?


OK, fine, Trump’s policy program was not that far off from the American norm–he cut taxes, raised some tariffs (a bipartisan tradition), appointed some bog-standard Federalist Society justices. So how do we reconcile that?

My contention is that we dodged bullets in the last administration because of people like John Kelly, James Mattis, and Rex Tillerson, and that we would be foolish to count on similar people working for Trump in a second term. As a general rule, second term administrations have worse staff than first terms, and most second terms do not have such firm testimonial evidence from the people that worked in the first term.


This is why I think that the “prioritize policy over testimony” approach is foolish. The people that know Trump best are screaming bloody murder about the dangers of him being president again. They are in a better position to know than we are; we need to take their counsel seriously.


I don’t really need to predict the future here; I just know that the people in the best position to know are telling me that it’s not good. I have my suspicions: I think we withdraw from NATO; I think we move to a hyper-politicized Justice Department; I think we are even more distracted from ongoing aggressive moves from potential global competitors; I think we have zero attempt to grapple with the looming budget problems; I think the government starts to use force in unimaginably cruel ways on the southern border. I think there’s an outside possibility that Trump’s abuses of power cause some sort of constitutional crisis where he ends up being deposed by opponents in the administration, resulting in unimaginable damage to the American system of the peaceful transfer of power. (This basically happened on January 6 and 7, when Trump got pushed aside by Pence and the military, just in miniature. It could be much worse.)


I will suggest this story from the New York Times as well. We'd need to do more triangulation to figure out how true this is likely to be, but the alarm bells are screaming.


White House advisers encouraged a stream of corporate executives, Republican lawmakers and officials from the U.S. Chamber of Commerce to tell Mr. Trump how damaging a border closure would be.

Mr. Miller, meanwhile, saw an opportunity.

It was his view that the president needed to completely overhaul the Homeland Security Department and get rid of senior officials who he believed were thwarting efforts to block immigrants. Although many were the president’s handpicked aides, Mr. Miller told him they had become part of the problem by constantly citing legal hurdles.

Ms. Nielsen, who regularly found herself telling Mr. Trump why he couldn’t have what he wanted, was an obvious target. When the president demanded “flat black” paint on his border wall, she said it would cost an additional $1 million per mile. When he ordered wall construction sped up, she said they needed permission from property owners. Take the land, Mr. Trump would say, and let them sue us.

When Ms. Nielsen tried to get him to focus on something other than the border, the president grew impatient. During a briefing on the need for new legal authority to take down drones, Mr. Trump cut her off midsentence.

“Kirstjen, you didn’t hear me the first time, honey,” Mr. Trump said, according to two people familiar with the conversation. “Shoot ’em down. Sweetheart, just shoot ’em out of the sky, O.K.?”

But the problem went deeper than Ms. Nielsen, Mr. Miller believed. L. Francis Cissna, the head of the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services until earlier this year, regularly pushed back on Mr. Miller’s demand for a “culture change” at the agency, where Mr. Miller believed asylum officers were bleeding hearts, too quick to extend protections to immigrants.

They needed to start with the opposite point of view, Mr. Miller told him, and start turning people away.

John Mitnick, the homeland security general counsel who often raised legal concerns about Mr. Trump’s immigration policies, was also on Mr. Miller’s blacklist. Mr. Miller had also turned against Ronald D. Vitiello, a top official at Customs and Border Protection whom the president had nominated to lead Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

People like Stephen Miller are going to run the show in Trump's second term. The guardrails will be lifted entirely. Presidents without guardrails are dangerous. Executive power without measured moderation is dangerous. The best read of all this testimony suggests that Trump without guardrails will be a chimp with a machine gun. The easiest way to prevent this from happening is to not allow Trump back near the White House. That’s where primary voters come in.

Normalcy Bias


I’ll close on “normalcy bias.” Normalcy bias is the idea that humans fail to take threats seriously because we are inclined to ignore them in favor of what we see every day. Normalcy bias caused the COVID disaster. I think people are guilty of it again. We think American democracy is inherently stable, but we forget the lessons of our Founders–that republican governance is inherently difficult. We imagine that we’re better than the Greeks or the Romans and fail to see that their representative governments collapsed in the face of irresponsible leaders and voters. There’s no reason to think we’re better than them. We’re flawed humans, just like they were.


Pre-COVID, I think a lot of Americans did well under Trump. Taxes were lowered, business did well, the job market was strong, wages went up, we continued our recovery from the collapse of 2008, and we didn’t enter into any new wars. (The vaunted “peace and prosperity.”) It’s reasonable to assume that we’ll go back to that path, and in the absence of the testimonial evidence, I might agree.


But the testimonial evidence around Trump is overwhelming: he is utterly unfit to be president. Do with that what you will.

Tuesday, January 25, 2022

Football Overtime Proposals

The Bills/Chiefs game, the Patriots/Falcons Super Bowl, and the Patriots/Chiefs AFC Championship Game ended on an anticlimax.

The outcome of the game was preordained by the coin toss: in all cases, if you watched the game, you knew what was going to happen: the team that won the toss was going to win.

Forget "fair" in sports. Sports don't have to be fair; the ruleset is understood before the game, and you should design your gameplan accordingly. You could require that the road team play with 10 players, and provided that both teams knew the rules in advance, it is still "fair." The issue isn't fairness, but predictability. To end such a magnificent game with such a predictable outcome is an utter letdown.

Sure, you can show me the overall overtime stats are not that skewed in favor of the team that wins the toss across a large sample of games. I don't buy it. The playoffs are different. Two high-quality offenses, after a four-quarter back-and-forth, emotionally draining war of playoff football? There's just no way a defense is going to hold up against an offense that merely executes competently.

My first idea to solve this problem is what I called "the 3rd quarter of the second half." The rule is simple: in a game where the score is tied at the end of regulation, play a 5th quarter, but don't start it with a coin toss. Just flip sides, and have the team that currently has the ball continue matriculating the ball down the field.

This would result in significant changes in strategy for teams in the 4th quarter. Let me give an example: the Bills/Buccaneers game from earlier this season.

In that game, the Bucs were up 27-10, and Buffalo mounted a furious comeback to tie it, culminating in a 25 yard field goal on 4th and 2 from the 7 with 25 seconds remaining in regulation. Buffalo kicked off, Tampa took a knee, and the game went into overtime. Buffalo actually won the toss and went three and out, and then Tom Brady did what Tom Brady does, and won the game.

But in a world with this type of overtime, the decision calculus would change for the Bills on 4th and 2 from the 7 with 25 seconds remaining. Instead of getting a near-guarantee of an overtime coin toss, the Bills would have been facing a Tom Brady led offense getting the ball back with 15 seconds to go... for another drive. Regulation would expire, we'd go to a commercial, and Brady would have the ball on the next drive.

If the Bills wanted to avoid that outcome, they'd go for the touchdown instead of the field goal. In essence, the interests of the teams involved would mean that the trailing team would change its late game strategy to avoid tying the game at the buzzer. (Tying the game at the buzzer would mean that the other team was getting the ball next.)

I think this is a vastly superior system to the present. It takes the coin flip out of the equation entirely and allows the overtime "one possession" problem to be a product of what happened during the game, rather than in a referee's hand.

Admittedly, this would be a significant change to the endgame in football. I think it would be only for the best. Playing for field goals late is boring; touchdowns are fun.

But if you refused to tinker with the regulation endgame, I have a solution that is actually more responsive to my initial objections about an anticlimax: the "one play to rule them all" option.

What is that? Well, it's a coin flip. Winner of the flip gets to choose: offense, or defense? But instead of getting a kickoff, they get one play: 4th and 2, from the 2 yard line. If they score, they win. If not, they lose.

Two-point conversions are roughly 50 percent plays (48 percent I think). Moreover, the fatigue issue would be somewhat mitigated: while getting it together for one final drive on defense is an enormous task, stopping just one play should be within the physical capabilities of an exhausted defense. Figure out your best play, call it, and see what happens.

Is this "fair?" No, it's not. But it's exciting, it gives both teams a chance, and it's certainly climactic.

So I waver on these options. But I think they're both vastly superior to the current hash of a system we have.

Saturday, July 10, 2021

What I think I know about covid

Filter:
Contention Confidence Level Why I Believe This Updated
mRNA vaccines are highly effective against covid. High Vaccines 7/10/2021
mRNA vaccines can produce myocarditis in younger people. Medium -> High Treatment 7/10/2021
Dexamethasone is a mildly effective treatment for severe covid cases. High This is the standing medical consensus at this point, and I think we've been solidly here for a year. Trump himself got dexamethasone when he was sick. 7/10/2021

Monday, April 19, 2021

In my ideal world...

In my ideal world, the Chinese government would have identified the risks of the virus back in December and instituted the protocols necessary to prevent its spread. But this is not that world. 

In my ideal world, world governments would have understood that the virus warranted more aggressive travel restrictions immediately, rather than being lackadaisical. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, all levels of American government would have explained the risks of a “novel” virus beginning in January and started mobilizing against it. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, the “smart set” would have taken the concerns of the idiosyncratic more seriously, instead of pooh-poohing such concerns as paranoia. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, the bureaucracy of the US government would not have completely botched its surveillance testing in February. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, the addled President of the United States would not have argued and fought for reduced testing because testing increased our case counts. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, once the virus became clear, American society would have tolerated far greater mobility restrictions for a short period of time in an effort to “crush” the virus down to a traceable level. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, the American government would have set super-ambitious rapid testing targets in the order of hundreds of millions a day, to get out in front of the virus and empower individuals with the knowledge to make good choices. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, we would have invested in prophylactic sewage monitoring as an “early warning system,” to identify hotspots and outbreaks before they became uncontrolled. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, levels of American government would have financed more contact tracing to get a handle on how spread actually occurs to determine the risks of in-person schooling, after-school sports, restaurants, and air travel. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, American society would have been obsessed with breaking chains of viral transmission instead of flattening the curve. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, European governments would have discouraged summer vacations and international travel, to limit the opportunities for the virus to spread and mutate. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, we would not have assumed that children are mostly immune, and thus placed them at unknown and unpredictable risk to support our selfishness. But this is not that world.

In my ideal world, we would not have been left with a choice between continued isolation, repeated infections by a deadly virus, and taking an experimental vaccine with no long-term safety record. But this is not that world.

Given that we don’t live in an ideal world, I got the shot. 

I got the shot so I can go back to church and take communion, so I can spend time with friends and family, so I can play and watch music in public, so I can go to Mets games again, so I can take my kids places, so life can have more in-person meetings and fewer video calls, so I don't have to think twice about visiting a dying relative in the hospital, so I can do my small part to get us towards herd immunity and a semblance of normalcy.

I think you should too.

Saturday, October 3, 2020

Why I Voted Biden

On Facebook back in September 2016, I wrote the following:

You don't have to convince me that Clinton is deeply flawed. The transfer of classified information over an unsecured email server--and the unconvincing efforts of her allies to downplay it--drives me insane. Her penchant for secrecy is downright destructive. She and her husband have used the halo of the presidency to enrich themselves far beyond what is appropriate; overpaid corporate tycoons run companies that at least add something to society. Clinton made money by giving speeches at $250,000 a pop.

But she's essentially running for Obama's third term, a continuation of what we've seen. If you're happy with Obama, you'll probably be decently happy with Clinton.

And she is not Trump, who knows nothing about anything other than what he watches on cable news; who is utterly self-obsessed; who acts out of personal pique *all the time*; who exploited birtherism to get a political profile; who barely knows the structure of government; who admires governmental exhibits of strength, even when it results in the deaths of thousands of innocent people (see: Tiananmen Square); who represents a genuine risk to global safety and stability; and who, at minimum, tolerates affiliation with this generation's white supremacist movement, and, at maximum, genuinely sympathizes with its evil worldview.

A vote is not an exercise in self-actualization; it's an exercise of genuine political power, however small. Entertaining the idea of voting third party was reasonable through the summer; after all, it was plausible that someone could catch fire, like Perot in 1992, and have a legitimate chance. But that's simply not the case; polls are clear that 80% of people are voting for Clinton or Trump.

Many of my co-partisans tried to stop this nightmare, and we failed. You don't have to do the same. If you wake up on November 9, and Trump won, what are you going to say if you voted for Johnson or Stein?

Back then, I voted McMullin. I did not have any expectation that Trump would be able to use the machinery of government to tilt the race in his favor. I lived in Oregon at the time, so a protest vote seemed safe and worthwhile.

Now Trump is president, and four years in: he is self-obsessed; he spends too much time watching cable news; he doesn't understand how the government works; he sympathizes with authoritarians and white supremacists. His maladministration has made the covid crisis much worse than it would be otherwise, culminating in Trump himself getting felled by the disease.

I do not want Trump to have a bad covid outcome; I want him to live, and thrive, for a long time. But I also want a rebuke. I want the voters of America to say, firmly, "NO," and consign Trump's version of strongman populism to the dustbin of American history. I want Trump to get interviewed and have to answer for the worst defeat in 90 years.

Of course, thanks to the Electoral College, my home state of New Jersey is not in play. I should feel safe to write in a candidate, so that I do not have to throw my support to Joe Biden. Indeed, for most of this year, I was planning to write in a principled conservative public statesman, Mitt Romney. (Who, in a better timeline, would be wrapping up his second term. Alas.)

There were 3 specific incidents in the last month that tipped the scale for me to vote Biden. I'll take them chronologically:

  1. The changed CDC recommendations on testing that were promulgated while Dr. Fauci was out of commission for surgery.  This came from pressure from the Trump administration, and is absolutely destructive. We need rapid, ubiquo testing. It is the only way to make the pandemic less painful, short of a vaccine.
  2. The threat from a Trump legal advisor to try to overturn the popular will via state legislatures.
  3. Eric Trump suggesting that Trump would win New Jersey without voter fraud. 
All of this infuriated me, and makes me think that we genuinely need a popular vote majority for Joe Biden, and not merely a weak plurality like Hillary Clinton got in 2016. So I decided to participate in trying to get there.

The challenge here is my obligation as a Catholic.

Biden is a practicing Catholic, but he also is in favor of a legalized regime of abortion, and now federal funding for abortion (via repeal of the Hyde Amendment). The standard calculation for a Catholic in a race like this would be to vote for the Republican, and if the Republican were unfit, then to vote third-party (as I was planning to do).

Here, Jeannie Gaffigan's article in America magazine was helpful: 

I believe it will be impossible to tackle these other issues with a president who is working overtime to sow division and hatred in this county through insults, intimidation, fear and blatant racism. This venomous “us against them” mentality is trickling down, seeping into our churches and poisoning our pulpits. To a culture of life, vipers are deadly.

Quite so. In the long run, I think Trump is destructive to the entire pro-life project: he makes us look like hypocrites. Ramesh Ponnuru nailed the political dynamic, where Republicans cannot simply take the victories and continue to criticize Trump where he's wrong:

It is logically possible to approve of many things Trump has done, and even to have voted for him and to intend to vote for him again, while being clear-eyed about his grave faults. This is the transactional case for Trump that many conservatives have made. But some who made the transaction did not appreciate the full cost.

It turns out to be psychologically difficult to maintain the transactional stance. The temptation to minimize the flaws of one’s champion is too great. (It is of course also true that a politician’s opponents have the opposite temptation.) The pull of party unity is only stronger now that Trump is president — and has largely stuck with an agenda Republicans favored before he came along, while angering liberals every day.

Because our culture has defined racism as wholly unacceptable, very few people  are willing to step forward and say, “The president keeps making racist comments, but what’s more important is that he is delivering on taxes and judges and regulation.” (Kris Kobach waffled rather than say it.) The evidence of his bigotry has to be ignored, wished away, re-interpreted. If Republicans refuse to fit their standards around the president — if, like former House Speaker Paul Ryan, they occasionally condemn the bigotry — it means they were weaklings all along.

More broadly, if Christians continue to back Trump in waves, we will never make in-roads into communities that are turned off by the grossness of the political commitments. If Christianity gets tied to a political party, it will make it harder to spread the good news. We will be erecting boundaries around a faith that needs to welcome all comers. That's how I read the great commission. It requires that we keep partisan politics at arm's length in a democratic society.

Trump has to lose. I voted Biden. Lord have mercy.

Sunday, September 2, 2018

McCain's Point

Why would John McCain have asked Barack Obama and George W. Bush to eulogize him, anyway?

Bush and Obama have a couple of things in common, but one stands out above all: they were the two men who defeated John McCain in presidential campaigns--Bush did it in 2000; Obama did it in 2008.

McCain's most avid supporters would probably cry foul about the way that those campaigns played out--both were hard-hitting campaigns, and McCain was the victim of some tough attacks. But that's the game as it's played--politics is rough-and-tumble in America, and somebody has to lose. In 2000 and 2008, it was McCain.

It would be easy for McCain to have held a grudge--to think that he would have been a better president than his two opponents, to believe that it could have gone differently. Maybe he did hold a grudge, in his heart.

But in the gesture of inviting those two men to deliver eulogies, McCain reminds us of a simple truth: after the campaign, we have to live together.

Campaigns can be tough, feelings can get hurt. Politics matters, after all, and the two parties have very different visions of American society right now. But the American system is finely tuned to be a sort of pendulum--elections are predictable and scheduled, and as such can't be timed by the ruling party in an attempt to hold onto a majority. We are going to disagree, sometimes angrily--and nothing can change that. But we have to live together in spite of our disagreements. In this framework, it's best to limit the scope of our fight: keep the politics in politics, but be civil to one another, and judge people on their personal qualities rather than their political views or group participation. That was McCain, through and through.

This is an interpretation of politics that has become increasingly outmoded--first on the online political Left, and more recently on the new (awful) Right. McCain is seen as a vicious warmonger, an enabler of the imperial state, a collaborator with the evil of Republican economic policy and social spending. In this view, opponents are reduced to their policy preferences, or the people that their policies directly benefit. (Note that second-order effects are utterly ignored.) A disagreement over the responsibilities of government and the effectiveness of specific policy choices becomes a moral failing, rather than an understandable difference of opinion.

The stakes are high, so this perspective is understandable. But McCain believed that this was a dead-end. To McCain, this was a question of shared values: he wrote, "we have always had so much more in common with each other than in disagreement" in his final letter to America. This is a modernized update of an old sentiment, matching McCain's rhetorical style to the substance of the peroration of Lincoln's First Inaugural:
We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.
These sentiments of similarity, whether true or not, are useful. The "crush one's enemies" perspective fails because of the regularity of politics: sometimes we are bound to win, and sometimes we are bound to lose. To the victor goes the spoils, certainly, but we don't have an elected dictatorship in America; we have a republican system with multiple levels of government, constitutional limits, and checks and balances to prevent the tyranny of narrow majorities. Neither side will be permanently vanquished, even in a violent war**. Thus, we have to live together, and we're better off associating with one another to foster empathy, rather than isolating ourselves and developing only contempt.

McCainian magnanimity fits in that system perfectly, and his final wishes reflect that perhaps better than anything he did in politics.

Rest in peace, Senator. You earned it.

**It's reasonable to argue that the Civil War vanquished a gross evil: chattel slavery. This was, in one sense, the triumph of incivility. But unfortunately, the Civil War did not solve racial inequality in America, and it's hard to see how a second violent conflagration would; we still live with the sins of ourselves, our ancestors, and the distant settlers of the American continent, and there is nothing quite as tangible as the ownership of property to vanquish.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Some Secular Thoughts on the Catholic Palm Sunday Liturgy

Palm Sunday is one of the most important days of the Catholic liturgical year for reasons fundamental to the religion: it's about the condemnation and death of the Messiah. As a Catholic, I accept the theology of the whole thing. But for the last few years, I've returned to the same set of thoughts about why the liturgy is so powerful and important to me from a secular standpoint. The Catholic Church's Palm Sunday liturgy teaches us important lessons about how to live, even before we get into the great spiritual, theological, and eschatological questions about Jesus, God, and the universe itself. But if we take a "Jefferson Bible" approach to the divinity of Jesus, the lessons remain quite powerful.

The Catholic service on Palm Sunday starts with a procession and Gospel reading, which is unique in the liturgical year. In Year B, Mark's Gospel serves as the first reading. It includes the following passage, talking about what happened as Jesus entered Jersualem:
Many people spread their cloaks on the road,
and others spread leafy branches
that they had cut from the fields.
Those preceding him as well as those following kept crying out:
"Hosanna!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is to come!
Hosanna in the highest!"
So the people hailed this guy as he entered town, waving their palms and offering encomiums (and it's why we get palms at the beginning of mass). That's the groundwork for what's about to come in about 10-15 minutes: the passion narrative.

The passion substitutes for the main gospel reading, and it's handled as a sort of "table read" for a stage play. There are four characters:

- Jesus, read by the priest.
- The narrator, usually read by a deacon or a lay reader.
- The "voice," who fills in where one specific person (like Peter or Pontius Pilate) has a line of dialogue, usually read by a deacon or a lay reader.
- The "crowd," read by the congregation.

This is unique in the Catholic liturgy; normally, the Gospel reading is proclaimed by the priest or deacon, and then a homily follows. For Palm Sunday (and Good Friday), the passion stage play substitutes.

The rough narrative of the passion is as follows:

- Jesus has dinner with his apostles/followers and tells them one of them is going to betray him.
- Judas betrays him and he's arrested.
- Jesus is accused of many things but the testimony conflicts. He is eventually condemned to death for blasphemy and mocked.
- Jesus faces the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, who finds no reason to put him to death.
- Pontius Pilate offers "the crowd" a choice between the release of a revolutionary and the release of Jesus, as part of a way to celebrate Passover. The crowd chooses the revolutionary.
- Jesus is mocked as "King of the Jews" and physically abused.
- Jesus is crucified and dies.

The whole stage play takes about 15 or 20 minutes to work through. For the Passion according to Mark (Year B), the crowd has a few pieces of dialogue. Several stand out. (The narrator notes are included, and the required dialogue is in quotes.)

- They all condemned him as deserving to die. Some began to spit on him. They blindfolded him and struck him and said to him, "Prophesy!"
- Pilate again said to them in reply,"Then what do you want me to do
with the man you call the king of the Jews?" They shouted again, "Crucify him."
Pilate said to them, "Why? What evil has he done?" They only shouted the louder, "Crucify him."
- The soldiers led him away inside the palace, that is, the praetorium, and assembled the whole cohort. They clothed him in purple and, weaving a crown of thorns, placed it on him. They began to salute him with, "Hail, King of the Jews!"
- With him they crucified two revolutionaries, one on his right and one on his left.
Those passing by reviled him, shaking their heads and saying, "Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself by coming down from the cross."

It's a little incongruous with the rest of the Catholic liturgy. The guy we say is God and worthy of "unending hymns of praise," we're mocking and condemning to death here. Sarcasm and spite reign. What gives?

For me at least, the Palm Sunday liturgy forces me to grapple with my humanity.

First, we're fickle. We're holding palms, just like the crowd that welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem as a king, and then just a few minutes later, we're condemning him to death.

Second, we can be mean. The mockery Jesus faces from random people and from soldiers is just callous and cold-blooded; he's a prophet and so we say, "Oh yeah? Prophesy!" They call him a King, so we clothe him in a regal purple, give him a crown of thorns, and laugh in his face. We then nail him to a cross and tell him to come down. It's just profoundly cruel.

Third, we can get caught up in a mob. The story insists that Jesus is innocent of the charges against him, but the mob insists that he be put to death anyway, ferociously advocating for a murderer to be released over the teacher.

That we have to play the part of the mob is a reminder that any of us could have done the same thing in their position. It's why it's always been deeply unfair and silly to "blame" a certain subset of people for Jesus' death: the things that got him were fundamentally human failings. Crying out "Crucify him!" makes us feel uncomfortable, because we know that he's innocent and how the story ends. But how often are we in analogous situations today? How often do we "crucify" a blameless person by acting without compassion and by surrendering to a mobocratic spirit?

There's another part that's important, though: the passion play also tells us that we can be better. Several characters do better: the nameless woman who anoints Jesus' head with oil; Simon the Cyrenian, who helps carry his cross; and Joseph of Arimathea, who prepares Jesus' body for burial. They're the ones to emulate, not the mob.

And so the Palm Sunday liturgy--and the audience participation therein--is an annual reminder for me: any of us can get caught in the mob, and all of us can aspire to do better.