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Born-again American

Over the recent Independence Day weekend, I found myself unexpectedly online arguing for the Constitution as a time-tested beacon of America's founding principles. In a break with annual tradition, National Public Radio ran a feature examining what equality means and has meant in the Declaration of Independence, breaking with its tradition of reading the document on the air. And then I ended up in a dispute with somebody I didn't even know.


When the online dustup was over, I was left with a startling recognition. In making my case for our national charter, I found myself unable to speak beyond generalities because I had never studied the Constitution systematically, or even read it all the way through.


More than startling, this was mind-blowing. As an educated American by birth with more than 60 years of living, I realized in many respects I was a citizen in name only. I support candidates I believe in, attend the occasional political rally, vote without fail. Still, this raises a fairly low bar. I felt a sudden surge of enthusiasm to be a citizen by choice. I knew this would take preparation and training. I couldn't wait to get started.


Let me start by thanking the online stranger who openly admitted his disdain for the Independence Day celebration. His thinking gave me incentive to start delving into the Constitution at a level far deeper than the minimal knowledge required to pass the written test to become a U.S. citizen. Toward that end, I enrolled in an independent study course on the Constitution, offered online through Hillsdale College.


I've already begun exploring the ideas at the heart of America 101: natural rights and the American Revolution, the theory of the Declaration and the Constitution, majority tyranny and the consent of the governed, the crisis of the Civil War, the Progressive rejection of the Founding, post-'60s liberalism and contemporary politics.


I'm not wild about current political labels. When pressed, I generally count myself a classical or original liberal, on the side of freedom as a first principle — free thought, speech, assembly, worship, enterprise. Moderate of temperament, the closest I get to absolutism is being on point for what's actually stated in each of the 10 amendments that make up the Bill of Rights. By my sights, it's not a "maybe, please" wish list.


In its Independence Day seminar on equality, NPR hosts emphasized that American actions have not always been in accord with our creed about equality of opportunity. This is evidenced by slavery, Jim Crow and women excluded from voting. The person I ended up in an online argument with pushed things further, taking America to task for its lack of equal outcomes for everyone.


But equality of condition is not actually an American idea, and it's what got me riled. What the USA stands for is equality before the law. Mobility is built in to our societal software. Through motivation, preparation and learned skills, Americans of diverse backgrounds and beliefs can overcome obstacles and change destinies. This is why so many people from everywhere, as Neil Diamond sings, want to keep "coming to America . . . today."


And let's remember that when Dr. King called America to "live up to the true meaning of its creed," he made the point by citing the gap between the Declaration as a marvelous blueprint for equality, and our nation's having fallen short of honoring and enforcing the clear language of the 14th Amendment's Equal Protection Clause.


Consider this a love-letter to the freedom fighters of 1776 for setting a standard to keep living up to, and to the country I have always called home even when it has seemed adrift or abjectly misguided and in need of course correction. Thank you, Justice Louis Brandeis, for this: "The most important office in a democracy is that of citizen." Who will channel Paul Revere's warnings now? Who else but us, ever.


What about you? Perhaps you felt bored by the way America was taught in high school. Or maybe you're among those who doubt this country is anything special, but also open to evidence that we are. It's possible you need no convincing that the United States is exceptional, even if you can't always put the feeling into words.


Whatever your starting point, please consider renewing your own commitment to ensuring that the powerful words of the Constitution and Declaration live not just on parchment but pavement, as well. Let's keep making liberty street-wise. When it comes to defending due process, limited government and the blessings of liberty: the right time is always now. Meet you there?


Meanwhile, I've got studies waiting. May you be inspired to live more fully into President John F. Kennedy's call to action: "We are the heirs to that First Revolution." It is up to us to make it real.

If Celebrating Diversity Matters, Maybe it Should Apply to Viewpoints?


Last year, when I was still in Sonoma County, California, planning a move to Boise, an acquaintance sounded a warning.


"You know there are a lot of Christians in Idaho, right?"


The way he said this—leaning-in, hushed-tones, word-to-the-wise—definitely caught my attention.

"And why would that be a problem?" I said.


My dialogue partner, a proud progressive whose vehicle displayed a "Celebrate Diversity" bumper sticker, shifted his posture abruptly, as if positioning himself. The curtain had opened on another scene in the kabuki theater of polarized ideas now sweeping the nation.


"No," he said. "I'm talking fundamentalist Christians." His voice and expression were solemn. You know the way people who claim to be broadminded and inclusive often get when being contemptuous of viewpoints other than their own? That kind of solemn.

"So the most dangerous Christians are those who take their faith seriously?"


He didn't appear pleased with this turn in the conversation. I was up for a pleasant exchange of views, but his aim was to score points. He seemed to be looking for an exit strategy.


In fairness, I've done my share of this sort of loaded rhetorical maneuvering. I recognized his quandary.

My location advisor got one thing right—statistics confirm there are a lot of Christians here in beautiful Idaho. Safe to assume I probably cross paths with many each day. It's hard to say for sure because nobody has yet come up and put me on notice: "You do you know I'm a Christian, right?"


Remarkably, not a single local zealot has tried to smite me for heresy or stone me for blasphemy, Old Testament style. Given that the sins I merely consider committing on an average day could easily put me in the bull's-eye of serious wrath, I'm much obliged for the leniency. Hoping the lucky streak holds.


Did I mention that before leaving California after more than three decades, quite a few progressives also cautioned that I would find large numbers of "right-wingers" in the Gem State? Some would advocate things like limited government, personal freedom, individual responsibility. Many would certainly be armed—you know, with actual firearms, locked and loaded, toting pocket-sized constitutions, the whole nine yards.


These warnings invariably came with ominous undertones. "You know what you're getting yourself into?"


Now that I'm established in Boise, there's no denying what I've gotten myself into—steel yourself, big news coming. What I seem to be settling into is a community where the predominant vibe is: live-and-let-live.


I can't say this really surprises me. It's the attitude I extend to fellow humans every day. Experience has taught me that being open to, and respectful of, the opinions and behavior of others, as a rule of thumb, is a fine strategy for getting along, not to mention good etiquette.


Simple manners, remember those? I sometimes fall short, but that doesn't cancel the norm.


Here's another thing I've learned from experience: People who hold religious or political views that might diverge from mine, don't automatically merit me presuming them "dangerous." But that was exactly the supposition taken as truth by my numerous California confidantes regarding large groupings of Idahoans they hadn't met and knew nothing about.


Ironically, few of them bothered to ask what my political views might actually be. All the easier to assume the guy questioning assumptions must be some paleo-conservative. Even more fun: their flummoxed look when I identify myself as a liberal, a classical or original liberal (emphasis on freedom of thought, speech, assembly, worship, enterprise).


Psychologists have a concept, "projection," for the process by which individuals attribute to others what's actually going on in their own minds. Easy example: people who are unknowingly self-critical may be hypersensitive about people being critical of them.


Or people who claim to dig diversity, casually assuming other people dangerous, based solely on their peacefully held views and practices.


My earnest alarm-sounders weren't wrong about the dangers of intolerant people. It's like they didn't know where to look. Sometimes a mirror is a really good place to start.


—Idaho Dispatch, August 18, 2021

Leaving the Left: On Being Classically Liberal



Nightfall, Jan. 30. Eight-million Iraqi voters have finished risking their lives to endorse freedom and defy fascism. Three things happen in rapid succession. The right cheers. The left demurs. I walk away from a long-term intimate relationship. I'm separating not from a person but a cause: the political philosophy that for more than three decades has shaped my character and consciousness, my sense of self and community, even my sense of cosmos.


I'm leaving the left -- more precisely, the American cultural left and what it has become during our time together.


I choose this day for my departure because I can no longer abide the simpering voices of self-styled progressives -- people who once championed solidarity with oppressed populations everywhere -- reciting all the ways Iraq's democratic experiment might yet implode.


My estrangement hasn't happened overnight. Out of the corner of my eye I watched what was coming for more than three decades, yet refused to truly see. Now it's all too obvious. Leading voices in America's "peace" movement are actually cheering against self-determination for a long-suffering Third World country because they hate George W. Bush more than they love freedom.


Like many others who came of age politically in the 1960s, I became adept at not taking the measure of the left's mounting incoherence. To face it directly posed the danger that I would have to describe it accurately, first to myself and then to others. That could only give aid and comfort to Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson, Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter and all the other Usual Suspects the left so regularly employs to keep from seeing its own reflection in the mirror.


Now, I find myself in a swirling metamorphosis. Think Kafka, without the bug. Think Kuhnian paradigm shift, without the buzz. Every anomaly that didn't fit my perceptual set is suddenly back, all the more glaring for so long ignored. The insistent inner voice I learned to suppress now has my rapt attention. "Something strange -- something approaching pathological -- something entirely of its own making -- has the left in its grip," the voice whispers. "How did this happen?" The Iraqi election is my tipping point. The time has come to walk in a different direction -- just as I did many years before.


I grew up in a northwest Ohio town where conservative was a polite term for reactionary. When Martin Luther King Jr. spoke of Mississippi "sweltering in the heat of oppression," he could have been describing my community, where blacks knew to keep their heads down, and animosity toward Catholics and Jews was unapologetic. Liberal and conservative, like left and right, wouldn't be part of my lexicon for a while, but when King proclaimed, "I have a dream," I instinctively cast my lot with those I later found out were liberals (then synonymous with "the left" and "progressive thought").


The people on the other side were dedicated to preserving my hometown's backward-looking status quo. This was all that my 10-year-old psyche needed to know. The knowledge carried me for a long time. Mythologies are helpful that way.


I began my activist career championing the 1968 presidential candidacies of Robert Kennedy and Eugene McCarthy, because both promised to end America's misadventure in Vietnam. I marched for peace and farm worker justice, lobbied for women's right to choose and environmental protections, signed up with George McGovern in 1972 and got elected as the youngest delegate ever to a Democratic convention.


Eventually I joined the staff of U.S. Sen. Howard Metzenbaum, D-Ohio. In short, I became a card-carrying liberal, although I never actually got a card. (Bookkeeping has never been the left's strong suit.) All my commitments centered on belief in equal opportunity, due process, respect for the dignity of the individual and solidarity with people in trouble. To my mind, Americans who had joined the resistance to Franco's fascist dystopia captured the progressive spirit at its finest.


A turning point came at a dinner party on the day Ronald Reagan famously described the Soviet Union as the pre-eminent source of evil in the modern world. The general tenor of the evening was that Reagan's use of the word "evil" had moved the world closer to annihilation. There was a palpable sense that we might not make it to dessert.


When I casually offered that the surviving relatives of the more than 20 million people murdered on orders of Joseph Stalin might not find "evil'" too strong a word, the room took on a collective bemused smile of the sort you might expect if someone had casually mentioned taking up child molestation for sport.


My progressive companions had a point. It was rude to bring a word like "gulag" to the dinner table.


I look back on that experience as the beginning of my departure from a left already well on its way to losing its bearings. Two decades later, I watched with astonishment as leading left intellectuals launched a telethon- like body count of civilian deaths caused by American soldiers in Afghanistan. Their premise was straightforward, almost giddily so: When the number of civilian Afghani deaths surpassed the carnage of Sept. 11, the war would be unjust, irrespective of other considerations.


I look back on that experience as the beginning of my departure from a left already well on its way to losing its bearings. Two decades later, I watched with astonishment as leading left intellectuals launched a telethon- like body count of civilian deaths caused by American soldiers in Afghanistan. Their premise was straightforward, almost giddily so: When the number of civilian Afghani deaths surpassed the carnage of Sept. 11, the war would be unjust, irrespective of other considerations.


Stated simply: The force wielded by democracies in self-defense was declared morally equivalent to the nihilistic aggression perpetuated by Muslim fanatics.


Susan Sontag cleared her throat for the "courage" of the al Qaeda pilots. Norman Mailer pronounced the dead of Sept. 11 comparable to "automobile statistics." The events of that day were likely premeditated by the White House, Gore Vidal insinuated. Noam Chomsky insisted that al Qaeda at its most atrocious generated no terror greater than American foreign policy on a mediocre day.


All of this came back to me as I watched the left's anemic, smirking response to Iraq's election in January. Didn't many of these same people stand up in the sixties for self-rule for oppressed people and against fascism in any guise? Yes, and to their lasting credit. But many had since made clear that they had also changed their minds about the virtues of King's call for equal of opportunity.


These days the postmodern left demands that government and private institutions guarantee equality of outcomes. Any racial or gender "disparities" are to be considered evidence of culpable bias, regardless of factors such as personal motivation, training, and skill. This goal is neither liberal nor progressive; but it is what the left has chosen. In a very real sense it may be the last card held by a movement increasingly ensnared in resentful questing for group-specific rights and the subordination of citizenship to group identity. There's a word for this: pathetic.


I smile when friends tell me I've "moved right." I laugh out loud at what now passes for progressive on the main lines of the cultural left.


 In the name of "diversity," the University of Arizona has forbidden discrimination based on "individual style." The University of Connecticut has banned "inappropriately directed laughter." Brown University, sensing unacceptable gray areas, warns that harassment "may be intentional or unintentional and still constitute harassment." (Yes, we're talking "subconscious harassment" here. We're watching your thoughts ...).


Wait, it gets better. When actor Bill Cosby called on black parents to explain to their kids why they are not likely to get into medical school speaking English like "Why you ain't" and "Where you is," Jesse Jackson countered that the time was not yet right to "level the playing field." Why not? Because "drunk people can't do that ... illiterate people can't do that."


When self-styled pragmatic feminist Camille Paglia mocked young coeds who believe "I should be able to get drunk at a fraternity party and go upstairs to a guy's room without anything happening," Susan Estrich spoke up for gender- focused feminists who "would argue that so long as women are powerless relative to men, viewing 'yes' as a sign of true consent is misguided."


I'll admit my politics have shifted in recent years, as have America's political landscape and cultural horizon. Who would have guessed that the U.S. senator with today's best voting record on human rights would be not Ted Kennedy or Barbara Boxer but Kansas Republican Sam Brownback?


He is also by most measures one of the most conservative senators. Brownback speaks openly about how his horror at the genocide in the Sudan is shaped by his Christian faith, as King did when he insisted on justice for "all of God's children."


My larger point is rather simple. Just as a body needs different medicines at different times for different reasons, this also holds for the body politic.


In the sixties, America correctly focused on bringing down walls that prevented equal access and due process. It was time to walk the Founders' talk -- and we did. With barriers to opportunity no longer written into law, today the body politic is crying for different remedies.


America must now focus on creating healthy, self-actualizing individuals committed to taking responsibility for their lives, developing their talents, honing their skills and intellects, fostering emotional and moral intelligence, all in all contributing to the advancement of the human condition.


At the heart of authentic liberalism lies the recognition, in the words of John Gardner, "that the ever renewing society will be a free society (whose] capacity for renewal depends on the individuals who make it up." A continuously renewing society, Gardner believed, is one that seeks to "foster innovative, versatile, and self-renewing men and women and give them room to breathe."


One aspect of my politics hasn't changed a bit. I became a liberal in the first place to break from the repressive group orthodoxies of my reactionary hometown. This past January, my liberalism was in full throttle when I bid the cultural left goodbye to escape a version of that oppressiveness. I departed with new clarity about the brilliance of liberal democracy and the value system it entails; the quest for freedom as an intrinsically human affair; and the dangers of demands for conformity and adherence to any point of view through silence, fear, or coercion.


True, it took a while to see what was right before my eyes. A certain misplaced loyalty kept me from grasping that a view of individuals as morally capable of and responsible for making the principle decisions that shape their lives is decisively at odds with the contemporary left's entrance-level view of people as passive and helpless victims of powerful external forces, hence political wards who require the continuous shepherding of caretaker elites.


Leftists who no longer speak of the duties of citizens, but only of the rights of clients, cannot be expected to grasp the importance (not least to our survival) of fostering in the Middle East the crucial developmental advances that gave rise to our own capacity for pluralism, self-reflection, and equality. A left averse to making common cause with competent, self- determining individuals -- people who guide their lives on the basis of received values, everyday moral understandings, traditional wisdom, and plain common sense -- is a faction that deserves the marginalization it has pursued with such tenacity for so many years.


All of which is why I have come to believe, and gladly join with others who have discovered for themselves, that the single most important thing a genuinely liberal person can do now is walk away from the house the left has built. The renewal of any tradition that deserves the name "progressive" becomes more likely with each step in a better direction.


San Francisco Chronicle, May 22, 2005