Primary Opinion

Collected Essays: 1997-2004

Name: Carl Miffleton
Location: Portsmouth, VA

Currently a graduate student at Old Dominion University

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Table of Contents

One: Physical Science

1. Distilling Science from Philosophy: Aristotle, Galileo, and Newton
2. Black Holes, Dark Matter, and the Great Attractor
3. The Einstein-Bohr Debate: Does God Play Dice?
4. Measuring the Age of the Earth
5. Scale
6. The Relative Abundance of Chemical Elements
7. Mechanisms of Change

Two: Ethics

1. Mammon and America
2. Racism and Racialism
3. Decision to Drop the Bomb
4. Feeding the Hungry
5. Civil Disobedience
6. Natural vs. Unnatural
7. Double Effect
8. Debate on Euthanasia
9. Loyalty vs. Civic Responsibility
10. Abortion
11. Ethics in Science

Three: Politics and Ideology

1. The Enlightenment and Jeffersonian Thought
2. Securing Individual Liberties
3. Thomas Paine and Revolution
4. The Tenor of Current Political Debate
5. The Untold Story of Watergate

Four: Public Policy

1. Problems at NASA
2. Freedom of Speech
3. Comparable Worth
4. Preferential Hiring and Promotion
5. Substance Abuse on the Job
6. Performance Appraisal Systems
7. Collective Bargaining--Public & Private
8. Air Traffic Controllers vs. Reagan: Lessons Learned from the Strike

Five: Philosophy

1. Ontology and Physics
2. Rationalism and Empiricism
3. Political Theory: Argument for Moderation
4. Imposition of Islamic Law
5. Apostasy
6. The Nature of God
7. Reverends Robertson and Falwell Revisited
8. When Science Goes Too Far
9. Aids: Biological Warfare or the Judgment of God?
10. Legislating Morality

Six: Law

1. The U.S. Supreme Court and Affirmative Action
2. Judicial Review
3. The Bar
4. Presumption of Innocence
5. Problems with Juries
6. Stare Decisis
7. Statutory Interpretation
8. Constitutional Interpretation
9. Judicial Effectiveness and Miranda
10. The Basis of Law
11. Supreme Court Decisions and Prisoner's Rights

Seven: Social Science

1. Juvenile Crime and Cognitive Dysfunction
2. Trends
3. East German Prisons
4. Juvenile Detention
5. Bail Practices

Eight: Ephemera

1. Misguided Fears: The Electronic Surveillance Debate
2. Electronic Surveillance, Law Enforcement, and the USA Patriot Act
3. Explanations for Subemployment
4. Protectionist Trade Policies
5. Small Business Solution

Nine: The Tetragrammaton

1. Coping With Terrorism: United States, Germany, and South Korea
2. Credibility Gap: Unanswered Questions on the Bush Administration's Iraq War Policy
3. Sixth Amendment Under Siege: How the U.S. Department of Justice is Undermining Attorney-Client Privilege
4. Is the Religious Right Eroding Separation of Church and State?


Introduction

This is the best of my academic writing—from the early years at Tidewater Community College (1997-2000) to completing a baccalaureate in governmental administration at Christopher Newport University (2000-2004). Whatever the intrinsic worth of such documents, one thing is clear: they are too good to just throw away. Hence this collection.

Why anyone would want to read all of this stuff is beyond me—not even I would welcome the task. But I would suggest several items: “The Enlightenment and Jeffersonian Thought”; “When Science Goes Too Far”; “Juvenile Crime and Cognitive Dysfunction”; “The Untold Story of Watergate”; “Electronic Surveillance, Law Enforcement, and the USA Patriot Act”; “Explanations for Subemployment”; “Ethics in Science.” Most of the rest might appeal to those with particular interests—philosophy, natural science, law and criminal justice, public administration.

I should say a word or two about the last chapter, “The Tetragrammaton.” During my final semester at CNU I took four classes, each of which required a term paper. I had the novel idea of writing four thematically related papers (although none of the professors knew it), dealing with various aspects of 9/11, terrorism, the Bush Administration, and the direction our country is taking. The resulting texts, while highly informative were less than fabulous, but it was an attempt to experiment with form—something I’ve continued in graduate school.

Throughout all of this work, a distinct worldview is discernable—a sort of philosophy—which is the only real justification for this volume. My worldview is grounded in science (which is why the “physics” essays appear in Chapter One), but is also Theistic. Fundamentally, there is no conflict between science and asserting the existence of God, in my view. Hopefully, a moral sensibility comes through as well.

A great deal of material was omitted—literary analysis, eastern philosophy, music reviews, and such—because it didn’t quite fit the rationalist tone of the collection. I plan to include those items in a future volume. So, here it is—the good, the bad, and the ugly—all in one tome.

CHM

One: Physical Science

Distilling Science from Philosophy: Aristotle, Galileo, and Newton


I must admit the study of mechanics is a dreary science, but it is nonetheless fundamental. Take aerodynamics as an example. How could one ever succeed in flying an airplane, launching a missile, putting a spacecraft in orbit, or sending it to land safely on the moon, without a thorough understanding of motion, acceleration, inertia, gravity, and all associated forces? For this, science owes a debt of gratitude to the great minds who first explored these areas: Aristotle, Galileo, and Newton, just to name three. To this list dozens of other names might be added, but for our purposes we shall focus on the three and the chain of thought, beginning more than twenty-five centuries ago, that guided man's understanding from primitive superstition to modern physics.

The struggle between our supernatural preoccupations and a more logical, rational way of thinking is perhaps as old as the human race itself. For most of that time, supernaturalism had the greatest credence. The sun shone, the rain fell, the earth shook, all by the will of various gods (or one God). Yet even the ancients knew of certain patterns--the inevitable cycle of day and night, regular motions of stars and planets, four orderly seasons, and so on. Aristotle was not the first to apply logic to explaining the natural world--in fact, he was one of the last in the pre-Christian era to do so. Contained in the most important of his preserved writings--Physics, Metaphysics, Ethics, Poetics, Categories, and many others--is the most profound synthesis of human knowledge assembled to that time. He was heir to a great body of research, from the pre-Socratics beginning with Thales of Miletus, who successfully predicted a solar eclipse in 585 B.C., to Plato, at whose academy he studied for twenty years.

Aristotle, no doubt, annoyed his teacher Plato with his youthful brilliance and open disagreement with some cherished Platonic precepts. Plato, according to Aristotle, was too immersed in the metaphysical to adequately deal with the real physical universe. For example, when addressing the question of "what is the ideal state?", Plato waxed eloquent in the Republic. Aristotle, on the other hand, studied 158 actual constitutions to determine which of them worked the best (Mitchell, 1996, p.363). In grappling with the physical workings of the universe, Plato regarded this world as a mere "copy" of an immaterial world of ideal forms. Between the two was a "demiurge" translating perfect ideas into imperfect, tangible beings. Aristotle dismissed this notion altogether and looked for answers solely in the material world. Here, we see science beginning to separate itself from philosophy. According to Jefferson Hane Weaver:

Aristotle was less concerned than Plato about the relationship between the ideal world and the real world. One of his greatest contributions to science may have been his efforts to systematically classify plants and animals. He also sought to discover the primary forces of nature. According to Aristotle, the universe is balanced by opposite movements of the four elements. Air and fire move upward naturally while earth and water move downward, thereby preserving a general equilibrium. Aristotle used a fifth element, ether, to explain the movements of stars, which he supposed consisted of ether. (p.288)


His common sense approach, although later proven inaccurate, began the process of divorcing pure science from metaphysical speculation. How far Aristotle might have gone had he been born in a later century is a tantalizing thought, for he was severely limited by a lack of technology. Durant points out, "See, here, how inventions make history: for lack of a telescope Aristotle's astronomy is a tissue of childish romance; for lack of a microscope his biology wanders endlessly astray" (1961, p.55).

In light of later discoveries it is too easy to dismiss him, yet Aristotle's writings, once approved by Catholic authorities, assumed a status comparable to Holy Scripture. Though the rise of Christianity reasserted the dominance of supernaturalism during the Middle Ages, Aristotle continued to be studied and adhered to, despite unexplainable facts and discrepancies. It was not until the Renaissance that "natural philosophy" began to break free of Aristotelian limits. This made it possible for a pioneer like Galileo to make tremendous strides in the study of motion and astronomy.

No scientist works in a vacuum, therefore Galileo's work was preceded by a thorough familiarization with the theories of Copernicus, who maintained that the sun, rather than the earth, was at the center of planetary motion, and Kepler, who demonstrated that planetary orbits were elliptical rather than perfect circles around the sun. The Church, of course, was unwilling to admit to any of this.

Galileo, a professor of mathematics at the University of Pisa, taught courses of astronomy to medical students, comparing Copernican and Ptolemaic cosmologies (Weaver, pp.424-25). In early experiments with pendulums he arrived at a primitive law of energy conservation, claiming that without an impeding force, the pendulum would continue to rise and fall forever. And despite Aristotle's claim that any moving object would naturally come to rest, Galileo held that in the absence of friction, a moving body would continue its path in a straight line indefinitely. He was the first to measure acceleration rates of spheres down an incline and actually believed in a simple theory of relativity--a notion that Newton later rejected. In short, Galileo was instrumental in overturning almost all of Aristotle's time-worn assumptions. He introduced mathematics into physics and helped separate science from philosophy (Weaver, p.453). Later in life, when he turned his telescope toward the night sky, Galileo observed mountain ranges on the moon, phases of the planet Venus, and moons orbiting Jupiter. Because he firmly held to the Copernican view of heliocentricity, he found himself before the Inquisition in 1615, at which time he recanted. Galileo was placed under house arrest and barred from further research, although he was allowed to write one last book in 1632. Obviously, supernaturalism was not quite ready to surrender to the truth.

It was Isaac Newton, born in 1642--the same year Galileo died--who finally nailed the coffin shut on the occult in science. Beginning his work where Kepler and Galileo left off, Newton created a cosmogony that worked without the need of constant Divine Intervention. He was a sickly child, an inept farmer, and, later, an undistinguished college student. But when he retreated to his family's farm in 1665 to avoid a plague then sweeping London, he "[i]n a single year... (1) discovered the binomial theorem; (2) discovered the basic principles of the differential and integral calculus; (3) worked out the theory of gravitation; and (4) discovered the spectrum..." (Weaver, p.484).

By this time the scientific world was ready for a revolution, and Newton was a national hero by 1667. Eventually, what became known as "Newtonian physics" left its indelible mark on science and remained unchallenged for more than 200 years. Newton was criticized by some for refusing to insert causality in his system, preferring instead to identify fundamental rules of order, but old patterns of thought were slowly giving way to the new. It wasn't until 1685 that he finally wrote, in Latin, the summation of his life's work, Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy. This remains one of the most important scientific works ever written.

Thus, classical physics reigned unchallenged and nearly unquestioned until the 20th century, providing the basis of the "clockwork universe," a view that had theological, as well as philosophical implications. The 18th century Deists, for example (American President Thomas Jefferson was a Deist), held to the Newtonian cosmos, limiting God's role to that of a "watchmaker" who, having created the universe, immediately withdrew to allow it to run by itself without further input. This left men free to pursue their own destinies.

Isaac Newton himself, however, remained an enigma. He never married, was obsessed with alchemy and the occult, and was tormented by religious questions till the end of his life. He might have been comforted somewhat by such modern discoveries as relativity and quantum mechanics, which prove that at the sub-atomic level, as well as the macrocosmic, reality doesn't operate according to Newton's laws. Perhaps God did not withdraw after all.



References


Durant, W. (1961). The Story of Philosophy. New York: Washington Square.

Mitchell, H. (1996). Roots of Wisdom. Albany: ITP.

Weaver, J. (1987) The World of Physics. New York: Simon and Schuster.


***




Black Holes, Dark Matter, and the Great Attractor



When Albert Einstein published his theory of General Relativity in 1915 it was considered the end of an era--the era of "Newtonian” or classical physics. The elegance and simplicity of Newton's law of universal gravitation, once thought an absolute, could not explain certain phenomena under specialized conditions. But there was no need to relegate Newtonian physics to the same curio shop as, say, Ptolemaic astronomy. In the realm of ordinary experience, dealing with quantities that require measurement for practical purposes, the old theory of gravity worked perfectly well. In the Newtonian universe there were "objects" containing mass, and "forces" which acted upon the objects. Time and space were two distinct parameters within which, and through which, all measurements were made. Thus, gravity was a force that acted between all particles of matter possessing mass. Where that "force" came from or how it was generated classical physics could not speculate, but its observed effects could be calculated. For example, to determine the mass of the sun was a straightforward problem easily solved. Obviously, one could not put the sun on a scale and weigh it, but its mass could be determined indirectly by measuring the orbital speed of the planets. If the sun were more massive than it is, the planets would travel at a higher rate of speed; if it were less massive, their motions would be much slower (Morris, 1990, p.97). As it turns out, the sun's mass is roughly 3.3 million times that of the earth.

General Relativity, of course, attributes the effects of gravity to a curvature of space and time in the vicinity of a massive body, so there is no "force" of gravity per se. To be sure, an apple falling from a tree or an asteroid hurtling toward the sun seems to be in the grip of a powerful force, but in reality these objects are merely following their natural trajectories--that is, they are following the path of least resistance. For example, a freight train traveling 100 mph due east makes a slow 90 degree turn and heads south. There is no "force" acting upon the train making it turn south (other than its own running force), it is simply following the course of the tracks. The curvature of space has a comparable effect on massive bodies. Not only is it possible to determine the velocities of nearby objects like planets, those of distant stars can also be measured. One might wonder, how? Even through a powerful telescope stars do not appear to move, but remain in fixed positions night after night, year after year. In fact, it would take many human lifetimes to observe even the slightest shift of a star's position. Yet astronomers know they are all moving at high rates of speed and can assign them accurate velocities. How is it done? By analyzing the light these objects emit.

Although it was long known that light, when passed through a prism, produced a spectrum of colors, Isaac Newton was the first to demonstrate that white light was actually an admixture of colors (it had been previously assumed that the prism somehow added colors to the light). In the 1800s it became possible to analyze the chemical composition of a light source through a device called the spectroscope. Through spectral analysis, then, scientists could determine the hydrogen/helium ratio of a distant star (and thus the star's approximate age), traces of heavier elements in interstellar gas, and many other things. It is also possible to measure the velocity of a moving light source through a phenomenon known as the Doppler Effect. When a light-emitting object is approaching, the waves are shifted toward the blue end of the spectrum; when receding, they are shifted toward the red end, thus an object's relative redshift or blueshift indicates its velocity away from or toward the earth. Not only is visible light analyzed this way (being only a tiny fraction of the electromagnetic spectrum), but all wavelengths from low-frequency radio waves to high-frequency gamma rays can be analyzed. Telescope observation may represent the romantic aspect of astronomy, but radio telescopes provide the fullest range of data, from which information about the cosmos can be gleaned. With this understanding, then, we can now briefly consider some of the more puzzling questions, and outright mysteries confronting scientists.

Implicit in Einstein's General Relativity equations is the possibility of such exotic objects as black holes. After a star exhausts its hydrogen fuel through nuclear fusion, a series of changes take place, the end result of which depends on the mass of the star. Low mass stars eject most of their outer layers, which remain as planetary nebulae. A high mass star dies violently in a supernova explosion, the remnants of which, if enough mass remains (about 3 solar masses), can collapse under the weight of its own gravity to form an object from which nothing, not even light, can ever escape. That means the escape velocity from the collapsed star exceeds the speed of light, thus it disappears from the universe, forming a black hole. It is not possible to observe a black hole directly, but its effects can be observed. Any matter in the vicinity of the object will be accelerated by the intense gravitational field. Hot interstellar gasses, when accelerated, produce high energy radiation that can be detected. Thus, the x-ray source Cygnus X-1 is strongly suspected of being a black hole. Since what we experience as gravity is really the warping of space-time, the condition reaches an extreme in a black hole. According to Kaufmann (1985, p.446):

Inside a black hole, powerful gravity distorts the shape of space and time so severely that the directions of space and time become interchanged. In a limited sense, inside a black hole you can have freedom to move through time. It does you no good, however, because you lose a corresponding amount of freedom to move through space. Whether you like it or not, you are inexorably dragged from the event horizon [surface] to the singularity [core]. Just as no force in the universe can prevent the forward march of time (past to future) outside a black hole, no force in the universe can prevent the inward march of space (event horizon to singularity) inside a black hole.

Black holes are thought to reside at the centers of many, if not most, galaxies. There is strong evidence to suggest that one of these massive objects lurks at the center of our own Milky Way galaxy.

As observational techniques have become more refined, it has become possible to measure relative velocities of even the most distant objects in the universe--galaxies and galaxy clusters. In 1929 American astronomer Edwin Hubble discovered that nearly all galaxies showed a significant redshift, meaning that they were receding from the earth. Moreover, he realized that the redshift was proportional to the galaxy's distance from us--the further away it was, the faster it was receding. The inescapable conclusion was that the universe as a whole was expanding, carrying the galaxies along with it (something that was also implied by Einstein's equations). This led to the Big Bang theory of the universe's origin. All debate about the veracity of this theory was silenced in 1964 when physicists Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson discovered a background radiation of 2.7 Kelvins prevalent throughout the universe. Only one explanation for this uniform microwave radiation has ever been accepted: it is a remnant of the Big Bang itself, thought to have occurred 15-20 billion years ago (Morris, p.38). Interestingly, by using the microwave background as a reference point, it is possible to measure the peculiar motions of bodies through space, separate and distinct from their general motions.

In 1977 it was discovered that the Milky Way galaxy along with its small cluster--known as the Local Group--was moving at a speed of about 600 kilometers per second. According to Morris, "Astronomers soon concluded that the peculiar motion of the Local Group must be caused by the gravitational attraction of a concentration of mass that lay millions of light-years away and could have no other cause" (p.127). Scientists thus became aware of the Great Attractor. They did not have a clear idea of how far away this concentration of mass had to be, but when telescopes were aimed in that direction nothing could be seen. In 1987 a group of astrophysicists known as the Seven Samurai completed a five-year study which revealed that an enormous volume of the local universe, including two super-clusters of galaxies, were streaming at high velocity toward the (as yet undiscovered) Great Attractor (Morris, p.129). Calculations as to the mass required to attract entire galaxy clusters revealed that it must be equal to tens of thousands of galaxies and must be at least 400 million light-years away. But what is the Great Attractor? Scientists do not know.

Fact is, the existence of large quantities of mass that cannot be seen is a problem scientists have been grappling with for more than fifty years. Dutch astronomer Jan Oort was the first to note this problem while studying the motions of stars in the disk of our own galaxy. A star would occasionally veer away from the galactic plane only to be yanked back in place by gravity. Yet there was not enough mass from observed sources (stars, inter-stellar gasses, etc.) to produce the effect. The "missing" amount of mass was at least 50% of what should have been there. Eventually it was determined that as much as 90% of a galaxy's mass resided beyond the luminous disk of stars, as a form of as yet undiscovered dark matter. Dark matter makes it possible for galaxies to maintain their beautiful spirals (computer models indicate that the spiral structure, without the unseen mass, would dissipate after only a few million years), group together in clusters and superclusters, and form the long string-like filaments that are the large scale structural features of the universe. Indeed, the mysterious dark matter may be the predominant form of matter in the cosmos. Scientists do not know for sure what dark matter is, but a clue was recently found when it was discovered that the neutrino (a particle that far outnumbers ordinary protons, neutrons, and electrons, previously thought massless) has a small mass after all. Though it is too early to tell, dark matter may indeed be a vast ocean of neutrinos. Thus, the mystery of dark matter is one of the most intriguing questions in science.


References

Morris, R. (1990). The Edges of Science: Crossing the Boundary from Physics to Metaphysics. New York: Prentice Hall.

Kaufmann, W. J. (1985). Universe. New York: W. H. Freeman.



***


The Einstein-Bohr Debate: Does God Play Dice?


Imagine, if you will, the following philosophical dilemma: one flips a coin, knowing it will come up either heads or tails. What is the likelihood that it will come up heads (or tails) each and every time? The probability of such an occurrence decreases proportionately as the number of trials increases—the more times the coin is flipped, the more minute the possibility that it will always be heads (or tails). It is not impossible, but improbable. Indeed, there is a whole realm of mathematics devoted to the study of probability and statistics, and there are laws to describe such things. In the case of a coin, for example, where there are only two possible outcomes, the laws of chance state that in the long run the coin will come up heads 50% of the time and tails 50% of the time, with some small margin of variance. Again, the degree of variance decreases as the number of trials increases. A similar thing applies to biology as well—in the determination of sex, for instance. Generally, there is a 50/50 split between male and female offspring in most species. Otherwise, the species would be at a reproductive disadvantage and in danger of extinction.

Unfortunately, the above-mentioned laws of chance fly in the face of what we now call classical, or Newtonian physics. Isaac Newton, in his grand vision of universal order, set forth a series of postulates about the natural world that, at the time, seemed inviolable. His theory of universal gravitation provided the mathematical framework that made it possible to fully describe planetary motions and orbits—one of the all time great achievements of science. It is important to point out, however, that mere theories do not science make. Theory must match experimental observations. That’s not to say there is no room for error, but there should be at least an acceptable degree of coincidence between theory and hard fact.

Whether it was intended to or not, Newton’s theories became the springboard of what we might call absolute determinism in nature. The universe was compared to a gigantic clock and God assigned the role of clock-maker. Once the clock was built and set in motion, the Creator’s role was finished and He presumably withdrew from the workaday concerns of running the universe. Thus, if it were possible to possess omniscience—to know all there is to know about every atom and every particle, and every force that acts upon them—then it would be possible to predict, with unerring certainty, whether the coin would wind up heads or tails on any given flip, just as one can use Newton’s laws to predict the position and/or velocity of a planet at any given moment. What appears to us as “chance” is an illusion of the senses—the result of our ignorance, our understandable lack of omniscience.

Such was the argument of Albert Einstein during the late 1920s in his celebrated debate with Danish physicist Niels Bohr. Einstein had the famous quote, saying, “God does not play dice,” but Bohr, in the end, won the debate. According to Bohr there was no absolute determinism. Even if all quantities were known, with unlimited precision, there is still an element of chance in physical processes. Although there is a high degree of predictability in science, even at the atomic level, it is because the probability factor is high, not because all things are somehow predetermined. Einstein, for philosophical, aesthetic, and even religious reasons, found Bohr’s position to be completely unacceptable.


The disagreement between Albert Einstein and Niels Bohr was understandable since the two men were utter contradictions. Both were major figures in the early 20th century revolution of physics, but there the similarity ends. Einstein was born March 17, 1879 in Ulm, Germany, the son of an engineer. According to Motz and Weaver (1989, p.72), "Albert [as a child] was slow to learn to speak and his propensity to daydream and ignore the world around him caused his parents to fear that he might be retarded." Although Jewish, he attended a Catholic school until the age of ten. Einstein's parents were completely secularized, so the religious orientation of the school was of no concern. At the Luitpold Gymnasium, however, Albert showed little interest in any subject but mathematics, and neglected his study of the classics. His academic performance was so poor and his distaste for authority so pronounced, that he was expelled from the Gymnasium in 1894 (ibid). Unable to enroll in a university without a gymnasium certificate, he eventually attended the Federal Polytechnic Academy in Zurich, Switzerland, with the intent of becoming a teacher.

Einstein graduated in 1900, but his continued rebellious attitude toward authority--that is, toward Prussian-style regimentation--and unwillingness to devote himself fully to academics made it impossible to secure employment as a teacher. Therefore, he accepted a job in 1902 as an examiner in the Swiss Patent office in Bern. Einstein soon became a valued member of the staff, and during his seven-year stint with the patent office, he completed his dissertation and received a doctorate from the University of Zurich in 1905. That same year he published three papers in the Annalen der Physik, one explaining the cause of Brownian motion, one on the photoelectric effect, and one on the special theory of relativity. Any one of these papers would have established Einstein as a major figure in physics, but his ideas were slow to catch on. All three papers together represented a broadsided assault on classical physics.

After 1909 Einstein held a series of professorships--at the University of Zurich, the German University of Prague, the Zurich Polytechnic, and the University of Berlin. All the while his theories were gaining greater and greater acceptance. In 1916 he published the general theory of relativity--essentially a theory of gravity--and in its aftermath became a world-famous celebrity. In 1921 Einstein received the Nobel Prize in physics for his work on the photoelectric effect. Why did he not receive the prize for his epoch-making theory of relativity? There was a little known clause in the will of Alfred Nobel that the award must go toward discoveries with practical applications. What practical use was there for knowledge of what happens to objects at or near the speed of light? Thus, the award was given for Einstein's work on the photoelectric effect. By the 1920s it was obvious that the world's most famous scientist had almost single-handedly overturned Newtonian physics.

Niels Bohr, in contrast, was as much a product of academia as Einstein was an anathema to it. Bohr was born October 7, 1885 in Copenhagen, Denmark, the son of a university professor. The Bohr home received a steady stream of distinguished visitors and young Niels would often sit and listen to the weekly conversations on topics ranging from politics to science, to art and religion. In a way, these conversations helped prepare him for the rigors of his formal education. Bohr was both an outstanding student and a good athlete who enjoyed soccer and sailing. He began his undergraduate work in 1903 at the University of Copenhagen where he excelled in all subjects, but especially in mathematics and physical sciences. There was never any doubt that he would pursue a career in science.

After receiving his doctorate in 1911, he worked with Ernest Rutherford in Manchester, England. By the time Bohr returned to Denmark in 1913, he had already finished the first of his papers on quantum mechanics, which was quietly revolutionizing the realm of particle physics. Finding little interest for his work in Denmark, Bohr returned to England to work as a reader in mathematical physics while continuing his own theoretical research. He moved back to Denmark in 1916, and in 1921 realized a long-cherished dream by founding the Institute for Theoretical Physics. Under Bohr's leadership, the Institute became one of the major centers of research in Europe (Motz & Weaver, p.198). Niels Bohr received the Nobel Prize in physics in 1922--the year after Einstein received his.

Bohr was an accomplished speaker and his lectures well attended. This work took him to many foreign countries, including the United States. All the while, he probed the philosophical implications of modern physics, developing what came to be called the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum theory. In time, Bohr convinced nearly all leading physicists as to the merits of his views, but much to his regret he was never able to convince Einstein, whom he admired greatly. It was truly ironic that Einstein himself, in his various scientific papers, had provided Bohr with the theoretical tools to make his own breakthrough discoveries. For example, it was Einstein, years earlier, who had suggested that electrons, like photons of light, could display wave as well as particle properties.


Although we take for granted nowadays the image of the atom as a sort of miniature solar system, with electrons orbiting the nucleus just as planets orbit the sun, during the early part of the 20th century it was not so clear just what an atom was. Scientists of the 19th century thought, like the ancient Greeks, that it must be a simple, featureless sphere. Rutherford proved that the atom had a dense central core, and it was later demonstrated that electrons (discovered more or less independently) formed an outer shell. The atom's chemical properties originated largely from its electrons and each element had its own characteristic spectrum. But it was in trying to account for the phenomenon of spectral lines (among other things) that led physicists to doubt the "planetary model" and seek an alternative in quantum mechanics. That's because if one applied strict Newtonian principles to the atom, with the electrical force playing the role of gravity, then no atom could be stable. The electrons would radiate energy constantly, thus losing angular momentum, and would spiral into the nucleus. No element would have a specific spectrum and all atoms would rapidly decay, much like radioactive thorium. Observations told otherwise, however. Most atoms are stable, with their own spectral "fingerprint." Alternatives to the planetary model were proposed, such as the "raisin-pudding" model, with electrons embedded in the atomic mass.

It was Niels Bohr who resurrected the planetary model and who worked out the equations to account for the observed features of the hydrogen atom. Indeterminacy, however, was at the heart of his theory and there was, as a consequence, no clear distinction between the observer and the observed. In other words, the mere attempt to measure the velocity or position of quantum particles influenced the results--something that is unacceptable in science. Einstein attributed such uncertainty to the clumsiness of technology--that if more precise instruments could only be developed, eventually it would be proven that a particle's velocity and position could be ascertained, just as any larger object's could. Einstein thus rejected the central argument of quantum theory, saying, "Quantum mechanics is certainly imposing. But an inner voice tells me that it is not yet the real thing. The theory says a lot, but does not bring us any closer to the secret of the Old One. I, at any rate, am convinced that He does not throw dice" (qtd. in Clark, 1971, p.414).

Other scientists, such as Bohr, Heisenberg, and Born, accepted indeterminacy because, on that statistical basis, it was possible to account for observed phenomena in a coherent way. The implications of all this, nonetheless, were unsettling, even to the most adventurous mind. Quantum particles, far from being solid physical objects, could almost be seen as phantoms, existing everywhere at once or nowhere at all. The atom could be compared to a large insurance company that on the whole is stable and continuous. But when one gets down to the level of individual policy holders (quanta), random events make certainty and predictability a mere pipe-dream. Who can say when this policy holder dies, or that one has an accident?

Sadly, Albert Einstein made himself something of an anomaly in the scientific community due to his stubborn belief in some sort of ultimate causality. Although such causality may exist, it is beyond the reach of science. There is an intangible realm of mind and consciousness that is not reducible to physical processes. The God Einstein spoke of is not the God of Jewish and Christian theology (who is little more than a myth), but the God of Spinoza--a fundamental aspect of nature. Indeed, this whole idea that the universe sprang out of nothing, without cause or reason, and has developed since then simply on the basis of blind, random forces is patently absurd. You would have better luck convincing me that out of a roomful of monkeys, each equipped with a typewriter, one of them could, given enough time, eventually come up with something like Macbeth. It defies logic and borders on insanity. Thus, like Einstein I have little choice but to believe in the Old One. But there is no such thing as magic or the supernatural, and there is no need for constant Divine Intervention to make the universe work. In that respect, science carves a closer pathway to the truth than any religion or philosophy.



References

Clark, R. (1971). Einstein: The Life and Times. New York: Avon.

Motz, L. & Weaver, J.H. (1989). The Unfolding Universe: A Stellar Journey. New York: Plenum Press.



***



Measuring the Age of the Earth


The recent controversy over John Glenn's return to space has got me thinking about the concept of age. Much ado was made over the fact that he is seventy-seven years old, and some have been rather strident in their remarks. It was just a publicity stunt, they said--why send someone that old up on the shuttle? But it occurred to me that if Glenn had been, say, forty-seven, not a word of complaint would have been uttered. The sole reason for the criticism was the man's age, not that he wasn't qualified. It's just another example of how our present-day culture places no value on age. We even deem the elderly worthless. In other, more traditional cultures, seniors are held in high esteem. I say this not because of my own age (which I'm comfortable with), but because it doesn't seem right. I know a seventeen year-old girl who thinks that anyone over 25 is a fossil. "But you're old..." I've heard her say to individuals still in their twenties. Is "old" necessarily bad? After all, think of the planet Earth--it is ancient beyond counting, yet we all cherish it. John Glenn reported having an emotional experience seeing the Earth from orbit once again; other astronauts have felt the same thing. How old is the Earth, anyway?

To all appearances the planet seems to be unchanging. The seasons, years, and centuries pass with scarcely an observable change. It could easily be assumed that the Earth has always existed, as it probably always will. Yet all human civilizations, from the very beginning, have had a creation myth--a specific explanation of how the world came to be. The Babylonians, for example, believed that in the beginning was chaos, or what they called Tiamat. Then the gods and goddesses were born and they shaped the formless void into heaven, earth, and ocean. Scholars believe that the Jewish people, who were held captive in Babylon during the sixth century B.C., adapted the Babylonian tale for their own use--including it in what eventually became the Old Testament. Anyway, there are striking similarities between the two accounts. All this points to a universal human need to discover our origins, which are lost in the mists of time. Most ancient peoples considered the Earth to be thousands of years old, but no one could say precisely how many thousands. The concept of a "million," even if it existed, would have been inconceivable.

According to Isaac Asimov, one of the first attempts to calculate the age of the Earth was made by Anglican bishop James Ussher (1581-1656). Ussher worked his way backward through the Bible, assigning probable dates to important events. The oldest firm date seemed to be that of the ascension of Saul as King of Israel, thought to have occurred about 1020 B.C. (1989, p.21). The conquest of Canaan under Joshua was given as 1451 to 1425 B.C., the Exodus from Egypt about 1491 B.C., and the arrival of Abraham in Canaan about 2126 B.C. Noah's flood was placed by Ussher in 2349 B.C. and the whole creation at about 4004 B.C.--exactly four thousand years before the birth of Christ (ibid). Therefore, it was commonly believed that the Earth could not be much more than 6000 years old--that is, if one rigorously held to the Biblical record.

In 1715 the English astronomer Edmond Halley (1656-1742) made the first attempt to measure the Earth's age scientifically by using the uniformitarian principle--i.e. the idea that change on Earth takes place slowly, over long periods of time. The method he devised was to calculate the rate of the ocean's salinization. Rivers, as they flow into the ocean, carry with them quantities of salt and other minerals. If one were to assume that the ocean was fresh water to begin with, and if one could determine the amount of salt deposited annually, it should be possible to measure the age of the ocean by analyzing how much salt is in seawater. After all, when water is evaporated by sunlight, all minerals are left behind. Seawater, it turns out, contains 3.3% salt. Using these facts, Halley estimated the Earth's age to be 1,000 million years, which, according to Asimov, was "quite a respectable estimate for the first time around" (p.158). The religious argument against this figure, of course, was that God simply created the ocean with that much salt content.

Another way of calculating the planet's age was to measure sedimentation rates. Rivers, lakes, and oceans laid down layers of sludge, or sediment, which hardened into rock over time. Much of this rock contained the fossilized remains of extinct sea-creatures. Examining layer after layer of sedimentary rock was almost like looking into a time machine, since the more primitive organisms were found toward the bottom. It was difficult, however, to determine the rate of sedimentation, as some years may have been more turbulent than others weather-wise, thus producing varying amounts of sediment year by year. Still, geologists put forth estimates of the Earth as being at least 500 million years old, and that was good news to naturalist Charles Darwin. At that time (the mid 1800s), Darwin was formulating his theories of evolution through natural selection--a mechanism that required millions of years to work, if such evolution had in fact taken place.

But even before Darwin published his landmark book The Origin of Species in 1859, scientists were busy upsetting traditional notions of a 6000 year-old Earth by using incontrovertible physical laws. By the 1840s the First Law of Thermodynamics--that of the conservation of energy--was being formulated. For the first time, the source of the Sun's prodigious power began to be considered. Having as yet no idea about nuclear energy, the only logical explanation was, according to physicist Hermann von Helmholtz (1821-1894), that the Sun, a vast ball of hydrogen, was slowly contracting. Its inward falling mass, by weight of gravity, was constantly being converted to light and heat energy. A contraction of only 1/2000th of the Sun's radius--which was hardly noticeable--could account for all sunlight emitted since the dawn of civilization. However, the Scottish physicist Lord Kelvin (1824-1907) estimated that the Sun's radius, if contraction was the sole source of energy, would have to have been the size of the Earth's orbit a mere 50 million years ago. Geologists and biologists, convinced that the Earth was far older than that, were dismayed, to say the least (Asimov, p.161). Some other power source had to be found for the Sun.

The solution came in 1896 when physicist Antoine Henri Becquerel (1852-1908) accidentally discovered that the element uranium gave off energetic radiation. Other radioactive substances were soon found, and although the rates at which energy was thus released was slow, it was comparatively greater--much greater--than that of ordinary coal-burning. Scientists began to suspect that this was the source of the Sun's power. By 1911 Ernest Rutherford (1871-1937) demonstrated that the atom, once thought to be a featureless ball, actually consisted of a tiny nucleus in which almost all the mass was concentrated, surrounded by an electron shell. It was further determined that radioactivity altered the makeup of the nucleus, and thus converted one element into another. An ordinary explosion (which is a violent release of energy) is chemical in nature--that is, a release of electron energy--that has no effect on the nucleus. A nuclear explosion, on the other hand, results from forces within the nucleus and is millions of times more powerful. Therefore, it was nuclear energy that allowed the Sun to shine for billions of years with no perceptible change.

It was by using the properties of radioactivity that scientists finally began to understand the age of the Earth. Radioactive elements have what is called a half-life--a time period over which half the substance breaks down to some other element. Uranium, for example, turns to lead over a half-life of 4,500 million years. Other elements have their own characteristic half-lives, and since a wide variety of these substances are found in rocks all over the Earth, it was possible to determine the age of such rocks by analyzing their rates of radioactive decay. Some rocks were one billion years old; by 1931 some that were two billion years old had been found. Some rocks in western Greenland topped the 3 billion-year mark (Asimov, p.165). Eventually it was determined, from the changing proportions of rubidium and strontium in rocks that the Earth was approximately 4.55 billion years old (incidentally, analysis of meteorites, moon-rocks, and other extraterrestrial artifacts indicate that the entire solar system formed at roughly the same time).

Now that the age of the Earth has been accurately determined, I would like to demonstrate graphically the relative lengths of its various epochs by comparing the 4.5 billion years to the length of one solar year: the Earth's entire history symbolized by 365 days--January 1st to December 31st.

January 1, of course, represents the beginning of the Earth as a recognizable entity. At this point the planet is molten. By the second week of February, the Earth has solidified its outer regions, and as a result of volcanic activity, hot gasses are spewed out to form a primordial atmosphere. Among the gasses are vast quantities of water vapor. Oceans begin to form (through condensation and endless rainfall), and strangely enough, life appears--nothing more complicated than single-strand RNA. By the end of February primordial viruses and microspheres exist. The middle of March sees the first prokaryotes (bacteria): some with chloroplasts give rise to algae, others are more animal-like. These micro-organisms rule the Earth for 2.2 billion years.

It isn't until late September that the planet has an oxygen-rich atmosphere--oxygen being a waste product of blue-green algae. The first true cells, or eukaryotes, with DNA, nucleus, cytoplasm, and so on, appear about mid-October. The Earth is now 3.5 billion years old. By the end of October, multicellular life finally appears--mostly porifa (sponges). November represents the start of the Cambrian period, an age of coelenterates (jellyfish). By November 15th the Ordovician period begins with the appearance of arthropods, annelids (trilobites), and the like. By the 25th jawed fish arise and plant life begins to colonize the land. The end of November is the Silurian period--an age of coelacanths and rhipidistians. The latter eventually gives rise to amphibians. December 1st is the Devonian period--the Age of Fish. At this time insects and arachnids follow the rich plant life onto land. December 5th is the Carboniferous period, which sees the earliest amphibians. The 7th of December is the Permian period, wherein the first reptiles evolve. December 10th is the Triassic--the beginning of the Age of Dinosaurs. December 15th is the Jurassic and the 20th the Cretaceous. By Christmas Day, December 25th, the dinosaurs are extinct and the Age of Mammals begins. On the very last day of the year, December 31st, primates, apes, and hominids finally appear. The entire history of man has only occupied the last hour or so of the last day, and the recorded history, since the earliest civilizations, has all taken place in about the last minute.

As should be abundantly clear by now, a seventy-seven year-old man like John Glenn cannot be considered truly old-for one human life is naught but a blink of the eye.




References

Asimov, I. (1989). Beginnings: The Story of Origins--of Mankind, Life, the Earth, the Universe. New York: Berkley.



***


Scale


One of the most challenging aspects of any scientific endeavor is the fact that one is confronted with numbers representing physical quantities, which are sometimes unimaginably large or incredibly small. For example, what distance is really represented by a light year? The human mind cannot easily comprehend such a distance, yet scientists assure us, without a second thought, that this star or that, this galaxy or that, is x light years away. Similarly, how can one really grasp what is meant when one refers to the relative sizes of microscopic entities—the realm of eukaryotic and prokaryotic cells, bacteria and viruses, RNA and DNA, or the diameter of an atom?

To express these kinds of numbers, scientists use an amazingly versatile tool called scientific notation. Rather than write out the entire number representing, say, the astronomical unit (AU: the average distance from the Earth to the Sun—apprx. 150,000,000,000 meters), it would be expressed as 1.50 x 1011 m. For the extremely small, a negative exponent would be used; thus the diameter of a sodium atom might be written as 8.2 x 10-11 m.

The two parts of the scientific notation expression serve two distinct purposes. The second part, containing the positive or negative exponent, tells us the magnitude of the quantity. This is sometimes more of a problem than one might think, as explained by physicist Lawrence Krauss:

I was flabbergasted several years ago when teaching a physics course for nonscientists at Yale—a school known for literacy, if not numeracy—to discover that 35 percent of the students, many of them graduating seniors in history or American studies, did not know the population of the United States to within a factor of 10! Many thought the population was between 1 and 10 million—less than the population of New York City, located not even 100 miles away. (1993, p.28)

An America with a population of only 10 million would be a much different place that it really is—with a population approaching 300 million, or 3.0 x 108. The exponent tells us there are eight zeros following the one—in other words, a range of 100 million. The first part of the expression, written as a number between one and ten followed by a decimal, gives us the exact figure to any desired degree of accuracy (the greater the accuracy, the more numbers behind the decimal). Negative exponents, on the other hand, are fractions. Thus, 10-8 meters is 0.00000008 meters, or 1/100000000 m. A centimeter is 10-2 meters and a millimeter is 10-3. Therefore, 10-8 meters is one hundred thousand times smaller than a millimeter, or 1/100000th of a millimeter.

The handy thing about scientific notation, of course, is that it fits the metric system. The advantage of the metric system is primarily mathematical since it is based on a scale of 10. Whether the quantity measured is length (meters), mass (grams), liquid volume (liters), or density (grams/cm3), all have a factor of 10. In science, such numerical convenience is essential. One can always express something like the AU in terms of miles, yards, and inches, but the common system is based on the number 12—similar to the way we reckon time. Such a 12-based number system makes advanced computation unnecessarily cumbersome.

Therefore, it is not surprising that the scientific community would try to foist the metric system—devised after the French Revolution of 1789—upon all humanity, replacing the old system. Their efforts were highly successful in all nations except Great Britain and the United States. We Anglophiles stubbornly cling to our old system of inches, feet, and miles; ounces, pounds, and tons; pints, quarts, and gallons; and so on. There is a reason for that, however. Despite the obvious advantages of the metric system, the common system is tailor-made to human physiology. A foot, for example, is the average length of a grown man’s appendage; an inch about the length of a finger’s end-joint. A yard is about the length of a person’s out-stretched arms, a mile approximately 1000 paces (1 pace = 5 ft.). The fact is, these units of measurement feel much more natural to us than centimeters or kilometers ever will. For everyday use, then, I say keep the old system; but for science the metric system is invaluable. Fortunately, nature has simplified things greatly since there are only three fundamental dimensions of matter: length, time, and mass. I dealt with the aspect of time in “Measuring the Age of the Earth,” so here I will focus on length, or distance. A few observations on relative mass may also be in order.

Let’s begin with the realm of living organisms, taking ourselves as a standard measure. The human being is a comparatively large creature, though by no means the largest. As mammals, we are in the intermediate range—smaller and less massive than some (elephant, bear, whale, etc.), but larger than many (cat, mouse, rabbit, etc.). The “average” U.S. male is approximately 1.72 meters tall and weighs about 73.48 kilograms (Diagram Group, 1980, p.72). A much wider range of sizes, however, can be found among arthropods—a classification that includes insects. The longest known insect is the Tropical Stick insect, which may reach 33 centimeters, but the smallest are invisible to the unaided eye. Most of these are parasites (for whom infinitesimal size is a tremendous advantage), such as the mange mite, which measures about .25 millimeters. Smaller still are certain unicellular organisms, such as the amoeba, which is between .2 and .3 mm, or the Euglena (.15 mm). Among the smallest of these is the Chlamydomona, at .02 mm. But far smaller than all the above are bacteria, such as cocci or spirilla, which are about .001 to .002 mm in length. More than ten thousand times smaller than the tiniest bacteria, however, are viruses, which may be .1 to .3 micrometers in length—that is, 0.00001 mm (ibid). Viruses are so small that ordinary microscopes cannot resolve them; electron microscopes are needed. They represent the smallest known forms of life.

To demonstrate the scale of these things consider this: if a virus were the size of a flea (which looks like a tiny black speck to our eyes), then the flea would be the size of a whale—about 65 ft. long. If an amoeba were the size of an elephant, the Chlamydomona would be as big as a cat and a bacterium about the size of that flea (ibid). So we see that there is an enormous range of sizes even among organisms that are smaller than the tiniest insect.

Compared to atoms, however, all the above are unfathomably huge. Atoms may be measured in terms of nanometers (10-9 m), which are 0.000001 mm, or one millionth of a millimeter. An iron atom may be about .2 nanometers in diameter, or sulfur about .08 nanometers. Smaller still are the individual components of atoms—electrons, protons, and neutrons. The nucleus of a hydrogen atom—a single proton—is about .01 picometers in diameter (0.000000001 mm). To give a sense of this scale, if a picometer were magnified to the size of a centimeter (keeping in mind that a proton is only 1/100th of a picometer), then a small raindrop—diameter 1.4 mm—would be the size of the Sun (ibid). There may very well be things smaller than the quanta making up atoms, but such a realm is beyond the reach of current knowledge.

The masses of these particles, though, are fascinating to consider. The mass of a proton is estimated to be 1.6726 x 10-27 kg. That’s 0.000000000000000000000016726 kilograms. As minute as that seems, the fact is a proton is incredibly massive compared to its size. If a bunch of protons could be forced together side by side, into a lump one cubic centimeter big, it would weigh 133 million tons. The only reason why we, or anything else, are not impossibly massive is due to the fact that the atom is mostly empty space—and empty space has no mass. The mass of an electron—9.1096 x 10-31 kg.—is miniscule compared to that of a proton. The mass of a virus is about 10-21 kg. By way of comparison, the mass of a virus is to a human being what that of a human being is to the planet Earth.

Now we turn our attention to the other end of the spectrum—to that of the astronomical, and here we are met with numbers that are equally incomprehensible. Within the solar system, distances can be measured in millions of kilometers, but beyond that the light year is needed (a light year is defined as the distance electromagnetic waves travel in one year through a vacuum—about 9.4605 x 1012 km). The distance from the Earth to the Moon is 384,400 km; to the Sun, as mentioned before, 1.496 x 108 km. Venus is 41, 400,000 km away, Mercury 91,700,000 km. Going the other way, Mars is 78,300,000 km distant, Jupiter 628,700,000 km. The rest of the planets, in increasing distance, are as follows: Saturn, 1,277,400,000 km; Uranus, 2,720, 000,000 km; Neptune, 4,347,000,000 km; and Pluto, 5,750,400,000 km. The diameter of the solar system at Pluto’s orbit is about 1.18 x 1010 km or 11,800,000,000 km.

However, the solar system extends well beyond the domain of planets, as far as the Oort cloud (where comets originate). The Oort cloud is an estimated 7.48 x 1012 km, which is 7,480,000,000,000 km out from the Sun. That distance is about two trillion kilometers shy of a light year. The nearest star, Proxima Centauri, is 4.25 light years away. At the fastest speeds available to current spacecraft (between 200,000 and 300,000 km/hr), it would take nearly 20,000 years to reach Proxima Centauri. All the other stars are much farther away than that. The diameter of our Milky Way galaxy is about 100,000 ly., and the distance to the great Andromeda Galaxy is 2,250,000 ly.

Now, to illustrate the above graphically, let’s make a light year equivalent to one kilometer and reduce the size of the Earth accordingly. At that scale, the Moon is just .038 cm away, Mars 7.83 cm, Jupiter 6.287 cm, Saturn 12.774 cm, Uranus 27.2 cm, Neptune 43.47 cm, Pluto 57.504 cm, and the Oort cloud 74.8 cm away. Thus, our scaled-down solar system can fit comfortably in a medium sized room. The nearest star, of course, is about 2.5 miles away. The galaxy extends beyond the atmosphere to about 1/6 the distance to the Moon, while the Andromeda Galaxy is about three times more distant than the Moon. On this scale, the most distant (visible) objects in the universe would be located at about Saturn’s orbit. And there are, no doubt, vast reaches of the cosmos that are beyond visible range due to the finite velocity of light. So, whether one looks to the very small or the very big, infinity, for all intents and purposes, blurs the horizon of the unknown—something that mathematical models make clear.


References


Krauss, L.M. (1993). Fear of Physics: A Guide for the Perplexed. New York: BasicBooks.

The Diagram Group. (1980). Comparisons. New York: St. Martin’s.


***




The Relative Abundance of Chemical Elements


There is a certain fascination with classification schemes, and science produces these aplenty. For example, the division of living organisms into kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, and species, not only shows the similarities of one creature to another, but also provides support for a widely-held theory—that of biological evolution. Similarly, the periodic table of chemical elements, with its seven periods and various groupings, lends itself to another great theory—the atomic theory of matter. The fact that Mendeleev created the periodic table before the atom was really understood speaks volumes for the validity of the theory. If the atomic theory were not true, then it is hard to see how the periodic table could exist at all.

An element, of course, is defined as “[a] substance which cannot be decomposed by simple chemical processes into two or more different substances" (qtd. in Moore, 1987, p.127). There are 92 naturally occurring elements, all but two of which have been found on earth (technetium, Tc 43, and promethium, Pm 61, have not yet been discovered in their natural state). They have a wide variety of physical and chemical properties; some occur naturally in their elemental state (iron, copper, gold, etc.), others can only be found in compounds (silicon, calcium, sodium, etc.). Some are radioactive, most are not; some are quite abundant in nature—oxygen, for instance—others are exceedingly rare.

What accounts for the relative abundance or rarity of an element? The answer, it turns out, can only come from the relatively new branch of science known as astrophysics—the merger of astronomy/cosmology and nuclear physics. I will explore that area momentarily; but first, how did we come by our knowledge of the elements?

As many as ten elements have been known from antiquity: copper and tin, for instance, were used to make bronze--a strong alloy. Their Latin names were cuprum (a reference to the Island of Cyprus) and stannum, respectively. Ferrum, or iron, later became extremely important in the manufacture of tools and weapons. Other known metals included aurum (gold), plumbum (lead), hydragyrum (mercury), and argentum (silver). Antimony, carbon, and sulfur were also well known and commonly used. The only other element discovered before the age of science was arsenic, isolated by Albertus Magnus in 1250 A.D. Phosphorus was identified in 1669, and during the 1700s these elements were named: bismuth, chlorine, chromium, cobalt, hydrogen, manganese, molybdenum, nickel, nitrogen, oxygen, platinum, tellurium, titanium, tungsten, uranium, zinc, and zirconium. And during the 1800s, every year it seemed, new substances were being added to the list: aluminum, barium, beryllium, boron, bromine, cadmium, calcium, cerium, iodine, iridium, lithium, magnesium, niobium, osmium, palladium, potassium, silicon, sodium, tantalum, and so on. Thus, at least 50 different elements had been positively identified at the time Mendeleev began putting together the periodic table. It was perhaps inevitable that such a table be created at some point--some sense of order had to be imposed on the chaos.

The seven periods of the table are the horizontal rows representing the elements in ascending order according to atomic number--that is, the number of protons in the nucleus. An element may gain or lose electrons to become ionized, or occur in several isotopes (according to the number of neutrons), but the number of protons, and thus the strength of its positive charge, defines the element. Its chemical properties arise chiefly from the electrons swarming about the nucleus.

The vertical columns of the table indicate periodicity, or the point where the various properties begin to repeat themselves. Thus, the elements of column IA--H 1, Li 3, Na 11, K 19, Rb 37, Cs 55, Fr 87--are similar, as are those of column 0--He 2, Ne 10, Ar 18, Kr 36, Xe 54, Rn 86. Generally, elements fall into three categories: metals, metalloids, and non-metals. There are a number of subdivisions as well.

As far as relative abundance goes, group IA contains the most plentiful of all elements, hydrogen (making up 88.6% of all the matter in the universe) as well as one of the rarest, francium. There are only an estimated 15-25 grams of francium on earth. According to Kaufmann (1985, pp.110-11), "From chemical analysis of Earth rocks, Moon rocks, and meteorites, scientists have been able to determine relative abundances of the elements in our part of the galaxy." They are (in order of abundance): 1) hydrogen, 2) helium, 3) carbon, 4) nitrogen, 5) oxygen, 6) neon, 7) magnesium, 8) silicon, 9) sulfur, 10) iron, 11) sodium, 12) aluminum, 13) argon, 14) calcium, and 15) nickel (ibid). Here on earth, though, we have what might be called a "specialized environment," and so the most abundant substances do not reflect cosmic ratios.

The 21 most abundant elements in the earth's crust are scattered throughout the table [note: rankings in ascending order are presented along with periodicity--i.e. elements in the same vertical column]: vanadium, which ranks 21st, makes up .017% (by weight); strontium is 20th at .019% and is in group IIA with calcium (5th) at 3.63%, magnesium (8th) at 2.09%, and barium (13th) at .05%; nickel is 19th at .02%, which is in group VIII with iron (4th) at 5.01%. Zirconium is 18th at .026% and shares group IVB with titanium (9th) at .63%; group VIIA includes fluorine (17th) at .03% and chlorine (14th) at .048%; carbon is the 16th most abundant at .034% and is in group IVA with silicon, which is ranked 2nd overall at 27.72%; chromium is 15th at .037%; group VIA contains sulfur (12th) at .052% and 1st ranked oxygen, which accounts for 46.59% of the earth's crust--by far the most abundant element; group VIIB includes manganese (11th) at .10%; surprisingly, hydrogen accounts for only .13% and shares 10th place with phosphorus; hydrogen, though a gas, is part of group IA, the alkaline metals, along with sodium (6th) at 2.85% and potassium (7th) at 2.6%; finally, aluminum is ranked 3rd at 8.13% (Chen, 1975, p.77). All other elements combined account for only .056% of the earth's crust. These abundances are summarized below:





21 Most Abundant Elements on Earth


Ranking % of Earth’s Crust
1 Oxygen 46.59
2 Silicon 27.72
3 Aluminum 8.13
4 Iron 5.01
5 Calcium 3.63
6 Sodium 2.85
7 Potassium 2.6
8 Magnesium 2.09
9 Titanium 0.63
10 Hydrogen, Phosphorus 0.13
11 Manganese 0.10
12 Sulfur 0.052
13 Barium 0.05
14 Chlorine 0.048
15 Chromium 0.037
16 Carbon 0.034
17 Fluorine 0.03
18 Zirconium 0.026
19 Nickel 0.02
20 Strontium 0.019
21 Vanadium 0.017


The relative abundances of elements on earth do not, of course, reflect their occurrences throughout the universe. Again, 88.6% of all matter in the universe (matter, that is, that can be accounted for) is hydrogen and 11.3% helium. All other elements atomic number 3 and up account for only 0.1%. The reason why hydrogen and helium are scarce on earth is due to the way the solar system formed--most of the hydrogen went into the sun's makeup as well as that of the massive outer planets. The small inner planets simply did not have sufficient gravity to retain the lighter elements. They are, as a result, made up of heavier elements--albeit the rarer ones.

Now, how did the elements originate in the first place? Hydrogen and helium were created in the aftermath of the Big Bang--the hypothetical origin of the universe. These simple atoms were the fundamental stuff out of which all else came. Heavier elements were formed as byproducts of thermonuclear reactions within stars--for only there are the temperatures and pressures great enough to induce fusion. In our own sun, for example, its original composition was about 75% hydrogen and 25% helium, with trace amounts of heavier elements. Nuclear fusion, which causes the star to shine and radiate energy, means the transformation of hydrogen nuclei to helium nuclei, a process called core hydrogen burning (Kaufmann, p.392). Thus, helium is the "ash" of hydrogen burning. It is the outward push of radiation that halts a complete gravitational collapse, giving the star its equilibrium during what astronomers call the "main sequence."

After five billion years there is now more helium in the sun's core than hydrogen. In the final years of its life (about another five billion years from now), the sun's hydrogen fuel will be almost depleted and its energy output will decrease. Then gravity will dominate and begin to collapse the star. This causes increased pressure and makes the temperature rise. When the core temperature reaches 100 million Kelvins, helium burning is ignited--i.e. two helium nuclei fused to form an isotope of beryllium. But the beryllium is unstable and rapidly degrades, finally forming carbon through additional bombardment by helium nuclei. Then some of the carbon combines to form oxygen, so carbon and oxygen are the "ash" of helium burning (ibid).

In stars that are more massive than the sun, a greater variety of elements can be formed. When a star's core temperature reaches 600 million Kelvins carbon burning begins, and this produces neon, magnesium, oxygen, and helium. At one billion Kelvins neon burning begins, which produces more oxygen and magnesium. At 1.5 billion Kelvins oxygen burning begins, the principal product of which is sulfur. Oxygen burning also produces silicon, phosphorus, and more magnesium. At 3 billion Kelvins silicon burning is ignited. This is a furious process in which hundreds of complex nuclear reactions take place, but the final result is a stable isotope of iron (ibid). So iron is the end-of-the-line for this particular path of element creation.

It is obvious, however, that iron is not the end of the periodic table. Whence come elements of atomic number 27 and above? These, it turns out, are created in the violent reactions of super-massive stars at the end of their lives--supernova explosions. The beautiful Crab Nebula (NGC 1952), for instance, is the remnant of a supernova that was observed in 1054 A.D. The types of nuclear reactions that take place in these events are unpredictable. The heavier the nucleus of the atom, the higher the energies required for fusion to occur, and the energies associated with supernovae depend upon the mass of the star.

On earth, elements with even atomic numbers are about ten times more abundant than those with odd numbers (Moore, p.128). A graph of the elements' relative abundance (with the even-odd fluctuation adjusted) shows a smoothly descending curve with definite peaks and troughs. There is, for example, a carbon, nitrogen, oxygen peak, an iron peak, and a lead peak. This is somewhat a reflection of the table's periodicity.

One might wish that gold or silver were more common than they are (ignoring the fact that such over-abundance would lessen their monetary value) or that tungsten were more easily obtained, but in the cosmic scheme, all of these--aside from hydrogen and helium--are of little consequence. All the heavier elements put together are little more than trace impurities. Without the stars and their various life-cycles, no heavier element would ever exist. Out of the death-throes of stars comes the stuff of life, literally.


References

Chen, P.S. (1975). A New Handbook of Chemistry. Camarillo, CA: Chemical Elements Publishing.

Kaufmann, W. J. (1985). Universe. New York: Freeman.

Moore, P. ed. (1987). The International Encyclopedia of Astronomy. New York: Orion Books.



***


Mechanisms of Change


It is often said that truth is stranger than fiction, and nowhere is this more the case than in the discovery of continental drift. Nothing in anyone’s experience would tend to suggest that the face of the earth is changing in any significant way. That’s not to say that minor changes are not taking place: rivers change course, mountains and hills wear down, coastlines slowly erode. But the overall configuration of oceans and land-mass seems just as permanent as the stars in the night sky—something the Bible alludes to in Ecclesiastes 1:4: “A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever.”

This kind of permanence is deeply desired by all people who have precious little in the way of security. Political, social, and cultural upheavals never seem to end, and the earth itself is often a hostile environment: earthquakes, floods, droughts, violent storms. Indeed, history seems to be the tale of one catastrophe after another. But man-made disasters notwithstanding, one must question the real process of change in the natural world. Is the earth evolving, slowly changing over time, or is it the hapless victim of continual catastrophism?

Historically, catastrophe and natural disaster were held to be the main agents of change in this world. The best known example of this is the Great Flood described in Genesis 5:13-17: “And God said to Noah, ‘I have determined to make an end of all flesh; for the earth is filled with violence through them… behold, I will bring a flood of waters upon the earth to destroy all flesh in which is the breath of life from under heaven; everything that is on the earth shall die,’” Noah’s flood was a global catastrophe of epic proportions, and if not for the efforts of one man all would have been lost. From a scientific perspective, however, the story of the Great Flood is implausible at best. If there was such a planet-wide deluge, drowning every continent and submerging even the tallest mountains, where did the water go? The sheer volume of it has to be accounted for somehow. There is also a problem with the ark. The dimensions of the ark are very specific in the Bible. How could two specimens of every animal on earth possibly be crammed into such a vessel? Clearly, it’s not possible. The modern view is to dismiss the story altogether as myth.

Whence comes the story of the Flood, anyhow? It is derived from a classic of ancient Mesopotamian literature, The Epic of Gilgamesh, which describes a great prehistoric flood. And indeed, such floods were commonplace in the Tigris-Euphrates valley (what is now southern Iraq). Archaeological excavations have revealed evidence of a particularly devastating flood in that region during those dark years; thus, the story of Noah’s Ark likely has some basis in fact. Is it so surprising that the tale would later become more elaborate through the constant retelling before it was finally written down?

The earth does appear to be unchanging, nonetheless. The first hint that the planet’s past might have been vastly different from anything one could imagine came in the 16th century, shortly after the European’s discovery of the Americas. Rough-hewn maps of the North and South American coastlines were being made. Portuguese explorers were concurrently doing the same for the African continent. It did not take long for those who studied the new maps to come to a startling realization: that the east coast of South America and the west coast of Africa matched one another like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The first to write about this was philosopher Francis Bacon (1561-1626). In 1620 he recorded the observation in his book Novum Organum, saying that it could not be mere coincidence. Africa and South America must have once been part of a single landmass that was somehow torn asunder. The question is, how? The clergy, never too comfortable with philosophers and scientists anyhow, were quick to attribute it to the biblical Flood—the force of the deluge must have ripped the continents apart, if indeed they were ever joined. The legendary Flood, it seemed, was a ready-made answer for any incongruity. For instance, the ancient Greeks had once noted that sea shells and fossils of what was obviously marine life were to be found high in the mountains. They speculated that what was now dry land must have at one time been under the sea. The clerical answer to that? The Flood, of course.

In 1784 American statesman Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) suggested that the earth’s solid crust might be a relatively thin shell floating on an ocean of molten rock. Thus, it could break up into sections that could slowly drift around over time. It was a brilliant speculation, but what Franklin lacked was a mechanism to make it work.

In Great Britain during the 18th century, retired chemist James Hutton (now considered the “Father of Geology”) published a book, Theory of the Earth, in which he ascribed large-scale changes on the planet’s surface to natural processes—sedimentation, volcanic eruption, erosion by wind and water—and judging by the rates of change, concluded that the earth must be millions of years old.

As Hutton’s views gained wider acceptance and the science of geology became firmly established, additional evidence of continental drift was being gathered from around the globe. Not only were the coastlines of Africa and South America similar, their geologies were virtually identical. Moreover, many species of plant and animal, which could not have crossed the Atlantic Ocean, were common to both continents. Similarly, the Island of Madagascar, off the coast of Africa, had few species in common with Africa but many in common with India, which was much further away. How could that be? Since the concept of continental drift was not universally accepted at that time, the notion of “land bridges” came into vogue.

In 1909 Austrian geologist Eduard Suess completed a three-volume work called The Face of the Earth in which he postulated the existence of a super-continent called Gondwanaland. It included South America, India, Australia, and Antarctica, all in their present positions but joined together by land bridges. The assumption was that continents could rise or sink vertically, as if they were corks bobbing in water. This is the phenomenon of isostasy, which holds that landmasses are made of lighter rock (granite) than ocean basins (basalt). Because they are less dense, continents naturally float—that’s why they are continents. But can they move sideways too?

Alfred Wegener (1880-1930) came to the conclusion that they could, that indeed they must. He dismissed the idea of land bridges that somehow once existed (to account for observed data) then conveniently disappeared. The very concept of isostasy ruled that out because any land bridge would continue to float—it would not just disappear. Therefore, the continents must be slowly drifting across the face of the earth. For evidence there was the fit of the shorelines; and when the continental shelves were considered instead of the coastlines, the fit was even better. It was also known that Antarctica had not always been ice-bound. According to James Dyson:

Throughout the long, intervening periods, the Earth’s climate was mild and uniform. The tropics frequently extended into high latitudes; reef-building corals spread through warm seas much further north than they do today, sometimes to the latitude of Greenland and Alaska; palms, tree ferns, breadfruit trees, and other subtropical plants grew equally far north over a time span counted in millions of years. During much of Earth’s history even the Antarctic continent was free of ice. At times it was covered with dense forests.

In fact, fossils of creatures that could only have lived in the tropics were to be found throughout Antarctica. Thus, either the South Pole once enjoyed a warm climate (which is unlikely) or Antarctica has not always occupied its current location. Wegener proposed that all the continents had once been part of a single mass called Pangea, which had long ago broken up and dispersed. But since he was unable to provide a mechanism for the continental drift theory, his ideas were ridiculed. Unlike many of his predecessors, Wegener refused to fall back on legendary floods or other cataclysms to account for it. The continents just drifted.

Knowledge of the all-important mechanism that drove continental drift, it turned out, finally came from undersea exploration. During the mid-1800s an attempt was made to lay a telegraph cable across the ocean floor, connecting the United States and Great Britain. For this purpose, information about the ocean bottom was needed. Oceanographer Matthew Maury (1806-1873) was commissioned to collect data on the depths. His methods (using weighted ropes) were laborious and costly, but by 1854 it was clear that the middle of the ocean was much shallower than either side. One would think that the deepest part of the ocean would be the very center, but not so. Maury called it Telegraph Plateau.

After World War I the invention of sonar made it possible to obtain a detailed picture of the ocean bottom, and it revealed more than just a plateau: there was a mountain range—higher, longer, and more rugged than any on land—running the length of the ocean. This came to be called the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. After World War II it was discovered that the ridge curved around southern Africa and extended into the Indian Ocean. There it divided and worked its way around Australia and then formed a vast circle in the Pacific Ocean. Moreover, in the midst of this globe-spanning mountain range, there were deep, deep canyons—what appeared to be cracks in the earth’s crust. Here it was that sea-floor spreading was discovered as molten basalt from the earth’s mantle constantly welled up, building the Mid-Oceanic Ridge and expanding, centimeter by centimeter, the ocean floor. This is what was driving the continents apart, and Wegener’s theory at last had to be taken seriously.

Therefore, it was through persistence, acute observation, and refusal to rely on apocryphal tales of ancient catastrophes that the truth was finally laid bare. The earth was revealed to be a dynamic, living planet, constantly in motion. If it appears unchanging it is because a human life is so short. In fact, humanity has occupied the planet for only a minute fraction of geological time. Compared to the earth’s 4.5 billion-year history, that’s no time at all.

Although there are catastrophes and natural disasters, these are only local events and insignificant in the long-term. The real mechanisms of change are natural, slow moving, and inexorable. That is why, for example, I doubt the newly popular theory of dinosaur extinction due to an asteroid collision. Perhaps such a collision did take place, but I question if that in itself wiped out the reptiles. Rather, I believe that the break-up of Pangea (which began in the Triassic) and the repositioning of the continents, resulting in climatic changes, was what really triggered their demise. In other words, I feel more comfortable with a uniformitarian explanation than a catastrophic one.

Two: Ethics

Mammon and America

When I was growing up I often heard my father refer to the "Almighty Dollar," making me think that money was some sort of religion. Indeed, money is a god for some--if not money, then the tangible things it buys. This crass materialism, which dominated our nation in the '50s, was temporarily rejected during the '60s, but enjoyed a resurgence in the '80s, is a kind of mammonism--a love of money. In the movie Oh God! John Denver asks God (played by George Burns) why He created man naked. God replies that when one has clothes one also has pockets, and where there are pockets there has to be something to put in them. The implication is that material wealth has little to do with God. In Matthew 22:17 a group of Pharisees confronts Jesus, asking him whether it is lawful to pay taxes to Caesar. Jesus replies, "Show me the money for the tax." They bring him a coin and he says, "Whose likeness and inscription is this?" They reply that it is Caesar's, and Jesus says, "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's."

Nonetheless, so long as one is alive in this world, one's livelihood is a real concern. Let us not think that abject poverty is the guaranteed road to virtue. In fact, just the opposite seems to be the case. The impoverished areas of this nation are invariably hotbeds of crime, drug abuse, prostitution, and crushing despair. It is debatable whether poverty causes crime, but it is certainly true that crime begets poverty. Businesses simply cannot operate in crime-ridden neighborhoods, so they pack up and leave--taking badly needed jobs with them. Is this ethical? Like any other entity, a business's first instinct is to survive. It can hardly be blamed for that, but is there a point where ethical lines are crossed and profits are gained through people's ruin? Historically, there have been two opposing ethical approaches to American businesses: one based on the concept of Social Darwinism (survival of the fittest), the other on the Protestant work ethic (an honest wage for an honest day's work), but in recent years a third approach may be seen--a more utilitarian view.

The emergence of the United States as the world's wealthiest nation began shortly after the Civil War, centering on the burgeoning railroads. According to Nevins and Commager, America during Abraham Lincoln's day "was a nation of small enterprises. A monopoly was practically unknown..., furniture came from the local cabinet maker, shoes from the neighborhood shoemaker" (1981, pp.267-68). Within forty years, however, all this had changed. Companies like International Harvester and Standard Oil owned virtual monopolies in their fields, driving small businesses (and their owners) to ruin. One of the most spectacular successes was the United States Steel Corporation, born in 1901 with a capitalization of 1.4 billion dollars--a sum that was "larger than the total national wealth a century earlier" (ibid). The accumulation of such unbelievable wealth was the result of setting up a corporation--an entity that could "enjoy the legal advantages but avoid most of the moral responsibilities of a human being" (ibid). Then came the trust. A trust was a joining of corporations acting in concert to monopolize resources, eliminate less profitable subdivisions, bargain with labor, compete with foreign interests, and most importantly, control prices. Because of their vast reserves of capital, the trusts came to have an undue influence over the government. By the end of the 19th century democracy itself was an endangered species because most of the country's natural resources, industries, railroads, and utilities were all generating profit for a handful of men. According to Nevins and Commager:

Exorbitant charges, discrimination, and wholesale land grabs by the railroads, the malpractices of Rockefeller, Carnegie, and others in crushing competitors,
the savage power with which many giant corporations beat down labor, the pocketing by the trusts of the savings that came from science and invention,
the spectacle of corporation agents lobbying favorable laws through state legislatures and corporate lawyers finding loopholes in state tax or regulation laws, all aroused widespread alarm and bitterness. (p.273)

Such business practices, described above, were operating according to what has been called Social Darwinism. Charles Darwin, of course, was the English naturalist who spent years studying wildlife all over the world. In 1859 he published The Origin of Species, the central thesis of which was that most animals produce far too many offspring to subsist on available food supplies, therefore they must compete amongst themselves and against other species to survive. In this way, the weak, the sickly, and the maladapted get weeded out. It is nature's method of insuring that only the strongest, most intelligent, cunning, and energetic creatures live to mate and pass on their genes. It was not difficult for the Rockefellers and the Carnegies of the world to adopt Darwin's theory of natural selection as a means to justify their ruthlessness.

This kind of brutality, after all, is nothing new--it is as old as the human race. All the Caesars, Khans, and Hitlers have operated according to the basic principle of "might makes right...” Ethics, the philosophical consideration of right and wrong, hardly enters into the discussion. Probably the most brilliant exposition of this kind of thinking was that of the philosopher Freidrich Nietzsche (1844-1900). Nietzsche was a pious youth--schoolmates derided him as a "Jesus in the Temple" (Durant, 1961, p.403). But at some point he rejected his reverent past and spent the remainder of his life bitterly denouncing Christianity. In such books as Beyond Good and Evil (1886) and Thus Spake Zarathustra (1883), Nietzsche taught that Christian morality was slave morality, a system devised by the weak to fetter the strong. Thus, he pronounced, God is dead, and in His place arises the Superman (Ubermensch), the source of what he called "hero morality"--the ethos of the conqueror and the dictator. That which we call "good" is whatever triumphs, whatever succeeds, whatever obtains victory. "Evil" is what fails, gives way, or is overcome by superior force. The world as a whole operates according to what Nietzsche called the Will to Power. Here, there is no room for compassion, weakness, or sentiment. Altruism is a sham and Christian charity hypocrisy.

Such thinking, obviously, is nothing more than the application of Darwin's theory to human value systems, and, frankly, it is a little hard to argue with its basic premise. Is not strength better than weakness, victory better than defeat? And nature is appallingly indifferent to the welfare of any living thing, evidenced by the fact that 99% of all species that ever existed on earth are now extinct--driven to destruction by environmental pressures. The question is, should we translate these indisputable facts to our own species? Are we human beings to scratch and claw and compete, just as animals do?

Apparently, the U.S. government disagreed, and stepped in to enact antitrust laws in the early 1900s. In his First Inaugural address, President Woodrow Wilson said:

The evil has come with the good, and much fine gold has been corroded. With riches has come inexcusable waste. We have squandered a great part of what we might have used, and have not stopped to conserve the exceeding bounty of nature... scorning to be careful, shamefully prodigal as well as admirably efficient. We have been proud of our industrial achievements but we have not hitherto stopped thoughtfully enough to count the human cost, the cost of lives snuffed out, of energies overtaxed and broken, the fearful physical and spiritual cost to the men and women and children upon whom the dead weight and burden of it all has fallen pitilessly the years through... (qtd. in Nevins & Commager, p.338)

Wilson was perhaps the very embodiment of a more traditional approach to business: that of the Protestant work ethic--so named to differentiate it from more aristocratic Roman Catholic values. Hierarchies are, after all, inherent within Catholicism. Europe was historically a society divided by class, so the Protestant Reformation was as much an economic struggle as a religious one. America is much more egalitarian, although vestiges of class-consciousness remain. But the Protestant work ethic was at the heart of colonial and early American entrepreneurialism. In a social climate preoccupied with "salvation"--the benefits of which are supposedly unobtainable until after death--it was considered best to occupy one's time with useful work. Laziness, sloth, gluttony, and self-indulgence (so beloved of aristocracy) were sins to be avoided. There may have been a time when a man's word was his bond, when written contracts were mere formalities, when business owner and employee were not sundered by vast oceans of wealth and privilege, but those days seemed to vanish in the wake of Andrew Carnegie, John D. Rockefeller, and J.P. Morgan.

The Protestant value system is based upon the simple--but surprisingly radical--teachings of Jesus on the subject of money. In Matthew 6:24 he says, "No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon." Thus, in Jesus’ opinion, men are too concerned about money and material--the externals of life. In Mark 10:23-25 he says, "How hard it will be for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God!" and, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God" (in that passage the word "camel" is probably a mistranslation of the original Greek word meaning "rope"). There was a time in American history, I'm sure, when many took those sayings to heart and therefore dealt honestly with others, seeking simply to feed themselves and their families through honorable means. The idea of building a financial empire and living like royalty must have seemed downright un-American. Indeed, the U.S. government had to step in and pass antitrust laws because if it had not, the country would have become an oligarchy and the government little more than a rubber stamp. Democracy itself was at stake.

In the 20th century we have passed through world wars, a cold war, civil rights struggles, political assassinations, and shifts between conservative and liberal agendas, but American business continues unabated. The Protestant work ethic seems hopelessly outdated now, and although Social Darwinism is still practiced, most people do not feel comfortable with it. These days a more utilitarian approach to ethics is the desired norm. Companies want to maintain profitability but workers must be able to make a decent living too. In 1906 a novel by Upton Sinclair called The Jungle shocked the nation with its vivid descriptions of the Chicago stockyards and the plight of (mostly immigrant) workers. Here is a brief passage:

Marija and Elzbieta and Ona, as part of the machine, began working fifteen or sixteen hours a day. There was no choice about this--whatever work there was to be done they had to do, if they wished to keep their places; besides that it added another pittance to their incomes, so they staggered on with the awful load. They would start work every morning at seven, and eat their dinners at noon, and then work until ten or eleven at night without another mouthful of food... When they got home they were always too tired either to eat or to undress; they would crawl into bed with their shoes on, and lie like logs. (p.142)

After The Jungle was published, public indignation forced the government to enact pure-food laws. Labor laws and occupational safety laws soon followed.

There are some who believe that socialism is the only solution to economic woes, but if the results are like those in Russia, or North Korea (where the famine is so bad people are eating the bark off trees), where economies are in shambles, there is little to recommend that route. The United States, European Union, and Japan seem to be the best models of prosperity for the present. No one will deny that there are inequities to be resolved, but such problems are best addressed in an environment of freedom and opportunity, rather than oppression and fear.



References

Durant, W. (1961). The Story of Philosophy. New York: Washington Square.

Nevins, A. & Commager, H.S. (1981). A Pocket History of the United States. New York: Washington Square.

Sinclair, U. (1906). The Jungle. New York: Signet.


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Racism and Racialism

Racism is racism, one could argue, but the distinction between extrinsic and intrinsic racism presented by Kwame Appiah (2003, pp.264-279) appears to be a matter of the depth to which such views are held—the latter being more insidious than the former (if I understand Appiah correctly). The former—extrinsic racism—is best expressed by the classic and ironic declaration, “Some of my best friends are…(you fill in the blank).” It’s ironic because, if you truly consider someone a “friend,” you would not, it seems to me, identify him or her in ethnic terms. This cuts to the heart of the problem of racism (or bigotry) in general: the failure, or outright refusal, to regard other human beings primarily as individuals, but as members of particular groups. We often consider it normal, even admirable, to treat certain persons according to their “status.” For example, we deal with small children, in every respect, much differently than we do with adults. This is not limited to one’s own children, but all children. It is considered normal, and morally correct, to take especial care and concern when relating to children because of their vulnerability as minors. Similarly, a white person—particularly one of the older generation—may consider it perfectly natural to regard blacks or other non-whites as subordinates; there may be no real malice involved, simply an ingrained assumption (white superiority) that remains unchallenged. Such assumptions are usually unconscious, unless brought to the fore through some shocking challenge.

Intrinsic racism, on the other hand, seems to be more deeply rooted, and thus has the potential to cause greater harm. It is expressed by the Crummell quote on
p273: “Races, like families, are the organisms and ordinances of God: and race feeling, like family feeling, is of divine origin. The extinction of race feeling is just as possible as the extinction of family feeling. Indeed, a race is a family.” Here, no matter how many of your “best friends” may be (blank), you would never consider giving preference to them over others of your own ethnic background. If you’re white, you treat other whites—indeed all whites—differently than you do non-whites, for no other reason than “race.” Here, I should point out, as Appiah does in his essay, that intrinsic and extrinsic racism may not be so easily separated or distinguished; in fact it seems best to regard the whole psychology of it as a spectrum with extreme intrinsic on one end and extreme extrinsic on the other. But all racism, I believe, emanates from a core of false assumptions that Appiah refers to as “racialism”—the notion that there are identifiable and heritable characteristics that a) all members of a particular “race” have in common, and b) make it possible to subdivide humanity into distinct racial groups.

Actually, I am not unfamiliar with these lines of thought that are so clearly discussed in “Racisms." Racialism, which holds that “traits and tendencies characteristic of a race constitute…a sort of racial essence,” and give rise to “what the nineteenth century called the ‘Races of Man,’” has resulted in all sorts of dubious and pseudo-scientific theory. The most notorious example would be the elaborate scheme created by the Nazis to identify Jews according to their relative genealogies (e.g. one Jewish grandparent on the mother’s side—German; two Jewish great-grandparents on the father’s side—Jew; etc.). But in all actuality, there is no scientific basis for any of it. The whole idea of “race”—as expressed in racialism—is itself a fallacy. There is no “sub-species” of human being; there is only one, remarkably homogeneous, species. Genetically, ALL humans are virtually identical, and in fact lineally related. Samples of human DNA taken from every ethnic group in the world—from European to Chinese to Arab to African to Australian aborigine—have proven that all humans alive today are lineally descended from a single woman (sometimes whimsically referred to as “Eve”) who lived in sub-Saharan Africa about 200,000 years ago. I could go on and on about this, of course, but such arguments mean little to those who insist on holding their (irrational) racial views.


References

Appiah, Kwame Anthony. "Racisms." Rpt. in The Right Thing to Do: Basic Readings in Moral Philosophy. ed. James Rachels. Boston, McGraw Hill, 2003. 264-279.


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Decision to Drop the Bomb

The debate over the “morality” of war is essentially a conflict between two value systems: the Greco-Roman and Judeo-Christian. Greco-Roman values, of course, accept the inevitability of war, and prize such virtues as courage, honor, obedience to authority, adherence to duty, and so on. Very chivalrous. But Christianity, as Lackey points out, was originally understood to be pacifist: "The early Christians, living at the time the New Testament was being written and shortly afterward, thought that Jesus' teaching was perfectly unambiguous. He did not permit meeting violence with violence, period" (2003, p.221). Such a view appeals to us intuitively; deep down we know it is wrong to fight amongst ourselves. It’s idealistic, even if a bit naïve. I would point out, however, that even Jesus was capable of violent acts: in the Gospel of John he fashions a whip out of bits of rope and uses it to drive the money-changers out of the Temple; in another passage he urges his followers to “pluck out your eye” if it causes you to sin, or cut off your hand if that causes you to sin. These are not pacifist notions. So there are some things worth resisting, by force if necessary. If one were to insist upon utter pacifism, then we would have to eliminate the police and other forms of law enforcement; we would have to let criminals run free and terrorize whomever they wished. Pacifism, carried to such an extreme, can be just as dangerous and harmful as the most strident jingoism. The rational “Golden Mean” is what we need.

As for the use of nuclear weapons in war, specifically the decision to bomb Hiroshima and Nagasaki—I see little that makes one form of destruction morally superior to another. Is it better to kill someone by putting him in front of a firing squad, hanging him from the gallows, or sending him to the guillotine? Our conventional “humanitarian” view says that death should be as quick and painless as possible. Extrapolate that to the international scene during the final days of World War II, and the U.S. decision to drop the Bomb on those Japanese cities seems just. Otherwise, the war would have likely dragged on for another six months or so. The fire-bombing of Tokyo several weeks earlier left more than 100,000 Japanese civilians dead in a single night—but nobody debates the ethics of that. The debate is over nuclear weapons, and whether they should be used at all. It is the fear of nuclear energy that fuels the ongoing argument.

Should nuclear energy be feared? Wouldn’t it be better if there were no such thing? Nuclear power is what makes the Sun shine, and all the stars. Most of us know that atoms are composed of nuclei with orbiting electrons. Conventional explosives, such as TNT or nitro, release electron energy. These can be deadly enough, but atomic nuclei remain untouched. When atomic nuclei are either split (fission) or forced together (fusion), energies bound up in the nuclei are released. Theoretically, nuclear power should not be feared anymore than sunlight pouring through your kitchen window. The reason why there has not been a World War III is because nuclear weapons guarantee destruction to any nation attacking a country that has them. Humanity has, in effect, been pushed into a corner with two options: abandon war altogether or perish in a nuclear holocaust. Some have argued that the decision to deploy atomic bombs against the Japanese was intended to “send a message” to the Soviet Union. But according to Dueck, "Although Truman and his advisors spoke of gaining diplomatic leverage with Stalin through possession of the bomb, there is no reason to believe that the primary reason for dropping the bomb on Japan was anything other than what Truman said it was--to end the war as soon as possible and save American lives" (1997, p.21). All fears aside, in terms of sheer utility, using the Bomb was the quickest way to end the War.



References

Dueck, Colin. "Alternatives to the Bomb." Rpt. in Ethics & Politics: Cases and Comments. eds. Amy Gutmann and Dennis Thompson. Chicago: Nelson Hall, 1997. 16-25.

Lackey, Douglas P. "The Ethics of War and Peace." Rpt. in The Right Thing to Do: Basic Readings in Moral Philosophy. ed. James Rachels. Boston, McGraw Hill, 2003. 221-229.


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Feeding the Hungry

The respective articles by Singer and Narveson are diametrically opposed—with the latter appearing, at first glance, to be lacking all compassion. Anyone with an ounce of compassion for his or her fellow human being would surely agree that feeding the hungry (or healing the sick, clothing the naked, housing the homeless, etc.) is a moral imperative. Yet reason—and the sheer reality of life on Planet Earth—contradicts Singer’s decidedly self-righteous pronouncements at every turn. To save needy children’s lives, he says, you have only to donate to Unicef or Oxfam America. In fact, you should donate every penny that’s not absolutely essential to your own survival. Otherwise, you’re practicing “the kind of ethics that led many Germans to look away when the Nazi atrocities were being committed" (2003, p.158). Well, there is certainly nothing wrong with donating to Unicef or Oxfam America or any other charity, and I would encourage those who feel so inclined to donate. But are these the only means of assisting others in need? Singer’s unbelievably simplistic view defies common sense in the following ways: 1) Individual conscience—by attempting to foist one, and only one (his own), moral choice on everyone, he denies the primacy of individual conscience. Those who are too selfish or callous to help others, shame on them. But for those who do feel compelled, should it not be their own personal choice how to help, and to what extent? 2) Too great a need—no matter how much you do, you cannot single-handedly save everyone. Someone will be left outside the boundaries of your charity. What about them? How do you justify helping x number of people and no more? 3) Defining “essential”—according to Singer most families in America can subsist on $30 K per annum, and whatever is left should be donated. Fine. But why stop there? What we call “poverty” in America would be tremendous wealth in many other nations. Will Rodgers said, “America is the only country in the world where people drive to the poorhouse in their cars!” And I see people in public housing projects walking around talking on their cell phones. If you want to go down to “bare essentials” then you should sleep in a cardboard box on the street and beg for your meals. 4) Charity does not address root problems—charities are great for emergencies, like floods or earthquakes, but the root problems which cause poverty, disease, and suffering in the world can never be solved that way. Such problems have political, economic, cultural, and religious roots, and can only be addressed in those ways. Rather than simply give food to the hungry, one should ask the question: Why are they hungry? It is better to teach someone how to provide for his own needs than to simply provide for him.

I agree with Jan Narveson: “In fact, all of the incidence of substantial starvation (as opposed to the occasional flood)) has been due to politics, not agriculture" (2003, p.173). When I was in high school I participated in a world hunger study project and came to the same realizations. There is ample food supply to feed the world’s population several times over. The fundamental difficulty is political strife between nations and the insurmountable problems associated with lack of adequate infrastructure: even if you get the food there, how do you get it to those in remote areas who are starving? How do you stop corrupt regimes, such as North Korea, from confiscating the aid and using it to feed only the military? A wealthy nation like America has abundance because the system of government protects private property, a free market economy, civil rights and civil liberties, and so on. Without such political and economic stability, it would be impossible for individuals to amass much wealth. And we do have a de facto redistribution of wealth in the form of progressive tax scales and government assistance to the needy. I would argue that poorer nations, instead of resenting America or other Western democracies, learn from our example. There are many inequities associated with capitalism and free market economies, granted, but so far nothing seems to work better.



References

Narveson, Jan. "Feeding the Hungry." Rpt. in The Right Thing to Do: Basic Readings in Moral Philosophy. ed. James Rachels. Boston, McGraw Hill, 2003. 162-173.

Singer, Peter. "The Singer Solution to World Poverty." Rpt. in The Right Thing to Do: Basic Readings in Moral Philosophy. ed. James Rachels. Boston, McGraw Hill, 2003. 154-160.


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Civil Disobedience

Regardless of how powerful the U.S. government may appear to be, it is still a government beholden to the will (or the whims) of the people: senators, congressmen, governors, presidents, always have at least one eye on public opinion polls. Politicians know that they must maintain at least the appearance of acting on behalf of their constituencies. That’s why Senator John Stennis of Mississippi, for example, could bargain with the Nixon Administration to assist in delaying implementation of public school desegregation—a clear violation of federal law. That’s also why Governor George Wallace of Alabama made a spectacle of standing in the doorway of one of his public schools to stop blacks from gaining access to white education. Despite their respective personal opinions (although it’s hard to imagine a middle-aged white Southerner of that era having anything other than a traditional view of blacks), both men were acting to please their constituents. This also goes a long way toward explaining why the Supreme Court found itself unable—or unwilling—to deal with the serious issues of racial discrimination in American society for nearly one hundred years after emancipation: the notion of white supremacy was too deeply embedded in the national psyche. That’s one reason for the necessity of civil disobedience as an integral part of the Civil Rights movement.

This is not mere academic analysis on my part. First, I’ve actually lived in these places—Jackson, Mississippi; Birmingham, Alabama; Columbia, South Carolina—and know a thing or two about the racism in those regions. Second, I happen to be half of an inter-racial couple—my wife of sixteen years is African American. We, and others like us, seem to represent a veritable stake through the heart of that racist Dracula. I am well aware of the fact that not too many years ago, under Virginia law, my marriage would have been a felony, punishable by steep fines and imprisonment. Thus, laws are not always just and actions taken by the government are not ipso facto legitimate. In Greenberg’s article “Revolt at Justice,” he and his colleagues found themselves in a quandary: the boss, Attorney General John Mitchell, expected his employees to tow the line on the administration’s Civil Rights policy—a policy which, to all appearances, violated Constitutional and Supreme Court mandates (1997, pp.143-151). Nevertheless, lawyers take oaths to support the Constitution, not simply the directives of whoever occupies the position of authority. Clearly, men of conscience and legal training are to be held accountable for individual moral choices, political expediency notwithstanding. On these grounds, civil disobedience is not only justified, but warranted.

And all the above, curiously enough, is now being replayed in some of the strange emanations coming from the current administration. For example, where once Colin Powell opposed U.S. military intervention in Iraq (during the 1991 Gulf War), even to repel invading Iraqi armies from Kuwait, he now trumpets the Bush Administration’s official party line. I suppose it’s either that or lose his job. And Condoleezza Rice goes on national television splitting the finest hairs to the nth degree on whether she personally supports this new impending war (it was quite clear to me that she has reservations but will not express them). Okay… she wants to keep her job too. Or unnamed Bush Administration officials informing CBS that this year’s Grammy Awards show was NOT to be used as an anti-war forum for Grammy-winning artists—a directive that CBS duly heeded. What happened to freedom of speech, anyway? Without debating the merits or necessity of this looming war, I have to say that one grows weary of having one’s intelligence insulted by this administration, or one’s “patriotism” called into question for opposing its policy toward Iraq—a nation which, so far as I know, has never attacked the United States. The growing anti-war movement, which probably will not prevail, is therefore another form of civil disobedience that must not be taken lightly.


References

Greenberg, Gary J. "Revolt at Justice." Rpt. in Ethics & Politics: Cases and Comments. eds. Amy Gutmann and Dennis Thompson. Chicago: Nelson Hall, 1997. 143-151.


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Natural vs. Unnatural

In today’s prevailing political climate it is nearly impossible to criticize homosexuality as a form of behavior without sounding like some gay-basher. Essentially, the argument against it is a religious one. It has to do with one’s sense of morality, and thus ethics. But the natural vs. unnatural argument stems from the medieval rapprochement of Christian theology and Aristotelian philosophy—what was considered science in that era. Later came the development of real science, and through the work of such figures as Newton, Galileo, Copernicus, and many others, the “natural law” era of political and social theory began. Problems with moral condemnations of homosexuality, I suppose, led to the “violation of nature” argument. In his article Leiser (2003, pp.144-152) does a good job of picking it apart, a task made all the easier by the archaic nature of the concept. First, he makes a distinction between the “descriptive” laws of nature and the “prescriptive” laws of men: “These ‘laws’ merely describe the manner in which physical substances actually behave. They differ from municipal and federal laws in that they do not prescribe behavior.” The distinction here is valid, but the first assertion is not. For example, the “description” of the manner in which substances actually behave is not law, but a language-construct making the “law” understandable to human minds. The physical law itself is seemingly inherent within matter and energy. But there is a sharp contrast between physics (the laws of which seem inviolable) and biology, the science of life. In physics all phenomena can be reduced to mathematical formulae; not so in biology. Life itself appears to violate the laws of physics, so the “natural law” application to ecology, sociology, and so on, has always been problematic.

The assertion “anything uncommon or abnormal is unnatural” is closer to the meaning of the anti-homosexual argument. Again, I take issue with his apparent equating of “uncommon” with “abnormal.” Uncommon, as a matter of fact, is usually considered a virtue, as in “uncommon valor.” Uncommon may be thought of as anything that is more than two or three standard deviations away from the mean of a normal (bell) curve. Uncommon can be good or bad. Consider I.Q., for example. Uncommonly high I.Q. is admired, while uncommonly low I.Q. (or idiocy) is not. Sometimes, however, persons with a genius level I.Q. can suffer profound psychological effects. But that which is abnormal may indeed be considered unnatural. In this sense, homosexuality can be considered a form of deviant behavior, not unlike pedophilia or countless other perversions. Many forms of heterosexual behavior may also be considered abnormal, such as Sadomasochism. We can be glad that there are no “morality police” spying on people’s bedrooms, and what consenting adults do behind closed doors is no one’s business. But the issue of what is morally acceptable—and in this respect “normal”—is, as I said, a religious view. I’ll say this: homosexuality is incompatible with Judeo-Christian values. Whether one accepts the practice as normal or natural depends upon one’s spiritual orientation.


References

Leiser, Burton. "Is Homosexuality Unnatural?". Rpt. in The Right Thing to Do: Basic Readings in Moral Philosophy. ed. James Rachels. Boston, McGraw Hill, 2003. 144-152.


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Double-Effect

As the United States is, apparently, gearing up for war with Iraq (it may be only a week or two away), I’ve been hearing some of the same issues discussed as those in Simone Sandy’s piece, “Bombing the Bunker in Baghdad" (1997, pp.27-30). For example, there is talk of sending in U.N. peacekeepers to assist the weapons inspectors, and fears that Saddam Hussein will use them as “human shields,” thinking that the United States will not attack if it has to cut through innocents to get to Iraqi forces. In the 1991 bunker-bombing incident, it seems as though U.S. military planners made reasonable efforts to determine that the structure did indeed serve a military purpose, and was a legitimate target. I don’t believe a known civilian building would be deliberately chosen (although targeting civilians was routine during World War II—i.e. Dresden, Hiroshima). No one likes war or wants war—myself included. It baffles me that in the 21st Century—2003 A.D.—that nations have not yet found a better way to settle their differences. War itself is an abomination, even when unavoidable. Clearly, the world could not just sit on its hands in 1939 and do nothing as Hitler’s armies annexed all of Europe and tried to exterminate the Jewish population. War was inevitable. So it’s my view that if a war MUST be fought, it’s better to go all out. Half-hearted efforts (Vietnam) solve nothing—they just prolong the agony. If George Bush Sr. had continued Desert Storm until Saddam Hussein was deposed, we wouldn’t be having this new confrontation today. Leaving Hussein in power virtually guaranteed another war.

And another thing: our enemies do not always share our humanitarian concerns (as exemplified by the Geneva Conventions on warfare). The Japanese demonstrated during WWII that no atrocity was too horrible to be used. Study the history of the Japanese occupation of Korea—1910-1945—and you’ll get a sense of what I’m saying. Similarly, our new enemies, Islamic militants (terrorists), care nothing for the welfare of humanity in the general sense. They are too caught up in their delusional, religious fantasies to see non-Muslims as fellow human beings. Saddam Hussein, from what I can tell, is motivated by a more secular ambition for raw power, but it would be a mistake to think he has any humanitarian notions similar to ours. The Bush Administration nowadays likes to compare Hussein to Hitler and says the situation is analogous—but that’s ridiculous. Iraq may pose a threat to its neighbors; how can it possibly threaten the United States? Political assassinations are not the official policy of this country, but realistically, there may arise situations where an unofficial assassination will have to be carried out. If there is a war, it seems likely that chemical or biological weapons will be used against American troops. I’d rather see Hussein assassinated than have tens of thousands of our troops perish horribly. The faster this thing is over, the better off we’ll all be.

References

Sandy, Simone. "Bombing the Bunker in Baghdad". Rpt. in Ethics & Politics: Cases and Comments. eds. Amy Gutmann and Dennis Thompson. Chicago: Nelson Hall, 1997. 27-30.


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Debate on Euthanasia

I doubt if there is any kind of definitive, absolute answer to the dilemmas of euthanasia. In the abstract, I tend to agree with Richard Doerflinger’s position: if life comes (involuntarily) from God, then only God really has the authority to end it (2003, pp.180-188). But such abstractions become meaningless when one is faced by the kind of human suffering described in the Rachels piece (2003, pp.175-179). It seems somewhat disingenuous for those of us who are not terminally ill or subjected to excruciating pain to debate the philosophy/morality of euthanasia. One would think that the victim of such an illness should have the final word in this matter. According to the Alsop story (in “The Morality of Euthanasia”), “ ‘If Jack were a dog’ I thought, ‘what would be done with him?’” Problem is—human beings are not equivalent to animals. Not legally, morally, spiritually, or philosophically. Otherwise, there would be no point in having this discussion. A few observations:

As a theist I will readily agree that God (or whatever you wish to call it) created all life. But death is an integral part of the equation. God “created” that too, and one would think for very compelling reasons. Humans have the power of decision in helping to create new life—as when we choose to procreate. So there should be no inherent prohibition against the ending of life either, not in the absolute sense.

In certain circumstances “killing” is officially sanctioned, and even mandated. Where capital punishment is practiced, the State legally ends the lives of condemned persons. In the military soldiers are trained for combat and expected to kill in times of war. Police officers and other law enforcement are authorized to use deadly force under certain conditions. Even ordinary citizens can be legally exonerated in cases of “justifiable homicide” (self-defense).

What about suicide? There is indeed a strong moral taboo against the taking of one’s own life—and rightly so. It is, in most cases, a “permanent solution to a temporary problem.” Take teen suicide for example. A fifteen year-old may feel that life’s problems are insurmountable, to the point where he/she considers ending it all. In 99.9% of those cases, however, simply growing up will resolve the problem. But there is a stark difference between the “coward’s way out” and instances where people willingly sacrifice their lives for some cause. A soldier on a battlefield may toss himself upon a live grenade to save the lives of his unit…is this not suicide? Or what about Christian martyrs in ancient Rome who chose death rather than renounce their faith in Christ? Or what about the police and firefighters who perished in the World Trade Center on 9/11? Patrick Henry said, “Give me liberty, or give me death!” Some things are worth dying for. Therefore, there is no inherent prohibition against “suicide” either.

I don’t buy any of Doerflinger’s “slippery slope” arguments, which are all based on assumptions. Not that the issues he raises are unworthy of argument—they are. The position that favors euthanasia is bound to divide the medical profession. And Dr. Death (Jack Kervorkian) does give me the creeps. But do we have the right to deny terminally ill patients a choice in their own fate? I say that such individuals should be able to legally request the means to end their own suffering.



References

Doerflinger, Richard. "Assisted Suicide: Pro-Choice or Anti-Life." Rpt. in The Right Thing to Do: Basic Readings in Moral Philosophy. ed. James Rachels. Boston, McGraw Hill, 2003. 180-188.

Rachels, James. "The Morality of Euthanasia." Rpt. in The Right Thing to Do: Basic Readings in Moral Philosophy. ed. James Rachels. Boston, McGraw Hill, 2003. 175-179.


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Loyalty vs. Civic Responsibility

In cases of conflicting values--as in that of loyalty vs. truth-telling (to authority figures, that is)--problems arise when we take an absolute position on either side. There is also what is known as the "either-or fallacy"--i.e. presenting two, and only two, options when others may be available. I found myself in this quandary in a job situation a few years ago. There were security issues in the store and the District Manager (supervisor) came in one day to conduct personal interviews with each employee. I was among the last to be interviewed, but when my time came he told me, "I already know everything that is going on here, I know that x is doing this and y is doing that, so if you try to cover up for them I'll know you're lying." I told him that I was very uncomfortable informing on friends and co-workers and that I thought their misdeeds were "none of my business." The DM disagreed and said, "If you know something is going on and don't say something about it, you're just as guilty as they are." He had a valid point, of course, and since I had no new revelations to reveal I confirmed what he already knew. The store manager eventually lost his job and accused me and several others of "conspiring" against him, (which is ridiculous).

But there is indeed a conflict between what we call our "civic responsibility" and the natural loyalties that arise among human beings in their everyday encounters. Both are needed and both, in fact, are sanctioned in law. Civic responsibility demands that ordinary citizens cooperate with law enforcement in the apprehension and prosecution of criminals. In other words, crime is everybody's problem and everybody's responsibility--not just those who are directly involved. It is understandable that some may fear for their lives, with reason, and how can you blame somebody who opts for self-preservation? But this mindless "I don't want to get involved" attitude is contemptible. Outright refusal to give testimony or serve as a witness in court could be considered an obstruction of justice. It might even be possible, under some circumstances, for an uncooperative witness to be treated more harshly than the accused. You could wind up sitting in jail on a contempt charge while the offender goes free! So our collective responsibility must be taken seriously. Loyalty, on the other hand, is much more primal and basic. Essentially, it is a survival mechanism by which human beings bond together for common purposes and goals. No one should understand this better than police officers, whose "blue wall of silence" is the stuff of legend. The reason is simple: officers trust one another with their lives on a daily basis; loyalty is born out of that trust, a kind of comradeship that is hard to find anywhere else. And the law recognizes that essential loyalty in a number of ways. For instance, husbands and wives cannot be compelled to testify against one another, even when the charges are grave. There is doctor-patient privilege, priest-confessor privilege, and most significantly, attorney-client privilege [note: under certain conditions that privilege can be broken]. So even if an accused confesses to his lawyer and says, "I did it," the lawyer cannot reveal the fact and must still defend his client--even to the point of acquittal.

Perhaps it would surprise you to learn, therefore, that privileged communications are now subject to government eavesdropping by authority of the USA Patriot Act. According to the ACLU, "the Justice Department, unilaterally, without judicial oversight, and without meaningful standards, has issued rules that give it the power to decide when to eavesdrop on the confidential attorney-client conversations of a person whom the Justice Department itself may be seeking to prosecute. This regulation, implemented without the usual opportunity for prior public comment, is an unprecedented frontal assault on the attorney-client privilege and the right to counsel guaranteed by the Constitution. It is especially disturbing that these provisions for monitoring confidential attorney-client communications apply not only to convicted prisoners in the custody of the Bureau of Prisons, but to all persons in the custody of the Department of Justice, including pretrial detainees who have not yet been convicted of crime and are presumed innocent, as well as material witnesses and immigration detainees, who are not accused of any crime. 28 C.F.R. § 501.3(f) (proposed amendment)" (1). Initially, this invasion was believed to apply only to non-U.S. citizens deemed "enemy combatants," but since its introduction two years ago has been used against natural born citizens as well--e.g. John Walker Lindh. Apparently, all it takes is to be labeled a "suspected terrorist" by the DOJ and your constitutional rights are voided.

Source:

(1) http://archive.aclu.org/congress/l112801a.html


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Abortion

One is loath to enter this abortion debate--the emotions generated are too far beyond rational argument to make the exercise meaningful. No one who is firmly committed to one side or the other will yield an inch. The debate masquerades as a religious or philosophical disagreement. This means there are religious overtones and justifications, but I contend it is something other than religion that compels a "man of God" to pick up a shotgun and murder a doctor and his bodyguard as they arrive at an abortion clinic (e.g. Rev. Paul Hill); and philosophical disagreements do not usually involve the planting of high explosives (e.g. Eric Rudolph). Some other psychological force is at work here, a force that manifests itself as terrorism (which also has religious justifications). Let me give an example: Islamic radicals rail against the "immorality" of the West--the United States in particular--yet think nothing of slaughtering innocent people, including women and children. Similarly, those who vehemently oppose abortion, even to the point of violence, belong to the same conservative bent that supports cancellation of welfare programs, government assistance to the needy, and so on. While defending the "unborn" with raised fists, knives, and firearms, there is a curious disregard for the born--i.e. children of impoverished mothers. Obviously, the debate has more to do with the self-perception of the protester than the object of protest.

Having stated the secondary importance of the religious/philosophical argument, we should, nevertheless, briefly consider the form. It is not so much "when does life begin" as it is "when does one become a complete and independent human being"--and as such under the full protection of law. Obviously, life begins at conception and must be carefully considered from that point. But a complete and independent human being is, by definition, one that is born--a separate entity from its mother. Although a premature baby can be removed from the womb and survive, its status as an independent human being depends on separation from the mother. The pro-life movement insists, however, that not only does life begin at conception, so does the individual's status as an independent human being--with citizenship, equal rights, civil liberties, the whole enchilada. If that is the extent of one's religious faith or philosophy, so be it. But there are innumerable difficulties that arise from equating unborn fetuses to born human beings, not the least of which include the rights of the mother. Personally, I do not regard an unborn fetus as "fully human" until the moment of birth--when the umbilical is cut and the child draws its first breath. Before that point, then, abortion is a medical procedure. Thus, I see no problem with the government funding abortions for poor women--so long as it is a legal procedure. Roe v. Wade established the legality of it; the moral arguments against it are a complete distraction so far as I'm concerned.

On the basis of the personal conviction listed above (my own, that is), I have to say that legislation regarding reproductive technology is both moralistic and paternalistic--and an issue the government should steer away from. The government's legitimate concern begins once an individual is born, but not before. In communist China, for instance, the government once adopted a policy of no more than two children per family; those who ignored the policy were subject to criminal sanctions. Should we have similar laws in the United States? I would not deny anyone their religious persuasion (as long as it does not inflict upon me), and there is a certain religious bias in favor of large families. My mother is from a large family (six brothers and sisters) and those that I've met from similar families attracted my admiration and a bit of envy. As for cloning, that is another non-issue. Nature has been cloning for billions of years, to good effect. Human clones occur naturally--that's what identical twins are, after all. They have the very same DNA. But even though identical twins--with identical DNA--may be regarded as the "same person" in the technical sense, that abruptly comes to an end after they are born. Differing experiences, social distinctions, as well as legal distinctions (no matter how identical they may be, from a legal standpoint they are separate individuals and could just as well be unrelated) sunder them into unique entities. Thus, even if you could clone 100 identical copies of, say, Paul Trible, each would develop into a unique and particular human being--just as identical twins do. There's no difference at all, so what business is it of government?

The crux of these issues--abortion and human cloning--is this: should human beings emulate, manipulate, or in any way circumvent nature? Both things occur naturally, without human intervention. For example, miscarriages and stillbirths--which happen frequently--are natural forms of abortion; and, as stated, monozygotic twins are naturally occurring clones. There is some cloning in the plant and animal worlds as well. The fact that human beings "play God" by manipulating nature's methods is nothing new. After all, what is agriculture? What is aviation? What is chemistry? These are all examples of man emulating what nature already does on its own. About 100 years ago there was a great deal of opposition to the birth of aviation: "If man were meant to fly he'd have wings" went the saying. Before that there was even more opposition (religiously based) against science. Although the development of agriculture occurred in pre-historic times (i.e. before the invention of writing), one can imagine that some must have regarded it as a threat to traditional hunter-gatherer cultures. In short, there is no advance of technology or science unaccompanied by controversy or outright hostility.

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Ethics in Science

I have often pondered the enormous popularity of science fiction as a literary genre—what is the source of its appeal? It is only occasionally good fiction, and much of it is distressingly hackneyed. Nevertheless, I cut my literary teeth on books by H.G. Wells, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, and Robert A. Heinlein. Its point of fascination must be the emphasis on science, applied technology, and futurism. In short, science is interesting. A cursory reading of history will show that it is science, more than anything else, which has defined the world we know: space-flight, computer technology, global communications, nuclear power—all are made possible by science. Yet we still do not live in a technological paradise such as that depicted in the mythos of Star Trek. Why is that? It is because science is subject to misuse. As the machine becomes more and more important, human beings themselves seem to shrink to insignificance. It is as if we are mere caretakers (and poor ones at that).

Thus emerges someone like the Unabomber—thinking to single-handedly halt what he sees as a rush to environmental armageddon. He is obviously a disturbed individual, but should we perhaps read his manifesto anyway? Aren’t there at least some who agree with his premise? Nowadays, for example, people fear the so-called “millennium bug” as if it were the Apocalypse. Even Pat Robertson of CBN has got in on the act, predicting nothing short of global catastrophe. The controversy over nuclear power seems to have subsided in recent years, but the weapons are still with us. What if one should fall into the hands of terrorists? What if some self-appointed prophet should think it his Divine mission to liquidate half a city, half a nation, or half the world? Who do we have to thank for these and other dilemmas? Again, modern science.

In many ways, science occupies a place in society that was once filled by religion, and though the two seem to be completely at odds, there are striking similarities between them. Both offer a distinct worldview. Both explain the origin of the universe and project its long-term fate. Professional scientists are almost like clergy, operating in realms inaccessible to the layperson. Scientific journals function much like holy scripture, and the giants of bygone centuries (Galileo, Copernicus, Newton, etc.) like saints. Some of these men even suffered persecution for their “faith”—like Galileo before the Inquisition in 1615. Science has its own Holy Grail-type obsessions, too—the Human Genome Project, for instance, or the search for a Grand Unified Theory (GUT) in physics. Is all this mere coincidence? Although we are long accustomed to thinking of religion and science as being mutually inimical, they do share a common, albeit contrasting, purpose: 1) the removal of human ignorance, and 2) the overcoming of a state of discord with some desired natural order.


What Is Science?

According to physicist Morris Shamos, science is “our formal contact with nature, our window on the universe, so to speak. It is a very special way that humans have devised for looking at ordinary things and trying to understand them" (1995, p.46). It is “special” because our traditional way of explaining natural phenomena is inadequate. After all, thunder and lightning does not result from Zeus hurling thunderbolts or God “moving His furniture around.” Science is the art of accurate description, of extending our senses through instrumentation, but more importantly, it is “the design of conceptual schemes, models, and theories that serve to account for major segments of our experience with nature" (ibid).

Science cannot accept a supernatural or magical explanation for anything, which, unfortunately, cuts against the grain of religion. Experience shows that nature is orderly, that under the same conditions the same phenomena are likely to occur. There is an element of predictability. For example, the sun always rises in the East, table salt is always a compound of sodium and chlorine, and apple seeds always produce apple trees, never some other kind of tree. Science is thus a search for verifiable truth (ibid). For this reason, truth tests become important, and one such test involves the concept of falsifiability. In other words, for a premise to be scientific, one must be able to prove it wrong. The statement “there is no life on other planets” can be proven wrong—the discovery of extra-terrestrial life would accomplish that. However, the statement “life exists on other worlds” is not quite scientific because although one can prove it correct, it can never be proven wrong (if one probed the galaxy and found no life anywhere, that does not preclude the possibility of it being found somewhere else).

Why is it insufficient merely to prove a theory “correct”? It is because obtaining the same result from an experiment 100 times does not mean that a contradictory result will not be observed should one perform it 101 times—it only increases the probability of a theory being correct. Both tests are essential for verifying scientific truth, and are the indispensable tools for exposing what can be called pseudoscience: astrology, flying saucers, alien abductions and the like. Interestingly enough, two of the most cherished and widely accepted scientific theories cannot be regarded as absolutes due to the non-applicability of both truth tests—namely, the atomic theory of matter and the theory of evolution (ibid). In these matters, one could say that the jury is still out. It is important to understand these rigorous (and often inconvenient) tests because failure to adhere to the rules results in embarrassing mistakes.

Regarding ethics, the first and foremost consideration is one of integrity: science must be true to itself. Here, a distinction can be made between “good science” and “bad science.” The former, based on its noble foundations in classical Greece, duly adheres to its own restrictions, does not jump to hasty conclusions, and only offers theories that are of the highest order of probability. Thus, Isaac Newton, who discovered the law of universal gravitation, waited thirty-two years to publish his findings (he wanted to make sure there were no mistakes in his calculations). However, in this age of publicity seeking and Nobel Prize-coveting, the competition among scientists to be “the first” to make some breakthrough discovery is so rabid that inexcusable ethical lapses occur.


Good Science / Bad Science

Consider the story of cold fusion—one of the more embarrassing moments in modern physics. On March 23, 1989, two chemists at the University of Utah announced that they had achieved the impossible—cold fusion, or nuclear fusion in a test tube. If true, this would certainly have been the discovery of the century. Science writer Gary Taubes (1993, p.xviii) puts it this way:

It was considered the energy source that would save humankind: the mechanism that powers the sun and stars, harnessed to provide limitless amounts of electricity. Since shortly after the Second World War, physicists had worked to induce, tame, and sustain fusion reactions by re-creating the hellish heat and pressure at the center of the sun in a controlled setting. The conventional wisdom was that sustained nuclear fusion could only be achieved in the laboratory with enough heat—tens of millions of degrees—and extraordinary technological wizardry.

There are, of course, two ways to release nuclear energy. Fission involves splitting the atomic nucleus and setting up a chain reaction, usually in a dense radioactive metal, such as uranium or plutonium. Fusion is the forcible joining of two nuclei under extreme conditions—such as those found at the center of stars. Albert Einstein’s equation e = mc² states that matter can be converted to energy, and vice-versa; but in nature fusion reactions only occur when heat and pressure have reached critical levels. At the center of our sun, for example, the temperature is an estimated 15.5 million Kelvins and the density, under billions of tons of pressure, about 160 per cubic centimeter. By comparison, the Earth’s mean density is only 5.52 grams per cubic centimeter (Kaufmann, 1985, pp.158,335). Fusion reactions are exponentially greater than fission reactions, making the latter seem insignificant compared to the former. To make this point clear, one should realize that a hydrogen (fusion) bomb uses an atomic (fission) bomb as a detonator. It is like comparing a stick of dynamite to a firecracker. Thus, while stable fission reactors are feasible for domestic use, fusion reactors remain beyond the reach of current technologies. The March 23rd press conference announcing fusion reactions at room temperature, understandably, sent shock waves of excitement and disbelief through the scientific community.

The experiment at Utah State, which was conducted “for the fun of it,” (qtd. in Taubes, p.4) was the brainchild of Stanley Pons and Martin Fleischmann. An electrode—a solid block of palladium—suspended on a wire had been submerged in a large beaker filled with heavy water and lithium. An electric current was passed between the palladium electrode and a platinum one. The apparatus was continuously charged for seven months, until “one fateful evening when young Joey Pons, who had been running the experiments for his father, lowered the current and left for the night" (ibid). A meltdown of some sort occurred during the night. No one witnessed it. From this point there were varying reports of the result: some said that half the palladium cube had dissolved, others that the entire apparatus had been destroyed, still others that an enormous hole had been blown through several feet of concrete (ibid). There were also conflicting reports about radiation levels (if fusion had indeed occurred, lethal doses of radiation should have been released). To make matters worse, there was virtually no data accompanying the experiment.

None of this violates the basic rules of science, however. It was by publicizing the (unconfirmed) results of the experiment, with little hope of verifying that cold fusion had actually taken place, that the scientists crossed the line. They had submitted a proposal to the Department of Energy (DOE) to request funding. The DOE sent the proposal to physicist Steven Jones at Brigham Young University for review, who promptly tried to duplicate the experiment. When rumors began to circulate that Jones was planning to call a press conference, University of Utah president Chase Peterson hastily scheduled his own, and the discovery of cold fusion was announced to the world. In just a few short years, the reporters were confidently assured, commercial fusion reactors using their technology would be built—reactors fueled by ordinary seawater (ibid).

Needless to say, this extravagant promise was never fulfilled. Cold fusion power plants running on seawater have never materialized. What is the reason? Simply put, cold fusion had never actually occurred, and there was no real scientific breakthrough at all. As the months went by, every independent attempt to repeat the results of the original experiment failed miserably. According to Taubes: “Cold fusion—as defined by Stanley Pons and Martin Fleischmann, or Steve Jones… or whomever—did not exist. It never had. There was at least as much empirical evidence, if not more, to support the existence of any number of pseudoscientific phenomena, from flying saucers to astrology “(ibid).

This whole fiasco was an example of bad science—a failure to follow the rules, compounded by the ego-driven motives of those would-be Einsteins. But an even more astounding collapse of ethics occurred in the early part of this century, one that involved not just sloppiness, but outright chicanery: namely, the Piltdown hoax.

In 1911 lawyer and amateur paleontologist Charles Dawson unearthed a most unusual specimen in Piltdown, southern England. It consisted of what appeared to be a human skull with a decidedly apelike jaw. Several non-human teeth were also found. It was an amazing discovery because although hominid (pre-human) remains had been found in such places as Java, China, Africa, and continental Europe, very little had been found in England. This creature was given the scientific name Eoantropus dawsoni (which means “Dawson’s dawn man”), and was thought to have lived about two million years ago. The press dubbed it “the First Englishman” (although why any self-respecting Englishman would want to claim descent from a half-ape is beyond me). From the beginning, though, Piltdown Man had its critics. According to researcher John Evangelist Walsh:

The Piltdown mandible (jaw), especially, precipitated loud disagreement, as it had from the first. A jaw so thoroughly apelike, critics insisted, simply did not belong with a cranium (brain case) so undeniably human. Piltdown, it was charged, had been mistakenly manufactured from two separate creatures, a fossil man and fossil ape: the remains of the two just happened to come together in the ground, a freakish prank of nature. Combining them only created a monstrosity that never in fact existed. (1996, p.6)

In the fossilized record of hominid development it was clear that cranium and mandible evolved together—that as the brain case increased in size, the jaw became less and less apelike.

But the Piltdown Man had staunch defenders also, respected and reputable men like Sir Arthur Smith Woodward of the Natural History Museum in London, and physician/author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. They argued that the odds of the fossils being deposited separately, from two different animals, were astronomical—they had to have come from the same creature. Nevertheless, the debate raged on for some forty years.

As more and more was learned of hominid evolution, the Piltdown fossils posed more of a puzzle. They did not seem to fit in with the rest of the slowly emerging picture. Piltdown Man was eventually regarded as an exceedingly strange evolutionary dead-end. In the end, however, it was the rigorous tests of developing science that revealed the truth.

In 1949 the new technique of fluorine testing was applied to all the available Piltdown artifacts. During the slow process of fossilization, trace amounts of fluorine are absorbed by the bones from the soil. The relative amounts of that substance in a fossil can give a rough estimate of its age. If different ages for the cranium and jawbone could be established, it would prove that they came from two separate creatures. As it turned out, the fluorine content was the same for all the artifacts, but, unexpectedly, they were revealed to be of much more recent origin than anyone imagined—they were no more than 50,000 years old (ibid). This was puzzling because at that date, anatomically modern humans were widespread on earth. Piltdown Man was “not anywhere near a ‘dawn man,’ let alone a missing link. He was a shocking anachronism, an impossible survival out of a dim and far distant past" (ibid).

Finally, in 1953 a painstaking examination by anthropologist Joseph Weiner confirmed the skeptic’s suspicions. The teeth were primate in origin but skillfully filed down to resemble human wear patterns. All the fossils had been chemically treated to give the appearance of great antiquity. The jawbone was positively identified as that of an orangutan, the cranium of a modern human. A more refined radiocarbon dating technique revealed that the skull was about 620 years old, the jawbone slightly younger. Thus, the Piltdown Man was a forgery, a hoax, and “the most famous creature ever to grace the prehistoric scene, had been ingeniously manufactured from a medieval Englishman and a Far-Eastern ape" (ibid).

Blame for the Piltdown forgery has never been adequately determined, but most suspect Dawson. We will never know for sure, however, since Dawson died in 1916, but in this case “good science” triumphed over an unscrupulous attempt to muddy the waters of research and perhaps discredit the whole field of anthropology.



Ethical Considerations

Obviously, it is essential for science to maintain its own integrity, but does it have an obligation to the larger human community? If so, to whom should it be obeisant—the government? Industry? Whatever the source of its funding? In this regard, science shares another role with religion: it is, by nature, an independent force. Just as no government can mandate belief in God or define an acceptable theology (at least not from an American point of view), it cannot alter the nature of science. The laws of physics, thermodynamics, mathematics, and so on, are not subject to legislation.

Until recently, scientists were usually content to pursue their work, taking no thought for what was done with their discoveries. That mindset changed during World War II, however, as physicists edged closer and closer to the development of nuclear power. Speculations as to this power began as early as 1903 when the atomic structure was beginning to be understood. As more and more was learned, it gradually became not a theoretical problem but one of technological capability. The most significant progress was made in Germany, France, and England during the 1930s.

In 1933—the year Hitler came to power—physicist Leo Szilard filed a patent in England describing the laws of nuclear fission, but according to Einstein biographer Ronald W. Clark, the British War Office was “not interested" (1971, p.664). Meanwhile, Enrico Fermi, a refugee from fascist Italy, was conducting experiments with uranium. These experiments were later repeated at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute in Berlin by Lise Meitner, Otto Hahn, and Fritz Strassman. They were simultaneously performed in Paris by Irene and Frederick Joiliot-Curie (ibid). When Hitler invaded Austria, Meitner and many other Jewish scientists, among them Albert Einstein, fled for their lives. When Danish physicist Niels Bohr flew to America to attend the Fifth Washington Conference on Theoretical Physics, he caused a mild sensation in the scientific community with news of the Berlin and Paris experiments. In 1939 the dean of graduate faculties at Columbia University wrote to Admiral Hooper of the United States Navy, warning him of “the possibility that uranium might be used as an explosive that would liberate a million times as much energy per pound as any known explosive" (qtd. in Clark, p.666). Similar warnings were being given in Holland, France, Belgium, and England, and these countries began scrambling to obtain stockpiles of uranium. And all of this activity preceded that famous letter to President Roosevelt, signed by Einstein, which eventually resulted in the top-secret Manhattan Project.

Apparently, the scientific community was anxious to keep the secret of nuclear power out of Hitler’s hands, but this raises ethical questions: should science really care who benefits from its research? Why shouldn’t the results simply go to the highest bidder? In too many cases it does, but the story of nuclear energy, described above, shows how science cannot afford to be careless. Whatever one may think about nuclear weapons—dreadful though they are—no one will disagree that keeping them out of Hitler’s arsenal was the right thing to do.

After the development of the Bomb, Albert Einstein—perhaps the century’s most important scientific figure—headed a compendium of concerned scientists regarding their ethical obligations. Clearly, science has a moral obligation to serve humanity and promote the betterment of the world. It must rise above nationalistic, ideological, and economic constraints.

Again, science fulfills a role comparable to that of religion or philosophy, and as it marches forward into the realm of the purely theoretical, it encroaches upon territory once reserved for mystics and dreamers. In his book The Edges of Science, physicist Richard Morris writes:

… there are some scientific fields in which the frontiers have been pushed so far forward that scientists have found themselves asking questions that have always been considered to be metaphysical, not scientific, in nature. Nobel-prize winning physicists have been so taken aback by some of their colleague’s speculation that they call some of the new theories nonsense, or even compare them to exercises in medieval theology. (1990, p.x)

As modern science edges closer and closer to religion, religion must recognize its need for science. That is because nowadays, men of intellect and rational thought cannot accept reliance upon magic and the supernatural. Such an incongruity causes many to reject faith in God altogether. But if God did create the universe, it seems likely that He did so, not through magic, but through the very physical, chemical, and biological laws that science endeavors to explain. Once it is understood that God is a God of science—not magic—then another ethical dimension emerges. Science is not the enemy of religion or of faith, but should be its principal partner in building a viable future for all.


References

Clark, R.W. (1971). Einstein: The Life and Times. New York: Avon.

Kaufmann, W. J. (1985). Universe. New York: Freeman.

Morris, R. (1990). The Edges of Science: Crossing the Boundary from Physics to Metaphysics. New York: Prentice Hall.

Shamos, M.H. (1995). The Myth of Scientific Literacy. New Brunswick: Rutgers.

Taubes, G. (1993). Bad Science: The Short Life and Weird Times of Cold Fusion. New York: Random House.

Walsh, J.E. (1996). Unraveling Piltdown: The Science Fraud of the Century and its Solution. New York: Random House.

Three: Politics and Ideology

The Enlightenment and Jeffersonian Thought



The Jeffersonian political legacy is probably the most enduring, if not practiced, in American history. This is somewhat ironic because Thomas Jefferson himself would, no doubt, dismiss the whole notion of legacy as the “dead hand of the past” exercising power over the living. But the legacy lives on, most notably in modern conservatism: the call for limited government, emphasis on “states rights,” opposition to an activist judiciary—all are Jeffersonian prejudices. The liberal agenda contains some familiar tenets too: civil liberties, redistribution of wealth, separation of church and state. In short, any policy that promotes the local community as self-governing, as autonomous, as virtually sovereign, with as little interference from distant, centralized authority as possible, embodies the Jefferson Ideal. At the heart of that Ideal resides the Individual—possessor of inalienable rights.

Although these notions may seem peculiarly American, that simply is not the case. They are, rather, products of the Enlightenment—the Age of Reason, as it is called—which filled the 18th century with a spirit of optimism rarely known before or since. As “enlightenment” signifies an infusion of insight in the spiritual sense, its spread generated an almost religious zeal—from the salons of Paris to the western edge of the British Empire in North America. Thus, the vaunted legacy that survived the man originated in the personal philosophy of a disciplined mind--one well versed in Enlightenment Thought.



What is Enlightenment?

The Enlightenment was really an outgrowth of the Renaissance, which swept Europe during the 15th and 16th centuries, and it inherited both the humanism and the secularism of that period. It signified emergence from a long period of superstition and bigotry.1 Humanism, in sharp contrast to religious orthodoxy, exalted the dignity of human life and a belief in self-improvement through education. Secularism contended with the temporal power of the Roman Church and worked toward forming nation-states. The Renaissance had also fostered the revival of philosophy and the first stirrings of modern science.

Antecedents of the Enlightenment include Francis Bacon (1521-1626) of England and Rene Descartes (1596-1650) of France. Bacon’s Empiricism laid the groundwork for what became the “scientific method” and helped usher in the Scientific Revolution spearheaded by Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo.2 Descartes’ Rationalism—based on the proposition cogito ergo sum (“I think, therefore I am”)— galvanized intellectuals and contributed to the growing unrest in France, which was chafing under Catholicism and Absolutism. These philosophical and scientific roads led directly to the Age of Reason.

Arguably the most important single figure in the Enlightenment was the English mathematician Sir Isaac Newton (1642-1727). Newton removed the last vestiges of supernaturalism from science through publication of Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy in 1685. With the introduction of calculus and the theory of gravity, he created a cosmogony that worked on its own, according to a fixed set of laws, without need of constant Divine Intervention. The Newtonian revolution in physics sparked the “natural law” era of social and political theory. For example, David Hume (1711-1776) tried to formulate a “science of man,” pioneering the development of modern sociology. John Locke (1632-1704) addressed psychological and political issues in a series of very influential essays—rejecting Descartes’ belief in innate ideas—suggesting that Reason was the highest function of the human mind and that man acquired knowledge from his environment through education.3 Accordingly, a group of French intellectuals known as philosophes made Locke’s philosophy and Newton’s physics the cornerstone of their efforts to “enlighten” the educated classes of Western Europe.



Jeffersonian Thought

1.

In 1760 seventeen year-old Thomas Jefferson met the Enlightenment in the person of William Small—professor of mathematics and natural philosophy at the College of William and Mary. Small, who, unlike his colleagues, was neither a drunkard nor an Anglican clergy, had been imported from Scotland to fill a vacancy in the School of Philosophy where Jefferson was enrolled. In addition to Newtonian physics and advanced mathematics, he introduced the works of Montesquieu, Voltaire, Rousseau, and Diderot. Thus, Small was the acknowledged torchbearer of the Enlightenment in Virginia, and a key shaper of the Jefferson intellect.4 Beginning with studies of classical languages—Latin and Greek—then physics, mathematics, a thorough reading of various European thinkers, and an exhaustive five-year apprenticeship of law under George Wythe, Jefferson had, by his mid-20s, formulated his own theories of government and statecraft. What were the major tenets of Jefferson’s thought?

First, it should not be supposed that he possessed a coherent system based on flawless logic—far from it. Jefferson was not averse to clinging to myth if it suited his purposes (a decidedly un-enlightened attitude). For example, he tenaciously held to the belief that the inevitable break from Great Britain had its roots in the 1066 Norman conquest of England, and that North America was the depository of “true Saxon values”—a theory he called Expatriation. Utterly groundless in history, it is only one example of many showing that not all of Jeffersonian Thought was fully rational.5 But three aspects that were founded on sturdier principles include his commitment to an agrarian economy, his extreme distrust of powerful government, and his insistence on establishing a “wall of separation” between church and state.

2.

To Jefferson, the Ideal American would be a yeoman farmer tending his fields by day and reading Homeric poetry by night—in the original Greek!6 As a gentleman-planter himself, it was perhaps natural that his values were agrarian. At the time of the Revolution an estimated 98% of all Americans lived on farms, and Jefferson was clear in his convictions that as long as America’s economy was agrarian, the Republic would endure. “… Let our workshops remain in Europe,” he wrote, imagining that the country would have the same economic status as China.7 Cities and manufacturing should be kept to a minimum. One reason for this bias was morality, for in his view, those who worked the land were the “Chosen People of God.” Husbandry and the rural way of life created virtue in men, whereas urban centers were rife with corruption. But another reason was imminently practical, for farmers were models of self-sufficiency. As a farmer grows his own food, makes his own clothing, and needs purchase only minimal supplies, his dependence on government, banks, and manufacturing decreases. Such independence affords protection against any sort of economic upheaval—such as those that wracked Europe all too frequently.

In this sense, Jefferson was a Physiocrat—i.e. opposed to acquisitive capitalism.8 This is an ideology he would have been well acquainted with during his five years as American Ambassador to France, from 1784 to 1789. The Physiocrats were a group of French writers who called themselves “the economists,” and included such names as Quesnay, Mirabeau, Dupont de Nemours, and Mercier de la Riviere. They advocated what was called “physiocracy”—a rational government based upon natural laws.9 The Physiocrats stood in opposition to the ruthless mercantilism adopted by many European states. Mercantilism involved direct state control over industry, protectionism, and acquisition of colonies. It encouraged rampant empire building and thus made states more aggressive. War was the inevitable outcome, the Seven Years War (from 1756 to 1763) being a good example.10

The Physiocrats sought to discover the natural and “eternal” sources of wealth. Quesnay, for example, held that all wealth was produced by nature—that is, by the land. Only agriculture was “productive,” manufacturing and venture capitalism were secondary sources at best.11 A stable economy could best be created by stimulating agricultural production and maintaining a laissez-faire approach. All the government’s revenue should come from a single tax on crop yields. Ultimately, however, the Physiocratic plan was rejected by the French government; but here, nonetheless, are the origins of modern economics as a study divorced from politics.12


3.

Thomas Jefferson’s celebrated ambivalence toward strong national government was seemingly his raison d’etre, and in fact became the focal point of the surge of 1800 that swept him into the presidency. The Republicans represented the landed interests—who were a majority—anxious to undo twelve years of Federalist rule. That was not to be, of course. Ever the pragmatist, Jefferson knew full well that attempting to dismantle Hamilton’s network of banks and investments would irreparably damage the nation. Nevertheless, he was determined to curtail centralized power in every way possible. Part of his ambivalence can be attributed to fear: did the Revolution succeed in throwing off the yoke of one tyrant merely to replace it with another? Then there was the fact that Virginia—at that time the largest state by far—had little to gain in a federal system. But on a deeper level, there were psychological factors reinforced by influential writers, such as Locke and Montesquieu.

Privately, Jefferson was a man who forever wanted to retreat from the world of affairs and its disorderly conflicts. His was the simple desire to be left alone and to create his
own utopia—reflected by his lifelong obsession with Monticello, the never ending tearing down and rebuilding of the place.13 For Jefferson, the primary political unit is local, the state-level secondary, and the national (if it even exists) a distant third; their powers should decrease accordingly. The theoretical foundations of this ideal democracy can be found in several Age of Reason writers. From John Locke’s An Essay Concerning Human Understanding came a strong belief in education and the idea of progress—the limitless capacity for self-improvement without need of state-intervention. From the Second Treatise of Government emerged the doctrine of popular sovereignty—in a republic the people are sovereign. But it was Montesquieu’s Spirit of Laws that received the most elaborate attention. Montesquieu described four types of government: democratic, aristocratic, monarchic, and despotic.14 The types of states suitable for these depended upon their size, in ascending order. Thus, democracy was fit for a small state, monarchy for a large and powerful one—like France. A globe-spanning empire could best be governed by a despot. In Montesquieu there is, of course, the familiar doctrine of separation of powers. Jefferson devoted much time to its study but always did so selectively, ignoring the alternatives to democracy—some of them favorable—and the admonition to restrict the people to a limited role in their own governance.15 Then there was the practical model of France itself, where the local parlements stood between the people and the national government, providing some measure to check centralized, autocratic power.16


4.

As seductive as the Jeffersonian legacy remains, the historical fact is that large portions of it have been eroded by time. His vision of democracy rooted in an agrarian economy was on the retreat even during his lifetime. The Civil War obliterated his assertion of state’s rights—or at least put it on the defensive. Roosevelt’s New Deal shattered the illusion of “diffuse” national government. But the one undiminished and seemingly unassailable Jeffersonian ideal is that of religious freedom—i.e. separation of church and state.17 The move to abolish state-sponsored religion in Virginia began with his efforts, as a Burgess, to strip the Anglican Church (Church of England) of its “official” status. Laws were still on the books making heresy against the Church a crime. Penalties included exclusion from holding public office, loss of property and custody of children, three years in jail without bond, even death by fire at the stake.18 Jefferson’s efforts in this area eventually yielded Virginia’s Statute for Religious Freedom.

Probably the most significant remnant of the Enlightenment, this sundering of state power from ecclesiastical authority sought to eliminate the likelihood of religious warfare—at least in the New World. America certainly had its share of religious strife, but the real problem was in Europe, where bitter religious wars had been waged for centuries. One major thrust of the philosophes was to remove the specter of superstition from people’s minds once and for all. The main weapon in their arsenal was Deism.19

The roots of Deism can be found in the work of Isaac Newton. The simultaneous development of differential and integral calculus with the theory of universal gravitation inadvertently created a new worldview. The universe, once thought to be the magical creation of God, was now compared to an enormous clock. God was relegated to the role of a clock-maker who then withdrew from all active involvement in the lives of men (much like Jefferson withdrawing to Monticello). Deism stressed the uselessness of prayers and evangelism, scoffed at miracles and revelations, and demanded toleration. If God was not personally concerned with “salvation” of men’s souls, then it was none of the state’s business either.

The French philosophes held Christianity in utter contempt, summarized in Voltaire’s call to “ecrasez l’infame.” Although few of them were explicitly atheist, opinions varied. Rousseau, for instance, considered himself a Christian but made a sharp distinction between the simple truths of natural religion, which all men could agree on, and the elaborate theologies of “high” religions.20 To replace medieval superstition with Reason and supplant miracles with natural law, both underpins the attitude of science and destroys the need to transform orthodoxy into law.

Thomas Jefferson ceased to take Anglicanism seriously while in college, embracing instead his own brand of Deism—calling himself a “denomination of one.”21 The idea of religious freedom did not originate from him, certainly, but he was perhaps its most articulate spokesman. The Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom was a model of its kind, later finding its way into the Constitution’s Bill of Rights. Representing the triumph of humanism and secularism, the implications are far-reaching. For the freedom of religion necessitates a freedom from religion—an idea that would have seemed strange to medieval Europeans as well as colonial Americans.



Jeffersonian Fallacies

History has not been terribly kind to Jeffersonian Thought—nearly every one of its cherished precepts has proven outdated, impractical, or downright foolish. Jefferson himself, however, remains the subject of unrelenting interest and study—two hundred and twenty-five years after the Revolution. Obviously, something in his ideology resonates beyond the passing years. Jefferson was a creature of the Enlightenment through and through, yet much of what he believed had little to do with Reason or Logic. For example, his belief that democracy was rooted in the soil, that only independent landed citizens could sustain a republic, was refuted even while he lived. This spoke of a deep aversion to government—any government. John Locke’s “natural state” theory, apparently, had penetrated Jefferson to the marrow and become part of him. He always believed in an idyllic past where men were free from oppressive states—such as the pre-Norman Saxons or untamed Indian tribes. In his mind, Monticello was always that sort of Edenic place.

Jefferson’s famous aphorism, “the earth belongs to the living,” while appealing to a sense of fairness, simply does not correspond to the real world. The doctrine of generational sovereignty, in which he fervently believed, was not taken seriously by anyone in his day or since. Collaborating with French naturalist Georges de Buffon, Jefferson produced elaborate tables showing that an average generation lasts nineteen years. Therefore, all public debts, laws, even constitutions, should be torn up at that time.22 That no nation on earth could possibly function that way ever occurred to him.

But the one Jeffersonian belief that now seems most at odds with reality was his airy fondness of popular revolt. Alone among national leaders, he had defended Shays’s Rebellion, praising the “spirit of resistance” to government that he hoped to keep alive.23 Likewise, he supported the French Revolution, although he departed France well before the worst convulsions. The ensuing years of street violence, the Reign of Terror, and eventual dictatorship of Napoleon, showed just how far such “resistance” could go—despite the rhetoric about trees of liberty and blood of tyrants.

Jeffersonian Thought continues to inspire because in it, only the individual is sovereign. A nation built upon that ideal can only be a republic. In Jefferson, the ideology develops in rarefied planes of abstract thought—ostensibly Reason. But republics like the United States or Great Britain work precisely because they are not based on ideology—they are the results of pragmatism, of trial and error. The horror stories of the 20th century—Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia, Pol Pot’s Cambodia—reveal what can happen when abstract theories translate into law. Thus, while we revere Thomas Jefferson, we should at the same time be very glad that his opponents prevailed in the end.



Bibliography

Curtis, Michael. The Great Political Theories. Vol.1. New York: Avon, 1981.

Durant, Will. The Story of Philosophy. New York: Washington Square, 1961.

Ellis, Joseph J. American Sphinx: The Character of Thomas Jefferson. New York: Knopf,
1997.

Hofstadter, Richard. The American Political Tradition: And the Men Who Made It. New
York: Vintage, 1974.

Jenkinson, Clay. The Thomas Jefferson Hour. Norfolk: WHRV FM, October 4, 2000.

Jones, W.T. Kant and the Nineteenth Century. New York: Harcourt, 1975.

Randall, Willard Sterne. Thomas Jefferson: A Life. New York: Holt, 1993.

Spielvogel, Jackson J. Western Civilization. London: Wadsworth, 1999.


***


Securing Individual Liberties

Western liberal-democracy, based upon the memorable phrase "All Men are Created Equal," is popularly believed to be the Guardian of Liberty--that is, of individual freedom. Yet the very notions of "liberty" and "equality" are somewhat incongruous. That is because equality can only be achieved by government intervention. Equality before the Law, or equality in a moral sense (one's value before God), does not mean that all individuals are truly equal: differences in wealth, social status, intelligence, natural ability, and so on, are too painfully obvious. In that case, liberty does not apply uniformly to all citizens, for some enjoy greater freedom than others. So in what kind of government, if not democracy, would individual liberties best be secured?

Utilitarian philosopher John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) believed that freedom of thought and discussion (speech) were fundamental to individual liberties, and all other freedoms--e.g. that of religion and the press--derived from them. To protect the individual conscience from the "tyranny of the majority" was his primary concern. Even where opinions are wrong or dangerous, their unfettered expression is necessary so that there can be a "collision" of thoughts. As a result, the true opinion will always emerge. But where suppression is practiced--as in censorship--a grave disservice is done the truth. Adverse opinions, in Mill's view, work like a sculptor chipping away excess stone to reveal the Monument within. Furthermore, the cultivation of "genius," so vital to any thriving culture, can only occur in an atmosphere of freedom--that is, where individuals are not enslaved to the demands of the state. This classic liberalism, of course, requires a minimalist government, one that is restrained from trampling on individual liberties.

One important implication of the above is the concept of "self-reliance," of the sort championed by Samuel Smiles (a contemporary of Mill's). Starting with the belief that Heaven helps those who help themselves, Smiles attributed national progress to individual effort, thrift, and hard work, while social decay and related evils were "the outgrowth of man's perverted life" (qtd. in Briggs 76). Thus, the self-reliant are independent of government while the poor, the unemployed, and the unfortunate, will always be dependent--and a burden.

Classic liberal ideas, therefore, call the very concept of "citizenship" into question. If one is a citizen of a modern liberal-democracy, what can one expect in terms of rights and entitlements (which signify freedom) as opposed to duties and obligations (which diminish it)? And to what extent are individual liberties compromised in such a system?

Citizenship, by definition, is granted to individuals; this does not mean families or larger groups go unrecognized, but only individuals can enjoy the benefits of citizenship and be held to its obligations. Thus, a delicate balance between the individual and the state has to be achieved in political thought. How responsible are individual citizens for the welfare of the whole? That has long been a serious point of contention. The doctrine of "social citizenship" holds that all citizens are collectively responsible for the whole. Thus, a program of redistributing wealth is justified to provide the lower classes with a set of entitlements--i.e. healthcare, education, job-training, welfare, and so on. This is opposed, however, by the recent trend toward "active citizenship" embraced by the New Right. Active citizenship has two schools of thought: the neo-liberal and the neo-conservative. The neo-liberal aspect would please John Stuart Mill--individualism, limited government, maximum liberty. The neo-conservative aspect, on the other hand, rejects the type of social engineering typified by Lyndon Johnson's Great Society. Entitlements have to be "earned" (which means they are no longer entitlements) and some obligation must be met before assistance from the government can be forthcoming. Welfare thus becomes "workfare" and the individual comes under greater and greater scrutiny. Thus, interaction between individuals and government increases. Ironically, the one aspect of active citizenship results in more government while the other insists upon less. It's a reflection of the struggle--trying to find a proper balance between the individual and the state.

The egalitarian nature of democracy tends to diminish the upper classes while assisting the lower, resulting in a large middle class. Uniformity of purpose and consensus of opinion are the means to this end. Thinkers such as John Stuart Mill would be appalled, seeing a clear threat to liberty. The natural political environment for the New Right would not be democracy at all, but a sort of aristocracy--what is nowadays referred to as a "meritocracy." Such a society would, sooner or later, abandon all pretense of "equality." One of the great political thinkers of antiquity, Plato, condemned democracy in Athens for this very reason. Men could no more be equal, he thought, than children could be adults or vise-versa. Therefore, a natural aristocracy is the milieu in which the greatest possible individual liberties are secured.



Works Cited

Briggs, Asa. "Samuel Smiles: The Gospel of Self-Help." Annual Editions. 10th ed. Guilford: Dushkin/McGraw-Hill, 1999.



***


Thomas Paine and Revolution

Among the more influential proponents of revolution, both in America and France, was the Englishman Thomas Paine. A world-class propagandist, he is best known for his seminal pamphlet Common Sense, issued on the eve of the American War of Independence. But Paine wrote voluminously throughout his life, concerning himself mostly with the radical politics of the day. It seems best to judge his importance according to the relative successes of the causes he espoused, rather than his personal accomplishments. Unsuccessful in government service (where as officer of the excise in England, he was twice dismissed from his post), he met Benjamin Franklin in London, who suggested immigration to America. Paine arrived at Philadelphia November 30, 1774, finding work as a publisher.

Plunging immediately into waters of controversy, Paine published African Slavery in America, condemning slave trade in the southern colonies--winning for himself, no doubt, both friends and enemies. Sensing the rise of tensions between America and Great Britain, he put together his ideas in Common Sense, which was published January 10, 1776. The pamphlet quickly sold 500,000 copies.

Common Sense contains the classic liberal arguments for minimal government. Obliged only to "restraining our vices," any government was on precarious terms, according to Paine. The pamphlet went on to counter loyalist calls for reconciliation with Britain, offered several plain-spoken reasons for independence (hence the title), and even suggested a new system of representative democracy. As an articulation of the radical view, Paine's influence was later felt, to some extent, in the Declaration of Independence.

The rabble-rousing later continued in England, where Paine became a passionate defender of the French Revolution. In his opinion, a people had the right to overthrow an oppressive government if they wished. In his Rights of Man he bitterly attacked the Revolution's critic Edmund Burke, writing: "that Mr. Burke should commence an unprovoked attack upon them, both in Parliament and in public, is a conduct that cannot be pardoned on the score of manners, nor justified on that of policy." Rights of Man went further and offered a withering review of all European society; monarchy, aristocracy, the Church, poverty, illiteracy, gratuitous warfare--all received his scathing remarks.

Paine's views were decidedly Antifederalist in the American sense, calling for republican government as a way of redistributing wealth--almost an early socialist leaning. In sharp contrast to the New World, the Old World was a land of exaggerated unequality. In Louis XVI's France, for example, a tiny aristocracy enjoyed vast wealth, opulence, and luxury, while the overwhelming majority--more than two million people--was impoverished. There was no middle class to speak of. And far from decrying such injustice, the Church (in league with the state) justified it as "God's Will." This appalled liberal thinkers like Paine.

In Rights of Man Paine accused Europeans of "governing beyond the grave," calling it "the most ridiculous and insolent of all tyrannies." What did he mean by this? Among other things, he was referring to two Old World customs, since banned in America: primogeniture and entail. Primogeniture is the ancient practice whereby the eldest son automatically inherits all of a family's estate when the father dies. In this way, titles, lands, even whole fiefdoms remained firmly in the hands of a very few. Entail, on the other hand, was an ironclad decree passed on for generations within a family, restricting the liberties of descendents, especially regarding marriage arrangements. Both practices worked to concentrate wealth in the hands of the aristocracy.

Thomas Paine's writings were banned in England, where he escaped imprisonment only by fleeing to France, where he had been elected to the National Convention. Nevertheless, he was later imprisoned by Robespierre during the Great Terror. After his release (relieved, no doubt, to find head still attached to body), Paine returned to America at the behest of Thomas Jefferson. But far from being a hero in the United States, he was denounced as an atheist on account of his Deism. Thomas Paine died in New York City on June 8, 1809.

Despite the loss of his reputation, it seems obvious that Paine's outspoken views were right for the time and were instrumental in helping this nation gain its independence, even if they won him little praise here or abroad.


***


The Tenor of Current Political Debate


Tuning into the Michael Reagan radio talk-show the other night, I was quite surprised to hear the conservative host openly advocating the use of torture on prisoners taken in the so-called War on Terror. "Torture them until they tell you what you want to know..." he said, unequivocally. Part of it was simple outrage, I'm sure: Paul Johnson, an American citizen in Saudi Arabia, had just been beheaded by al-Qaeda terrorists. But the fact that we're even debating this subject (and that it's going on in the highest reaches of government) raises an alarm in my mind. What has happened to the American psyche? During World War II, for instance, it never occurred to American GIs to mistreat German prisoners of war. Now we discuss the pros and cons of torture. American idealism (often at odds with reality, but that's another issue) represents the apex of Western civilization and humanitarian values. Something has changed. One can see it in the apparent duplicity of Bush Administration foreign policy, deep divisions between the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial Branches, intractable partisanship in Congress, and most of all in the virulent tone of current political debate. Consider the assertion of Attorney General John Ashcroft that those who criticize the USA Patriot Act (or, by extension, any Bush Administration policy) should have their patriotism called into question. One constantly hears variants on this theme from the conservative side. Let's consider, for a moment, the meaning of "patriotism" as it applies to this debate.

According to the American Heritage Dictionary a patriot is "One who loves, supports, and defends one's country." The word is derived from the Greek patrios--"of one's fathers," itself derived from pater, or father. This seems a simple enough, common-sense definition. In American terms it is usually understood to mean loyalty to flag, constitution, nation, and people of the United States--to the extent that one is willing to defend them against all enemies foreign and domestic. This does not necessarily mean taking up arms in the military; after all, conscientious objectors may, by law, serve in a non-violent capacity without having their patriotism doubted. Can patriotism, in this context, apply to only part of the United States--in other words, is there regional patriotism? If your patriotism is confined to, say, the southeast, or even to a single state--Virginia, for example--are you truly patriotic? The Civil War was fought over this issue, and Confederate General Robert E. Lee sided with the South because Virginia did. But the resolution of that conflict in favor of the Union should answer the question: one's patriotism cannot be limited to popular majorities, oppressed minorities, or any specific community--white, black, hispanic, religious, non-religious, affluent, impoverished, young, old, male, or female. What about the government? Is it "unpatriotic" for Americans to criticize or otherwise stand in opposition to governmental authority (as Ashcroft claims)? Even taking an oath to defend the U.S. Constitution cannot be used as a litmus test here. Patriotism predated the Constitutional Convention of 1787 and could, therefore, continue unabated even if that document were retired and a new Constitution written. Patriotism doesn't mean loyalty to any particular government, set of laws, institution, or clique of rulers. It has more to do with the integral sovereignty of the nation, and in our country the people are sovereign. But let's concede, just for argument, that patriotism requires defense of the Constitution. Is criticizing President Bush (or the actions of his Administration) tantamount to treason? Not according to the First Amendment of the Constitution which says freedom of speech shall not be abridged. Concerning free speech, Justice William Brennan wrote in New York Times v. Sullivan, (1964) “[it] was fashioned to insure unfettered interchange of ideas for the bringing about of political and social changes desired by the people…” and that “[it] presupposes that right conclusions are more likely to be gathered out of a multitude of tongues, than through any kind of authoritative selection.” So saying that criticism of the government is "unpatriotic" is like saying the First Amendment is unpatriotic.

The usual defense of this sort of rhetoric is "But we're at war! We must support our troops." After 9/11 a "War on Terror" was declared, and President Bush has conducted himself as if he were Roosevelt during World War II. The question we must ask, however, is if this War is literal or metaphorical. An example of the latter would be something like the War on Drugs--obviously not war in the usual sense, with armies on battlefields and navies on the high seas, but intense governmental efforts to combat some vexing social problem. A literal war, on the other hand, requires that certain questions be answered. For example, with whom are we at war and what is the objective? How is this war to be fought and under what circumstances can it be terminated? If applied to all previous conflicts--Vietnam, Korea, WWII, etc.--nation states were at war in the conventional sense, and each question could be clearly answered. Inability to address the questions, as in Vietnam, created terrible problems. But calling the effort to combat terrorism a "War on Terror" (in the literal sense) is rather misleading. Who is the enemy--al Qaeda? Hamas? Islamic Jihad? Irish Republican Army? The Axis of Evil? At first we went after Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan, toppling the Taliban in the process, but then the target became, inexplicably, Saddam Hussein. This shift clouds the issue of with whom we are at war. Next, what is the objective? President Bush has said it is the elimination of terrorism from the face of the earth, but who can take that seriously? The latter set of questions--how the war is to be fought and how it might be ended--can hardly be answered at all. Apparently, the War on Terror will be terminated when, and only when, the President of the United States says it is. Truth is, the War on Terror is even more nebulous than the War on Drugs, and for the government to assume new and far-reaching powers under these circumstances is truly dangerous (and probably unconstitutional).

Every morning I turn to C-Span and listen to the telephone calls on "Washington Journal" (the impetus for this essay, actually) and am continually confounded by what I hear. One always hears conservative callers complaining about "that bunch of liberals"--using the word as if it were an epithet, realizing that it refers to those who hold views similar to my own (essentially, at this point, disgusted with the Bush presidency and prepared to vote Democratic in November). Does this make me a liberal? During the '80s I was a Reagan Republican, and to this day I hold the late President in high esteem. Doesn't mean that I agreed with all his policies, but it wasn't hard to recognize how important his presidency was to the nation. The conservative agenda seemed very appealing to me in those days. My views began to change after getting married, however, as my wife and I struggled in a never-ending battle to make ends meet. I began to see the other side of the equation, and gradually realized that the conservative agenda no longer spoke to me. Although I was no fan of Bill Clinton, I was appalled by the viciousness of the Republican attack on him, culminating in the Monicagate impeachment ordeal. Nevertheless, I actually voted FOR George W. Bush in 2000--an act that I later came to regret. So I'm no "bleeding heart" liberal (just a lot less conservative than before). I consider myself both Independent (neither Democrat nor Republican) and Moderate. To be even more specific, I once took a "political test" to see where I stood in the spectrum: I placed slightly to the left of Colin Powell, well to the right of Bill Clinton. In other words, middle-of-the-road Moderate. The ultra-conservative will have none of this, however. In his view, anything to left of his (extreme) position is liberal (the word spat out with as much venom as possible). There is no recognition of a political spectrum at all, only two extremes: liberal and conservative. Not unlike a computer chip reading binary code--1,0,1,01,0--it is a black and white worldview: you're either for or against, good or evil, Christian or heathen. Hence, a detectable "dumbing down" of the argument--at least from the right. Bush supporters, having lost hands-down the intellectual debate, resort to proclamations of faith ("I support and pray for my President"), extensive scapegoating (Democrats, Bill Clinton, the CIA...you choose), pasting labels on the opposition, and accusations of treason against all who disagree with such mindless trust.

To be fair, there's plenty of demagoguery and hyperbole coming from the left as well--allegations that George W. Bush "stole" the 2000 election (with the help of his brother, Florida Governor Jeb Bush), that he engineered 9/11 in order to legitimize his presidency, that the sole purpose of the Iraq War was oil, that the Bush Administration is "ruining" the nation, and so on. The facts do not bear any of this out, of course. All indications in the aftermath of the Florida recount debacle suggest that Bush actually won that state by a paper-thin margin--and thus the presidency. Al Gore clearly won the popular vote, but presidents are not elected that way. That Bush was somehow behind 9/11 is ridiculous, for planning of the attacks began during the Clinton years. Although Iraqi oil may have been one consideration in the decision to topple Saddam, I believe the real impetus was part ideological, part personal vendetta (Bush 43 atoning for Bush 41), part religious crusade. And although I agree that Bush has seriously damaged America's credibility and standing in the world, and that his heavy-handed tactics in waging the "War on Terror" are counterproductive, destined to backfire, and are sure to bring nothing but grief, that is hardly "ruining" the nation.

Nevertheless, it is conservative voices that are most guilty of stepping across the line separating demagoguery from legitimate, intellectually-sound debate. One day, again while watching C-Span, I got a chilling insight into the modern-day conservative psyche. The occasion was a meeting sponsored by the Heritage Foundation--a conservative symposium of some sort. The moderator was a middle-aged matron who offered extensive commentary in between guest speakers. Something in the tone of the woman's voice as she spoke of conservative ideals and their vision for America startled me to a realization: she was speaking as though she were the high priestess of some religion. The same sanctimonious manner, sense of moral superiority, tendency to divide everyone into sheep and goats, a certain tacit paranoia that comes from the belief of being under siege. The encroachment of the Religious Right into the Republican Party is a well known, thoroughly studied phenomenon--but this is something different: conservatism itself as a secular religion. It should be noted that religions need not be theistic in nature. Buddhism, for instance, is decidedly non-theistic, neither acknowledging nor denying the existence of God; communism (Marxist-Lenninist) is an atheistic religion, denying God's existence outright, but a religion nonetheless. I hold that modern-day American conservatism has evolved into a de facto secular religion; all the elements are there: divinely-inspired progenitors (Founding Fathers), sacred scripture (Constitution, Declaration of Independence, Federalist Papers, etc.), sacraments (Pledge of Allegiance), hymns (patriotic songs), and most importantly, a "promised land" i.e. America (which is italicized to distinguish it from the real America--the one in which we all live). The conservative's America, which some imagine to have existed in the distant past, is a fantasy land where political dissent doesn't exist; where people accept their stations in life, rich or poor, by the grace of God; where national leaders are obeyed without question and never criticized; where women and minorities have little say in important affairs--and are glad of it; where there is virtually no immigration from non-European countries; where everyone goes to church on Sundays and where baseball is still the national pass-time.

Here are the roots, I'm convinced, of the harshness and intolerance that characterizes recent political discourse (at least from the conservative side). As an independent moderate I regard the differences between Democrats and Republicans--or liberals and conservatives--as philosophical in nature. Giving everyone benefit of the doubt, the left and right both want what's best for the nation, but there are contrasting theories of government at work here. I understand the conservative agenda, even if I don't agree with all of it. The same holds true for the liberal agenda. But where one's political ideology takes on the aura of religious conviction, philosophical disagreement is tantamount to heresy--and thus intolerable. If the Republicans are designated "for God and Country," then the Democrats represent Satan and America's enemies. A recent caller to C-Span declared, "A vote for John Kerry is a vote for Osama bin Laden," reasoning that since al Qaeda and Islamic extremists plan to attack the United States prior to November to defeat George W. Bush, then any American who votes Democratic is siding with the enemy. It is a ridiculous argument, of course, an example of the "either/or" fallacy. I believe that the Bush Administration's misguided policies have actually put America in a more precarious position than before, have made us less secure and more vulnerable, and have simultaneously alienated our most important allies while strengthening our enemies (terrorist attacks increasing, al Qaeda membership growing by leaps and bounds as ever more young Muslims line up to take part in the Jihad). So it could almost be argued that "A vote for George Bush is a vote for bin Laden," but I'll not go there.

One often hears a quote from Benjamin Franklin these days, to the effect, "He who gives up an essential liberty for a measure of safety, deserves neither liberty nor safety." The U.S government, in response to 9/11, seems willing to sacrifice all manner of civil liberties to ensure our "safety." If we allow this to continue, then, with Franklin, I say we deserve neither. To put it bluntly: we have more to fear from a too-powerful government than we do from any terrorist plot. Chances are the vast majority of Americans will never be the victims of terror, but we could all be victimized by the government (from which, short of emigration to another country, there is no escape). This has to do with what I call the "response paradigm"--i.e. the way government chooses to address vital concerns. For example, in the War on Drugs the response paradigm was to treat it as a criminal justice matter. But this policy has been an unmitigated failure, resulting in clogged courts, overcrowded prisons, more--not less--crime, and so on. A more sensible approach would be to deal with substance abuse as a public health issue--getting addicts and small time users into mandatory rehab rather than prison. The response paradigm to terrorism has been, predictably, to treat it as a threat to national security. Problem is, almost any sort of egregious abuse is justified on "national security" grounds (hence, the intra-governmental debate on whether torture can be used on detainees). To create an America that is absolutely safe from terrorist attack will require transforming it into a garrison state. Stalinist Russia would be a good model. Thus, I propose a different response paradigm: terrorism should be treated as a natural disaster, like a hurricane, drought, or flood. Suppose an earthquake had leveled the World Trade Center, or a tsunami had washed away most of the Pentagon? As tragic as that might be, it would not threaten the survival of the nation. President Roosevelt, after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, declared, "There is nothing to fear but fear itself." Thus, we should not fear the threat of terrorism, whatever the cost, for that fear is bound to cripple us.


***


The Untold Story of Watergate


DURING the final months of 1998 and the beginning of 1999, we as a nation had the privilege (or misfortune) of watching the grand spectacle of President Bill Clinton's impeachment ordeal unfold on national television. It was especially fascinating to see the United States Constitution in action--the debate in the House Judiciary Committee, the drafting of the articles of impeachment, the vote of the full House, and so on. The trial in the Senate, presided over by Chief Justice Rehnquist, was even more riveting. It was only the second time in American history that such a trial had been held--the first being that of Andrew Johnson after the Civil War--and the outcome was the same: acquittal for the president.

The whole thing reminded me of another near-impeachment: that of Richard Nixon in the '70s. I was a teenager when the Watergate scandal exploded on the scene, and was somewhat bewildered as it grew from a simple burglary to a media frenzy, from a public relations nightmare to a full-fledged constitutional crisis.

The best known books that document the Watergate story--All the President's Men by Woodward and Bernstein, Breach of Faith by Theodore H. White, The Ends of Power by H.R. Haldeman, Blind Ambition by John Dean, Will by G. Gordon Liddy--tell curiously contradictory tales. No one seems to agree on who was behind the break-in of the Democratic National Committee's (DNC) headquarters, and why. The recollections of President Nixon's involvement in the cover-up are also at odds: did he engineer an obstruction of justice or was he duped into complicity? It was not until the 1991 publication of Len Colodny and Robert Gettlin's Silent Coup: the Removal of a President that some of these issues were resolved. Although John Dean--named as the chief culprit in the book--vehemently objected to Silent Coup and even tried to block its publication, others, including Gordon Liddy, John Ehrlichman, even former president Nixon, strongly supported its findings. To better understand the impact of this extraordinary book, therefore, let us unravel the whole Watergate story, layer by layer, to see what lies beneath.


The Watergate Story Unfolds

On the morning of June 18, 1972--a Sunday--President Richard Milhous Nixon, on vacation in Key Biscayne, Florida, first learned of the burglary at the Watergate Hotel the same way most other Americans did: it was front page news. His initial reaction to the Miami Herald's headlines was disbelief, as he later recounted in his autobiography:

It sounded preposterous: Cubans in surgical gloves bugging the DNC! I dismissed it as some sort of prank... the whole thing made so little sense. Why? I wondered. Why then? And why, of all places, the Democratic National Committee? Anyone who knew anything about politics would know that a national committee headquarters was a useless place to go for inside information on a presidential campaign. The whole thing was so senseless and bungled that it almost looked like some kind of setup. (qtd. in Colodny and Gettlin 165)

From the moment of their capture in the DNC offices it was obvious that the five Watergate burglars were no ordinary criminals--clad in business suits and rubber gloves, carrying photographic and electronic bugging equipment. Their identities, when revealed, bore this out: Bernard Barker, a Miami businessman, had participated in the 1961 Bay of Pigs operation (a CIA-backed, failed invasion of communist Cuba); the other Cubans, Eugenio Martinez, Virgilio Gonzalez, and Frank Sturgis, had CIA connections as well. More intriguing was the fact that the fifth burglar, James McCord, was an ex-CIA agent and currently on the payroll of Nixon's Committee to Re-elect the President (CRP). Moreover, items found on their persons tied them directly to the CRP: $5300 in crisp, new $100 bills; an address book; a motel-room key. The serial numbers on the $100 bills were traceable to Barker's Miami bank account, which were then traced to a $25,000 cashier's check originally intended for Nixon's re-election campaign. Four other CRP checks, totaling $89,000, had also been deposited in the same account. The address book contained the telephone number of another ex-CIA man--E. Howard Hunt--a former White House consultant. The key opened a motel-room door at Howard Johnson's just across the street from the Watergate. Inside that hastily abandoned alcove, among the debris, were more $100 bills sequentially matched to those found on the burglars. Within a few days it was evident that this break-in was the work of a rogue branch of the CRP. The question was, who authorized the breaking and entering? Was it a secret, low level operation or did their orders come from higher up--perhaps from the White House itself? McCord and the Cubans weren't talking; Hunt had disappeared; the other implicated CRP official, G. Gordon Liddy, was silent as a corpse.

Along with the intense media scrutiny came a host of governmental investigations. The White House, by presidential directive, launched its own inquiry. Even though some skeptics believed that Nixon himself may have ordered the break-in, the consensus among those who studied the matter was that the President indeed had no prior knowledge, as stated by Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Theodore H. White: "No shred of evidence nor any serious allegation made by anyone indicates that Richard Nixon was party to, or instigator of, the grand stupidity of the break-in. He had been too long in politics to run so great a risk for stakes so small; and besides, he was too busy for such trivia" (160).

Meanwhile, the FBI was conducting a criminal investigation, looking into the activities of Hunt and Liddy. Both had been in telephone contact with Barker just before the break-in. Liddy was linked to the funds that bankrolled the operation. When the FBI questioned CRP Finance Committee Chairman Maurice Stans, he readily admitted receiving the $25,000 check but held that he had passed it to Liddy, and that was all he knew.

On September 15, 1972, the newly named Watergate Grand Jury handed down seven indictments, charging Liddy, Hunt (who had by now surrendered), McCord, Barker, Sturgis, Martinez, and Gonzalez with conspiracy and second degree burglary, among other things. The honorable Judge John J. Sirica foresaw a long and wide-ranging trial (Knappman 1:17).

The American public, as might be imagined, found itself assailed by the news media with Watergate-related headlines. Leading the assault was the Washington Post's celebrated duo Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. Almost daily came new and ever more bizarre revelations: secret GOP funds linked to John Mitchell (Sept. 29), apparently used to finance covert operations; Haldeman linked to said funds (Oct. 25); wiretaps used against journalists, political opponents, and even allies; a "dirty tricks" campaign directed against Democratic presidential hopefuls (Knappman 1:14-16). On and on it went.

In the criminal trial, which opened January 11, 1973, Howard Hunt and the four Cubans plead guilty. McCord and the stubbornly uncooperative Liddy plead not guilty, but were tried and convicted. All seven were under intense pressure to implicate their superiors, Sirica threatening long prison terms for those who refused to talk. At the sentencing "Maximum John" (as he was known) gave a provisional sentence of thirty-five years to Hunt and forty years each to the Cubans, saying to them:

I have told your attorneys that the sentence that I will impose upon you--and I am making no promise of leniencies... but the sentence I will impose will depend primarily on whether or not you cooperate with the United States Senate... I fully expect you to cooperate absolutely, completely and entirely and whoever from that [Senate] committee, whether it is a senator or whether it is a staff investigator. Whoever it is that interrogates you, you will openly and honestly testify. (qtd. in White 205)

Sirica was referring, of course, to the Senate Select Committee on Presidential Campaign Activities, chaired by Senator Sam Ervin. The Committee hearings, broadcast daily on national television from May to late September 1973, were a de facto indictment of Richard Nixon's presidency, as the American public got an unprecedented look into the inner workings of the Executive Branch. Utilizing electronic surveillance expert Samuel Dash as chief counsel/investigator, the Ervin Committee publicly dissected the White House and the CRP. Although the main targets were Nixon's top aides--Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Mitchell, and Colson--the investigators established their case from the bottom and worked their way up, each figure being assigned his "satellites," or junior officers (White 232-233).

Thus, the public learned of one Jack Caulfield, an ex-New York City detective who had worked in Nixon's 1968 campaign and then secured a job under Ehrlichman. Caulfield employed another former cop, Tony Ulasewicz, who functioned as what Colodny and Gettlin refer to as a "presidential gumshoe" (96). Ulasewicz was paid $22,000 a year plus expenses, out of unspent campaign funds, to criss-cross the country digging up dirt on political opponents. For example, his first assignment had been to canvass Chappaquiddick, Massachusetts where Senator Edward Kennedy's automobile had plunged off a bridge, killing a young woman. Secret information--especially if deleterious to a Kennedy--had premium value in Nixon's White House.

Watergate burglar James McCord cracked on the day of Sirica's admonition and now told all he knew before the Committee, implicating John Dean and Jeb Magruder. Thereafter, it became a foot race, one official after another rushing to the prosecutors, offering testimony in exchange for immunity. Only Gordon Liddy remained defiant, refusing to testify before the Grand Jury or the Ervin Committee. John Dean, on the other hand, hired a lawyer and began bargaining for leniency. He accused Haldeman of allowing $350,000 to be used to pay Hunt and Liddy "hush money," and Ehrlichman of ordering him to get Hunt out of the country, while he, Dean, destroyed the contents of Hunt's safe. Although both accusations were later proven to be facile lies, the President was forced to fire Haldeman and Ehrlichman.

According to Nixon biographer Jonathan Aitken, John Dean then became the President's chief accuser before the Senate:

Dean's testimony was sensational but uncorroborated. He began by reading a 245-page statement lasting over seven hours. Its essential message was summarized in the New York Times headline the following day: "DEAN TELLS INQUIRY THAT NIXON TOOK PART IN COVER-UP FOR EIGHT MONTHS." Unlike all the previous witnesses, who had simply confessed to their own complicity in a variety of nefarious activities at a low or medium level, sometimes implicating others, Dean launched an all out assault on the integrity of the President. (491)

He also "dredged up several unsavory items from the cache of negative evidence he had been hoarding for leniency bargaining purposes" (Aitken 492). Among these was the infamous "enemies list," originally an August 16, 1971 memorandum from Dean to Haldeman aide Lawrence Higby, consisting of 20 names. It reads, in part: "This memorandum addresses the matter of how we can maximize the fact of our incumbency in dealing with persons known to be active in their opposition to our Administration. Stated a bit more bluntly--how we can use the available federal machinery to screw our political enemies" (qtd. in Knappman 1:97). The list later expanded to include well over 200 names of organizations and individuals from the media, academia, and entertainment fields. Among the methods Dean suggested to "screw" an enemy was to initiate an IRS audit. There is no evidence, however, that Nixon ever saw this list or even knew it existed before Dean disclosed it to the world.

The Ervin Committee also heard about the Plumbers--a Special Investigations Unit--from Dean at this time. Assigned to stop leaks of sensitive government information to the press, the Plumbers had focused much of their attention on Daniel Ellsberg--the Rand Corporation employee responsible for leaking the Pentagon Papers to the New York Times. Over the Labor Day weekend of 1971 the Plumbers had burglarized the office of Ellsberg's psychiatrist, Dr. Lewis Fielding, using some of the same personnel as in the Watergate. Hunt and Liddy had run this operation, too.

Dean then implicated the President in the orchestration of a "cover-up"--the White House's failed attempt at damage control. The cover-up entailed two fundamental aspects: 1) immediately after the botched break-in, Howard Hunt disappeared and began demanding large sums of money, sums which were duly paid out of campaign funds; 2) the "smoking gun" conversation between the President and Haldeman in which Nixon ordered the CIA to halt the FBI investigation.

Magruder's testimony provided a major disclosure: under oath, he declared that the authority to bug the DNC had come directly from CRP Chairman John Mitchell (White 235). Mitchell, however, denied the allegation. The former Attorney General readily admitted being present at a January 27, 1972 meeting at which Gordon Liddy presented his campaign intelligence plan, complete with CIA-made charts. Mitchell described it thusly:

"[It was] a complete horror story that involved a mishmash of code names and lines of authority, electronic surveillance, the ability to intercept aircraft communications, the call girl bit and all the rest of it." His reaction: "I told him to burn the charts and that this was not what we were interested in. What we were interested in was a matter of information gathering and protection against demonstrators." "Why didn't you throw Mr. Liddy out of your office?" Dash asked. "Well, I think, Mr. Dash, in hindsight I not only should have thrown him out of the office, I should have thrown him out of the window."
(qtd. in Knappman 2:12)

John Ehrlichman was defiant in front of the Committee, declaring that the President, by virtue of his office, had the right to commit acts otherwise deemed unlawful. This assertion set in motion an entire episode as the senators debated constitutional law, tracing precepts and statutes back to seventeenth century England. Not even the King of England, it was said, had the right to enter a private abode uninvited.

But by far the most decisive testimony came from former White House aide Alexander Butterfield, who revealed the existence of a secret taping system. In his short, fifteen-minute session before the Committee, it began to dawn on, first the media, then the general public, that the answer to Senator Howard Baker's question--what did the President know, and when did he know it--somewhere had an answer.

What followed was a protracted struggle for the White House tapes, as both the Senate Watergate panel and special prosecutor Archibald Cox vied for their possession. Tapes of nine specific meetings were requested (and denied), so it was given to Judge Sirica to decide. The battle of the court briefs went thusly: a ruling would be issued--such as Sirica's August 29 decision, ordering the President to release the tapes--and the White House would have ten days to respond. That response was invariably a refusal on the grounds of "executive privilege." Nixon cited the precedent of what he called "the Jefferson Rule," pointing out that President Thomas Jefferson had once refused a court order to turn over his personal correspondence. He had instead submitted a written summary, and the Supreme Court then ruled in the president's favor (Knappman 2:129).

Meanwhile, calls for Nixon's resignation or impeachment were getting louder and ever more shrill. The American Civil Liberties Union pushed for impeachment. The AFL-CIO demanded his resignation. Senator Edward Kennedy threatened impeachment if the President continued to defy the court order. On October 12, 1973, the U.S. Court of Appeals ordered the White House to surrender the tapes under subpoena.

The President, determined to retain control of the tapes, found himself faced with these options: he could flat out refuse, and risk impeachment; or he could comply and suffer the consequences (probably impeachment). Nixon, however, chose a third alternative, and this led to the sensational Saturday Night Massacre.

In the President's view, Archibald Cox was an employee of the Executive Branch--hired by Attorney General Elliot Richardson--and had to obey the President's orders. Nixon had sent Cox a letter instructing him not to seek any more tapes or documents. Cox saw himself as answerable only to the Attorney General, with the power to subpoena any material from anyone--including the President of the United States. Richardson, loyal to both men, was caught in the middle and was ready to tender his resignation if instructed to fire Cox.

President Nixon, it must be said, based part of his rationale on tensions with the Soviet Union. During the Yom Kippur War between Egypt and Israel, the United States had airlifted massive supplies, including tanks, to the badly routed Israeli army. The U.S.S.R. was supplying the Egyptians. The threat of an armed conflict between the U.S. and the Soviet Union caused Leonid Brezhnev to summon Henry Kissinger to Moscow. Back in Washington, new Chief-of-Staff Alexander Haig "showed Richardson a 'brutal' letter from Chairman Brezhnev which contained threats later used as a reason for a worldwide alert of U.S. forces" (Doyle 190). Should Brezhnev perceive, it was argued, that the President did not have control of his own government, the Soviets just might be tempted to risk an armed attack. Therefore, on October 20, 1973 the President instructed Richardson to fire Cox. When Richardson offered his letter of resignation, it fell to his deputy William Ruckelshaus, who also resigned. The job of executioner then passed to the Solicitor General, Robert Bork, who duly fired the special prosecutor.

The backlash against the Saturday Night Massacre was ferocious. Angry protests demanding impeachment were held across the nation. On October 23 the House of Representatives aired impeachment resolutions and began an impeachment inquiry by month's end. It was, according to Aitken, the beginning of the end of Nixon's presidency:

The news broke like an exploding firestorm. The TV networks interrupted their regular programmes with apocalyptic bulletins and special reports. NBC's anchorman John Chancellor reflected the mood of the media as he opened his newscast with the words, "The country tonight is in the midst of what may be the most serious constitutional crisis in its history... nothing even remotely like it has happened in all our history." (509)

Part of Nixon's strategy in the Cox firing, of course, was to simultaneously surrender the nine tapes under subpoena. The President's secretary, Rose Mary Woods, had begun the process of transcribing the tapes in late September. Still, there were problems: several of the tapes requested simply did not exist. On one occasion the tape machine had run out of tape before a meeting--a fact later verified by the Secret Service--and another was a telephone call that had never been recorded in the first place. Nevertheless, the newspapers had a field day with the "missing tapes" story. Then there were the mysterious gaps and erasures, including the famous 18-minute gap during a conversation between the President and H.R. Haldeman.

The political and judicial machinery continued to grind. On November 1st Leon Jaworski was named as new special prosecutor and, if anything, the investigation intensified. On the 26th of that month an "Index and Analysis" of the Watergate tapes was submitted by the White House to Judge Sirica--the President continuing to maintain that other tapes and documents were still protected by executive privilege.

On March 1, 1974 the Watergate Grand Jury indicted seven in the cover-up: John Ehrlichman, H.R. Haldeman, John Mitchell, Charles Colson, Gordon Strachan, Robert Mardian, and Kenneth Parkinson. Although the fact was not revealed until some months later, Richard M. Nixon was named as "unindicted co-conspirator."

In light of the impeachment proceedings occurring in the House, Judge Sirica directed the Grand Jury to report its findings to the Judiciary Committee. Thus, there were now three government entities fighting for possession of the White House tapes: the Justice Department, the Senate Watergate Committee, and the House Judiciary Committee (who issued a subpoena for them on April 4).

On May 9, 1974 the House Judiciary Committee, chaired by Rep. Peter Rodino, began impeachment hearings against the President. The composition of the Committee--twenty-one Democrats and seventeen Republicans--left Nixon with little hope of averting a recommendation to impeach. And if the process continued in the Democrat-led House, impeachment was certain. For despite the Constitution's eighteenth-century language about "Treason, Bribery, or other High Crimes and Misdemeanors," the truth is that impeachment is, and always has been, a political act--politicians sitting in judgment of other politicians (Aitken 513). Here, partisanship weighs heavier than criminal culpability. The accumulated and ongoing effects of Watergate had severely eroded the President's support in Congress, even among Republicans. Whether removing the President from office was "just" or not, partisanship would take over to eliminate a political liability.

After two months of official evidence-gathering and testimony, the House Judiciary Committee released its final report--an eight-volume, 4133-page document. Two days later, July 11th, the Ervin Committee released its 2250-page report. And on the 24th the Supreme Court ruled against the White House on the tapes--all material under subpoena had to be turned over. From this point on, Richard Nixon accepted the inevitable: resign or be impeached.

On July 30, 1974 the House Judiciary Committee approved three articles of impeachment. They were as follows:

Article I--obstruction of justice. Adopted by a 27-11 vote, the article listed nine methods by which the President "delayed, impeded, and obstructed" various government agencies as they worked to investigate the Watergate burglaries and other criminal activities.

Article II--abuse of power. Adopted by a 28-10 vote, the article accused the President of such things as using the IRS to institute tax audits of political opponents and critics of the Administration, illegal wiretaps, authorizing and maintaining a Special Investigations Unit (the Plumbers), and so on.

Article III--defiance of subpoenas. Adopted by a 21-17 vote, the article charged that the President sought to impede the House Judiciary Committee by refusing to comply with eight subpoenas for 147 taped conversations and other evidence.

According to constitutional procedures, once approved by the House Judiciary Committee, the articles of impeachment would go to the full House for debate and a vote. If approved, the matter would then go to the Senate for a trial, and if convicted--by a three-quarters vote--the President would be removed from office. But with virtually all political and public support gone, Richard Nixon circumvented the process by tendering his resignation on August 9, 1974--the first president ever to do so--leaving Vice President Gerald Ford as the new Chief Executive.


Political Espionage in the Nixon White House

It should not be supposed that domestic spying--that is, political espionage--began with Richard Nixon. Lyndon Johnson's men had spied on and harassed Barry Goldwater in the 1964 campaign (White 99). Nixon was convinced that the Democrats had eavesdropped on his telephone conversations during the 1968 campaign (Aitken 402). Not one to take it lying down, he fought fire with fire by nurturing his own intelligence-gathering programs, both before and after his election to the presidency.

The Administration's siege-mentality was, in many ways, based on a real threat. During the '60s the country was at war--in Vietnam and at home. Opposition to American involvement in Southeast Asia had reached a fever pitch; university campuses across the nation were under siege. The assassinations of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., heroes to the younger generation, had precipitated a domestic crisis. Militant groups such as the Black Panthers and the Weathermen were engaged in violent resistance to authority. Between 1969 and 1970 there were 40,000 bomb threats, 3000 bombings, forty-three deaths, and $21 million in property damage--all of it political (Aitken 412).

Against this setting Nixon called a meeting for June 5, 1970 with all the heads of the nation's Intelligence Community. Present were J. Edgar Hoover (FBI), Richard Helms (CIA), General Donald Bennet (DIA), Admiral Noel Gayler (NSA), with H.R. Haldeman, John Ehrlichman, Bob Finch, and Tom Huston representing the White House. The President reprimanded them sharply for not getting the job done in terms of stopping domestic terrorism. Nixon ordered them to form a committee and to draft a plan on how to counter the terrorists. The final report was written by the 29 year-old Huston (one of the more radical temperaments in the Administration). The Huston Plan, as it later became known, called for the creation of a super police-force with broad, extra-constitutional powers. Under this Plan, the government could intercept anyone's mail, wiretap anyone's phone, infiltrate any suspicious group. Surreptitious entries (black-bag jobs) were authorized, as well as use of the IRS against anyone deemed a threat. Incredibly, President Nixon approved the Plan and sought to enact it, not through legislation but through fiat--simply on the authority of the memorandum. The one stumbling block to Huston's remarkable coup, however, was J. Edgar Hoover, who objected on constitutional grounds. The Huston Plan was abandoned after only five days, and Huston himself was eventually dismissed, but the whole episode demonstrated the lengths to which Nixon was willing to go in the name of "national security."

The White House soon realized the futility of depending on established intelligence sources, such as the FBI, and sought ways to develop its own--the first example being the private security force, under Ehrlichman, of Jack Caulfield and Anthony Ulasewicz. When Ehrlichman was promoted to head the new White House Domestic Council, becoming the number three man behind Haldeman, a young attorney from the Justice Department was chosen to replace him: John Wesley Dean III. Thus, Dean assumed his duties as counsel to the President while at the same time inheriting a built-in spy unit.

Among the greatest threats to national security, in Nixon's eyes, were leaks of sensitive government information to the press--plans to withdraw from Vietnam, raids into Cambodia, arms-reduction talks with the Soviet Union--all had been leaked to the press. The Administration responded by wiretapping journalists and suspected sources--low level staffers such as Morton Halperin, who worked for Kissinger. But, as the President later admitted to Dean, "[The taps] never helped us. Just gobs and gobs of material: gossip and bullshitting... the tapping was a very, very unproductive thing" (qtd. in White 126).

The Nixon Administration's counter-intelligence operations were thrown into hyperdrive, however, by the June 13, 1971 publication of the Pentagon Papers in the New York Times. This was the summary of a 7000-page survey of America's role in Vietnam under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, entitled "The History of U.S. Decision Making in Vietnam" (Aitken 419). The document had been stolen by Daniel Ellsberg and turned over to the Times for publication. Ellsberg was indicted for the theft, but the damage had been done. Nixon himself was sanguine about the matter, which he regarded as embarrassing only to the Democrats; it was Henry Kissinger who made it a white-hot issue, telling the President, "[It] shows you're a weakling..." (qtd. in Aitken 420). As a result, the President charged John Ehrlichman with finding a way to stop the leaks. Ehrlichman's response was to form a Special Investigations Unit--later known as the Plumbers. Heading this outfit was Egil "Bud" Krogh and Kissinger protégé David Young. Recruited from Treasury was former FBI agent G. Gordon Liddy. In his autobiography Will Liddy gives his assessment of the Plumbers: "The Ehrlichman presence was Krogh. Kissinger was represented by David Young... I owed my position to John Mitchell. The only other presence not represented was Charles Colson. It was inconceivable to me that Colson would not have a presence in such an enterprise" (204). But Liddy soon met the Colson representative--E. Howard Hunt, and "[t]he empty space on my organization chart was filled. All the heavy hitters were accounted for" (204).

The highest priority on the Plumbers' agenda was the successful prosecution of Daniel Ellsberg. In working up the government's case, motive had to be established: was Ellsberg a lone wolf--merely an anti-establishment liberal--or was he perhaps a KGB operative? He had, after all, studied at Cambridge University in England, the place that "had proved so fruitful in the recruiting of Soviet spies among the British intelligentsia" (Liddy 217). And had not a complete set of the Pentagon Papers, including pages not even the New York Times would publish, been hand delivered to the Soviet Embassy in Washington? Liddy, Hunt, and company thought that a psychiatric profile would be useful, but what they obtained from the CIA was inadequate. From FBI wiretap reports it was known that Ellsberg, who had a long psychiatric history, would telephone his psychiatrist, Dr. Lewis Fielding of Beverly Hills, at all hours. Fielding's records on his patient would be most revealing, it was thought. Liddy suggested that a black-bag job was in order (Liddy 218). The proposal was submitted to John Ehrlichman's office and eventually approved.

On August 25, 1971 Howard Hunt and Gordon Liddy flew to California on a reconnaissance mission. Fielding's office was photographed inside and out (after hours, Hunt had convinced a cleaning woman to let them in). Back in Washington, the photographs were studied by Krogh, who gave a green light on the entry but with one change: neither Hunt nor Liddy were to personally do the break-in. Hunt's response was to contact some of his CIA friends--Cubans who had served under him in the Bay of Pigs invasion (Liddy 227-28).

Over the Labor Day weekend the clandestine team assembled at the Beverly Hilton in Los Angeles, equipped with Minox miniature cameras, radio receivers, and laundered cash--straight from White House coffers. On the evening of September 3rd they swung into action: Hunt kept Dr. Fielding himself under surveillance at his residence; the Cubans, among them Bernard Barker and Eugenio Martinez, broke into the office; Liddy, armed with a knife, stood watch outside.

When the Cubans finally emerged from Dr. Fielding's office, the team repaired to their hotel room for a "post-burglary" celebration. But here transpired an incongruous scene which, at the time, baffled Liddy. While Hunt opened a bottle of champagne, Barker announced that no file for Daniel Ellsberg had been found. Liddy believed the operation a failure, but when he reported the facts to Bud Krogh in Washington, Krogh seemed unconcerned; he was only relieved that the break-in had been "clean"--i.e. undetected (Liddy 230). In light of later developments, such as disclosures of Hunt's continued work for the CIA, Gordon Liddy has since rethought the whole caper, as explained in Silent Coup:

Liddy thought the Fielding office episode a failure, and was puzzled because back at the hotel room, Hunt and the Cubans celebrated with champagne. Today, Liddy wonders whether Hunt and the Cubans may well have concealed the fruits of the Fielding break-in from him, found just what they had sought, photographed it, and whisked the results back to their true employer, the CIA. Otherwise, what was there to celebrate? (117)

With Liddy left in the dark, this was yet another foreshadowing of things to come. There were intrigues within intrigues within intrigues.

Although the operations of the Plumbers were gradually phased out, this predilection for political espionage resurfaced in the President's re-election campaign. In a 1971 memo submitted to John Dean, Jack Caulfield outlined a proposal for an independent security firm especially designed to serve the CRP. With a price tag of $500,000, he called it Operation Sandwedge. Sandwedge, patterned after the Intertel operation run by DNC Chairman Larry O'Brien and the Kennedys (Nixon's arch-foes), had "offensive and defensive" capabilities, for use against the Democrats (Liddy 251).

Dean tried to sell Sandwedge to Mitchell and Haldeman--without success--then lowered his sights by approaching Haldeman aide Gordon Strachan and CRP Deputy Campaign Director Jeb Magruder. Their repeated efforts on Dean's behalf yielded no results. Finally, Dean, in a somewhat duplicitous manner, turned to Gordon Liddy. At a meeting with Liddy and Bud Krogh, Dean emphasized the need for an offensive plan to counter the Democrats, saying, "There's an election coming up next year. We've had a taste this summer of how the other side can be expected to operate. We've got to be able to counter that with an absolutely first-class intelligence operation" (qtd. in Liddy 252). What Dean described was much more elaborate than Sandwedge, with twice the funding. He asked Liddy to draft a completely new plan, as explained in Will:

The need for what Dean was proposing was obvious, and I certainly had no reluctance to go to war. But it would be an undeclared war and what I would be doing was clearly illegal. It was all too prevalent a ploy in the White House for juniors to invoke the name of the President to advance some idea of their own without the knowledge of their superiors. I was willing to go to war for the President, but not for John Dean. (253)

Liddy agreed to draft a new proposal but insisted on getting the approval of Ehrlichman and Mitchell. He received assurances that such approval would be forthcoming.

To facilitate his new task, Gordon Liddy left the White House and went to work at the CRP under the title of General Counsel. After conferring with intelligence exert Howard Hunt, and with charts developed by the CIA, what he came up with was called GEMSTONE. Under its various subheadings, named for precious and semi-precious stones, GEMSTONE did the following:

DIAMOND was a counter-demonstration plan, designed to break up any interruptions at the Republican Convention.
RUBY provided for the infiltration of spies into Democratic presidential campaigns.
EMERALD was for the interception of radio transmissions of the Democratic nominee's aircraft.
QUARTZ was for microwave interception of telephone traffic.
CRYSTAL was the electronic surveillance center.
SAPPHIRE designated a houseboat to be used as a site for call girls to lure Democratic officials, where they would be photographed and compromised.
OPAL listed the targets for surreptitious entry: Muskie's headquarters, McGovern's headquarters, DNC headquarters at the convention site, and so on.
GARNET outlined phony and obnoxious demonstrations in favor of Democratic candidates.
TOURQUOIS called for the sabotage of air conditioning units at the Democratic Convention, which, in mid-summer, would likely ruin the whole event.
(Liddy 271-75)

All this was to cost just under one million dollars.

On January 27, 1972, as later recounted before the Ervin Committee, Gordon Liddy presented his GEMSTONE proposal to John Mitchell in the Attorney General's office. Dean and Magruder were also present. Mitchell rejected the proposal out of hand, saying it was "too expensive." He also told Liddy to burn the charts.

Having been led to believe that Mitchell himself had asked for the intelligence operation, Liddy was stung by the rejection and lashed out at both Dean and Magruder. The latter, however, assuaged him by saying the issue was not GEMSTONE's illegality, but its price tag. A scaled-back version would have to be drafted. In short order, a $500,000 plan was presented, and again rejected, then a $250,000 plan. That proposal got no response at all, drifting in whatever purgatory it is that such things inhabit. Liddy finally concluded that GEMSTONE was dead.

Then one day, about the first of April, Liddy received a call "out of the blue" relaying a message from Magruder: GEMSTONE had been approved (Liddy 297). One week later he received the initial funding for the project--$83,000 in $100 bills--from Hugh Sloan, CRP's Finance Committee treasurer. The clandestine team included Liddy, Hunt, and James McCord, who were all on the CRP payroll. Hunt's operatives, Barker, Gonzalez, et al, were paid under the table. Most of the $83,000 went to McCord to purchase electronic surveillance equipment--a $30,000 transmitter, a van, transceivers, etc. One of the prime targets under the OPAL subheading (for surreptitious entry) was Senator George McGovern's campaign headquarters on Capitol Hill. Liddy was in the process of casing the place and obtaining layouts when he was called into an unexpected meeting with Jeb Magruder.

"Gordon, do you think you could get into the Watergate?" he was asked (qtd. in Liddy 302). Liddy was annoyed because the DNC headquarters was not among the targets for surreptitious entry, nor was it budgeted for. He accepted the assignment, but not without misgivings:

I was disturbed by this turn of events because it was not the situation I had agreed to, nor outlined in GEMSTONE. My deal called for me to choose the targets and the timing. Once again, control was being taken away from me. In the intelligence business it is the consumer who tasks the agency with the requirement, but the professionals determine how and when to get it. That custom was being broken. (Liddy 303)

As preparations for the first Watergate break-in were being made, Liddy was asked to do some money laundering for the CRP. First, he received from Sloan a package of signed traveler’s checks left over from the 1968 campaign. The transaction was handled through Bernard Barker's Cuban connections. Then he received the $25,000 cashier's check (which the FBI later used to link the CRP with the Watergate burglars), and four other checks drawn on a bank in Mexico City (Liddy 305-06).

The target date for the first Watergate break-in was May 26. Hunt's Cuban operatives were in town by the 22nd, and on the 26th they registered in the Watergate posing as representatives of the (fictitious) Ameritus Corporation. That evening the group staged a banquet in the hotel's Continental Room, staying well past midnight. This ploy was chosen because a corridor connected the banquet room and the DNC offices. However, the burglary could not be carried out that night or the next due to various, unexpected problems.

The group was finally successful on the 28th. The DNC was penetrated, bugs were placed on various telephones, and "Barker had two rolls of 36-exposure 35-mm film he'd expended on material from O'Brien's desk" (Liddy 320). Moreover, the operation was undetected--a success.

The information obtained by the electronic listening devices, however, was virtually worthless. What's more, one of the bugs was not transmitting properly. Liddy continued to report to Magruder, handing over transcribed telephone logs, but Magruder seemed more concerned about the contents of various file cabinets in the offices. Under the impression that the main objective had been to bug Larry O'Brien's phone, Magruder's fixation over files struck Liddy as odd. The significance of this will be explored presently.

On June 12 Magruder again summoned Liddy to his office and proceeded to grill him about the contents of DNC files, asking "how many file cabinets there were and their proximity to O'Brien's office" (Liddy 325). As he ordered a second DNC break-in, Magruder "instructed that we go in there with all the film, men, and cameras necessary to photograph everything in [O'Brien's] desk and in those files" (Liddy 325).

On June 16 the clandestine team assembled, once again, in Washington to execute the assignment. While Liddy and Hunt manned the control post at the Howard Johnson's, James McCord and the Cubans broke into the DNC for the second time. They were, as we know, detected and apprehended. The story of the aftermath has been told elsewhere.


The Silent Coup Revelations


Not even Gordon Liddy, intimately and criminally involved in the Watergate burglaries, knew the true objective of the two break-ins, nor did he know who had ordered them (using Magruder as a channel). He assumed that CRP Chairman John Mitchell had approved GEMSTONE and then requested the DNC break-ins. Only later did he discover both assumptions to be false. And as for the objective, he stated in Will: "The purpose of the second Watergate break-in was to find out what O'Brien had of a derogatory nature about us, not for us to get something on him or the Democrats" (325). That was also false.

In 1984 political analyst Len Colodny and newspaperman Robert Gettlin began an exhaustive seven-year investigation into the whole Watergate affair. The result, Silent Coup, is a multi-faceted book which offers one stunning revelation after another. To wit:

• How a military spy ring operated within the White House, reporting to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, in opposition to Nixon's foreign policy.
• How reporter Bob Woodward concealed his military intelligence background, Pentagon contacts, and White House sources, protecting them--and their hidden agendas--with the code name "Deep Throat."
• How White House Chief-of-Staff Alexander Haig worked to conceal the military spy ring and was the driving force behind President Nixon's resignation.
• How newspapers such as the Washington Post and New York Times sought to discredit Silent Coup, and how media giants "60 Minutes" and Time magazine were pressured not to publicize its findings.


But by far the most fascinating disclosures are those concerning former White House counsel John Dean. For in its pages, Dean emerges as the chief villain in the whole Watergate saga. In July 1970 when John Ehrlichman was appointed to head the White House Domestic Council, a replacement was needed for presidential counsel. The prime candidate was Dean. At Justice, Dean had been a passing acquaintance of Gordon Liddy. Liddy had, even then, been warned by his supervisor about Dean: [He] advised me to be careful of what I said around Dean. When I asked why, he explained that Dean was an 'idea thief.' If one mentioned a good idea in Dean's presence, one remotely in Dean's area of official interest, before one's memorandum was out of the typewriter, Dean's would be on the appropriate desk, crediting himself with the idea" (Liddy 183).

Once settled in the White House, Dean realized that he was unsupervised and pretty much on his own. To expand his territory, he hired an assistant, former Army officer Fred F. Fielding, setting up what was, in effect, a small law firm. In that position Dean had access to a variety of sensitive materials, such as the aborted Huston Plan, old campaign stratagems SEDAN CHAIR I and II (the planting of operatives inside the Muskie and McGovern campaigns), and of course, the Sandwedge proposal. Although Dean later claimed before the Ervin Committee that he had "little knowledge" of Anthony Ulasewicz, Colodny and Gettlin maintain that Dean was deeply involved with him: "Despite Dean's denials, [he] knew precisely who Ulasewicz was, often ordered him into action through Caulfield, and later issued orders to him directly without an intermediary" (103).

It soon became clear to John Dean that intelligence-gathering was the key to power in Nixon's White House. He bragged about it in his book Blind Ambition: "It did not take [my superiors] long to notice that the counsel's office could perform intelligence work for the White House... [we] built up a reputation for such intelligence investigations--some juicy, many simply laborious--and we handled them while the ordinary legal work hummed along" (qtd. in Colodny and Gettlin 104).

As a result of Dean's intelligence work during a massive anti-war protest (May 3, 1971), Haldeman assigned him a specific task in the re-election campaign: counter-demonstration work. Such a limited role, however, did not appeal to Dean. He sought from Haldeman a "grant of authority" to conduct a broader intelligence operation. All his efforts were rebuffed, as Haldeman repeatedly insisted that he limit himself to anti-war demonstrations.

Undismayed, Dean continued to search for ways to enhance his power within the White House. One of these was the aforementioned "enemies list." Another was an assignment he gave to Ulasewicz to investigate the "Happy Hooker" ring of Xaviera Hollander in New York. The idea, of course, was to identify any of her customers who happened to be Democrats. Ulasewicz duly investigated, but reported that just as many Republicans as Democrats were among Hollander's clientele (Colodny and Gettlin 108). Although the information was useless, it does reveal a Dean penchant for salacious material.

John Dean's efforts to become the "intelligence czar" of the Nixon Administration, as documented in Silent Coup, thus sheds new light on Liddy's recollection of the meeting at which Dean proposed a new intelligence operation for the CRP--what became GEMSTONE. Liddy believed that the request had come from John Mitchell, but there is no evidence to support that (thus, Mitchell's repeated refusals to authorize GEMSTONE). Magruder testified before the Senate, and wrote in his book An American Life, that Mitchell, at a March 30, 1972 meeting in Key Biscayne, not only authorized the third GEMSTONE proposal but specified the DNC as a target for surreptitious entry. But according to Colodny and Gettlin,

Mitchell consistently denied that he ever discussed an illegal break-in with anyone, and insisted that he never granted an approval. He told the [Senate] Watergate Committee that the GEMSTONE paper he saw contained no mention of break-ins or wiretaps and that Magruder must have been under pressure from someone [italics added] to get some sort of Liddy plan okayed. Mitchell testified he forcefully rejected the plan and told Magruder, "We don't need this, I am tired of hearing it out, let's not discuss it any further." (126)

Magruder has since admitted that Mitchell never approved GEMSTONE, much less ordered the DNC break-in. And he was under considerable pressure from the White House: namely, from John Dean. According to Silent Coup, Magruder was trapped: "So trapped, we believe, that [he] gave the CRP's go-ahead to fund the scaled down GEMSTONE without Mitchell's approval, using the funds that were already under Magruder's own control" (127). As we've seen, GEMSTONE included no provisions for a break-in at the Watergate. Liddy's account in Will describes his annoyance at losing control over GEMSTONE's operations, including the unbudgeted-for DNC break-in. Nixon was right--there was precious little to be gained from the Democratic headquarters. The real action was elsewhere--at the convention center or within the McGovern campaign. This raises serious questions as to why the DNC was chosen for the break-in: why the great risk for so little return?

The answer involved a certain Washington attorney named Phillip Mackin Bailley. Bailley ran a practice that represented drug dealers, petty criminals, and prostitutes. He was also quite profligate, having "an unordinate ability to persuade young women to sleep with him, then to pose nude as he photographed them" (Colodny and Gettlin 128). Having gone to law school with many aspiring politicians, Bailley dabbled in Democratic politics and had contacts that worked in the Democratic National Committee's Watergate suite.

One of Bailley's female companions went by the name of Cathy Dieter (true name: Erika L. Rikan). Dieter ran a prostitute ring, and all this information was recorded in Bailley's address books--names, phone numbers, etc. Code names were used, and one of the more prominent ones--"Clout"--referred to a woman named Maureen Biner. Biner and Dieter were in fact roommates--that is, whenever Biner was not staying with her lover: presidential counsel John Dean. Thus, it is not at all unlikely that Dean knew about the prostitute ring. Maureen Biner is now Mrs. John Dean.

Phillip Bailley's main contact at the DNC was Spencer Oliver, the executive director of the Association of State Democratic Chairmen. During 1971 and early 1972 Bailley visited the DNC offices repeatedly, missing Oliver (who was away) but striking up a friendship with his secretary, Ida M. ("Maxie") Wells. According to Silent Coup:

Bailley told us he learned that Oliver traveled a lot and that the Governor's office was almost always vacant. It was, in short, a perfect set up for what Cathy
Dieter had in mind. Bailley says that he then found someone at the DNC with whom he could do business, telling her, "I have friends who can make your out-of-town people happy at night." He stressed that these were college educated ladies and that they were just across the street, referring to the Columbia Plaza. According to Bailley, at this and in subsequent meetings and phone calls with Cathy and Bailley, the DNC contact agreed to take part in the operation. (131)

Thus, the Cathy Dieter prostitute ring set up appointments through Bailley's DNC contact, using the phone in Oliver's office or the one in the vacant Governor's office. It was the knowledge of this activity that drew Dean's interest to the Watergate--knowledge obtained from his wife-to-be, Maureen.

Apparently, what sparked the break-in was the April 6, 1972 FBI raid of Phillip Bailley's law office and residence. Although Bailley was not arrested at that time, his address books were confiscated--at least one of them listing the name Maureen Biner. Bailley was eventually indicted for violations of the Mann Act--transportation of young women across state lines for immoral purposes--convicted and disbarred. A few weeks after the FBI raid, Gordon Liddy was summoned to Magruder's office and asked if he could "get into the Watergate" (Liddy 302). Therefore, according to Silent Coup, the true objective of the Watergate break-in was not, as Liddy thought, to bug Larry O'Brien's phone, but to retrieve information of the Cathy Dieter prostitute ring and bug Spencer Oliver's telephone, as well as the one in the Governor's office.

While Liddy was kept in the dark, Howard Hunt and his Cuban operatives went in with full knowledge of what was being sought. Colodny and Gettlin make this point clear: "In a recent interview given for the purpose of this book, and breaking silence after many years, Watergate burglar Rolando Martinez told us that the [wire]tap was not placed on Larry O'Brien's telephone, but on the one in the Oliver/Governor's area" (142). Similarly, Frank Sturgis reported that he had never gone near O'Brien's office and had received no instructions to enter or search it.

When the burglars were apprehended, they were discovered in the vicinity of Oliver's office, which was at the opposite end of the suite from O'Brien's. Furthermore, Martinez had on his person a notebook with a small key taped to it. The FBI, through trial and error, eventually discovered the purpose of the key: it opened a drawer in Maxie Wells' desk (Colodny and Gettlin 163). One of the objectives of the break-in, then, was to retrieve something from that desk.

Knowing of John Dean's complicity in these matters, his subterfuge when later advising his client--the President--becomes glaringly obvious. It was Dean's idea to use the CIA to halt the FBI investigation. According to Aitken (who had carefully studied Silent Coup):

[Dean] receives and transmits all the inside information on Watergate. For different reasons the key players trust him. Liddy regards him as the damage control officer of the break-in. Haldeman and Ehrlichman give him the assignment of conducting an internal White House inquiry into what happened. Acting FBI director Gray allows Dean to sit in on all FBI meetings and interviews on Watergate after being told by him that as president's counsel he will report what he learns directly to the President. This was pure fiction, but it provided Dean with a most advantageous listening post on the progress of the FBI's investigation. Thus, it was from Gray that Dean learned that the FBI were confused about the motives for the break-in and had formed a theory that it
might have been a CIA operation. Gray also gave Dean a remarkable new idea for getting everyone off the hook. "I remember telling Mr. Dean..." Gray later testified to the Senate Select Committee, "that the FBI was going to pursue all leads aggressively unless we were told by the CIA that there was a CIA interest or involvement in this case." (475)

Thus, Colodny and Gettlin contend that Dean tricked the President and H.R. Haldeman into adopting this strategy as a means to conceal his own guilt (200).

Dean, it must be said, has never admitted to any of this directly; therefore the case presented in Silent Coup should be regarded as a provocative, albeit convincing, theory. It is convincing because it is so thoroughly documented: 150 on-the-record interviews, use of the Senate Watergate Committee and House Judiciary Committee testimony and documents, analysis of the White House tapes, papers in the National Archives, the wide variety of Watergate literature (Colodny and Gettlin 467). However, Dean has confessed indirectly. In 1992 John and Maureen Dean sued Colodny and Gettlin for libel--an action that resulted in the publisher halting distribution of the best-seller. To prepare for trial, the authors produced copies of all the relevant documents and interview tapes--welcoming, in fact, the opportunity to confront Dean with the evidence in a court of law. As public figures, the Deans were compelled by law to prove that information in Silent Coup was false and that Colodny and Gettlin published it knowing it was false (Fechter).

Apparently, the Deans were warned by their lawyers about the strength of their opponent's case, for they filed a motion to withdraw the suit prior to the trial date. The Silent Coup authors promptly filed their own motion to stop Dean from withdrawing his suit, resulting in the bizarre scenario of the defendants (the accused) insisting upon their day in court over the protests of the plaintiffs. For seven years the deadlocked suit/countersuit "bounced among law offices from Los Angeles to Tampa to New York to Washington" (Soteropoulos). The matter was finally settled out of court. The Deans were barred from discussing the terms of the settlement, but Colodny and Gettlin were free to republish with impunity. One cannot help wonder just what it was that Dean did not want disclosed in court.

"He's done nothing but call it names," said Colodny, "He can call it garbage, he can call it trash. But Mr. Dean had a chance to disprove it, and for me to have to go running in and take the extraordinary step of preventing Mr. Dean from running out of the courthouse... I think it's a real vindication of Silent Coup" (qtd. in Soteropoulos).


Conclusions

The Watergate scandal has been called "the last skirmish of the Vietnam War" and is perhaps best understood in that context. The anti-war movement had deeply divided the country and made nearly all Americans re-examine the role of world superpower it had assumed after World War II. Americans are always distrustful of government, even in the best of times, therefore the presence of a criminal element in the Nixon Administration created a pathological anti-Nixon hysteria nationwide.

The President's men saw themselves as soldiers engaged in a deadly cultural-political war, convinced that the Democratic Party was leading the nation to ruin. As for the illegality of actions the Plumbers, and later the CRP took on the President's behalf, Liddy writes in Will:

I am asked frequently whether I believe in "blind obedience" to orders from legitimate authority, the code that permitted many Germans to carry out genocide. I do not. There is a point beyond which I will not go, and that is anything my conscience tells me is malum in se (evil in and of itself) or my judgment tells me is irrational. I have no problem with doing something that is malum prohibitum (wrong only because of the existence of a law prohibiting it). An example of malum in se would be the sexual assault of a child. In every society such a thing would be recognized as wrong. An example of malum prohibitum, on the other hand, would be the statute prohibiting driving through a stop sign without coming to a complete halt. Absent such a law, to do so would be a morally indifferent act. (289)

Are there any heroes or villains in this tale? Who were the truly guilty, the wrongly disparaged, or the blameless? That depends upon one's political bias, I suppose. I was in high school when all this was going on (1973). I had a history teacher named Mr. Pociask, who was an ardent Nixon-hater. More than a few of Pociask's classes were devoted to schooling us on the treacheries of the 37th president. Such a bias, no doubt, would place Nixon at the top of the villain's list followed by nearly every member of his administration. That is the assumption of Theodore H. White--one of my sources for this paper. In sharp contrast, Jonathan Aitken was a personal friend of Mr. Nixon and wrote this summation: "Richard Nixon, both as a man and a statesman, has been excessively maligned for his faults and inadequately recognized for his virtues... Because of his Shakespearean complexity he will probably continue to polarize biographical opinion after his death, just as he polarized political opinion throughout his career" (577).

The pivotal source that I've used, of course, is Silent Coup, and since its authors hail from journalistic backgrounds squarely on the left, one would expect little sympathy for the ex-president from them. I must say their treatment is fair--Nixon is far from blameless, but neither was he the impetus for Watergate. The President, along with his most trusted aides, were duped and skillfully maneuvered by John Dean. If one believes the conclusions of Silent Coup, as I do, the truth of the matter is as follows:

• John Dean's ambition to dominate intelligence activities in the Nixon Administration and CRP led to the break-in of the DNC. Then in an effort to conceal his guilt, Dean engineered the cover-up.
• Many of the President's men, including Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Magruder, and Colson, were involved in illegal activities independent of Dean's machinations.
• From all that I've read, John Mitchell appears to be innocent and was convicted by the perjury of others, particularly Magruder.
• The only heroic figure to emerge from all this is G. Gordon Liddy, who defied all attempts to coerce testimony from him.

As for the former president, I agree with Aitken that he has been unjustly maligned and used as a scapegoat for the country to vent its frustrations on. The Watergate break-in, of course, was not his fault. But his mismanagement of the resulting scandal--fueled by bad advice from self-serving counselors like Dean--led to his downfall. The greatest accomplishments of Richard Nixon--ending the Vietnam War, arms control agreements with the Soviet Union, the China Initiative--should rank him as one of our most important presidents. But whatever his relative strengths and weaknesses, and historical opinion yet to come, he was, without a doubt, the most endlessly fascinating president of the twentieth century.


Works Cited

Aitken, Jonathan. Nixon: A Life. Washington: Regnery, 1993.

Colodny, Len and Robert Gettlin. Silent Coup: The Removal of a President. New York: St. Martin's, 1991.

Doyle, James. Not Above the Law: The Battles of Watergate Prosecutors Cox and Jaworski. New York: Morrow, 1977.

Fechter, Michael. "Watergate Scandal Never Dies." February 22, 2000. .

Knappman, Edward W. Watergate and the White House. 3 vols. New York: Facts on File, 1973-1974.

Liddy, G. Gordon. Will: The Autobiography of G. Gordon Liddy. New York: St. Martin's, 1980.

Soteropoulos, Jacqueline. "Watergate Book Lawsuit Settled." February 22, 2000. .

White, Theodore H. Breach of Faith: The Fall of Richard Nixon. New York: Knopf, 1975.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Four: Public Policy

Problems at NASA

In light of the tragic events Saturday*, Nicholas Carter’s piece on the 1986 Challenger disaster becomes even more thought provoking. It’s fascinating to read: NASA slowly transforms itself from a “safety first” agency that spares no expense to protect its astronauts, to a desperate bureaucracy willing to put sacrificial lambs on the altar of public opinion to secure one more year of funding from Congress (1997, pp.185-195). There can be no other justification for a “Teacher in Space” program: it was designed to generate a lot of publicity which would, supposedly, translate into favorable public opinion, which would in turn generate political support in Congress and enough funding to continue. The budget cuts inevitably resulted in compromised safety. NASA middle managers were under pressure to maintain a schedule and get the shuttle missions in the air; managers at Morton Thiokol pressured their engineers—who were deeply concerned about flaws in the O-ring designs—to “rethink” their recommendations not to launch in cold temperatures. Way down the list of priorities, apparently, was the safety of the seven astronauts. Were these space flights unmanned, then cost-effectiveness could easily be top priority. It’s only money. But placing things like budgets and politics and publicity ahead of human life is downright un-American.

Like many others, I’ve been glued to CNN and Fox News Channel since Saturday’s Columbia disaster, and I’m surprised by a lot of what I’m hearing. The cause of Columbia’s disintegration has not yet been determined, of course, but early speculation is focusing on damage to the insulating tiles on the left wing of the orbiter. If this was indeed the cause, then that space craft and its crew were doomed from the outset: an escape pod for the shuttle was never included (too expensive); there is no way to get another shuttle up there to extract the crew; there is no way to repair the damage once in space. In other words, if the shuttle is damaged to the extent that re-entry in the earth’s atmosphere is too dangerous, there is NO contingency plan for saving the crew. There never has been. That is incredible! According to the Washington Times, last August a retired NASA engineer, Don A. Nelson, wrote President Bush warning about “inadequate safety” of the shuttle
program, saying, “Your intervention is required to prevent another catastrophic space shuttle accident…if this is ignored we can watch in horror and shame as the
astronauts face certain death" (qtd. in Yost). Nelson’s warning was rebuffed by White House advisors. But even Congress’s General Accounting Office sounded the alarm, finding in 2001 that “the shuttle work force had declined significantly to the point it reduced NASA's ability to safely support the program. Many key areas were not sufficiently staffed by qualified workers and the remaining work force showed signs of overwork and fatigue…When it visited the problem again, it reported last week that ‘staffing shortages in many key areas still remain a problem'" (ibid).

Being a Monday-morning quarterback is dismal science at best, and who knows if any of the above could have helped in any way. Just as the early days of aviation
were highly dangerous and many people died pioneering the technology, space exploration is bound to be even more risky. There will no doubt be more catastrophes in the future. But safety should never be compromised for any reason.

*This essay was written a few days after the Columbia disaster.


References

Carter, Nicholas. "The Space Shuttle Challenger." Rpt. in Ethics & Politics: Cases and Comments. eds. Amy Gutmann and Dennis Thompson. Chicago: Nelson Hall, 1997. 185-195.

Yost, Pete. "Tight Budgets, Fewer Experts Haunt NASA." The Washington Times, February 3, 2003.



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Freedom of Speech

The U.S. Supreme Court has traditionally placed First Amendment rights—freedom of speech in particular—on the highest tier of all legal principles. But it is vitally important to understand what free speech is and what it is not, and why such a right was put into the Constitution. When asked about this, the average person may respond, “Free speech means I can say whatever I please, anytime… anywhere, because I want to say it.” But that’s not strictly true. There are in fact many limitations on speech. Slander is not protected speech; neither is obscenity. And according to Wilson, “you cannot freely use words that incite others to commit illegal acts or that directly and immediately provoke another person to violent behavior” (2000, p.319). Furthermore, threatening another person with bodily harm can get you charged with assault. I remember some years ago there was a guy in a local bar making death threats against then President Clinton. Next thing you know he was taken into custody by U.S. secret service. The purpose of free speech is for the health of the republic, as Justice Brennan wrote in New York Times v. Sullivan, “[it] was fashioned to insure unfettered interchange of ideas for the bringing about of political and social changes desired by the people…” and that “[it] presupposes that right conclusions are more likely to be gathered out of a multitude of tongues, than through any kind of authoritative selection.” Historically, of course, this kind of liberty was tightly suppressed. No matter who the tyrant was—Spartan oligarchy, Caesar, Roman Catholic Church, King George III, National Socialists, Communist Party, Taliban—putting down dissent was always a prime concern. Free speech could not be tolerated under those regimes. Surprisingly, we are still having the same debate today. Last year, for example, as the Bush Administration prepared for war in Iraq, those who opposed the president’s war policies often had their patriotism or loyalty called into question. But the health of the republic depends on a delicate balance between “loyalty”—i.e. agreement with the government’s actions—and dissent. The First Amendment is designed to safeguard that.

Federal or state employees, needless to say, do not give up their constitutional rights in exchange for the job. In Connick v. Myers (1983) the Court “tempered its decision on whether Ms. Myers was speaking out on a matter of public concern by noting that she was a disgruntled employee. In other words, her aims and motives were considered…” What we call “whistle-blowing” is indeed protected speech inasmuch as it is a “matter of public concern.” Many of our most important public policy changes have come as a result of brave individuals who risk their careers to publicize wrongdoing in their organizations. Scandals at NASA, Defense Department, FBI, CIA, National Security Council—the list goes on and on. Apparently, it is up to the courts to decide what constitutes protected speech in that context and what does not. If Ms. Myers publicized personal information about her superiors for no other reason than to embarrass them or to “get even,” she should suffer the consequences of her actions. If I did that where I work, I’d most likely be out of a job too. All organizations have a right (yes, organizations have rights too) to require a certain decorum in their public areas. No constitution gives someone the right to be a lout, a troublemaker, a threat or danger to others. Sexual harassment falls under this category too. It’s really a shame that full-grown adults fail to conduct themselves like decent human beings in the workplace—you’d think this sort of thing would be learned in the home. But that cannot be protected speech either. The whole issue is a question of balance between individual rights (for employees) and organizational efficiency. Too much emphasis on the latter could result in abuse. My favorite example is the IRS imposing collection quotas on its agents (with the threat of sanction if they didn’t meet them), which led to some nightmarish cases of government harassment. Most people will do whatever it takes to keep their jobs. Bottom line is public (and private) organizations are run by human beings with human failings, not by constitutions and political ideals. The ideal may be the thing we strive for, but in the everyday nuts-and-bolts world of work, these things have to be decided on a case-by-case basis.



References

Klingner, Donald E. and John Nalbandian. Public Personnel Management: Contexts and Strategies. 5th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2003.

Wilson, James Q. American Government 5th ed. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000.


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Comparable Worth


A friend of mine, Mike, was telling me recently about how his wife had submitted fifteen or so job applications to various companies and had received ten calls in one day. In contrast, he would submit dozens of applications and get NO calls. “Why do you think that is, Mike?” I asked him. “Well,” he said, “employers believe that men are trying to support their families and will demand higher wages. Women are willing to work for less.” Sidestepping all issues of fairness or political correctness here, I think Mike’s observations shed some light on the psychology behind sex-based wage disparity. Men have traditionally been regarded as “bread-winners” while women only occasionally worked outside the home. If women did work, it was to supplement their husband’s income. Of course, this ethos belongs to an antediluvian era and has little to do with the modern world, but it continues to haunt public and private sector thinking as regards pay and benefits.

According to Gluckman, “Comparable worth proposals first appeared in the 1970s, when women's rights campaigners began to recognize that much of the pay gap between men and women occurred not because women were paid less for doing the exact same work, but because women workers were concentrated in occupations that paid less than male-dominated occupations” (2002, p.42). This happens to be part of the justification cited by CW opponents: “Women have lower seniority than men because they leave the labor market to have children or move from one job to another to accompany their husbands…” (Klingner & Nalbandian, 2003, p.144). We might refer to this as the Appendage Theory—that is, women are regarded as appendages to men, not as autonomous human beings in their own right. Again, “[c]omparable worth advocates… claim employers set wages in various occupations based on mistaken stereotypes about women—that women had little to contribute, that they were just working for ‘pin money.’ These wage differences have stuck over time, leaving the 60% of women who work in female-dominated occupations (as well as the small number of men who do) at a disadvantage” (Gluckman).

Nevertheless, wage disparity based on sex is illegal. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 banned all discrimination, and Title VII “specifically forbade discrimination in employment practices based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin” (Gibelman, 2003, p.22). More protection was added in 1991. The Equal Pay Act—Title VI—prohibits discrimination on the basis of sex, race, color, or national origin in any program receiving federal financial assistance, including “programs that receive loans, tax breaks, or grants and contracts from the government” (ibid). There are also Constitutional issues involved, specifically the Fourteenth Amendment, which affords equal protection to all citizens, under the law. Employment in civil service systems affords a somewhat higher level of equity and protection from discrimination due to obligatory compliance with all relevant federal and state statutes. Unions offer another level of protection. But in the private sector “employment at will” laws “limit the power of women and minorities to protest employment conditions…” (Klingner & Nalbandian). If a private sector organization receives federal funding, then a case of blatant discrimination may have a legal remedy under Title VI, but the best defense here is collective bargaining.

One well-known explanation for sex-based wage disparity involves a perversion of the classic “Law of Supply & Demand,” often cited by mainstream economists and opponents of comparable worth. According to this view, “Wages are not set by evaluating the requirements of each job… but rather by shifts in the supply of and demand for labor… Discrimination in hiring kept women out of many occupations, resulting in an oversupply of women entering the traditionally-female jobs such as nursing. This oversupply kept wages in those fields low” (Gluckman). But is this explanation valid? Does the law of supply and demand apply to the job market the same as it (supposedly) applies to the commodities market? In his 1981 book Overeducation in the U.S. Labor Market Russell Rumberger compared the years of schooling achieved by the U.S. working population to education levels required by the job market for the years 1960 and 1976. In every category of education (less than high school, high school, some college, college degree, advanced degree) there was a surplus of workers for the jobs available. For example, in 1976 45% of all jobs required no more than an Eighth Grade education, but only 23% of the workforce was at that level—meaning 22% of those jobs were filled by over-educated, and thus over-qualified, people. 20% of jobs required some college or a four-year degree, whereas 32% were at that level—a 12% surplus (1). According to supply & demand wages should be plummeting across the board—but not so. For “less educated” persons (without a college degree), real wage growth from 1973 to 2001 was essentially stagnant; for “more educated” persons, those with a four-year degree enjoyed modest wage growth while those with advanced degrees enjoyed significant growth (Mishel, et al, 2003, p.160). Therefore, the “Supply & Demand” explanation for sex-based wage disparity doesn’t hold water. All we’re left with is discrimination for whatever reason.

Perhaps the biggest obstacle faced by proponents of comparable worth is the creeping influence of market-based values in public administration. According to Klingner and Nalbandian, “For advocates of government efficiency, it simply makes no sense to pay women and minorities more than one would have to pay them under a market model…” Private organizations have gotten away with wage-discrimination for years because of reasons discussed above. But Koziara warns: “Private employers are not immune from changes in the political environment. Although pressure for comparable worth has focused on the public sector, many employers speculate about the possibility of legislation spreading from the public to the private sector. Thus, some employer organizations lobby actively to discourage comparable worth legislation in general” (1985, p.13). One must question how far market-based values should proceed onto the sacrosanct territory of public administration. For every advantage there’s a disadvantage; for every dollar saved there’s a social inequity. If public human resource management has a mission at all, it should be leading the way of true egalitarianism and social equity.

The issue of comparable worth is an issue of fairness. The controversies involve philosophical and moral concerns, such as: should women be treated as equals to men or are they some how “less” than men, and thus not deserving pay equity? Does the public sector have a greater obligation to provide social equity than the private sector? Are the traditional explanations offered by opponents of comparable worth legitimate, or simply excuses to maintain discriminatory practices? What is the efficacy of federal legislation, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964, if attempts to establish pay equity for women are on the retreat? I’ll not pretend to have the answers to any of these. But I do believe that every attempt should be made, especially in public administration, to create social equity in the work place. That’s because the legacy of America lies more in fairness and equality before the law than in efficiency and profitability.

References

(1) http://vesuvius.cnu.edu/SCRIPT/g383/scripts/serve_home

Gibelman, Margaret. “So how far have we come? pestilent and persistent gender gap in pay.” Social Work, Jan 2003 v48 i1 p22(11).

Gluckman, Amy. “Comparable worth” (Primer). Dollars & Sense, Sept-Oct 2002 p42(2).

Klingner, Donald E. and John Nalbandian. Public Personnel Management: Contexts and Strategies. 5th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2003.

Koziara, Karen Shallcross. “Comparable worth: organizational dilemmas.” Monthly Labor Review, Dec 1985 v108 n12 p13(4).

Mishel, Lawrence, Jared Bernstein, and Heather Boushley. The State of Working America: 2002/2003. Ithica, NY: IRL Press, 2003.


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Preferential Hiring and Promotion

“Affirmative Action,” rightly or wrongly, is associated with preferential hiring (and promotion) practices, in an effort to make better use of “under-utilized” groups—primarily women and minorities. Arguing against affirmative action tends to make one sound as if one is opposed to equal opportunity, but that’s not necessarily the case. Affirmative action need not be associated with such things as quotas and the perception of “reverse” discrimination, as I intend to show. First, a word or two about the law: According to Fullinwider, Executive Order 11246, issued by President Johnson in 1965, “required all federal contractors as a condition for
retaining or acquiring federal contracts to take ‘affirmative action’ to assure nondiscrimination in employment practices" (1997, p.286). Further, the Secretary of Labor was assigned the task of “designing and enforcing rules” to implement the Order, and this translated into goals and timetables for the hiring of said under-utilized groups. In practice, this means quotas. If ten jobs are available, five or six of them might require women or minorities to fill them—regardless of their qualifications. In other words, even if more highly qualified white men apply for the jobs, less qualified persons may be hired because they fit the racial or sexual profile required by affirmative action. No matter how you look at it, that is discrimination. It also violates Executive Order 11246, which mandates “nondiscrimination.” Thus, to be in compliance with 11246, no form of preferential hiring or promotion should be practiced.

One of the justifications for preferential hiring (let's drop the euphemism of “affirmative action”) is the idea that it is to rectify past instances of discrimination. Of course, this ignores the fact that, for the most part, neither those who were discriminated against nor those who discriminated against them (in the past) actually benefit from preferential hiring. The payment of back wages and the like are the only reasonable means to accomplish this—in AT&T’s case $45 million. Preferential hiring can work toward dismantling a present discriminatory system, however. The purpose of the quotas, apparently, is to make the organization’s work force reflect the “labor market” percentage-wise; and the labor market, I imagine, reflects the population. Thus, if your population is 50% women, 20% black, and 15% Hispanic, then your workforce should mirror that. It seems fair enough. However, it is based upon the false assumption that everyone in the labor market is more or less equally qualified. One will find, I believe, that the most highly qualified applicants tend to be disproportionately white and male. This reflects educational inequities. Educational institutions, of course, have to deal with this same problem, and they have done so through the very same methods—quotas, timetables, easing of standards, and so on. But these institutions—especially colleges and universities—are no better equipped to deal with what are, after all, cultural disparities, than corporations like AT&T. For example, if American high schools required that ALL graduates be fully literate, very few people would actually graduate. Colleges have to deal with incoming students whose English skills are, shall we say, substandard. I worked in the writing lab at TCC, and many of the students who came in for help were reading and writing at the 3rd grade level! (No, I’m not making this up). Point is, qualification levels do not match up to population percentages.

AT&T found itself indeed practicing “reverse discrimination” through the “affirmative action override”—that is, it “permitted (and required) [the] criteria—‘best qualifications’ and ‘longest service’—to be defeated whenever adhering to them did not allow the company to meet its goals (targets)" (ibid). This is the equivalent of graduating students from high school even though they read and write no better than 3rd graders. In my opinion, there is only one way to overcome the dastardly effects of preferential hiring and promotion—the scientific way. Here’s my proposal: if you have x number of job openings, gather your pool of qualified applicants (and here there is nothing wrong with making sure your pool reflects the labor market, percent-wise). Then randomly choose the persons to fill the jobs (using a truly scientific random selection process). Here there can be no charges of discrimination. And it complies with Executive Order 11246 beautifully.


References

Fullinwider, Robert K. "Affirmative Action at AT&T." Rpt. in Ethics & Politics: Cases and Comments. eds. Amy Gutmann and Dennis Thompson. Chicago: Nelson Hall, 1997. 285-292.



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Substance Abuse on the Job

Probably the biggest dilemma facing employers, or anyone who wishes to grapple with the problem of substance abuse, is the fact that the most destructive and commonly abused drugs in the United States are LEGAL: tobacco and alcohol. The former is, by far, the most insidious, costly, and damaging to people of all ages. Yet all one has to do is visit a convenience store to purchase the nicotine delivery system. Nicotine addiction belongs in a category all its own, so let’s move on. Alcohol is also legal and can be purchased by anyone—of age or not (don’t know about you, but I did 98% of my life’s drinking while underage). My favorite quote: “Work is the curse of the drinking man.” But seriously, the legality and free availability of these drugs makes the self-righteous crusade against illegal drugs seem hypocritical. Eliminate the costs, both in healthcare and in lost productivity, attributed to these legal (and in some cases socially sanctioned) drugs, and all other substance abuse problems will suddenly be small and very manageable. The two main methods used by employers to combat this menace are a) pre-employment screening, and b) drug testing of employees. About the latter, such tests may be random or the result of “reasonable suspicion.” According to Klingner & Nalbandian, “The primary legal issue is whether personnel policies or practices should distinguish between legal drugs (alcohol and prescription drugs) and illegal ones” (2003, p.308). But from a pragmatic standpoint, it seems prudent to make no distinction between legal and illegal substances—the potentially harmful consequences are the same either way.

As far as the legality of drug testing is concerned, is there a difference between public and private employment? According to Bickford, the 1998 Human Rights Act (HRA) affords a bit less privacy protection to public employees: “If the [employer] is not an ‘emanation of the state’, then the HRA cannot be used by the employee to pursue a claim… It is permissible for employers to interfere with an employee's right to private life in a democratic society to a degree necessary in the interests of, among other things, public safety. Where an employee has responsibility for public safety issues during their employment, the need for drugs testing, even on a random basis, could be argued to be proportionate” (2003, p.12). Nevertheless, drug testing can be required by private employers under certain conditions. For example, “Unless an employee voluntarily agrees to undertake a drugs test, [they] will need to have reserved a right to test for the presence of illegal drugs in either the contract or an appropriate policy. Even then, the extent to which [they] have the right for a random drug test is limited” (ibid). A friend of mine, a 20-year employee of Norshipco, told me on many occasions about the company’s policy of random drug testing (which included alcohol). Failing a drug test meant a mandatory drug treatment program, after which, of course, the random tests would come ever more frequently. A second failure could get you fired, no matter how long you’d been working there. Norshipco is a private employer, but there is a lot of federal money involved (most of their work is for the U.S. Navy). And when one considers the extremely hazardous nature of the work, one can understand the tough drug policy.

The reason why employers, especially those dealing with public safety, have drug policies in the first place is obvious: an individual’s right to privacy does not outweigh the public’s expectation of safety and security. But what is a fair policy? According to Ferraro and Judge, “[The] policy should clearly disclose the substances prohibited and what the testing will identify, under what circumstances testing will be used, who will be tested, who will collect the specimens, where and how specimens will be analyzed, and who will receive results. Many states regulate drug and alcohol testing, and organizations must be mindful of these differences as they establish their policies” (2003, p.94). Federal laws allow employers to test for alcohol and five controlled substances: marijuana, cocaine, amphetamines, opiates, and POP (ibid). Another important consideration is when to require testing. Again, “These so-called test events include pre-employment, reasonable suspicion, post-accident or injury, random, return to duty following a violation, and a follow-up to treatment. Federal Highway Administration rules require that commercial truck drivers submit to a test under each of those circumstances” (ibid). The most important fairness issue, it seems to me, is that prospective or current employees have ample warning as to what the organization’s drug policy is—ahead of time. People should know very well what they’re getting into before they even apply for the job.

References

Bickford, David. “legal Q & A Drug testing at work.” Personnel Today, Sept 16, 2003 p12.

Ferraro, Eugene, and W.J. Judge. “Put your drug policy to the test.” (Legal Update) Security Management, May 2003 v47 i5 p94(6).

Klingner, Donald E. and John Nalbandian. Public Personnel Management: Contexts and Strategies. 5th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2003.



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Performance Appraisal Systems

Performance appraisals, based upon a system of periodic written evaluations, are considered advantageous or disadvantageous according to one’s point of view. From what I’ve read, HR managers and upper-level supervisors consider them useful, even indispensable. Employees and their immediate supervisors, on the other hand, tend to regard them as a nuisance or a waste of time. But they do provide some advantages. First, determining an employee’s pay status or qualifications for promotion can be based on an objective, quantifiable, job-related basis (as opposed to such things as patronage rewards, nepotism, good ole boy networks, or what have you). Second, an appraisal can be used as a method of measuring or documenting “productivity.” Third, they are a way of differentiating one employee from another—from the standpoint of those who are not in direct contact—and can provide HR managers with an indirect feel of who is working for the organization. Fourth, where disciplinary problems arise, performance appraisals can serve as a “paper-trail” documenting the sources of employer dissatisfaction. For example, two or three bad appraisals, followed by written warnings, followed by termination, would be much harder for a disgruntled employee to litigate than if there were no written records at all.
Primarily, performance appraisals are for the benefit of organizations rather than the individuals being appraised. According to Klingner and Nalbandian, “Performance appraisal is directed toward technical and management goals but rarely toward employee aspirations” (2003, p.262). As part of human fascination with science and technology, the temptation to apply those principles to the work place (traditionally a bastion of human relationships) has proven irresistible. One objective was an attack on entrenched bureaucracy. Consider the case of Jack Welch, who became CEO of General Electric in 1981: “Welch was intent on breaking up GE's legendary bureaucracy. His idea: Instead of following a traditional system, in which bosses could--and often did--rate all their employees as ‘above average,’ Welch had executives identify the top 20 percent of managers and mark them for advancement. They also had to identify the bottom 10 percent, who would then either have to improve or leave” (Clark, 2003, p.31-32). When Welch’s reforms resulted in soaring profits, executives across the country copied his “forced ranking” system (ibid). It may have been good for the top 20 percent and okay for the middle 70 percent, but it was bad news for the bottom 10. The real beneficiary, however, was GE.
In the unending quest for lower costs and higher profits, corporations now stress employee “productivity” as the answer, but in public organizations (almost all of which are not-for-profit) certain quandaries arise. If the organization provides “services,” how does one measure organizational productivity? Take for example, the fire department. Do we really want more “productive” firefighters by giving them more fires to fight? Of course not. According to Simmons, “The core assumption of most performance reviews is that if you clarify the gap between current performance and desired performance, that will drive improved performance. However, that's not the case. Instead, reviews tend to amplify the quality of the personal relationship between boss and employee” (2003, p.47). Indeed, of far more importance to the appraisal process is who does the appraising. According to Clark, “modern-day research confirms what every employee knows: A boss who happens to be in a bad mood gives employees harsher ratings. Studies also show that managers' subconscious stereotypes about race, age, physical attractiveness, and other characteristics affect their ratings” (ibid). Such practices tend to undermine the entire appraisal process.

Another serious problem concerns the validity of the appraisal instrument itself. We’re told that, “Title VII of the 1964 Civil Right Act requires employers to validate any personnel technique that affects an employee’s chances for promotion” (Klingner & Nalbandian). This recognizes the dangers of built-in bias, which happens to be one of the chief criticisms of forced ranking. Simmons points out, “Forced ranking is one example of a perfectly logical approach to performance management that turns into disaster for relationship management. No one disagrees with the fact we can't all be above average. The disagreement comes when we decide how often we choose to remind someone he or she is average” (ibid). It is indeed unrealistic to adopt a one-size-fits-all, cookie cutter approach to personnel management. Individuals have various strengths and weaknesses and it is nearly impossible to rank them all on a scale from one to ten, and score everyone on the same scale. Again, “Forced ranking creates ‘losers,’ and erodes cooperation and collaboration. Forced ranking forces a scarcity world view into a company's culture. Competitive types may be inspired to try harder, but less competitive employees won't. Note that quality often comes from the diligence of noncompetitive employees who display such noncompetitive behaviors as sharing resources and credit, as well as working even when no one's looking” (ibid). Thus, it’s entirely possible that employees scoring lowest on (invalid) appraisals may actually be of the greatest worth to an organization.

If used properly, however, performance appraisals can contribute to training and development of the work force. Communicating organizational goals and standards, if done properly, can have positive results. The key is a good management-employee relationship. Having worked in several situations where that relationship was adversarial, I have to say that it’s difficult to see how employee animosity, born of distrust, can benefit anyone. According to Axline, “When a performance review helps the individual recognize that his or her objectives are closely aligned with the organization's, the individual is more likely to perform at a higher level and the organization is less likely to lose a valuable employee. The objective of the performance review is to develop the person, not to threaten self-esteem. Treatment of people is the most fundamental ethical issue. Performance review is a matter of ethics” (1996, p.44). Almost all public organizations have strategic plans in place, and addressing the concerns of internal stakeholders is of paramount importance. Where mission statements speak of ethics and fairness, these things need to be put into practice, first by CEOs, and then by upper-level management.
It wouldn’t be fair merely to criticize the shortcomings of appraisal systems without recognizing their merits. Controversies that surround them usually result from a disconnect between organizational goals and objectives on the one hand, and the nuts-and-bolts realities faced by managers and workers on the other. The best solution would seem to be getting input from those workers whom the appraisals are applied to. And this should be a genuine, good faith attempt to develop a system that is accurate, equitable, and (above all) valid.


References

Axline, Larry L. “The ethics of performance appraisal.” SAM Advanced Management Journal, Winter 1996 v61 n1 p44(2).

Clark, Kim. “Judgment Day.” (effects and controversies surrounding performance reviews) U.S. News & World Report, Jan 13, 2003 p31-32.


Klingner, Donald E. and John Nalbandian. Public Personnel Management: Contexts and Strategies. 5th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2003.

Simmons, Annette. “When performance reviews fail: performance management often conflicts with relationship management. Negative feedback doesn't motivate; ignoring the subjective element in reviews undermines employee attitudes. Here's a proposal for an alternative review system that takes into account the important emotional aspects.” T&D, Sept 2003 v57 i9 p47(6)


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Collective Bargaining—Public & Private

Although collective bargaining in the public sector is unbelievably complicated compared to that in the private sector, it represents, nonetheless, a kind of oasis for the public employee. For the private sector world is best described as a jungle—a world full of predators and prey, unpredictable environmental conditions, dangerous parasites, and so on. That wonderful imagery comes from my 30 years of experience in the local job market. Such was the impetus for the formation of labor unions in the first place. There are many benign private companies, I’m sure, and working for them must be a pleasure. But there are also companies—Fortune 500 types—who indulge in practices on a daily basis that could only be capital crimes if committed by individuals. Can you picture Microsoft being put behind bars for 25 years? Or what about Wal-Mart sitting on death row? That company is like a serial killer—putting small retailers out of business in virtually every town they go to. Many foreign countries have banned Wal-Mart from their shores. Historically, it was worse… much worse. Thus, labor unions were formed. Before passage of the Wagner Act in 1935, there was, typically, all out war between unions and employers. Unions would stage violent strikes, attack “replacement” workers hired to take their jobs, strong-arm non-union employees into joining, and so on. Employers would attempt to break the unions with replacement workers, or by hiring gangs of thugs to attack striking employees. Point is, in that laissez-faire paradise that Republican politicians sing the praises of, where the only thing that matters is corporate profits, collective bargaining is simple. Without an agreement, workers go on strike and the business has to shut down (most of the time). Literally anything can be on the bargaining table—wage increases, working conditions, promotion policies, benefits packages, you name it. One body of federal law applies (Wagner Act—1935, Taft-Hartley Act—1947) and one regulatory agency rules (National Labor Relations Board). But within the boundaries of law, anything goes. The union could conceivably drive the company into bankruptcy (that’s one way of getting out of a contract!). Or if the union is found to be bargaining in “bad faith”—i.e. demanding things it knows full well management cannot agree to—it can be decertified as a bargaining unit. Either way, it’s a bloody fight.

Collective bargaining in the public sector is a bit more complicated. That’s because public organizations are a different kind of animal, existing not to generate corporate profits for shareholders, but to provide government services. Every once in a while a rogue organization gets loose (IRS, for example), but for the most part these are domesticated beasts, like so many dogs, cats, hamsters, and goldfish. They deliver our mail, collect taxes, regulate various industries, issue drivers licenses, educate the young, put out fires, take bad guys off the streets, and so on. Allowed to form collective bargaining units, these organizations function more like fraternities. Generally, strikes are out of the question. The main reason for that is one’s “employer” is not the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Division of Motor Vehicles, or Newport News Police Department—it is the public. Calling for a strike, therefore, is actually a strike against the innocent public, and this sort of thing is inimical to the idea of public employment. Instead of strikes, some sort of binding arbitration is the usual choice. Also, the items that may be negotiated on the bargaining table are subject to restriction. Wages, for example, may be set by the legislature and beyond management’s control. Benefits packages and promotion policies, the same thing. Working conditions might be a valid item, as well as conflict-resolution procedures. As for laws and agencies, Title VII of the 1978 Civil Service Reform Act applies to federal employees; the Federal Labor Relations Authority is the agency. The various states, however, have their own laws and respective agencies. What public employees (and their unions) give up in terms of sheer power—that is, the power to cold-cock one’s employer and enjoy watching him bleed—they gain in terms of job security and individual rights: “Collective bargaining plays a unique role in the public sector because of its close and interactive relationship with the constitutional rights afforded public employees within civil service systems and because of the union’s role in protecting the individual rights of public employees as a dominant value” (Klingner & Nalbandian, 2003, p.353). Collective bargaining in the private sector is more like WWF Smackdown. Just out of curiosity, though, what would happen if a collective bargaining unit in the public sector did call for a (illegal) strike, and its members walked? The answer to that question is in "Air Traffic Controllers vs. Reagan: Lessons Learned from the Strike" (see below).



References

Klingner, Donald E. and John Nalbandian. Public Personnel Management: Contexts and Strategies. 5th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2003.



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Air Traffic Controllers vs. Reagan: Lessons Learned from the Strike


On August 5, 1981, 11,300 members of the Professional Air Traffic Controllers Organization (PATCO) found themselves, quite unexpectedly, fired from their jobs. As federal employees, they had been fired by President Ronald Reagan for illegally going on strike. Air traffic controllers belong to that class of “public safety” workers, such as police or firefighters, who, although allowed to organize through unions, may not strike against their employers. Yet PATCO had been threatening a strike for months—despite its illegality—to protest low pay, understaffing, poor working conditions, and the high-stress, high-pressure nature of their jobs. The confrontation between the union and the government—principally the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), which regulates the airline industry—reached a much-publicized impasse during the summer of 1981, and came to a head August 3rd. PATCO called for a strike and the air traffic controllers walked. Two days later President Reagan, to virtually everyone’s amazement, fired the lot.


Work of the Air Traffic Controllers

The central hub of every airport in the world features a tower in which air traffic controllers work—guiding aircraft, large and small, during their takeoff and landing procedures. Communicating with pilots via radio, the controllers perform an extremely vital (and risk-laden) job; one mistake could result in catastrophe. Statistically, of course, air travel is known to be among the safest modes of travel. But when the rare accident does occur, the result is almost always horrible, with much loss of life. At any one time in the United States, there are as many as 10,000 aircraft in flight, and it is the air traffic controllers’ job to help the pilots get those planes safely on the ground. Coffey offers this description: “Some of these craft are ascending, others are descending, and still others are cruising at a fixed speed and altitude, heading north, south, east, and west” (1999, p.66). The glowing green radar terminals in the control tower, which track incoming and outgoing flights, are only a fraction of the whole national system. Again, “Each plane has been routed through an invisible architecture that, if visible, would look like a tower of boxes stacked ten miles high over the North American landmass” (ibid). In places where air traffic is especially heavy, “the larger boxes are divided into smaller boxes that are further diced into smaller cubes called sectors” (ibid). At a busy airport there might be one controller for each sector. Where there’s less traffic the sectors will be larger or more than one monitored by a single controller.

The complexity of the job can be overwhelming. There are roughly 15,000 airports in the United States and each flight must file a flight plan. It gets complicated because “aircraft are launching and landing every moment of the day and new plans are created almost constantly, and… some airplanes fly faster than others and cross each other's paths, and… all flights are affected by the weather and by the capacity of airports to receive and launch flights” (ibid). This requires three-dimensional human thinking augmented by computer power. Designing and controlling automobile traffic—itself a daunting task—requires two-dimensional thinking; but in air traffic there’s the extra dimension of altitude. Combined with the risk factor of even a small mistake, it is little wonder that controllers complain about stress. Then there are the effects of overwork. At the busiest airports “controllers often work grueling six-day weeks, eight hours a day, under the same kind of intense pressure experienced by ‘a doctor in an operating room’” (Chu, 1987, p.38). After the PATCO strike and mass firing, the system was so shorthanded that controllers averaged 800,000 to 900,000 overtime hours annually (ibid). Stress and overwork can lead to strained families, illness, and burnout. For these reasons, prospective air traffic controllers are cautiously selected.

Training is long and arduous—essentially a screening process to weed out “stress averse” individuals (Coffey). Hired by the FAA, many trainees are former military pilots or controllers. At training centers in Oklahoma City, Dallas-Fort Worth, and elsewhere, about half of all new-hires don’t make it through the initial three-month course. Three dimensional visualization and memory is the key; they must be able to instantly visualize the architecture of their assigned airspace the same way a homeowner knows the rooms and hallways of his house. Moreover, “Local [Twin Cities area, Minnesota] trainees learn… the geographical features of all nine states covered by Minneapolis Center, plus the particulars of all of the region's airports. They learn all 152 radio frequencies emitted by forty-seven remote communications sites scattered throughout the 350,000-square-mile area. Of course, they learn the difference between a Cessna and a Bonanza, and the individual capabilities of the BE1900, Airbus 320, and dozens of other aircraft they will separate” (ibid). After that come thousands of hours of practice.

But not even two-and-a-half years of practice and training are enough to certify a controller. They must have personal qualities to fit the job—they must be “assertive and convincing” (ibid). A controller has the authority to direct air traffic and pilots are trained to comply, but the pilot has the last word. The pilot can take whatever action he deems necessary to protect his aircraft. He may have to face a formal inquiry later—with his pilot’s license hanging in the balance—but he must be able to say “Unable” when instructed to do something dangerous (or impossible), which the controller cannot see. Controllers must practice and refine their skills throughout their careers. They “take psychological tests and must pass annual medical exams and the usual battery of drug screenings. They make good money (beginning at about $45,000 as trainees), enjoy generous benefits—and are required to retire by the age of fifty-six” (ibid).


Issues that Brought On the Strike

The struggle between PATCO and the FAA, which resulted in the ill-fated strike, revolved around issues of stress-relief, higher salaries, and outdated equipment. According to Kaye, “The controllers knew they were breaking a law that prohibits federal workers from striking. But they accused the Federal Aviation Administration of failing to keep its promises to modernize the air-traffic system and provide a less-stressful workplace” (2001, p.7988). During the 1970s stress was only just beginning to be recognized for the killer it is. Before that time, such a non-specific and ill-defined concept was thought of as highly suspect. During the early 20th century physiologist Walter Cannon at Harvard Medical School identified the stress reaction as “fight-or-flight response”—a basic survival mechanism. Greenberg explains: “Your body prepares itself, when confronted by a threat, to either stand ground and fight or run away,” but “in today’s society the fight-or-flight response has become a threat itself—a threat to your health” (1999, p.4). Factors with the ability to cause stress are called “stressors,” and these have the ability to trigger the fight-or-flight response—also called “stress reactivity.” This reaction includes “increased muscle tension; increased heart rate, stroke volume and output; elevated blood pressure; increased neural excitability; less saliva in the mouth; increased sodium retention; increased perspiration; change in respiratory rate; increased serum glucose; increased release of hydrochloric acid in the stomach; changes in brain waves; and increased urination” (ibid). All this prepares the human body for fight-or-flight, but when we don’t use it—when we neither fight nor flee—the accumulation of stress chemicals affects our health. Furthermore, “the longer our physiology varies from its baseline measures (duration) and the greater the variance from that baseline (degree), the more likely we are to experience ill effects from this stress reactivity” (ibid).

One could argue, as air traffic controllers have, that eight to twelve-hour shifts of intense monitoring has damaging effects. According to Blum and Lobaco, “In 1973, the F.A.A. commissioned a Boston University research team led by psychiatrist Robert Rose to conduct a long-term physiological study of the causes and effects of stress on controllers. Rose's 800-page report, published in 1978, revealed much depression and alcohol abuse among controllers. The study found an unusually high incidence of hypertension among the work force. Blood and urine tests of 406 controllers showed that 39 percent of them had excessive levels of cortisol, a chemical byproduct of stress” (1985, p.668). What’s more, “[a] 1978 study had shown controllers were two to four times as likely to develop high blood pressure and twice as likely to drink after work as people in other professions” (Kaye).

Some have even resorted to dangerous and unlawful methods. According to Banks, some air traffic controllers in the mid-1970s “deliberately directed aircraft to fly illegally close together to further the controllers' claims to retire early with generous benefits” (1983, p.39). This outrage (considering the potential for disaster) came from amendments made in 1974 to the Federal Employees Compensation Act (FECA), which “liberalized the rules covering government workers claiming to have been disabled on the job—especially when the disability was less than obvious, as in mental illness” (ibid). Thus, if a controller could persuade a doctor to testify that he was suffering from mental stress, he could retire at two-thirds to three quarters pay—tax free. All that was needed was to show the injury happened on the job. How could this be accomplished? “Put two aircraft closer together than the five miles horizontally or, above 29,000 feet, the 2,000 feet vertically allowed by aviation law (three miles and 1,000 feet around most airports), and so cause what is called a system error, which is recorded. Then claim that the worry of it all meant that they could not sleep nights” (ibid).

Outdated equipment was another issue. In the brave new world of high tech, controllers were using “antiquated equipment from grease pencils and vacuum tubes to computers with one-thirtieth of the memory of a typical office personal computer” (Jochum, 1997, p.1). Even President Reagan agreed that air traffic control was antiquated, and promised to back PATCO’s efforts to modernize (Kaye). But the FAA’s response was that fewer than five percent of all controller errors were equipment related—most of it was human error (Jochum). Nevertheless, after the strike and mass firings the FAA began revamping the entire network. Kaye explains: “The agency… embarked on a $13 billion modernization program to replace computer, radar display, weather and communications systems at airports and radar centers across the country. It hopes to complete the project by 2005 and sharply decrease radar outages and equipment breakdowns that have plagued the air-traffic network for decades.” FAA supporters say that the increased volume of air traffic nationwide in the years following the strike accounts for much of the outlay; critics say the controller’s grievances were vindicated, despite official denials.

The Aftermath

The PATCO strike, of course, was not just a labor dispute—it was a violation of federal law. Not all controllers walked off the job: “Of about 13,000 PATCO members, 85 percent voted to walk. On the first day of the strike, half the commercial flights had to be canceled. Passengers were enraged, and the airlines lost millions. The FAA put its supervisors to work and brought in military controllers. Reagan gave the strikers 48 hours to return to work. Only 10 percent did. The rest received dismissal letters, banning them from working as controllers again” (Kaye). Afterward, “President Reagan steadfastly refused to rehire the strikers and instructed the Federal Aviation Administration to begin rebuilding the federal air-control staff from a core of 5,000 nonstriking controllers…” (Chu). It took more than two years for most airlines to fully resume their “hub and spoke” operations—but with significant exceptions. According to Levere, four “heavily trafficked” cities with continued restrictions included New York, Chicago, Denver, and Los Angeles (1983, p.1). Nevertheless, the air traffic control system itself did not regain its former strength. According to a 1987 article in Fortune, “After more than six years, the Federal Aviation Administration has still not adequately replaced the 11,300 controllers fired by President Reagan. Despite a 26% increase in traffic during the period, there are some 2,600 fewer controllers on the job. Only about 70% of today's controllers have been trained to so-called full-performance level, meaning that they can handle all the duties required, compared with a pre-strike figure of about 81%. Nor has the FAA responded to the challenge of replacing the system's antiquated technology” (Labich, 1987, p.54).

PATCO, the air traffic controller’s union, was decertified as a bargaining unit and disappeared from the scene. In 1987 a new union took its place—the National Air Traffic Controller’s Association (NATCA)—but one determined not to repeat the mistakes of its predecessor. According to Chu, “[NATCA] has… pledged never to strike or to engage in work slowdowns.” As for the fired controllers, some paid hefty fines, some even did jail time, but only a few found work as air traffic controllers. In 1993 President Bill Clinton lifted the 12-year ban on re-hiring air controllers, and slowly they began to trickle back into the system (Jochum). The FAA, apparently, had less sympathy for them than the president, because “[a]lthough about 5,000 PATCO controllers reapplied, the FAA… rehired only about 800. Another 500-700 fired controllers… found jobs outside the FAA, working at military airports and at smaller airports overseen by private companies” (Kaye). These paltry returns support the view that “[t]he lifting of the ban primarily is a symbolic gesture” (Commuter Regional, 1993, p.2).

In the post-PATCO era, not only has understaffing been a serious concern, but the volume of air traffic has increased significantly. According to Blum and Lobaco, “The reduced force of controllers must handle a volume of air traffic 8 to 10 percent higher than the pre-strike level, as a result of deregulation and the improved economy. In some areas, such as New York City, traffic is up nearly 20 percent.” The FAA solution to understaffing combined with increased workload, “has been enormous overtime…In the last three months of 1984, 300 controllers, supervisors and staff at the Chicago En Route Center logged more than 14,400 hours of overtime. Similar workloads have been reported in Los Angeles, Atlanta, New York, Boston and elsewhere” (ibid). In contrast, European controllers average thirty-two hour workweeks. American controllers have difficulties taking vacations or even obtaining sick leave (ibid). As far as air traffic control is concerned, therefore, the more things change the more they stay the same.

Possible Solutions

Before one can propose a solution, a clear diagnosis of the problem is needed. The possible culprits—deregulation, bureaucratic red tape, incompetent FAA administrators…there is no consensus. Controllers themselves blame deregulation—perhaps the ultimate legacy of Reaganism. As one controller said, “Our basic argument is when you put profitability ahead of safety, the system suffers” (qtd in McPherson, 2003, p.3238007). Some airline industry analysts blame the government: “Instead of accelerating controller hiring and training and the purchase of computer systems, [the government] imposed slot controls at busy airports and implemented flow control to protect new controllers” (Del Rossa, 1997, p.16). What this amounts to is a band-aid approach. The money needed to fix the system has long been available, as Labich explains, “Various pieces of legislation now being considered would force the FAA to start tapping the Aviation Trust Fund, a $5.7-billion pool financed largely through an 8% tax on airline tickets and through fuel taxes. The fund is supposed to pay for modernizing both the air traffic control system and the nation's airports. To help keep the budget deficit down, the Reagan Administration has until now found it convenient not to allocate most of the trust fund.”

And there are advocates of deregulation, such as Steve Forbes, who believe privatization is the answer: “Don't blame the airline hassles today on deregulation. Where it has been applied, it has worked. The number of passengers since 1978 has gone from 275 million to over 425 million today and is expected to reach 600 million by the early 1990s. The number of airline employees, despite well-publicized contractions in certain carriers, has gone up, as has the average annual compensation per airline employee (up 50%)” (1987, p.29). Nevertheless, it seems unlikely that a privatized air traffic control system would willingly make things easier by reducing work hours and adding more controllers. The FAA is the obvious player needed to step up to the plate. Public safety is the prime concern—indeed the only concern—and that is an item with no price tag attached.

The story of air traffic control in the United States is not very encouraging. The illegal 1981 strike traumatized the system, and reform should have followed. But FAA promises to upgrade equipment and refill the ranks of controllers were never completely realized. Probably the most damning fact I uncovered in all the readings was that European controllers work 32-hour weeks—a restriction designed to combat stress. There are some who downplay the role of stress altogether: “Like pilots,” Coffey writes, “controllers often describe their work—only half-jokingly—as hours and hours of tedium every once in a while interrupted by a few moments of terror…” One should reflect for a moment what that “terror” represents. With this in mind, all the talk of bureaucratic red tape, regulation vs. deregulation, privatization, etc., rings a little hollow. Public safety is the issue; therefore the documented complaints of air traffic controllers cannot be given such short shrift. The lethal nature of job-related stress has been well understood for many years now. Other public safety professionals, such as police officers, have similar problems. It is an essential HR function to manage these issues, and on that score the Federal Aviation Administration fairs badly. In the contest between President Reagan and PATCO, there was no actual winner but there was a loser: the flying public.


References

Banks, Howard. “A shocking charge.” (air traffic controllers and early retirement) Forbes, June 6, 1983 v131 p39(2).

Blum, Bill and Gina Lobaco. “The air-controller crunch: why the skies are unfriendlier.” The Nation, June 1, 1985 v240 p668(5).

Chu, Dan. “Six years after PATCO's crash, fired air controller John Thornton helps a new union get off the ground.” People Weekly, Sept 14, 1987 v28 p38(2).

Coffey, Richard A. “Mission: control.” (air traffic controllers) MPLS-St. Paul Magazine, Oct 1999 v27 i10 p66.

Del Rossa, Laura. “Analyst blames federal government for carriers' service woes; shrunken air traffic control system is one cause of delays, Pincavage says.” Travel Weekly, Nov 12, 1987 v46 n99 p16(1).

“FAA to permit rehiring of banned PATCO controllers.” Commuter Regional Airline News, August 16, 1993 v11 n32 p2(1).

Forbes, Steve. “The answer to intolerable congestion at America's airports.” Forbes, July 27, 1987 v140 p29(1).

Greenberg, Jerrold S. Comprehensive Stress Management 6th ed. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 1999.

Jochum, Glenn. “Change comes slowly to air traffic control.” (Long Island air traffic control centers) Long Island Business News, July 1, 1996 n27 p1(2).

Kaye, Ken. “Former air traffic controllers meet to `vilify' Ronald Reagan.” Knight Ridder/Tribune News Service, July 31, 2001 pK7988.

Labich, Kenneth. “Why air traffic is a mess: more people are flying, but the system is short of controllers, new technology, airport capacity, and good management.” Fortune, August 17, 1987 v116 p54(4).


Levere, Jane. “Two years later, industry sees recovery from controllers strike.” Travel Weekly, August 29, 1983 v42 p1(2).

McPherson, David. “Air-Traffic Controllers Seek Ally against Bill to Expand Privatization.” Knight Ridder/Tribune Business News, August 26, 2003 pITEM03238007.

Five: Philosophy

Ontology and Physics


When Plato and Aristotle argued their views in the fourth century B.C. they were, I'm sure, quite aware that they were on the cutting edge of a new subdiscipline in philosophy--namely, science. It is science, more than anything else, which characterizes the world we know in the 20th century. Newtonian physics, relativity theory, and quantum mechanics have redefined many of our fundamental assumptions about the nature of reality.

The classic ontological debate between Plato and Aristotle may today seem quaint and frivolous--especially from the standpoint of Newtonian physics--but developments since the time of Newton have cast new light on the debate. Consider the human being, for example. Each person thinks of him or herself as a unique individual who was born on such and such a date, is x number of years old, has lived in this location or that, and so on. However, we know that our bodies are made of cells, which are composed of various molecules, which in turn are made of countless atoms. Where and when did these atoms originate? According to modern physics, all elements heavier than hydrogen and helium (atomic numbers 1 and 2, respectively) were forged by thermonuclear reactions within stars--events that occurred billions of years ago. This gives us but a tenuous claim to our own physical forms. It's as if we "borrow" the matter for a while, then return it to the earth after we die. In that case, who or what are we? Our bodies are simply reorganizations of matter/energy held together by our minds. So our true self has more to do with our nous (mind, soul, spirit) than our physical forms. This is strangely reminiscent of the Hindu belief that all material existence is maya, or illusion. Plato would be glad.

Albert Einstein's theory of relativity, while undermining Newton's physics, boggles our common sense understanding of time and space by proving they are really two aspects of the same thing; each can be defined in terms of the other. For example, how can time be defined spatially? Consider the Earth's orbit around the Sun. Not only does it set up the unit of time we call a year, the future can be defined as the orbital path to come, the past as the path already traversed, and the present as our current location. Can space be defined temporally? Back in the 1930s astronomers made a startling discovery: that the universe itself is expanding. It was this discovery that led to the "Big Bang" theory of the universe's origin. But it is important to understand that when we say the universe is expanding, that does not mean it is expanding through space. Rather, space itself is expanding, carrying the universe with it. The expansion of space is accompanied by the "forward" motion of time (as well as the unidirectional nature of entropy). What would happen if the universe should slow its expansion rate and then stop altogether? Gravity acts as a kind of cosmic brake and scientists have measured the rate of deceleration. What if the process should reverse itself--if the universe begins contracting and eventually falls in on itself in a "Big Crunch"? Would time's arrow also reverse itself and begin to flow backward? Such questions (at the moment unanswerable) demonstrate the spatial properties of time. The reason that relativity confounds us is that we habitually, even unconsciously, persist in thinking of time and space as two separate things. In this sense, time and space are like the yang and yin of Taoism--intertwined and interchangeable.

An even more radical departure from Newtonian physics (and good old English common sense) is quantum mechanics, a theory that bothered even Einstein, who resisted its implications to the end. Nevertheless, quantum theory is by far the most successful scientific theory ever formulated as it predicts the behavior of subatomic particles with a degree of accuracy that is unheard of in other branches of science. Quanta that appear as waves when one measures waves or as particles when one measures particles--but never both simultaneously--hint at a deep connection between mind and matter (or between observer and observed) that defies understanding. All this harkens back to the Buddhist belief in the "net of Indra" in which All is One and One is All; past, present, and future is really Now; and so on. Thus, separateness is really just an illusion of the senses.

In conclusion, it seems obvious that reality, as explained by modern science, reveals a universe that is more strange and mysterious than even Plato could have hoped for or Aristotle could have feared.


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Rationalism and Empiricism


Rationalism and empiricism, the two main currents of modern philosophy, might be thought of as a continuation of the dichotomy established by Plato and Aristotle twenty-five hundred years ago in their deductive and inductive methods. More importantly, their emergence during the Renaissance heralded the revival of philosophy as an independent force--independent, that is, of religious dogma. Although both have their strengths in terms of ideology, both are also problematic if taken to an extreme. Is there some middle ground between them? Those are the issues I'd like to explore here.

Rene Descartes, the father of rationalism, sought to achieve some level of certainty with his systematic doubt and famous postulate "Cogito, ergo sum." Not trusting the senses (which can be misled), only his rational mind remained. He believed that all other truths could be deduced by reason in accordance with certain innate ideas. These ideas were inborn, and thus a priori. For example, when faced with apparent contradictions in validating the external world, he introduced the concept of a non-deceiving God as the ultimate source of certainty. Unfortunately, Descartes' logical breakdown in postulating God as a sort of bridge between knower and known raised the ire of his successors, such as Berkeley and Hume. Rationalism then degraded to solipsism--the complete denial of external reality--which is the ultimate position in Idealism.

It is incredible to my mind that any rational person would seriously believe the external world doesn't exist--that it is all some elaborate delusion. Yet, that was the logical result of Descartes' thinking. Did he really prove there is no reality "out there," that it is all in our heads? No, what he demonstrated was the limitations of logic. Logic is like a tool one uses in forming a worldview, as one employs a hammer or a power drill while building a house. Logic is a good servant but a poor master; would a carpenter allow his hammer or drill to take over direction of the construction site? Of course not. Logic must be sublimated--in some cases to intuition, in others to common sense.

Empiricism, on the other hand, was an alternative approach. Pioneered primarily in Britain by such figures as Francis Bacon and John Locke, Descartes' notion of innate ideas was rejected out of hand. Locke considered the human mind to be tabula rasa, or a blank slate upon which experience wrote its score. It was only by gathering evidence and conducting experiments that knowledge could be obtained. Here were the beginnings of modern scientific method.

While we cannot deny the effectiveness of scientific method, it does have a kind of built-in flaw. That is, it cannot account for consciousness, or mind, or anything immaterial. Empiricism thus confronts the same dilemma as rationalism: how to resolve the contradiction between idealism and realism--that is, the Platonic and Aristotelian divide. Descartes introduced God as a bridge spanning the gap, but no such bridge exists in empirical thought. Therefore, scientists tend to reduce everything to material processes. Thoughts, for example, are considered electrical impulses in the brain; love results from the genetic drive to reproduce; intuition comes from subtle hypersensory stimuli; and so on. Realism, taken to such an extreme, paves the way to materialism and atheism.

Immanuel Kant, aroused from his "dogmatic slumbers" by this debate, attempted to reconcile rationalism and empiricism in his landmark book, Critique of Pure Reason. Kant upheld the objectivity of the mind by pointing out that even though countless sense impressions flow into the mind at all times, it requires the subjective consciousness to sort through all the data and cognize only what is needed (or wanted). Much of this is done unconsciously; otherwise, one would be too distracted by minutiae to function at all. Thus, the mind cannot be solely tabula rasa, but the extent to which innate ideas are present is debatable.

Here we must make a distinction between consciousness itself (thinking) and thought (that which is thought about). The whole process is a reciprocal action between subject and object, and the source of our thought content is derived from the external world through our senses. All living organisms have sense organs, even plants. In animals, for instance, eyes have evolved from the insect level to our own; their purpose is to receive visual data. Are we to think that such useful, even necessary, organs have developed over the course of millions of years just so we human beings can fool ourselves into thinking there is an external world when there is not? If we seek absolute certainty in all things, how certain do we have to be? If we want to be sure that the Moon is "really there," does that mean we must each build a spaceship and go there? I'd say there is a general consensus about the reality of the external world that we can trust for the most part. What philosophers seem to be debating is not the existence or non-existence of the universe, but the meaning and significance of what they perceive.



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Political Theory: Argument for Moderation


Liberalism and conservativism are, in political theory, the two poles about which our democratic society revolves, although the meanings associated with these terms have changed historically. For example, one does not normally think of liberalism as being concerned with individual liberties or limited government--two concepts that go hand in hand. Indeed, it could be argued that asking the federal government to safeguard civil liberties is a bit like asking the fox to guard the hen-house. But as American history has progressed, it appears that positions once considered liberal are now conservative, and vice-versa. Liberalism has come to be associated with progressive change, whereas conservatism advocates maintaining the status quo, or even returning to the mythical "good ole days"--i.e. to a time of greater morality, greater freedom, and greater clarity of purpose. The fact that, in my estimation, America never was such a place, seems not to matter a whit. But it occurs to me that neither position can be absolute in itself without doing tremendous harm.

At the time of the American Revolution the liberal position was that of the revolutionaries seeking to cast off the yoke of colonialism; the conservative position was that of the Tories--those loyal to the British Crown. Such loyalists were, by and large, the ones who had the most to lose. The revolutionaries, on the other hand, had something to gain by seeking independence. Laissez-faire economics, best expressed in Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations, must have seemed quite attractive to what was, at that time, an agrarian culture.

However, history has proved a fatal flaw in Smith's economic theory: it presupposes ethical behavior on the part of those who control the wealth. American business during the 19th century became ruthless and avaricious. Why do we now have federal antitrust laws? Why do we have labor unions? Such things belie the naiveté of traditional liberalism. That was mostly true in the industrial North, though. The South was still agrarian and built upon the foundation of slave labor.

Slavery, the most egregious error in the establishment of this nation, had its roots in Eurocentric racial attitudes, which regarded the white man as superior to all others. John Locke wrote of God-given "natural rights," including rights to life, liberty, and property. Thomas Jefferson incorporated these ideas into the Declaration of Independence. I don't mean to besmirch that great document, but we must realize that these "inalienable rights" applied only to white men. Women didn't have these rights, Native Americans didn't have them, and blacks certainly didn't have them. In fact, black slaves were "property" to which slave owners had the right to do as they pleased.

The struggle over slavery, then, caused liberalism and conservatism to switch poles. Liberals now advocated the abolition of slavery, and the Republican Party was created to further that aim. Conservatives opposed such a radical view and made the Democratic Party their bulwark, at least in the South. Interestingly, another great institution was used in justifying and maintaining the enslavement of blacks: Southern Christianity. This is perhaps the dirty secret that nobody these days wishes to acknowledge, but I will acknowledge it. Southern white Christians were adamant that blacks were racially inferior, and thus morally and mentally deficient. I myself spent several years in the Deep South locking horns with fundamentalist Christians, and know from personal experience how racist many of them are. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., in his letter from the Birmingham Jail, expressed his dismay at the lack of support for the Civil Rights Movement from white churches, but that does not surprise me at all. As a southern black, he should have known better.

The Civil Rights Movement of the 50s and 60s, spearheaded by Dr. King, was really an attempt to make America live up to the ideals of the Declaration of Independence. In this instance, liberalism occupied the moral highground while conservatism was denounced as "reactionary." Unfortunately, liberalism began to lose ground when another issue came to the fore: the War in Vietnam. Without raising the legitimate question of whether the United States should have been involved in Vietnam in the first place, the anti-war demonstrators made the unconscionable mistake of mistreating American soldiers returning from the war--men who had risked their lives and suffered for their country. During the 1970s liberal attitudes became virulently anti-patriotic and anti-traditional. During those years, which peaked with the Carter Administration, expressions of patriotism were viewed with deep suspicion. Anyone waving a flag or singing "My Country 'tis of Thee" was ridiculed, labeled a fascist, or otherwise shouted down. In my view, any nation where patriotism cannot be expressed without hostile reactions is deeply troubled. Liberalism, it seemed, had failed.

The election of Ronald Reagan in 1980 was, therefore, a major turning point for conservatism. Middle America was weary of all the "blame America" rhetoric emanating from the left and said so through the ballot-box. The most important thing Reagan did for America, I believe, was that he made it okay to be patriotic again. I find it noteworthy that Reagan was most popular among the young.

Since that time liberalism has revived somewhat, evidenced by the rejection of George Bush in favor of Bill Clinton. Liberals have seen the error of their ways, I think, and are once again seeking the moral edge they once enjoyed. Conservatives, on the other hand, are circling the wagons and seem obsessed with their vendetta against Clinton. Obviously, extreme positions--liberal or conservative--cannot solve the social ills of America. Consensus and cooperation for the common good will lead to the best result for all people. Political extremism, on the left or right, will not.


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Imposition of Islamic Law

This article by Michael A. Lev, “Malaysian state plans to install strict Islamic criminal law,” appeared October 30, 2003. The local government of Terrengganu—a state, or province of Malaysia—is planning to implement strict Islamic criminal law for Muslims, “including severe punishments for adultery, theft and blasphemy” (p.7350). Malaysia has a Muslim majority but a large non-Muslim population of ethnic Chinese and Indians. It is a secular society, where the Shari’a has never been attempted before. The central government holds that imposing Shari’a will violate the nation’s constitution. As in other parts of the world, Islamic fundamentalism is on the rise in Malaysia. It has long been opposed, however, by longtime Prime Minister Mohamad Mahathir. The 77-year-old political leader is about to retire, and opposition parties, such as the Muslim PAS party, intend to take advantage (not unlike early American politicians vying for the presidency upon George Washington’s retirement). Terengganu is one of two states PAS controls, and is thus targeted for this dramatic alternative to secular rule. According to Tev, “Malaysia already recognizes a limited form of Islamic law for minor offenses, punishable by not more than a $1,300 fine or six strokes of the cane. Under the strict version endorsed by PAS, the penalty for theft can be the amputation of a hand, and a woman convicted of adultery can be stoned to death” (ibid). Other aspects of Muslim law/tradition include head-scarves for women, separate checkout lines at supermarkets, and sexually segregated swimming facilities. Officials say there will be some limited freedom to privately eschew religion, that there will not be religious police making sure people pray at home, but “all Muslims would be required to respect religious practice, such as fasting during Ramadan, or face penalties” (ibid).

I’ve been doing a lot of reading about Islamic law, and I have to say that strict application of the Shari’a flies in the face of a centuries-long tradition of liberal Islamic jurisprudence. Briefly, there is shari’a, the law based on holy texts, and fiqh, which interprets the law and includes the component of “ijtihad” or independent reasoning. Shari’a and fiqh are held to be interdependent. Since shari’a cannot possibly apply to every situation indiscriminately, Muslim judges were traditionally given wide latitude in deciding things case by case. Frequently, some of the harsher penalties imposed by shari’a could be avoided through creative legal doctrines. For example, Islamic courts developed the notion of the “sleeping fetus” to avoid executing women with illegitimate children. All in all, the liberal—that is, traditional—application of law in Muslim societies seems relatively reasonable. The fundamentalist agenda, however, is to eliminate fiqh and close the door on ijtihad altogether. The draconian force of Shari’a is all that’s desired, or acceptable. To compare this situation to our own culture, it would be like abandoning centuries of constitutional law and religious liberty to return to medieval Catholicism, with its heresy hunters, Grand Inquisitors, implements of torture, and public executions. To an American, of course, this sort of thing is a horror story, and it is not easy to be objective about it. I could almost (almost but not quite) accept certain criminal penalties. Perhaps thieves deserve having their hands amputated. But do “adulterous” women deserve being stoned to death? And why does the woman bear the full brunt of punishment in such cases? Tolson (2003, p.60) describes the situation in Nigeria, “…at the end of September, in one of a dozen Nigerian states that have adopted sharia (Islamic law), a religious appeals court overturned the death sentence of Amina Lawal, 32, a Muslim woman accused of adultery. Yet while Lawal was spared the gruesome fate of death by stoning, at least five other women in Nigeria still face the same sentence.” Why is it the women, and only the women, face capital punishment for this “crime”? Part of it has to do with patriarchal Arab customs. For example, “within the Arab honor code, individual rights are secondary to one's status within the family or tribe. Women are reduced to ‘communal or tribal property.’ In Pakistan or Nigeria…a man from one tribe or family may rape a woman from another as an act of communal retribution” (ibid).

But what troubles me most of all is the complete lack of religious freedom under Islamic law (at least for Muslims). According to the Lev article “blasphemy” is one of the crimes subject to punishment. Another is “apostasy,” which means, simply, abandoning the Islamic faith. It could also mean criticizing the faith. Either way, under Islamic Law, the punishment is death. According to Johansen (2003, p.687), “Apostasy trials against professors, intellectuals, artists, and writers were by no means rare in the Arab world of the 1980s and 1990s, and their number dramatically increased during these two decades…in 1985 the Muslim reformer Muhammad Mahmud Taha was executed in Sudan. In 1986, a Yemenite professor of sociology, Hamud al-'Awdi, was sentenced by a Yemeni court to a capital punishment that could only have been invalidated by the court if Professor al-'Awdi had revoked the statements that the court held to be irreconcilable with Islam. Professor al-'Awdi escaped execution by fleeing to Syria and other Arab states.” Academics like al’Awdi may not have been technically guilty of apostasy, but were held to have written things “incompatible” with the faith. In many cases, these men (women have little say in that part of the world) were reformers, attempting to bring Islam into the 21st century. Again, “…those condemned are born Muslims, declare themselves to be Muslim believers, and act for what they see as a better understanding of Islam. They are condemned for their writings and publications or for words spoken in public, either in political or educational contexts. Apostasy has increasingly been treated as a crime committed in books or speeches, independently of the religious self-perception of the author. The trial history of the intellectuals mentioned is well documented and shows how and for what purpose the mechanism of persecution is put into place” (ibid). Needless to say, all of the above reeks of the sort of religious paranoia the Western civilization abandoned long ago. That so many find fundamentalism, whatever its stripe, appealing in this day and age, casts a pall of foreboding over the immediate future.

References

Johansen, Baber. “Apostasy as objective and depersonalized fact: two recent Egyptian court judgments.” Social Research, Fall 2003 v70 i3 p687(25).

Lev, Michael. “Malaysian state plans to install strict Islamic criminal law.” Knight Ridder/Tribune News Service, Oct 30, 2003 pK7350.

Tolson, Jay. “Faith & Freedom.” (women's rights and Islamic law) U.S. News & World Report, Nov 10, 2003 v135 i16 p60.

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Apostasy

For much of the history of Christianity (from the time of Constantine to the late 18th century), your religious belief—or lack of it—could get you in serious trouble. For example, the early Church ruthlessly exterminated a rival Christian sect known as Gnostics—a group that taught, essentially, that Christ did not live in the flesh but only in spiritual form. These people were hunted down for their “heresy,” given a chance to convert to Catholicism, and if they refused, adjudicated as criminals. Many Gnostics were put to death. As the Roman Empire divided and then crumbled, the Church acted as a stabilizing force in Europe, but it also assumed many of the temporal powers nowadays reserved to the state. This marriage of judicial power, executive power (i.e. law enforcement), and ecclesiastical authority produced a system of abuse, well documented in history books. To medieval Europeans, though, the whole notion of “religious freedom” that we enjoy today would have seemed strange indeed. Islam, as we’ve studied, recognizes no distinction between religious matters and political matters, due to the all encompassing nature of the faith. An Iranian Muslim once told me that the main function of mosques in his country was “politics.” I find it fascinating, however, the way Muslim courts deal with the “crime” of apostasy. According to Johansen, “The classical Hanafi doctrine defined the punishment of apostasy as a punishment for warfare against the Muslim community, not as a punishment for unbelief. This approach, unique among the schools of fiqh, spells out the jurists' hesitation to directly interfere with questions of belief” (2003, p.687). Nevertheless, due to the upsurge of fundamentalism in Muslim countries, the idea of apostasy is being redefined: “The jurists' movement for the ‘codification of Islamic law’ gained in momentum during the 1980s when, in a number of states, it succeeded in assuring a place in the modern criminal codes for classical apostasy rules. In other states, such as Egypt, the highest courts opened the way for apostasy trials. The analysis of one apostasy judgment of the highest Egyptian court shows that the court understands belief and apostasy as objective facts that can be separated from the person who professes or denies them. The court effectively claims the role of the highest instance in questions of belief and unbelief. Apostasy thus becomes a depersonalized objective fact without any relation to the intentions of the individuals concerned” (ibid). In other words, “The court's definition of apostasy serves to control the ideas that can legitimately be discussed in the public sphere. It denies bold reinterpretations of Islam, but implicitly also a number of political persuasions and theories, the right of access to the public space and assigns them the private sphere as their legitimate abode” (ibid). This effectively eliminates any freedom of speech or the press, thus, “[the] courts, in their reasoning, use the terms ‘warfare’ and ‘aggression’ to define the character of public utterances on the interpretation of religion that do not meet with their approval. The courts thus pretend that they are not judging the individual's personal belief, but only his public acts. They try to draw a line of distinction between the private sphere of belief or unbelief and the public sphere in which the wrong opinion constitutes apostasy. The private sphere is left to the individual's internal forum; the public sphere is tightly controlled by the external forum of the courts. This means that the constitutional right of freedom of religion is restricted to the individual's internal forum and does not--not even for Muslims, let alone for non-Muslims--serve as the legal basis for a public debate between different interpretations of the relationship between religion, the state, society, and culture. The constitutional right to the freedom of cult and religion is banned from the public sphere and its content largely voided” (ibid). Freedom of religion, therefore, goes down the toilet also. This is one reason why I firmly believe mankind is now, more than ever, facing a choice between freedom and slavery. Once we feared communist domination, but that threat is nothing compared to the fate religious fundamentalism has in store for us (if it wins the upper hand).

Reference

Johansen, Baber. “Apostasy as objective and depersonalized fact: two recent Egyptian court judgments.” Social Research, Fall 2003 v70 i3 p687(25).


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The Nature of God

The French philosopher Voltaire once wrote: "In the opinion that there is a God, there are difficulties, but in the contrary opinion there are absurdities." Such absurdities arise when one tries to account for the existence of creation without a Creator, or the presence of life on earth--ourselves included--as the result of some blind, random process. Indeed, I find such scientific views to be just as preposterous as some religious ones. For myself, as with Voltaire, belief in God began as a simple premise in logic and continued to develop along those lines. In order for there to be a "first cause" as logic demands, the cause itself must be uncaused; therefore, God is an entity that has always existed and will continue to exist forever. In addition to being Eternal, God is also Absolute, Unchanging, and Unique. If we human beings are created in the image and likeness of God, then we must also be eternal, absolute, unchanging, and unique--at least potentially. The full development of our human potential is what the Creator strives for.

Nothing, however, creates more of a misconception about God than the notion of omnipotence. Taken to an extreme, many ascribe to God magical and supernatural powers, thinking that He can do literally anything because He is God. But this naive assumption raises a number of contradictions. Can God, for instance, make a triangle that does not have three sides and three angles? Clearly, there are some things even God cannot do. This is not to deny His omnipotence but rather to affirm the basic lawfulness of His nature. What then, are the limits of God's "omnipotence"?

First, God is bound by natural law. That means everything God does, without exception, is done within the confines of natural science, in accordance with the laws of physics, thermodynamics, mathematics, and so on. The miracles that are recorded in the Bible may be explained in any number of ways, but one thing is certain: God has never performed a magical or supernatural act. Second, there is a kind of self-imposed restraint God adheres to in His dealings with human beings. This is called the law of human responsibility, or God's law of non-interference in the affairs of men. An example of this law appears in the story of Adam and Eve, when God gives them a commandment not to eat the fruit (Gen. 2:17). It was man's responsibility to believe in God's Word and follow it. However, they disregarded God's Word, ate the fruit anyway, and were driven from Eden as a result. Note that God did not intervene to stop their downfall, even though He could have easily done so. Why did God give man free will and the ability to choose? It is because we were not created to be robots or automatons. Along with that freedom comes a certain moral responsibility, and God will not, under any circumstances, interfere with our human responsibility.

Another source of misunderstanding about God is the concept of omniscience. God supposedly knows everything--past, present, and future. Is this true? We may well assume that God knows everything concerning the past, down to the last detail. It stands to reason that God knows all things in the present as well; but what about the future? The fact is, not even God knows the future with absolute certainty! That is because we human beings were given free will and responsibility. If our free will is genuine, then there is no way God can know in advance what our choices will be. It's conceivable that God knows all possible outcomes, but which becomes reality is entirely up to us.

Everything outlined above, it seems, raises a serious question about the essential goodness, or benevolence of God. If God is good, why is there so much suffering in the world and why doesn't God do something about it? Human suffering falls into two main categories: a) that which is inflicted by the natural world, and b) that which we inflict upon each other. I will discuss them both.

The first source of human hardship comes from the natural world and includes such things as natural disasters, infectious disease, dangerous animals, and so on. Should God be blamed for this? Natural disasters result from the laws of physics that govern matter, and these laws are indifferent to the welfare of any living organism. Nature itself displays a similar indifference; in fact, 99% of all species that have ever existed on earth are now extinct. As conducive as nature is toward life, it is equally harsh and exacting. Reconciling this fact with God's goodness isn't easy and requires some speculation. My theory is that the Creator purposely made the universe to be tough, challenging, even dangerous. To survive and prosper in this world requires an investment of toil and effort. Human beings must be prepared to endure environmental hardships and overcome them. Why is this more to our advantage than a "soft" universe where everything is easy and no effort is needed? It is for the sake of our spiritual and intellectual development. If this world were too easy, human society would be hopelessly stagnant and moribund.

A much more troubling issue, however, is the misery that human beings inflict on one another--what we commonly refer to as "evil." Why doesn't God do something about evil? As stated, God gave man free will and responsibility, and God has an absolute rule against interfering with our human responsibility. This is the deep reason that God does not intervene to halt the evil activities of corrupt people. Does that mean that God will do nothing? Not at all, in fact God feels responsible to help suffering humanity. But it must be understood that God's work is positive in nature. Instead of intervening with evil*, God raises up spiritual and religious leaders to educate and rehabilitate men--historical figures such as Moses, Confucius, Lao Tzu, Buddha, Jesus, even philosophers like Socrates. God seeks to have men fulfill their moral responsibility by believing in and following these leaders. Ultimately, it is man himself who must put an end to evil; God will not do it for us. God may very well "show" the way, but we ourselves must put forth the effort to accomplish it.


*That's not to say that God never intervenes. There may be circumstances where God can and does "protect" us, but if He does, how will we ever know? He will not announce His deeds or take out newspaper ads describing what He has done. Moreover, it is impossible to know all the things that didn't happen, but would have but for the existence of God. For example, why has there not been a nuclear war? Such a war could destroy all life on earth, but "something" appears to be preventing it. I believe that "something" is God.



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Reverends Robertson and Falwell Revisited

Happened to catch both of these guys on television yesterday-- but considering where I live (southeast Virginia), it's a little hard to get away from them. Especially Pat Robertson, whose opinions are considered almost a gospel-unto-itself in certain Evangelical circles. Jerry Falwell was seemingly contrite, admitting that he had "screwed up" by issuing his ill-advised comments after Sept. 11. What is unclear is whether he regrets having said in public what he privately believes, or that he was just plain wrong. I suspect the former. At the time, I was somewhat bemused by the list of items Falwell attributed to offending God, among them "secular humanism" and "non-Christian religions." Imagine that! America offers safe haven, not only to every stripe of Christianity, but to Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, or what have you-- this offends God.

Robertson, however, reiterated his views on the matter, stating that God had "withdrawn His mantle of protection and anointing," thereby bringing on the terror attacks. He made his own list of offenses that presumably convinced God to do this, among them "sodomy" and "adultery" and "beastiality." But topping Robertson's list-- the #1 reason America has offended God-- was "witchcraft"! I guess that Harry Potter movie is proof of this.

Needless to say, hearing this sort of thing makes me cringe. I know in my guts it is WRONG, but why is it wrong? Where's the fallacy?
First, to say that God "lifted His mantle of protection" is to make God complicit in mass murder. God is our Parent, we are His children. That mantle of protection is similar to, say, the child-resistant cap on a medicine bottle. Suppose you get so angry with your child that you say, "I'll lift my mantle of protection," and unfasten the bottle cap. If the child dies as a result, that's felony child endangerment, or even murder. To say that God deliberately withdrew His "protection" and thousands of people died as a result-- you might as well claim that God hijacked the jets and aimed them at the World Trade Center Himself.

Second, exactly when did God withdraw His protection? On September 10, 2001 did He suddenly decide, "I've had enough"? This protection is supposed to protect Americans from foreign invaders? Where was the protection when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor? Where was it during the War of 1812 when British troops sacked Washington DC and burned most of our public buildings, including the Capitol? Where was it during the Revolutionary War when Redcoats committed atrocities against unarmed Americans?
Third, who exactly is this mantle of protection supposed to shield-- all Americans or only the privileged few? Why didn't it protect black Americans from 400 years of slavery, and subsequent years of mistreatment by whites? I guess only white folks can benefit from it. And why did God not protect Native Americans from near-extinction? Must be because they weren't Christians. What about religious minorities-- Catholics, Jews, Mormons, and most recently Muslims-- all these have had their share of persecution and abuse.

I'll not argue that America is not richly blessed by God or the subject of His anointing. America-- regardless of how "sinful" it is at the moment*-- is God's shining hope for the future. And there is such a thing as His "mantle of protection," no doubt about it. I've experienced it many times in my life of faith. Those who violate God's Law will suffer deleterious effects, that is also clear. But no action on God's part, either positive or negative, is responsible for this. Reverends Robertson and Falwell may rejoice in their belief that God is "expressing His wrath" by allowing terrorists to attack, but explain this to me: among those who died horribly on 9/11 were small children (mostly passengers on the jets). Does God really exercise His wrath by wiping out little kids? Actually, the whole notion of "God's wrath" is a throwback from paganism, when God was equated to natural forces. In Christianity there is no God of Wrath.

As I said, the notion of God as a "God of Wrath"-- punishing the wicked for their sins-- seems to be a leftover from prehistoric pagan religions. At that time, natural forces were thought to be agencies of the gods; natural disasters-- floods, hurricanes, drought, earthquakes, etc-- happened because the gods were angered. Religious rituals were designed to appease the capricious deities. And indeed, the Old Testament is filled with this type of primitive rhetoric. But Jesus introduced God as a Father, a loving Parent of all humanity, and the idea of God as a Parent is quite at odds with traditional beliefs that encouraged people to "fear" God and His wrath. In fact, it is contradictory: God cannot simultaneously be a Parent and a vengeful Deity to be feared. What follows are the several reasons I can think of that God does not exercise His wrath or pass judgment on sinners:

First, God is Just: if God should exercise His wrath and punish evildoers, He would have to distribute His justice equally. Why would he discriminate between one sinner and another? From God's perspective, comparing one person to another is like comparing anthills. Thus we would all be judged. Most likely, the whole human race would be wiped out in an instant. I doubt God could bear the grief of having to do this.

Second, there is that sticky provision of non-interference in the affairs of men. God limits Himself to guiding people in their growth, the rest is our responsibility. Punishing sinners would definitely be a form of interference. And strictly speaking, since it is man who committed the error of the fall and brought the fallen world, it is our responsibility to liquidate evil. Furthermore, after studying theology and philosophy for 25 years, I have yet to see any provision that posits God in that fearsome light. He is the Creator, manifesting only what is good.

Third, it is unnecessary: just as natural law governs the external world, God's Law governs the inner world; its action is quite automatic. Those who violate it will gradually destroy themselves. Evil is a form of slow suicide. Only the good-- i.e. obedient to God's Law-- will remain. So God really has no need to punish sinners-- their own actions will do them in.

Last, it is beneath God's Dignity: this is, without a doubt, the most profound reason. God never envisioned Himself in such a hateful role as that of Judge. God does not want to be known as a God of wrath and punishment. He wants to be known as a God of Love. A God of wrath should be feared; but that which you fear, you will eventually come to loathe. To have to judge all humanity and send people to hell would be degrading and humiliating, extremely so. Men may rejoice in power and the use of force in dominating others, but God rejoices only in love. He wants to be the source and center of love for all eternity. That is His Dignity.

What then, is the problem with believing in the "God of Wrath"? If people think that God is so fearsome, visiting death and destruction upon the "unrighteous," then it is but a small step for some unbalanced individuals to want to take "God's work" into their own hands. This is precisely why we wind up with this Muslim Jihad against the United States. They perceive America as that "Great Satan" and are only doing God a favor by attacking us. Americans do not understand the allure of Jihad to the Islamic culture; it appeals to their deepest religious instincts. That's why an accurate understanding of God's true nature is desperately needed.

*In reality, I believe that America's "moral decay" is more a mass media phenomenon than anything else. The USA is probably no better or worse than any other nation in this regard.


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When Science Goes Too Far


One of the more enduring images from the golden age of horror movies is that of the mad scientist--like Dr. Frankenstein creating a monster out of purloined body parts. Despite the obvious gifts to humanity from science (whose excesses seem negligible by comparison), there has always been a question at the back of people's minds: will science someday go too far? Speculation on this theme provides the fodder for much popular fiction and movie fare, yet it is based on an uncomfortable reality. For example, when physicists unlocked the secrets of the atomic nucleus, what resulted? A nuclear arms race and the threat of annihilating all life on earth. In 1932 Aldous Huxley's Brave New World warned about the dangers of tampering with the chemistry of life, but at the time his tale of identical human beings conceived in test tubes and born in hatcheries must have seemed rather far-fetched. Thirty years later, however, biochemist James Watson and physicist Francis Crick finally worked out the structure of the deoxyribonucleic acid molecule (DNA)--the key to heredity and biological reproduction--and suddenly it seemed the Brave New World would soon be upon us.

Whatever one's opinion of such controversial topics as cloning, genetic engineering, or DNA testing may be, one thing is certain: the DNA genie cannot be put back in the bottle. Should scientists therefore be allowed to proceed as they wish, without a word of caution from anyone? I think not. Dorothy Nelkin, in her article "The Grandiose Claims of Geneticists," takes some to task for "using overblown rhetoric and misleading metaphors to convey the importance of their work" (586). For instance, in an attempt to reassure an uneasy public as to the virtues of the Human Genome Project--an ambitious undertaking to map out human DNA completely--they have resorted to religious imagery, calling the genome "The Bible" or the "Holy Grail" (Nelkin 586). As a result, the news media has consistently distorted the nature of genetic research, assigning to genes such properties as identity: "We came from chemistry" (qtd. in Watson 590), and the ability to predict behavioral patterns: "our fate is in our genes" (qtd. in Nelkin 586). Much of this claptrap is swallowed hook, line, and sinker by a gullible public, who are, understandably, mystified by the science. But I contend, along with Nelkin, that such language reveals nothing but the hubris of scientists. The exaggerated claims of geneticists, then, are based on the false assumption that life itself is no more than chemistry, and this follows the tendency of science in general to reduce all natural phenomena to material processes alone.

The science of microbiology is, admittedly, an esoteric one, so it's not surprising that scientists would be mesmerized by the complexity of it all. In his book Beginnings Isaac Asimov points out that all plant and animal life is multicellular--that is, comprised of billions of living cells (174). Each cell has a tiny nucleus embedded within a translucent material called cytoplasm. Inside the nucleus are granules of chromatin, which, in the process of mitosis (cell division) form thread-like strands, or chromosomes. These chromosomes double in number, move to opposite ends of the cell, which then divides into two daughter cells. This is an example of asexual reproduction, which is characteristic of micro-organisms. Cells with the structure described above are called eukaryotes. Bacteria, on the other hand, which are 10 to 100 times smaller than eukaryotes and do not have a nucleus, are called prokaryotes. A virus, in contrast, is far smaller and much simpler than even the tiniest prokaryote.Viruses are nucleoproteins--an association of protein molecules and nucleic acid. Since these are the smallest known forms of life, this arrangement seems to be the bare essence of organic matter.

Within the chromosome (or virus) the amount of protein varies while that of the nucleic acid remains constant. The protein is what determines the shape, structure, and function of the cell. In other words, what makes a brain cell different from a stomach cell or liver cell? The protein content. Protein molecules are polymers, having the same basic structure as plastic or rubber (Asimov 220). But whereas an ordinary polymer is quite simple, consisting of one or two interlocking units, a protein molecule may have as many as 20 components, known as amino acids, and each of these may be present in any molecule. Restricting a molecule to one of each of the 20, the number of possible arrangements--and thus different molecules--is a staggering two-billion billion (Asimov 221). Consider the hemoglobin molecule. It has 539 amino acids, and according to Asimov:

The number of different arrangements in which we can place those hundreds of amino acids is equivalent to a 1 followed by 620 zeroes. The number of all the subatomic particles in the entire universe is virtually zero compared to this mighty number. Yet for hemoglobin to work properly only one arrangement is wanted. A mistake in a single amino acid in hemoglobin can produce a molecule that works with dangerous imperfection. (220)

But for all the complexity of proteins, it is the nucleic acid that is central to life. There are two varieties: DNA and RNA. Both of these are composed of relatively simple nucleotides, of which there are four types, abbreviated as A,G,C, and T (A,G,C, and U in RNA). These are arranged in double-helix configurations within the chromosome fragments (genes). The four nucleotides control the production and synthesis of the 20 amino acids in proteins by forming triplets--AAA, AAG, AAC, and so on. DNA is remarkable in that it is self-replicating--an ability proteins do not have. In the process of mitosis the double helices unwind and separate, then each helix forms a copy of itself. The two new helices form the basis of the two new cells. In essence, DNA is an information store and control center determining the protein content of cells. The number of different proteins that can be created this way is seemingly infinite (which accounts for the incredible diversity of life on earth), but it is all controlled by the comparatively simple DNA molecule.

The question now arises: is DNA equivalent to life itself? A great many scientists seem to think so, as Nelkin's article indicates. But what is DNA, after all? As explained above, it is composed of four nucleotides. The nucleotides are made up of only five elements: carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and occasionally, sulfur. Any of these base elements by themselves, or any chemical compound they might form (water, carbon dioxide, ammonia, etc.) are definitely non-living matter. How then can a simple rearrangement of atoms to form a nucleotide be considered life? DNA cannot work without proteins, and proteins can do nothing without receiving instructions from DNA. Common sense would tell us that life is an impossibility, yet it exists. What is the relationship between "life" and DNA? DNA can be compared to a radio receiver. One turns on the radio to enjoy a bit of classical music, a Beethoven symphony, say. Does the music originate from the receiver? No, the receiver simply picks up the radio wave and converts it to electronic impulses which are fed to the speaker. Similarly, DNA is a molecule designed to transmit the intangible life-force. The life-force locks DNA and proteins together, working through them and expressing itself through them. But to think that DNA is life itself is tantamount to believing the Chicago Philharmonic Orchestra somehow resides within a Kenwood receiver.

What we need is a clear definition of the term "human being." If it's true, as materialist doctrine holds, that nothing exists other than atoms and void, then we very well may have "come from chemistry." But does mere chemistry define humanity? What random mix of swirling atoms produces a Michelangelo, a Socrates, or a Jesus? From a Biblical perspective, man has an inner essence--a spirit or soul that is immaterial. Genesis 2:7 says: "then the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being." Therefore, the subject of genetic research is nothing but an external form (which does consist of atoms and void), but the whole human being is much more than a physical body. All this points to a fundamental flaw in scientific reasoning: it cannot take into account any intangible, such as mind, spirit, thought, or what have you. Such elements, real though they be (with tangible, observable effects on matter), are beyond the scope of science. For example, what is love? What are ideas? What is intuition? These things are not made of atoms and molecules, neither are they energy (like electromagnetism). They are intangibles. Thus, stubborn insistence on "empirical data" alone as the source of knowledge can lead to a kind of intellectual blindness among scientists.

According to philosopher William James, "If everything, man included, is the mere effect of the primitive nebula or the infinite substance, what becomes of moral responsibility, freedom of action, individual effort, and aspiration?" (qtd. in Frost 50). Modern science, in other words, seems to destroy all that makes human life human (Frost 50). Unfortunately, we all possess an enormous capacity for self-deception, and even the most intelligent among us can sometimes be quite irrational. Scientists in particular are notoriously unwilling to accept a paradigm shift. Thus, when Linus Pauling says that we came from chemistry, he is expressing an article of faith, not scientific fact. Scientists are no more immune to hopeless dreams, wishful thinking, or outlandish ideas than anyone else. How else does one explain, for example, the late Carl Sagan's Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence project (SETI)? There is not a shred of evidence to support belief in alien intelligence, yet many reputable scientists stake their careers on it.

Now perhaps we can debate the merits (or lack thereof) of genetic research with a modicum of detachment. The opinions of educated laymen are invaluable because, frankly, those whose lives are wrapped up in a discipline, be it science, religion, academia, or whatever, are often too personally involved to be objective. No one has a monopoly on truth, and I have a hard time thinking that life is nothing more than the result of random forces and chemicals. If that is the contention of supposedly learned men, then science has gone too far.



Works Cited

Asimov, Isaac. Beginnings: The Story of Origins--of Mankind, Life, the Earth, the Universe. New York: Berkley, 1989.

Frost Jr. S.E. Basic Teachings of the Great Philosophers: A Survey of their Basic Ideas. New York: Dolphin, 1942.

Nelkin, Dorothy. "The Grandiose Claims of Geneticists." Rpt. in Writing and Reading Across the Curriculum, 6th ed. Eds. Laurence Behrens and Leonard J. Rosen. New York: Longman, 1997. 584-588.

Watson, James D. "The Human Genome Project: A Personal View." Rpt. in Writing and Reading Across the Curriculum, 6th ed. Eds. Laurence Behrens and Leonard J. Rosen. New York: Longman, 1997. 589-596.


***


AIDS: Biological Warfare or the Judgment of God?

The onset of AIDS as a worldwide epidemic during the past twenty years has sparked a number of controversies in the public arena, which is something outbreaks of disease rarely do. For example, we might deplore the spread of tuberculosis, but there is little to argue about there. AIDS arouses a host of medical, political, psychological, and religious issues that are not easily resolved. Why the controversy? What is there to argue about? It is because of the way HIV is spread--primarily through behaviors which society frowns on. The exception, of course, would be those who become infected through no fault of their own--recipients of blood transfusions or otherwise inadvertently infected. This category is an increasingly tiny minority thanks to effective blood-screening procedures and other protective measures. The vast majority get HIV either through sexual contact or intravenous drug use. The fact that AIDS is a deadly, non-curable disease--one that kills with excruciating slowness--produces the characteristic air of hysteria. In many ways, AIDS is the "black plague" of the modern era. But is it "the Judgment of God" on sinners, as many Christians believe, or is it simply a natural phenomenon, an example of what might be considered biological warfare?

Sociologists believe that religion began thousands of years ago as primitive man tried to explain natural phenomena. Thus, there was a sun god, a moon god, a wind god, a river god, or what have you. The forces of nature are not always kind, and this resulted in a fear of the "gods," which developed into rituals designed to appease--some of them involving things like human sacrifice. The common thinking was that when disaster struck--when there was a flood, drought, earthquake, pestilence--one must have "offended the gods." Conversely, when good things happened, the gods were pleased.

However, if that was the full extent of it, if there were nothing more than superstition and foolishness involved, all traces of religion would have vanished long ago. Religion has an unseen, intangible aspect, a moral component that resonates with man's inner being. Therefore, no matter how far science advances, world religions do not diminish. Science, which deals exclusively with the physical world, cannot address the spiritual and moral concerns of human beings. Contrary to popular belief, not all scientists are atheists; many are practicing members of one faith or another.

A major shift in religion's development occurred with the rise of the Jewish people. The religious practice depicted in the book of Genesis seems to differ little from other local varieties. But with Moses and the Ten Commandments, religion goes from being a set of prescribed rituals to a moral code. The "thou shalts" and "shalt nots" of the Commandments have nothing to do with ritual. Nevertheless, there is still plenty of incentive to appease the "jealous" God of the Old Testament. Indeed, whenever the children of Israel stray from righteousness, plagues befall them.

Christianity introduced an even higher standard. Whereas the Old Testament relationship between God and man was master-servant, Jesus taught that God was a Father and human beings His children. The struggle between his new vision of God, professed by the few that followed him, and the traditional view of the majority--who stubbornly clung to their old, comfortable beliefs--eventually resulted in his death. Apparently, the world was not ready for a God of love.

The point is, there has always been a struggle between "old" and "new" in religious thought. Christianity has developed tremendously in 2000 years and many of the great moral dilemmas have been resolved. But the enlightened view always seems to be in the minority. The majority of Christians, unfortunately, are stuck in a netherworld somewhere between the Old Testament and New. Hence, the rise of fundamentalism. In fundamentalism ignorance achieves new heights as believers zealously insist that the words of the Bible, written thousands of years ago, are literally true. For example, no matter how much scientific evidence may be amassed proving the earth to be more than four billion years old, the fundamentalist holds that the earth is no more than 6000 years old and was created in six days. Some even think that the sun revolves around the earth--which is dead still at the center of the universe. They believe that the miracles in the Bible occurred exactly as described--no matter how impossible. Most incredible of all, they believe that the events depicted in the book of Revelation (regarded as a symbolist piece by scholars) will happen literally. Amazingly enough, this medieval viewpoint is alive and well in A.D. 2000. It's even gaining ground. Is it any wonder, then, that such thinking would persist in calling AIDS "the Judgment of God"?

If AIDS is the Judgment of God, then I ask:

• Why do "innocent" people get the disease? Examples: blood transfusion recipients, infants born of HIV positive mothers, etc.
• Why is it that not everyone who indulges in "immoral" activity gets infected? HIV still infects a minority.
• Why are there non-progressors? How do these people get HIV but never develop AIDS? Why are they allowed to "cheat" God?
• Why now? If God wanted to wipe out sinners, why didn't He do it centuries ago? Homosexuality, promiscuity, drug abuse--none of these things are new.
• Why does the Almighty need a virus to do His work? Why not just strike sinners dead with His supernatural powers?

In other words, the idea that AIDS is Divine Retribution is pure bullshit.

From a scientific perspective, the outbreak of AIDS is just another example of what might be considered biological warfare. The vast, unseen world of micro-organisms is the foundation of all other life. All plants and animals on earth today are multicellular, each organism being composed of countless cells. Yet, multicellular is a relatively recent development. Life has existed on earth for about four billion years, but the first multicelled organisms did not appear until 800 million years ago. If we compare the age of the earth to one solar year*--January 1 to December 31--then 800 million years ago corresponds to about mid-October. Life didn't even begin to creep from the oceans onto dry land until December of our "year." Human beings have only been on earth since 11:00 PM on December 31, and all of man's recorded history has occurred within the final minute--from 11:59 PM. So most of life's history on earth--an unimaginable stretch of time--has been the story of micro-organisms. In that world, the struggle for food, procreation, and survival is just as vigorous as the most savage African jungle.

All the cells that make up plant, animal, and human bodies are called eukaryotes. Eukaryotes contain a tiny nucleus embedded deep within. Surrounding it is a gelatinous substance called cytoplasm, and all of it is enclosed in a membrane called the "cell wall." The production of enzymes, which regulates the life functions of the cell, is controlled by the nucleus. A eukaryotic cell, however, represents a high order of life on the evolutionary scale. They first appeared about one billion years ago (late August on our scale).

A much more primitive kind of life are prokaryotes. These are bacteria--10 to 100 times smaller than eukaryotes and lacking a nucleus. They do contain DNA and RNA, however, which is all the necessary genetic material. Eukaryotes evolved from prokaryotes, just as multicelled organisms evolved from single-celled. In fact, prokaryotes can almost be regarded as independent, self-sufficient nuclei. They first appeared about three billion years ago (mid-April on our scale).

The core of these micro-organisms is the genetic material, or chromosomes. Within the chromosome fragments, or genes, lies the DNA. DNA (or RNA) is composed of nucleic acid--called nucleotides. The DNA is both a storehouse of information and a "control center," directing the production of proteins and enzymes. A virus, thousands of times smaller than a typical prokaryote, consists simply of DNA (or RNA) and a protein coat. There is some debate about whether these things are even truly "alive." For example, a virus can be frozen solid or dehydrated, and stored seemingly forever. But when thawed it can resume its life cycle. Viruses lack the ability to procreate on their own; they are by nature parasites that must invade a cell and take over its enzyme production to create new viruses. These simple organisms first appeared about 3.8 billion years ago (early February on our scale).

Viruses may almost be considered detached chromosomes that have somehow
developed a parasitic way of survival. If prokaryotes evolved from viruses (they had to have come from somewhere), they could not be the viruses of today. Today's viruses may even have "de-volved" in reverse manner, shedding unnecessary material in favor of a more fecund way of life.

The warfare being waged in the microverse is even more ruthless than what we observe in our world. And it has been going on far longer. Viruses prey upon prokaryotes and eukaryotes; prokaryotes prey upon eukaryotes and multicelled organisms; multicelled organisms prey upon each other. It's all a seemingly mindless struggle for procreation and survival. That's all HIV is, nothing more.

In conclusion I must draw attention to two inescapable facts: 1) the existence of HIV is no one's fault--it is a natural phenomenon. And its introduction into the human population may also be no one's fault; however, 2) the fact that HIV and AIDS has become an epidemic is due entirely to the reckless and irresponsible behavior of human beings. We have no one to blame but ourselves.

Although everyone agrees that intravenous drug use is a form of slow suicide, there may be some controversy over sexual practices. Traditional--that is, religious--morality insists on abstinence before marriage and strict monogamy afterward. If this moral standard were rigorously and universally practiced, there would not be an AIDS epidemic. Although Christianity advocates this morality, it doesn't offer any concrete reason for it. It's almost as if God wants us to deny basic human nature. However, I would argue that aside from the spiritual costs of immorality--broken marriages, damage to children, etc.--there are also biological hazards. If there is a Creator, then He created the microverse and knows full well the dangers inherent in it. Thus, a commandment like "Thou shalt not commit adultery" may be for the sake of our physiological, as well as spiritual, protection. But how could the ancients have known that?

Ethical codes exist for our protection. Those who violate them are putting themselves at risk. If one goes to the top of the Empire State building, one will find guard rails. Their purpose is not to restrict our "freedom" but to protect us. If a person ignores the guard rails, jumps over them, then slips and falls to his doom, is that the "Judgment of God"? No, that's gravity. Therefore, let's not blame God for our own recklessness.

*See "Measuring the Age of the Earth."



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Legislating Morality


1. The Harm Principle

First, as in all philosophical discourse, we need to define our terms. What exactly do we mean by "morality"? My dictionary equates it to "virtue," standards of behavior that conform to "principles of right and wrong," and so forth. There are two basic categories we may consider: a) morality as a matter of individual conscience, and b) what we might call "public morality"--i.e. ethical standards that are commonly accepted among a people, whether a nation (like the United States), a private organization (like the Methodist Church), a traditional tribal group (like the Cherokee Indians), or a family unit (yours or mine). I suggest that part of the dilemma about whether "morality" should be legislated involves a failure to distinguish matters of private conscience from those of public mores (although it is extremely difficult to see either as wholly separate from the other). By "legislation," we are referring to acts of law-making bodies, such as the U.S. Congress or Virginia Assembly. So, to what extent, then, should a law-making body attempt to regulate the moral choices of its citizens? Consider John Stuart Mill's "harm principle":

"Mill proposes what he describes as a 'very simple principle' as being 'entitled to govern absolutely the dealings of society with the individual in the way of compulsion and control'. The principle asserted that 'The only purpose for which power can rightfully be exercised over any member of a civilised community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others'... Mill's 'harm principle' has sometimes been taken to suggest an atomistic view of society such that there is an area of private conduct which does not impinge on others at all, and which falls outside the law's proper domain for that reason. As his critics were quick to point out, only the most trivial actions are devoid of effects upon others."

What are some examples of private conscience? The most fundamental is probably religious belief. From the standpoint of American law, at least, whether one believes in God, practices a religion, is an atheist or an agnostic, or none of the above, is not an item that can be legislated. But in medieval Europe (and in some parts of colonial America, for that matter), religious faith was compulsory--"heresy" could get you burned at the stake. In Afghanistan under the Taliban one religious faith or another was mandatory; citizens had to register their affiliations with the authorities. Under Islamic law, apostasy is a crime punishable by death. Other examples of private conscience might include such things as use of drugs, tobacco, alcohol, or sexual practices between consenting adults. But in every case, arguments can be made on both sides as to whether this act or that "harms" another person, thus the criticism of Mill:

"A number of other serious problems are associated with the harm principle. One question concerns the compatibility of the principle with Mill's commitment to utilitarianism. For should not a utilitarian legislator take account of all of the effects of an action, before deciding upon its prohibition? If some people suffer deep unhappiness at the very thought of acts of which they disapprove being performed in private, how can this unhappiness be justifiably ignored from the viewpoint of utility? It has been suggested that a utilitarian legislator should disregard such unhappiness in so far as it flows from the adoption of nonutilitarian moral views."

Like every other abstract theory, utilitarianism does not translate well to the real world. Just because it looks good on paper does not mean that it's practical or feasible. When Congress passes a law, for instance, there follows the problem of enforcing it. My favorite example of this is the Prohibition. The Eighteenth Amendment, ratified in 1919, outlawed alcoholic beverages in the United States. Ultimately, however, the Prohibition failed because it was unenforceable. Far from instilling greater morality in the nation, what it really did was create an environment for organized crime to flourish in. Thus, it was repealed in 1933. Many laws have been written concerning the "private" lives of consenting adults, some of which may still be on the books, but how do you enforce them? Do we form a morality police to spy on people's bedrooms? Like the Prohibition, the cure turns out to be worse than the disease.

2. Positive and Critical Morality

One way we can clarify this debate is to consider the distinction between positive and critical morality: "Positive" morality is specific to a certain group. Let's consider it as defined by the Roman Catholic Church. In this case, by referencing canon law and statements of the Pope (or previous popes), it is not too difficult to arrive at a clear definition of what is "moral" vs. "immoral": a ban on premarital or extramarital sex, divorce not permitted, birth control strongly discouraged, no female clergy, abortion not allowed, and so on. But the curious thing is to look in history to a time when virtually everyone believed this type of morality had to be enforced--upon pain of death if necessary. In colonial Virginia, for example, there were laws on the books making "heresy" a crime [this example refers to the Anglican Church, but the principle is the same]. Heresy would be something like refusing to acknowledge the Trinity. Thus, if you publicly refused to acknowledge the tripartite God, you could be prosecuted and a) be excluded from holding public office, b) lose your property, c) lose custody of your children, d) spend three years in jail without bond, or e) be burned at the stake (Randall, 1993, p.198). How's that for "enforcing morality"? Similarly, positive morality could be of the Islamic brand, Taliban style. Thus, such things as watching western movies, listening to secular radio, wearing "non-Islamic" dress, dancing, playing chess, refusing to register your religious affiliation with authorities, appearing in public clean shaven (for men), appearing in public without a veil (for women), etc., were violations of law and strictly enforced. So how do you criticize or condemn these practices on a moral basis? Through critical morality. According to Hart:

"It is salutary to inquire precisely what it is that is prima facie objectionable in the legal enforcement of morality; for the idea of legal enforcement is in fact less simple than is often assumed. It has two different but related aspects. One is the actual punishment of the offender. This characteristically involves depriving him of liberty of movement or of property or of association with family or friends, or the infliction upon him of physical pain or even death. All these are things which are assumed to be wrong to inflict on others without special justification, and in fact they are so regarded by the law and morality of all developed societies. To put it as a lawyer would, these are things which, if they are not justified as sanctions, are delicts or wrongs" (1988, p.44).

Critical morality takes positive morality to task, and for good reason: one man's morality is another man's witch-hunt or Inquisition. Consider the precepts of positive morality--the Roman Catholic version, say--in relation to what Hart pointed out above. Enforcing the Catholic canon through legislative acts would result in any number of outrages. Premarital sex might be a misdemeanor while adultery would be a felony; divorce would be unobtainable, use of contraceptives a misdemeanor, and abortion a capital crime. Misdemeanors can result in fines, probation, and up to 12 months in jail; felonies can result in fines, probation, and more than 12 months in a state correctional facility; and a capital crime, of course, can bring the death penalty. Is this how we want to treat "immoral" people who cannot control their sexual urges, choose not to have children (even when married), or go so far as to abort a pregnancy? However contemptible some behaviors might be--e.g. the man who cheats on his wife (or vice versa)--it is very difficult to argue that such persons are a danger to society and should be incarcerated. The punishments that the state inflicts on offenders are quite severe and must be morally justified. Suppose a woman is raped and becomes pregnant; suppose she gets an illegal abortion because she cannot bear the thought of having the child; suppose she is caught, prosecuted, and convicted? Now she sits on death row, waiting to be executed. I submit that the "justice" deigned by the state is morally unjustified. That's why we have a secular government in the United States and most western countries.

The second aspect of legal enforcement, discussed by Hart, is more diffuse than the first:

"[It] bears on those who may never offend against the law, but are coerced into obedience by the threat of legal punishment. This rather than physical restrictions is what is normally meant in the discussion of political arrangements by restrictions on liberty. Such restrictions, it is to be noted, may be thought of as calling for justification for several quite distinct reasons. The unimpeded exercise by individuals of free choice may be held a value in itself with which it is prima facie wrong to interfere; or it may be thought valuable because it enables individuals to experiment--even with living--and to discover things valuable both to themselves and to others" (1988, p.45).

This might be understood in terms of "specific deterrence" and "normative validation." In other words, society has a vested interest in punishing or deterring certain behaviors (e.g. murder, larceny, fraud, etc.) while rewarding their opposites--that is, if one's continued liberty can be called a "reward." By punishing unlawful actions society validates desired, or lawful, actions. So long as we have limited government, one that does not inveigle itself into every private corner of citizen's lives, specific deterrence and normative validation can be justified. But where government becomes too powerful, either through extreme political ideology (as in Nazi Germany) or through a fusion of church and state (as in modern day Iran), it becomes increasingly difficult to justify either concept. For one thing, it enforces conformity to some desired standard; and where the standard is unrealistic, doctrinaire, or irrational, it is tantamount to slavery if enshrined in law. Nazi Germany had this ideal of the ubermensch¬--or "superman"--which was supposed to be the heritage of the Aryan Race: six-foot tall, blonde, blue eyes, muscular physique, intellectually superior, etc. Nazi eugenics aimed at "purifying" the bloodlines so that this type of German would rule all Europe (and the U.S. too if WWII had gone the other way). According to Hitler, "inferior" races were fit only for menial labor. Point is, under such horrific conditions it is impossible for human ingenuity and innovation to assert itself, for these things thrive only in an atmosphere of freedom. Hart continues:

"But interference with individual liberty may be thought an evil requiring justification for simpler, utilitarian reasons; for it is itself the infliction of a special form of suffering--often very acute--on those whose desires are frustrated by the fear of punishment. This is of particular importance in the case of laws enforcing a sexual morality. They may create misery of a quite special degree. For both the difficulties involved in the repression of sexual impulses and the consequences of repression are quite different from those involved in the abstention from 'ordinary' crime. Unlike sexual impulses, the impulse to steal or to wound or even kill is not, except in a minority of mentally abnormal cases, a recurrent and insistent part of daily life" (ibid).

There is a distinct difference between the criminal and non-criminal personality, he seems to be saying. The former is considered "abnormal." We're not talking about the person who may, in a moment of rage, have to suppress his desire to injure or kill another person; nor are we talking about the individual who may be tempted to steal a desired object if he sees the chance of getting away with it. We are talking precisely about those individuals who lack such controls: that is the source of the so-called abnormality. Most people have sufficient self-control, or may have no proclivities in that area at all, due to the ability to empathize with other human beings. Which is the basis for the Golden Rule: how would you like it if someone did that to YOU? But unlike truly criminal behaviors, everyone has to deal with sexual urges. Part of the reason is biological, for the unconscious urge to procreate the species overrides just about all other concerns. Sex urges can be compared to other desires, like that for food, sleep, or shelter. Those may be necessary for the individual, but sexual reproduction is absolutely essential if humankind is to avoid extinction. This may be part of the reason why many people foolishly bring ruin upon themselves so that they can satisfy their urges. There is such a thing as sexual pathology, of course, but the main reason western culture has moved away from criminalizing private sexual practices between consenting adults is humanitarian in nature. If you happen to have your life "under control" in that regard, you are to be commended; but let's have a measure of compassion for those who do not. That is why I, for example, refused to condemn former President Bill Clinton for his indiscretions. His accusers sounded shrill and uncompassionate to me, not to mention hypocritical.


3. Challenging the Harm Principle
[A]

Although J.S. Mill's "Harm Principle" would argue otherwise, there are justifications for outlawing prostitution and homosexuality. First, we should consider the fact that "illegal" does not always coincide with "immoral." For example, sexual relations between husband and wife are not considered immoral--neither by law nor religious tradition. But if a married couple should have these relations publicly, in the middle of Times Square, say, they would be arrested and charged with public indecency (at the very least). Thus, even though the act itself could hardly be called "immoral," it is offensive if performed in public. Similarly, regardless of one's opinion about such things as prostitution or homosexuality, it is clear that open displays of these behaviors are offensive to public mores. For this reason they should be controlled by law. According to Feinberg:

"In its untechnical, prelegal sense, the word 'obscenity' refers to material dealing with nudity, sex, or excretion in an offensive manner. Such material becomes obscene in the legal sense when, because of its offensiveness or some other reason... it is or ought to be without legal protection. The legal definition then incorporates the everyday sense, and essential to both is the requirement that the material be offensive. An item may offend one person and not another. 'Obscenity,' if it is to avoid this subjective reality, must involve an interpretational objective sense of 'offensive.' Material must be offensive by prevailing community standards that are public and well known, or be such that it is apt to offend virtually everyone" (1988, p.61).

Here, the issue is not so much morality vs. immorality but one of public decorum. Some behaviors are acceptable in the public arena while others are not. It is, of course, a notoriously ethnocentric affair in making these determinations. For instance, in traditional Islamic societies women are not allowed in public without a male family-member escort. They have to wear the veils and long garments; nothing but eyes and hands are supposed to be visible. When foreign women visit these countries, clad in western-style clothing--even if it is conservative by our standards--Muslim men are deeply offended by this. Women who venture out alone or without their concealing garments are apt to be assaulted and spat upon. That's just the way it is there. In Oriental cultures women are expected to be subservient to men, almost like servants. That's why western women, especially Americans, are so offensive in their eyes. Not that I personally agree with any of this, but public decorum is something the law takes quite seriously. America is, in my opinion, much too permissive, and a lot of what I see in movies, on television, and in public is offensive to me. But even we have our standards. Most people agree that open displays of nudity (e.g. Janet Jackson at the Superbowl!), sexual activity, and so on, is offensive and should not be tolerated. At least, young children should not be exposed to it. Community standards prevail. To say that prostitution should be outlawed does not necessarily mean that it should be criminalized--that is, made into a felony--but it should not be tolerated in public. It is offensive to community standards, and whether you believe that it's "immoral" or not is beside the point. Similarly, homosexuality is quite offensive when publicly exhibited. Gay rights activists don't seem to comprehend this fact. They accuse the straight world of "bigotry" and insist that their lifestyle be accepted by one and all. They compare their plight to that of African-Americans during the Civil Rights struggle. That comparison, however, is based on a fallacy: Being born African-American (or any race) has nothing to do with morals. It's ontological--what type of being you happen to be. One's sexual practices, however, (homosexual, heterosexual, etc.) does not concern ontology but behavior. Sexual orientation (at least insofar as it's practiced) does involve morals. Thus, homosexuality can be considered just another perversion, like pedophilia or voyeurism.

[B]

One of the problems with drug laws in the United States is the obvious discrimination between legal substances (alcohol and tobacco) and illegal ones (marijuana, cocaine, heroin, etc.)--all of which are clearly harmful. The damage to society--both in monetary and human costs--from the legal substances far outweigh those of the illegal, yet it is the illegal that stirs controversy. Such apparent hypocrisy undercuts any attempt to moralize about the evils of drug use. Is it primarily a public health problem or one for the criminal courts? This matter is obscured because of the violent and dangerous black market of drug trafficking. In countries like Columbia or Argentina drug cartels are powerful enough to threaten the government. It is conceivable that a cartel could amass such power as to stage a coup and become the government! But it is the illegality of cocaine and other products that helps create and maintain the black market. Drug trafficking and all the crime that goes with it is certainly a matter of public policy--and thus public morality; but what about the strictly private use of an illegal substance? On what basis do we argue against the use of, say, marijuana, as opposed to the use of alcohol? Both are harmful to the individual if used in excess; both pose legitimate public safety issues; both can wreak havoc on families and communities if abused. Marijuana has been criticized as a "gateway" drug that leads the user toward harder and more dangerous substances (which is quite true), but grass itself is a mild intoxicant that poses no immediate harm to the user. Alcohol, on the other hand, seems to be a gateway only to alcoholism, and an overdose can be lethal (every year in the news you read about some college student drinking himself to death at a party). Although Joel Fienberg's piece does not directly address drug use, he does see a difficulty in using laws to regulate private behaviors:

"Immoral conduct is no trivial thing, and we should hardly expect societies to tolerate it; yet if men are forced to refrain from immorality, their own choices will play very little role in what they do, so that they can hardly develop critical judgment and moral traits of a genuinely praiseworthy kind. Thus legal enforcement of morality seems to pose a dilemma. The problem does not arise if we assume that all immoral conduct is socially harmful, for immoral conduct will then be prohibited by law not just to punish sin or to 'force men to be moral,' but rather to prevent harm to others. If, however, there are forms of immorality that do not necessarily cause harm, 'the problem of the enforcement of morality' becomes especially acute" (1988, p.55).

My question: is legislation the proper instrument by which to secure private morality? It is certainly the instrument by which we maintain public safety and pursue goals deemed necessary by the collective. Thus, these dangerous substances should (and must) be regulated by legislation. But that does not mean they should be criminalized. I've already used the example of the Prohibition, so there's no need to go into it again. The real issue here is the extent of governmental power. Writing about society in normative terms means that it is easy to say "people shouldn't use dangerous drugs," or "people shouldn't drink excessively" (in fact, some people shouldn't drink at all). Similarly, you can say "husbands shouldn't cheat on their wives," or "parents shouldn't mistreat their children." Citing innumerable instances of social harm that results from all those activities, it is tempting to suggest maybe the law--that is, government--should step in and force people to behave like decent human beings. But should government be that powerful and invasive? Fact is, American law, based on English common law, is founded upon more libertarian principles. In essence, laws are written for the sake of the public welfare, not to inhibit the exercise of private conscience. "Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness" implies that governmental intrusion must be held to a minimum. What is the problem, then, with using law to regulate strictly private behavior--as in the example of our dope-smoker? First, it greatly increases the government's power, which is itself inherently dangerous (if you wish to live under a government that is nearly omnipotent, move to North Korea). Second, the value of human life is cheapened. Liberty means autonomy and the power to make one's own decisions; but it also means that some will make the wrong decisions. Without liberty, what do you have? Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia, Mao's China. Private morality, I contend, is the proper concern of religion, philosophy, and education, as well as the informal standards set by civil society. It should not be the State's concern.


4. Supreme Court Decisions
[A]

As is the case with drugs, alcohol, tobacco, and firearms, the government may have a vested interest in regulating (not necessarily outlawing) obscenity, both in its graphic form (pornography) and its utterance. Indeed, these issues are currently being hotly debated in the public forum and in Congress. U2's Bono (real name Paul Hewson) uttered a few choice expletives during an awards show broadcast a few weeks ago, then there was the now infamous Janet Jackson (ahem) "wardrobe malfunction" at the Superbowl. A House Subcommittee has convened a hearing on "public decency," and legislation is pending to tightly regulate radio and television programming. It's understood that broadcast medium has to be under some governmental control--after all, any child in the nation can access it by switching on the TV or radio. But the proposed legislation also has provisions for cable programming as well. All this raises the ugly specter of censorship. The question is--what level of censorship is acceptable to the First Amendment's free speech guarantee?
I should point out, first of all, that free speech has its limits--not all speech is protected. For example, slander is prohibited by law, as is libel; inciting acts of violence is not protected speech; and as Roth v. United States (1957) points out, neither is obscenity:

"All ideas having even the slightest redeeming social importance - unorthodox ideas, controversial ideas, even ideas hateful to the prevailing climate of opinion - have the full protection of the guaranties [of the First Amendment], unless excludable because they encroach upon the limited area of more important interests. But implicit in the history of the First Amendment is the rejection of obscenity as utterly without redeeming social importance. This rejection for that reason is mirrored in the universal judgment that obscenity should be restrained, reflected in the international agreement of over 50 nations, in the obscenity laws of all of the 48 States, and in the 20 obscenity laws enacted by the Congress from 1842 to 1956."
The purpose of free speech is for the health of the republic, as Justice Brennan wrote in New York Times v. Sullivan, “[it] was fashioned to insure unfettered interchange of ideas for the bringing about of political and social changes desired by the people…” and that “[it] presupposes that right conclusions are more likely to be gathered out of a multitude of tongues, than through any kind of authoritative selection.” Free speech is thus more for the listener's benefit than the speaker's, in the sense that in a republic, the people should have unrestricted access to a wide variety of political, philosophical, theological, and every other type of opinion. This is reflected in our public libraries. Go into virtually any library in the United States and you will find copies of books like Mein Kampf by Adolph Hitler, and ¬The Communist Manifesto by Marx and Engels. The ideas contained in these documents are contrary to everything the United States stands for, yet there they are, freely available to anyone who wants to read them. Do books like these have "even the slightest redeeming social importance"? I hold that they do. First, they provide a guidepost as to what we're trying to avoid in America: intolerance, racism, centralized authority. Second, they demonstrate the value of free exchange--that in the "war of words" the truth is bound to emerge. How can we know the truth without simultaneously knowing untruth? Propaganda means presenting one, and only one, side to the story. Even if your rhetoric represents the pristine truth, there must still be something to compare it to. For example, if you write an argumentative paper supportive of a thesis--even the world's greatest thesis--your paper is not acceptable unless it contains counterarguments. Otherwise, it's just useless propaganda.

But it is hard to make similar statements in favor of obscenity or pornography. Spoken obscenity--that is, "seven words you can't say on television"--is vulgar, but that's the way people talk. That's the way people have always talked in private, but there is no compelling social interest in having it as part of our public discourse [note: if I filled this message with expletives, I would be sternly reprimanded since it violates the "public respect" provision of the syllabus]. Thus, the FCC is within its regulatory jurisdiction to fine radio or television stations that air objectionable material. What social value does pornography possess? As far as I know, all it generates is moral depravity. I'm not sure that the government should concern itself with that (the domain of religion I'd say), but there is the danger of exposing children to it. Or if it's in a public place there's the issue of inadvertent exposure.


Now for the dissenting view. Previously I argued that such undemocratic and un-American documents as Mein Kampf and Communist Manifesto possess a sort of redeeming social value--albeit an inverted one. In the search for truth, censorship of minority views obscures rather than clarifies. "Truth" as a concept might best be represented as scientific in nature, and inherent in science is the doctrine of falsifiability. In other words, for a premise to be scientific one must be able to prove it wrong; being able to prove it "right" is insufficient. Ignoring the doctrine of falsifiability leads some scientists to disregard evidence that contradicts their theories while publishing only that which supports them--a cardinal sin in science. Similarly, in our great Democratic Experiment all the evidence is needed, even that which contradicts. Can the worthiness of liberal American values be taught only by allowing documents like the Declaration of Independence, Federalist Papers, or "whitewashed" U.S. histories? Can the superior nature of "freedom" (as opposed to slavery) be demonstrated by book banning and censorship? It could be argued that censorship of minority opinions only makes them more attractive and powerful; freedom of speech and the press undercuts their subversive appeal. Justices Douglas and Black make a similar argument in their dissent in Roth v. United States:

"I can understand (and at times even sympathize) with programs of civic groups and church groups to protect and defend the existing moral standards of the community. I can understand the motives of the Anthony Comstocks who would impose Victorian standards on the community. When speech alone is involved, I do not think that government, consistently with the First Amendment, can become the sponsor of any of these movements. I do not think that government, consistently with the First Amendment, can throw its weight behind one school or another. Government should be concerned with antisocial conduct, not with utterances. Thus, if the First Amendment guarantee of freedom of speech and press is to mean anything in this field, it must allow protests even against the moral code that the standard of the day sets for the community. In other words, literature should not be suppressed merely because it offends the moral code of the censor."

Might it not be argued, then, that "morality" can only be achieved if "immorality" is freely available? Is this a sound equation--are obscenity, indecency, and pornography the moral equivalent of undemocratic and un-American political views? Why should one be available in our free society and not the other? In a sense, Douglas and Black are correct: the government has no vested interest in sponsoring (or censuring) mere speech; it is ACTION that is subject to governmental oversight. For example, the American Communist Party may have the freedom to peacefully assemble and indulge in whatever rhetoric they fancy, but if they should take up arms and attempt to overthrow the U.S. government by force (as per the Communist Manifesto, which calls for violent revolution), they could be charged with treason and sedition. Or if the American Nazi Party built death camps such as Auschwitz and Treblinka somewhere in Montana, began rounding up Jews (or any other non-Aryan), then shipping them there to be gassed, the government would have to step in to stop it. Free speech is one thing, criminal behavior another. What we call obscenity impacts the public forum--public places, public airwaves, literature, the Internet... and there is a vested interest in maintaining some degree of public decorum. As I said before, why can't we walk down the street naked? Why can't we perform sexual acts in public? Not because these things are necessarily "immoral" but because they offend public decency. What you do in the privacy of your own home is no one's business. According to Douglas and Black, "Government should be concerned with antisocial conduct, not with utterances." I tend to agree. But I would remind, even some utterances qualify as "antisocial conduct." Take conspiracy laws, for example. Suppose you devise a plan to rob a bank, then you invite a friend to assist in the holdup, then that friend invites another to drive the getaway car. Even though you've done nothing but talk, the crime of conspiracy has been committed. Now, if some link could be empirically proven between obscenity and criminality, that would bring a whole new dimension to the discussion. Although I personally think such a link exists, it is scientifically elusive.

[B]

According to the Supreme Court, for material to be shorn of First Amendment protection (meaning it qualifies as "obscenity"), "three elements must coalesce: it must be established that (a) the dominant theme of the material taken as a whole appeals to a prurient interest in sex; (b) the material is patently offensive because it affronts contemporary community standards relating to the description or representation of sexual matters; and (c) the material is utterly without redeeming social value" [383 U.S. 413]. It does seem rather ludicrous that Supreme Court Justices of the United States should be required, as part of their judicial duties, to pore through endless reams of pornographic material to determine whether this piece or that has any "redeeming social value." Just what do we mean by "social value," anyway? Who is officially in charge of establishing "contemporary community standards"? And so on. I read enough of Fanny Hill to recognize that it is an early-modern sex novel, certainly qualifies as pornographic, and would most likely offend a majority of ordinary citizens. It reminds me a bit of Henry Miller, whose novels happen to be both pornographic and classic English literature. Although FH fails sections "a" and "b" of the three pronged test, section "c" is not so easily defined. Again I ask, just what is "redeeming social value"? There was a hit movie about ten years ago called Basic Instinct starring Michael Douglas and Sharon Stone. This film caused quite a stir when it came out because of its graphic sex scenes (in fact, it was originally rated X and had to be cut substantially to get an R rating). But Basic Instinct was a murder-suspense movie, not a cheap sex flick; the sexual content of the film was essential to the story line. Something of this nature, like FH, skirts the borderline of art and pornography. After all, Michelangelo’s "David" is a world renowned sculpture--a masterpiece by any definition. The fact that it is a nude male figure doesn't seem to offend anyone, save the most paranoid-puritanical among us. On the other hand, there is a vast quantity of material out there--graphic as well as literary--with no pretense of art at all; its sole purpose is sexual stimulation. The total absence of any traditional literary or artistic merit seems to be what the Supreme Court is trying to establish, and it's not too hard to see that FH does possess a modicum of literary merit (although it doesn't interest me). Those who are offended do not have to read the book.

One question I have to ask, however: what qualifies a Supreme Court Justice (or a preponderance of them) to determine the literary merits of this or that disputed book? This is the essence of Justice Douglas' concurring opinion: "We are judges, not literary experts or historians or philosophers. We are not competent to render an independent judgment as to the worth of this or any other book, except in our capacity as private citizens. I would pair my Brother CLARK on Fanny Hill with the Universalist minister I quote in the Appendix. If there is to be censorship, the wisdom of experts on such matters as literary merit and historical significance must be evaluated. On this record, the Court has no choice but to reverse the judgment of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, irrespective of whether we would include Fanny Hill in our own libraries" (ibid). This is like asking the Supreme Court to rank the top forty records of the Billboard charts--isn't that work best left to others? Expecting the Judicial Branch of the U.S. government to make judgments about artistic and literary works is a dubious science at best. And as the discussion question points out, how do you prove a negative? How do you demonstrate empirically that such and such has no redeeming value whatsoever? Actually, what you're asking the government to do is to define what acceptable public taste is. But acceptable to whom? The religious right? Muslim extremists? The moderate elements of the religious community or of the secular community? The (comparatively) small numbers of Americans who partake of the porn are no doubt offended by the judgmental rhetoric of the puritans. Douglas continues: "Every time an obscenity case is to be argued here, my office is flooded with letters and postal cards urging me [383 U.S. 413, 428] to protect the community or the Nation by striking down the publication. The messages are often identical even down to commas and semicolons. The inference is irresistible that they were all copied from a school or church blackboard. Dozens of postal cards often are mailed from the same precinct. The drives are incessant and the pressures are great. Happily we do not bow to them. I mention them only to emphasize the lack of popular understanding of our constitutional system" (ibid). It is not the government's job to rubberstamp the religious right's sectarian bias. There was a flap a few years ago over Kurt Vonnegut's novel Slaughterhouse Five (a work based on the author's army experiences in WWII) because it contained an expletive; the book was promptly banned from school libraries. Vonnegut stated that he included the expletive because that's the way soldiers talked. Personally, I believe that this sort of mindless censorship is far more threatening to our republic than any expletive.

[C]

The term "community standards" is a hopelessly nebulous idea, bounded by political-religious-cultural bias on the one hand, and temporality on the other. The U.S. Supreme Court is, presumably, making decisions that will affect the entire nation; but is there any one definitive, predominant "community" in the United States? Actually, the USA is a vast conglomeration of independent and interlocking smaller communities. Politically, these can be seen as organized into 50 states; culturally they can be organized any number of ways. So the question is, which community are we talking about? The Republican community is no doubt offended by many things the Democratic community accepts (such as gay rights, abortion, etc.); the religious community is offended by the "immorality" of the non-religious community; the environmentalist community is offended by the attitudes and actions of the business community; and so on. For every concern, there's a counter-concern; for every agenda, there's a counter-agenda. That's what I mean by "political-religious-cultural bias." Temporality refers to the changing times and the mores that apply to those times. Community standards of today are not at all like they were even 50 years ago. The 1950s were the years my parents were young. It was the era of Eisenhower, McCarthyism, conservatism, when everyone was expected to conform--the era of Ward and June Cleaver. Before that was the Victorian era, leading up to World War I. The Puritanical standards of those days (you know, when women were forced to wear those ankle-length dresses) would have found standards of the '50s objectionable. But before the Victorian era was another, much more libertarian era--that of the 18th century. In many ways, 18th century America (the time of the American Revolution) was remarkably liberal, even compared to today: religion was declining, social controls were loosening, sexual license was not at all unheard of [note: sexual scandals surrounded virtually all the Founding Fathers, including Jefferson, Hamilton, Burr, Franklin, even the Godlike Washington]. The puritanical impulse in America did not reassert itself until the 19th century, a fact the Supreme Court grapples with in Memoirs:

"...there is an absence of any federal cases or laws relative to obscenity in the period immediately after the adoption of the First Amendment. Congress passed no legislation relating to obscenity until the middle of the nineteenth century. Neither reason nor history warrants exclusion of any particular class of expression from the protection of the First Amendment on nothing more than a judgment that it is utterly without merit. We faced the difficult questions the First Amendment poses with regard to libel in New York Times v. Sullivan, [383 U.S. 413, 431] 376 U.S. 254, 269 , where we recognized that 'libel can claim no talismanic immunity from constitutional limitations.' We ought not to permit fictionalized assertions of constitutional history to obscure those questions here. Were the Court to undertake that inquiry, it would be unable, in my opinion, to escape the conclusion that no interest of society with regard to suppression of 'obscene' literature could override the First Amendment to justify censorship."

The "fictionalized assertions of constitutional history" refers to the sort of revisionist rhetoric fashionable in Evangelical circles these days: the idea that colonial and revolutionary period America was a "golden age" of morality and vivid Christianity, that the Founding Fathers were like crusading saints seeking to establish, in America, a kingdom of God on earth, that the Constitution is based directly on "Bible principles," and so on. That's a lot of nonsense, of course. As I explained above, the 18th century was the era of Enlightenment, and it was aggressively secular. Some of the Founding Fathers were religious, others weren't. Many of them were Deists, which was damned in those days as heresy--something akin to atheism. At any rate, the U.S. government is supposed to be neutral on these matters. When one comprehends the "liberal" ideology that accompanied the revolutionary period (which, in fact, made the Revolution possible. Otherwise, the American colonies, like Canada, would have become independent at a much later date), an era very similar to the 1960s, it's not hard to see why the crusade against "obscenity" and "indecency" is somewhat at odds with the Bill of Rights. Expecting the government, in this case the Supreme Court, to define what is acceptable in terms of speech or literature, in every particular, is to reverse the proper role that the government should play--that is, the government should serve the interests of the people, not the other way around. We should not expect the Supreme Court to define public morality; rather, the Court should ascertain what the prevailing standard of morality is (and in the U.S. it is fairly well established), and uphold that standard in the least intrusive manner possible. After reading some of these cases, I believe that the Court has performed admirably and within its limits. The tricky thing about freedom is this: it has to encompass one and all. If you have freedom of worship, then you MUST, by definition, include the freedom not to worship. It must be non-compulsory. If you have freedom of speech, then even objectionable speech must be protected. If you have freedom of assembly, then even despicable groups like the KKK must be allowed to (peacefully) assemble. Of course, no right is absolute, not even in the USA. Every right and every liberty has to be qualified in some way.

The main problem I see with Justice Clark's dissent in the Memoirs case is the lack of any hard, empirical evidence proving that pornography "can lead to criminal behavior." There is some "expert" testimony to that effect, but that testimony seems to be little more than opinion. Similarly, Clark, when considering the literary and artistic merits of Fanny Hill, rejects "expert" testimony that contradicts his opinion of the book. If law at this highest level is supposed to be based upon facts and evidence, rather than a host of contrasting value judgments, then Justice Clark's dissent is sorely lacking. First let's consider the book's literary merits (or lack thereof). One of several experts testified, "'I think it is a work of art . . . it asks for and receives a literary response . . . presented in an orderly and organized fashion, with a fictional central character, and with a literary style . . . . I think the central character is . . . what I call an intellectual . . . someone who is extremely curious about life and who seeks . . . to record with accuracy the details of the external world, physical sensations, psychological responses . . . an empiricist . . . . I find that this tells me things . . . about the 18th century that I might not otherwise know.'" [383 U.S. 413]. To which Clark responds:

"If a book of art is one that asks for and receives a literary response, Memoirs is no work of art. The sole response evoked by the book is sensual. Nor does the orderly presentation of Memoirs make a difference; it presents nothing but lascivious scenes organized solely to arouse prurient interest and produce sustained erotic tension. Certainly the book's baroque style cannot vitiate the determination of obscenity. From a legal standpoint, we must remember that obscenity is no less obscene though it be expressed in 'elaborate language.' Indeed, the more meticulous its presentation, the more it appeals to the prurient interest. To say that Fanny is an 'intellectual' is an insult to those who travel under that tag. She was nothing but a harlot - a sensualist - exploiting her sexual attractions which she sold for fun, for money, for lodging and keep, for an inheritance, and finally for a husband. If she was curious about life, her curiosity extended only to the pursuit of sexual delight wherever she found it. The book describes nothing in the 'external world' except bawdy houses and debaucheries. As an empiricist, Fanny confines her observations and 'experiments' to sex, with primary attention to depraved, lewd, and deviant practices."

One man's art is another man's waste of time, isn't it so? Although the State could have put on expert witnesses of its own, declaring that FH had no literary value whatsoever, it did not. But the defense's experts all testified as to the book's merits. These experts were, I imagine, literary critics, college English professors, and the like. One says the book "asks for and receives a literary response," to which Clark replies, "The sole response evoked by the book is sensual." When the expert cites a literary style, Clark responds, "Certainly the book's baroque style cannot vitiate the determination of obscenity... Indeed, the more meticulous its presentation, the more it appeals to the prurient interest." Upon what does Justice Clark base that assertion? The more skillfully the thing is written, the greater its appeal to the base and degenerate? Yes, a certain amount of competence is required in any writing--even pornographic--but might not this book's "redeeming social value" be found in its use of language? Suppose for the sake of argument that Shakespeare had written and produced a pornographic play just to make a few pounds on the side. Suppose he adorned the various sex scenes with his usual, brilliant Elizabethan language? Even though we wouldn't be studying it in high school (because of its X rating), would it not be considered a work of art nonetheless? I believe that it would. Justice Clark would probably find it offensive either way. What about his statement that calling Fanny Hill an "intellectual" insults others who bear that label? Who's to say that she's not an intellectual? Just because she's a prostitute does not impugn her intelligence level. The implication is that immorality is a function of lower intelligence. I beg to differ. I doubt intelligence has anything to do with one's sense of morals--in other words, intellectuals can be just as moral or immoral as anyone else. Clearly, Clark is offended by FH and no amount of testimony is going to convince him otherwise. His opinion is full of logical contradictions; he is trying to rationalize a visceral response: instead of just saying "This offends me," he offers up a list of disingenuous reasons. Now for the idea that pornography leads to criminality:

"...there are medical experts who believe that such stimulation frequently manifests itself in criminal sexual behavior or other antisocial conduct. For example, Dr. George W. Henry of Cornell University has expressed the opinion that obscenity, with its exaggerated and morbid emphasis on sex, particularly abnormal and perverted practices, and its unrealistic presentation of sexual behavior and attitudes, may induce antisocial conduct by the average person. A number of sociologists think that this material may have adverse effects upon individual mental health, with potentially disruptive consequences for the community. In addition, there is persuasive evidence from criminologists and police officials. Inspector Herbert Case of the Detroit Police Department contends that sex murder cases are invariably tied to some form of obscene literature. And the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, J. Edgar Hoover, has repeatedly emphasized that pornography is associated with an overwhelmingly large number of sex crimes."

I hate to sound as though I'm defending pornography. The few times I've been exposed to it only made me feel sick. So I agree that porn is virtually worthless. Nevertheless, I see little evidence of sound reasoning in Justice Clark's arguments. Even my undergraduate criminology classes here at CNU drive the point relentlessly home: correlation does not equal causality. There may indeed be a correlation between pornography and sex crimes (or other criminal acts). For example, serial killer Ted Bundy blamed many of his vicious homicides on exposure to pornography. Question is, had there been no pornography, would he have still been a serial killer? Probably. Dr. George W. Henry of Cornell University expresses the opinion that obscenity MAY induce antisocial conduct...sociologists think that this material MAY have adverse effects...But on the other hand, it may not. No causality can be demonstrated. Inspector Herbert Case and J. Edgar Hoover both associate obscene literature with sex crimes; there is correlation but no causality. Even Clark admits it, writing, "...the correlation between possession of obscenity and deviant behavior has not been conclusively established..." [383 U.S. 413, 453]. It hasn't been conclusively established because it can't be. But why would there be a correlation at all? Most likely because persons who are predisposed to commit sex crimes are also predisposed to indulge in obscene literature. Let me use the example of recent sex scandals in the Catholic Church. Many Catholic priests are now being exposed as pedophiles. Many are blaming this scourge on celibacy. Is there some aspect of the priesthood, then, (such as celibacy) that turns ordinary men into pedophiles? I doubt it. I think the most likely explanation is this: the priesthood is an occupation that is quite attractive to sexually dysfunctional individuals--including pedophiles. Men who know that they will never marry or have a normal sex life may be going into the priesthood as way of avoiding their pathology. That's another example of correlation, but no causality.

[D]

The Supreme Court's Ruling in New York v. Ferber (1982) reflects the belief that there is a fundamental difference between adults and children (defined, for our purposes, as anyone underage), one which must be respected by law. To put it in legal terms, the government has a "compelling" interest in protecting children--an interest that does not necessarily extend to adults. Research, experience, and plain common sense demonstrate that abused and exploited children frequently become maladjusted, sociopathic adults--sometimes capable of horrendous crimes. For example, studies show that children who endure parental violence (and I don't mean simple corporal punishment; I mean real violence) are at high risk of becoming child-abusers themselves. Similarly, young boys who witness their fathers abusing their mothers often become spouse abusers as well. Somehow, such emotional damage perverts the normal growth process. Psychological evaluations of violent sociopaths, such as serial killers, reveal high instances of childhood trauma. By protecting children, the state is, in fact, protecting itself. What is the harmful effect of child pornography, then? According to the Court:

"The distribution of photographs and films depicting sexual activity by juveniles is intrinsically related to the sexual abuse of children in at least two ways. First, the materials produced are a permanent record of the children's participation and the harm to the child is exacerbated by their circulation. Second, the distribution network for child pornography must be closed if the production of material which requires the sexual exploitation of children is to be effectively controlled. Indeed, there is no serious contention that the legislature was unjustified in believing that it is difficult, if not impossible, to halt the exploitation of children by pursuing only those who produce the photographs and movies. While the production of pornographic materials is a low-profile, clandestine industry, the need to market the resulting products requires a visible apparatus of distribution. The most expeditious if not the only practical method of law enforcement may be to dry up the market for this material by imposing severe criminal penalties on persons selling, advertising, or otherwise promoting the product."

This argument, apparently, is meant to counter the assertion (which must have been made; otherwise the Court would not address it) that the distribution of child porn is not intrinsically harmful to children. In other words, what harm to children comes from those distributing, selling, and buying this sort of material? The harm is indirect: by creating or sustaining a demand, suppliers are sure to appear. It's like the drug market. If there was little or no demand for illegal drugs in the United States (or elsewhere), there would not be drug cartels in places like Columbia or Mexico. Without the lure of quick, easy profit (and for drugs the profits are enormous), there would be no drug dealer or supplier. Those individuals would be making a living some other way. But in the porn industry, it is the suppliers who exploit the children. By feeding the demand, distributors and their customers sustain the suppliers, and by extension the sexual abuse of children. That's why the government is just as likely to come down on a simple user as it would a distributor or supplier; they're all part of the same malignancy. In the Memoirs and Miller cases, however, the focus is on the obscene material itself (rather than the unhealthy effects on the participants). We can overlook the fact that the character of Fanny Hill was a mere fifteen years old; by the standards of that day, fifteen was not "underage" as such. The average lifespan was only about 40 years. Those who reached their 50s or 60s were uncommon specimens of health. So girls were often expected to marry right after puberty. Nevertheless, in Memoirs and Miller the Court does not address the effects of pornography on the participants--neither producer nor customer. It simply focuses on the fact that such materials are "offensive." Being offensive to community standards, obscenity does not enjoy First Amendment protection and can be regulated by statute. Strictly speaking (in those two cases), the Court is not making a moralistic judgment on the likely effects of pornography on the human soul. On that matter, they appear to be silent. Rather, they are explaining why such material is not constitutionally protected. But the argument in Ferber is otherwise, alluded to by the fact that child pornography need not be "obscene" to be illegal. Even "suggestive" material (not strictly obscene) may fall under that prohibition, and there is only one reason: it is harmful to children. That's not to say that adults remain unharmed by it. But adults have a different status under the law. Adults are supposedly capable of making mature and informed decisions, and whether they choose wisely or not is not a "compelling" governmental interest. Many are the harmful (although legal) vices available to adults, but not to children.

[E]

First, my position on abortion: I'll never have one; what others choose to do doesn't concern me. That rather poor attempt at humor (in an uncommonly humorless debate) does point out the irony inherent in the spectacle of MEN deciding whether it is lawful for women to abort their pregnancies (were there any female Justices on the Roe v. Wade Court?). Since abortion laws directly affect only the distaff side of the population, prudence would seem to dictate that justice be rendered by women. Just as no white person in America can truly understand the racial discrimination endured by blacks, no man is capable of comprehending the travails of pregnant women. Having said that, however, I find it remarkable that the Court upheld a woman's right to abortion. There is no clear historical consensus: Some pre-Christian cultures condemned the practice, others casually embraced it. As I mentioned in a previous message, infanticide was practiced in some cultures--and here there is no question that such an act is homicide. But the State justified it on grounds of preserving only the fittest and healthiest individuals; only they were deemed fit to live. Common law centered on the "quickening" period, defining it as the moment an unborn child became an entity apart from its mother. But there is also a religious tradition that regards the beginning of "life" as post-natal:
"It should be sufficient to note briefly the wide divergence of thinking on this most sensitive and difficult question. There has always been strong support for the view that life does not begin until live birth. This was the belief of the Stoics. It appears to be the predominant, though not the unanimous, attitude of the Jewish faith. It may be taken to represent also the position of a large segment of the Protestant community, insofar as that can be ascertained; organized groups that have taken a formal position on the abortion issue have generally regarded abortion as a matter for the conscience of the individual and her family. As we have noted, the common law found greater significance in quickening. Physicians and their scientific colleagues have regarded that event with less interest and have tended to focus either upon conception, upon live birth, or upon the interim point at which the fetus becomes 'viable,' that is, potentially able to live outside the mother's womb, albeit with artificial aid. Viability is usually placed at about seven months (28 weeks) but may occur earlier, even at 24 weeks" [410 U.S. 113].

I think, however, the term "life" is entirely too amorphous to be of use in this debate. Many things that we routinely exterminate as a matter of public health have "life" (flies, mosquitoes, etc.). Even "human life" is a bit vague. The controversy, in my estimation, centers upon the question: at what point does "personhood" apply? When is an individual a complete and independent human being, with citizenship, legal rights, and so on? Philosophical, moral, and theological arguments aside, what we are discussing is law. What legal precepts apply to unborn individuals? Obviously, once a person is born--once the umbilical is cut and the infant draws its first breath--it is legally "complete and independent." An infant one minute old is a U.S. citizen (if born in the United States), has constitutional rights, can get a social security number, and may even be subject to local, state, and federal taxes! According to U.S. law, children are not "sub-persons," but have full personhood from the moment of birth. But one minute prior to birth--or one hour, one day, one week, one month--the situation is not so clear. The problem comes (along with all the strife) when one attaches full "personhood" to the unborn, which is apparently the position of the anti-abortion crowd. Even if this appeals to one's personal philosophy or theology, it is a veritable can of worms when applied to the law. For example, suppose we attach full personhood in the legal sense to each individual from the moment of conception: that fertilized egg (zygote) is, by definition, a person, a U.S. citizen with legal rights and obligations. Further suppose the zygote divides, forming monozygotic twins. During pregnancy the twins struggle within the womb, such that one is born alive, the other stillborn. Do we then charge the surviving twin with manslaughter, or even murder, for the fratricide it committed? Or perhaps the mother should be charged. For legal purposes, when shall personhood be conferred? The religious position has been debated for centuries:

"The Aristotelian theory of 'mediate animation,' that held sway throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance in Europe, continued to be official Roman Catholic dogma until the 19th century, despite opposition to this 'ensoulment' theory from those in the Church who would recognize the existence of life from the moment of conception. The latter is now, of course, the official belief of the Catholic Church. As one brief amicus discloses, this is a view strongly held by many non-Catholics as well, and by many physicians. Substantial problems for precise definition of this view are posed, however, by new embryological data that purport to indicate that conception is a 'process' over time, rather than an event, and by new medical techniques such as menstrual extraction, the 'morning-after' pill, implantation of embryos, artificial insemination, and even artificial wombs" [ibid].

In short, pure science does not lend itself very well to philosophical, moral, and theological controversies (nor to legal debates, it seems to me). For practical purposes, as well as simplicity's sake, the moment of live birth should be the dividing line recognized by law. That's not to say the law cannot address a multitude of issues concerning the disposition of the unborn--i.e. it would be legally irresponsible to assert that an unborn child scant moments (or days) from birth is entitled to NO protection whatsoever. Clearly, such unborns are viable--another line of demarcation. But full personhood cannot be conferred until the moment of birth.



References

Feinberg, Joel. "Hard Cases for the Harm Principle." Rpt. in Morality and the Law, Eds. Robert M. Baird and Stuart E. Rosenbaum. Amherst, New York: Prometheus, 1988.

Hart, H.L.A. "The Legal Enforcement of Morality." Rpt. in Morality and the Law, Eds.
Robert M. Baird and Stuart E. Rosenbaum. Amherst, New York: Prometheus, 1988.

Memoirs v. Massachusetts 383 U.S. 413 (1966)

New York v. Ferber 458 U.S. 747 (1982).

New York Times v. Sullivan 376 U.S. 254 (1964)

Roe v. Wade 410 U.S. 113 (1973)

Roth v. United States 354 U.S. 476 (1957)

Randall, Willard Stern. Thomas Jefferson: A Life. New York: Holt, 1993.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Six: Law

The U.S. Supreme Court and Affirmative Action

Although Piscataway Board of Education v. Taxman never reached the U.S. Supreme Court, it was believed to pose a potential threat to all affirmative action programs. Given the choice of who to retain and who lay off, the Piscataway Board of Education kept the black teacher, Debra Williams, and laid off the white teacher, Sharon Taxman. Both were considered “equally qualified.” According to Reeves, “The white teacher, Sharon Taxman, hired by the same department on the same day as Williams, was laid off because of the school district’s affirmative action policy that expressed preference for retaining members of groups protected by affirmative action if all other qualifications are equal… The board decided to keep Debra Williams to promote diversity for its students—30 percent of whom are African American” (1999, p.155-56). Under these circumstances, I’d suggest that a few rounds of “eenie-meenie-miny-mo” would have been fairer than the actions taken by the Piscataway school board, or at least easier to justify, because the outcome would not have been determined by some political/social agenda. The fact remains: Taxman was let go because she was white.

Taxman sued on the basis of Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (Title VII), prevailed in court and got her job back, continued to sue for back pay and was awarded $144,000. When that judgment was appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, the Black Leadership Forum intervened (sensing a reversal of current affirmative action laws) and helped settle with Taxman out-of-court for $433,500. One cannot help but wonder how the Court would have ruled on Piscataway if it had got that far. This case, like all affirmative action cases, is fraught with a host of ethical, philosophical, legal, political, and practical problems. For example, is preferential hiring (and firing)—designed to right a historical wrong—simply another form of discrimination? Statutes such as Title VII seem unambiguous enough, but are they? Are there different ways of “interpreting” these laws? Do affirmative action programs mask a more subtle political agenda? In other words, are these programs ends in themselves or means to another, not so obvious, end? And how do we achieve worthwhile social objectives, such as the integration of blacks into mainstream America, without creating more division and animosity? What about those (white and black) who do not wish to be integrated?

The U.S. Supreme Court, among other institutions, has struggled to address these issues since the 1960s. To further the discussion, let’s take a look at four precedent-setting cases: University of California Regents v. Bakke (1978), United Steelworkers v. Weber (1979), Wygant v. Jackson Board of Education (1984), and Hopwood v. State of Texas (1996).


Four Affirmative Action Decisions

First, we should consider Title VII itself since it figures into several of these decisions. Title VII quite unambiguously prohibits “public or private employers… from making employee or applicant personnel decisions based on race, color, religion, gender, or national origin” (Klingner and Nalbandian, 2003, p.161). Yet, in United Steelworkers v. Weber (1979), Justice William Brennan goes to great lengths in determining “legislative intent and purpose,” citing several of the debates that preceded that enactment, to assert, essentially, that Title VII does not apply to whites: “Congress’ primary concern in enacting the prohibition against racial discrimination in Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was with ‘the plight of the Negro in our economy.’ (Remarks of Sen. Humphrey.) Before 1964, blacks were largely relegated to ‘unskilled and semi-skilled jobs.’ (Remarks of Sens. Humphrey, Clark, [and] Kennedy.) Because of automation the number of such jobs was rapidly decreasing. (See remarks of Sens. Humphrey [and] Clark.) As a consequence ‘the relative position of the Negro worker [was] steadily worsening. In 1947 the non-white unemployment rate was only 64 percent higher than the white rate; in 1962 it was 124 percent higher.’ (Remarks of Sen. Humphrey)” [443 U.S. 193]. In other words, since the legislation was adopted primarily to combat racial discrimination against blacks, only blacks (or other minorities) have standing to seek a remedy under Title VII. White people do not. It is hard to argue with his reasoning; after all, the legislative intent is quite clear. But Brennan’s conclusion raises a perplexing dilemma: does Title VII outlaw racial discrimination itself, or only discrimination against minorities? The Supreme Court Justice believes the latter: “Respondent’s argument rests upon a literal interpretation of §§703(a) and (d) of the Act… But it overlooks the significance of the fact that [the plaintiff’s] plan is an affirmative action plan voluntarily adopted by private parties to eliminate patterns of racial segregation” (ibid). Taken literally, he seems to say, Title VII would accomplish the exact opposite of its “intent.”

This canonization of reverse discrimination, however, had already been undermined by University of California Regents v. Bakke (1978). Allen Bakke, twice rejected by the medical school of the University of California at Davis, sued under Title VI of the Act, “which provides, inter alia, that no person shall on the ground of race or color be excluded from participating in any program receiving federal financial assistance” [438 U.S. 265]. The medical school’s admissions program was divided into a “regular” category and a “special” category. The former excluded applicants whose GPAs fell below 2.5 on a scale of 4.0, then rated the remainder according to other criteria, such as overall GPA, science courses GPA, Medical College Admission Test (MCAT) scores, letters of recommendation, and so on. All this resulted in a “benchmark” score from 1 to 100. The latter consisted of applicants (mostly minorities) who considered themselves economically or educationally disadvantaged. These special candidates “did not have to meet the 2.5 grade point cutoff and were not ranked against candidates in the general admissions process” (ibid). Bakke applied to the medical school in 1973 and 1974, was considered only under the regular admissions policy, although “[i]n both years special applicants were admitted with significantly lower scores than respondent's” (ibid). Bakke then sued on the basis of Title VI and eventually gained (court-ordered) admission. The Supreme Court held that “[t]he judgment below is affirmed insofar as it orders respondent's admission to Davis and invalidates petitioner's special admissions program, but is reversed insofar as it prohibits petitioner from taking race into account as a factor in its future admissions decisions” (ibid). In other words, racial quotas in admissions (which many believe to be the heart and soul of affirmative action) were struck down, but race could be “taken into account” along with other factors. This rather fuzzy ruling demonstrates the Court’s ambivalence toward affirmative action.

A similar case, Hopwood v. State of Texas (1996), was denied certiorari by the Court, but if the decision in that case had been affirmed, the last part of Bakke (that race could be taken into account) would have been overturned. Cheryl Hopwood had been denied admission to the University of Texas Law School because affirmative action programs had reserved space for less qualified minority applicants. She sued the State of Texas and won. The Fifth Circuit, in applying the Supreme Court’s “strict scrutiny” doctrine—i.e. that racial classifications are constitutional “only if they are narrowly tailored measures that further compelling governmental interests” [78 F. 3rd 932]—found that “each applicant for admission to the law school was classified by race, and his application was treated differently according into which of those three racial classifications it fell” (ibid). Since the panel found that “no compelling governmental interests” were served, the university’s affirmative action program was ruled unconstitutional: “In summary, we hold that the University of Texas School of Law may not use race as a factor in deciding which applicants to admit in order to achieve a diverse student body, to combat the perceived effects of a hostile environment at the law school, to alleviate the law school's poor reputation in the minority community, or to eliminate any present effects of past discrimination by actors other than the law school. Because the law school has proffered these justifications for its use of race in admissions, the plaintiffs have satisfied their burden of showing that they were scrutinized under an unconstitutional admissions system” (ibid). The Supreme Court denied certiorari because the affirmative action program in question had been discontinued. Nevertheless, Hopwood came to be seen as a de facto reversal of Bakke.

Wygant v. Jackson Board of Education (1984), on the other hand, asked: Did a collective bargaining agreement provision for race-based layoffs violate the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment? Thus, it was very similar to Piscataway. The collective bargaining agreement between the Jackson Board of Education and a teacher’s union specified that although greater seniority would protect teachers from layoffs, a certain percentage of minority teachers (with less seniority) would also be protected. When a number of white teachers were laid off, and black teachers with less seniority kept their jobs, Wendy Wygant—a laid off white teacher—sued. Wygant lost her case in both district and circuit court, but the Supreme Court granted certiorari. Finally, “In a 5-to-4 decision, the Court argued that Wygant's layoff stemmed from race and, therefore, violated the Equal Protection Clause” [476 U.S. 267], and that the “layoff preferences incorrectly addressed injurious prior discriminatory hiring practices since ‘denial of a future employment opportunity [was] not as intrusive as loss of an existing job.’” (ibid). The Piscataway Board of Education used strikingly similar justifications for its lay off decision—promoting diversity for students, correcting past discrimination, etc.—that found no judicial sympathy in Wygant. In short, hiring preferences for minorities may be used if they pass the Court’s “strict scrutiny” test and are “narrowly tailored” to achieve specific ends, but such methods cannot be used for lay off procedures.

Nearly fifty years since the crest of the Civil Rights Movement and the fate of affirmative action hangs in the balance, its future as a form of public policy unknown. I cannot help but wonder: is William Brennan right? Does Title VII apply specifically to minorities and no one else? His determination of “legislative intent” in unarguable, but his conclusion raises a larger, more troubling question: how can “reverse discrimination” bring the desired result—that is, (in the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr) a society that judges people by the content of their characters, not by the color of their skin. Common sense says that it cannot, that discrimination is harmful, no matter who the victim. Accordingly, the Supreme Court has delicately skated the boundaries of constitutional protection afforded ALL Americans and equitable solutions to social ills no one should ignore. Affirmative action gains or loses favor according to the prevailing political winds. We hear talk about a “level playing field,” but the history of racial quotas and preferential treatment suggests that the field is being made more level for some than others.


References

Hopwood v. State of Texas, 78 F. 3rd 932 (1996).

Klingner, Donald E. and John Nalbandian. Public Personnel Management: Contexts and Strategies. 5th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2003.

Reeves, T. Zane. Cases in Public Human Resource Management. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1999.

United Steelworkers v. Weber, 443 U.S. 193 (1979).

University of California Regents v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265 (1978).

Wygant v. Jackson Board of Education, 476 U.S. 267 (1984).


***


Judicial Review

One of the functions of government is to “police” the general population—i.e., enforce the law—but can the government police itself? And if so, what branch is best suited to do this—Executive, Legislative, or Judicial? This question forms the core of the debate concerning such issues as judicial review and the policy-making effects of court decisions—which is to say, expansion of judicial power. From a historical perspective, an active Judiciary (which is how that Branch has developed since 1789) is the Federalist position, while the Anti-Federalists would prefer a much more limited role. Let’s refer to the former position as the Hamiltonian and the latter the Jeffersonian. In a Jeffersonian system there would be no judicial review because the Legislative Branch trumps the other two. And indeed, Article III of the U.S. Constitution (a document which Jefferson himself regarded as far too powerful) does not provide for the power of judicial review. Section 1. calls for the creation of a Supreme Court and authorizes Congress to create “inferior” federal courts; Section 2. lists the powers and jurisdictions of the Supreme Court: “…to all Cases, in Law and Equity, arising under this Constitution, the Laws of the United States, and Treaties made, or which shall be made, under their Authority;--to all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls;--to all Cases of admiralty and maritime Jurisdiction;--to Controversies to which the United States shall be a Party;--to Controversies between two or more States;--between a State and Citizens of another State…” and so on. Nowhere does it say the Court may review legislative acts.

Chief Justice John Marshall, apparently, believed the power of judicial review to be implicit in the Constitution, holding (in Marbury v. Madison), “The powers of the legislature are defined and limited; and that those limits may not be mistaken, or forgotten, the constitution is written, To what purpose are powers limited, and to what purpose is that limitation committed to writing, if these limits may, at any time, be passed by those intended to be restrained? The distinction between a government with limited and unlimited powers is abolished, if those limits do not confine the persons on whom they are imposed, and if acts prohibited and acts allowed, are of equal obligation. It is a proposition too plain to be contested, that the constitution controls any legislative and repugnant to it; or that the legislature may alter the constitution by an ordinary act.” In other words, legislative acts must conform to the written Constitution, or the Constitution be changed. This implies that laws “repugnant” to the Constitution are null and void. Suppose, for example, Congress authorized the U.S. Department of Justice to use torture against terrorist suspects—a violation of the Eighth Amendment. Such laws, contradicting the Constitution, cannot be allowed to stand; that is the Hamiltonian view.

Robert Dahl’s article, on the other hand, agrees with the Jeffersonian position. “One influential view of the Court” he writes, “is that it stands in some special way as a protection of minorities against the tyranny by majorities" (2002, p.64), and cites the eighty-six provisions of federal law declared unconstitutional over 167 years. Then, referring to such figures as Aristotle, Locke, Rousseau, Jefferson, and Lincoln, holds that “democracy means, among other things, that the power to rule resides in popular majorities and their representatives…” and “to affirm that the Court supports minority preferences against majorities is to deny that popular sovereignty and political equity, at least in the traditional sense, exist in the United States; and to affirm that the Court ought to act in this way is to deny that popular sovereignty and political equity ought to prevail in this country" (ibid). Dahl goes on to assert that Congress has just as much right to “interpret” the Constitution as the Judiciary, and that the Chief Executive indirectly makes policy by appointing judges who (supposedly) agree with him politically. All this tends to make judicial review unnecessary and unwise.

Needless to say, the philosophical and ideological issues raised above cannot be resolved here in a (relatively) short essay. But I believe Dahl’s reasoning is flawed thusly: it is the Constitution that protects minorities against the tyranny of majorities. That is why the States insisted upon a Bill of Rights as a condition of ratification; that is also why Amendments Thirteen (banning slavery), Fifteen (mandating civil rights), Nineteen (women’s suffrage), Twenty-Four (more civil rights), and Twenty-Six (giving 18 year-olds the vote) were added. The Supreme Court, in cases of judicial review, is not defending minority rights directly, but comparing legislative acts to the Constitution. In upholding the Constitution as the Law of the Land and striking down any repugnant to it, minorities are being defended indirectly. The (unintended perhaps) consequences of judicial review, as it is practiced, is de facto policy making. For example, as a result of Brown v. the Board of Education, school desegregation was mandated. Roe v. Wade legalized abortion (and implicitly upheld women’s rights). And in the Presidential Election of 2000, the Supreme Court, in Bush v. Gore, counteracted Florida’s high court and in effect handed the presidency to George W. Bush. No one will claim that the U.S. Supreme Court ought to be choosing presidents, but it seems unavoidable that Court decisions, if they are at all binding, will have practical consequences in real life.



References


Dahl, Robert A. "Decision Making in a Democracy: The Supreme Court as a National Policy Maker." Rpt. in Courts, Judges, & Politics: An introduction to the Judicial Process, 5th ed. Walter F. Murphy, C. Herman Pritchett, and Lee Epstein. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2002. 64-67.

Marbury v. Madison. 1 Cranch 137 (1803).


***



The Bar

Like any bureaucracy, the judicial system—and those who serve it—faces an ongoing struggle between the ideal (the cause of justice) and the practical (the reality of legal practice and procedure). Inevitably, it seems, when conflict arises the ideal must be put aside for practical reasons. This is especially true in the criminal justice system where, for example, plea-bargaining has become the modus operandi of the courts. As an abstract concept, justice demands that the innocent be vindicated and the guilty punished—punished fittingly according to the crime. Yet plea-bargains routinely circumvent “justice” by rewarding the accused in exchange for not tying up the courts with lengthy, expensive public trials. This practice has been criticized, of course, and in some jurisdictions officials are threatening to ban it. According to Mirsky and Kahn, “Too many criminals get off easy, [public officials] insist; take away plea bargains, and more will get the punishments they deserve. But these officials may want to consider what happened in the Bronx when prosecutors there tried the same thing. The ban clogged the courts, made for less speedy justice, and may actually have returned more guilty defendants to the street” (1997, p.56). Constitutional questions aside (the right to a speedy trial), one has to wonder if justice is truly served when an attempt to “get tough” actually results greater rewards for criminals. Again, “To make plea bargaining work judges must offer sentences attractive enough to convince defendants to forfeit their constitutional right to a jury trial… Knowing that the system simply cannot try every pending case, defendants have learned to insist on the best deal. Consideration of the prosecution's evidence, the defendant's culpability, or the victim's interests rarely comes into play” (ibid). Thus, plea-bargaining, by its very nature, tends to be coercive.

That is also the gist of Abraham Blumberg’s piece, “The Practice of Law as a Confidence Game,” in our textbook. He writes, “the extremely high conviction rate [about 90 percent] produced without the features of an adversary trial in our courts would tend to suggest that the ‘trial’ becomes a perfunctory reiteration and validation of the pretrial interrogation and investigation” (2002, p.222). My question: are our criminal courts in danger of becoming kangaroo courts, such as exist in non-democratic nations (China, North Korea, the old Soviet Union, etc.)? In these systems, the verdict of the accused is predetermined; the “trial” merely rubber-stamps what has already been decided. But Blumberg blames the bureaucratic nature of the courts themselves: “…the variable of the court organization itself…possesses a thrust, purpose, and direction of its own. It is grounded in pragmatic values, bureaucratic priorities, and administrative instruments. These exalt maximum production and the particularistic career designs of organizational incumbents, whose occupational and career commitments tend to generate a set of priorities. These priorities exert a higher claim than the stated ideological goals of ‘due process of law,’ and are often inconsistent with them” (ibid). This implies that the ordinary citizen, who finds himself accused of a crime he may or may not have committed, and who is in danger of being deprived of life, liberty, and property, is at a terrible disadvantage.

The moral ambiguities, produced by these dilemmas, are at the heart of the dissatisfaction “a majority of the practicing bar express… with their profession” (Murphy et al, 2002, p.205). F. Lee Bailey asserts that he has defended clients he knew to be guilty, some of whom were acquitted. Is it right that the guilty escape punishment? Do the guilty even deserve legal representation in court? Several of my student colleagues (in other CJ classes) have indicated “no” to both questions. But in my view, we must make a distinction between “actual” guilt as opposed to “legal” guilt. In American jurisprudence we are presumed innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. If the prosecution is UNABLE to prove guilt—through a lack of evidence, or whatever—the accused cannot be held criminally liable regardless of how guilty he or she may be. That is the law. It exists, primarily, to prevent innocent people from being railroaded into jail, or having the criminal justice system used as a convenient way of stifling political dissent. Novelist William Gaddis said, “Justice?—You get justice in the next world, in this world you have the law” (qtd. in Gaines et al, 2001, p.58). Although the ideal is perfect justice, it seems unreachable in this imperfect world. According to the various readings at the end of Chapter 5 of our text, professionalism in the legal community is on the decline. Market based values are having an undue influence. One lawyer I met, Chip Goldstein, told our legal studies class that those planning on law school should deeply consider if that’s really what they wanted to do. He himself seemed dissatisfied and was planning on a career change. Law can be a noble calling, I believe, but its nobility is too easily tarnished in an ignoble world.



References

Gaines, Larry K., Michael Kaune, and Roger Leroy Miller. Criminal Justice in Action: The Core. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 2001.

Mirsky, Chester L. and Gabriel Kahn. “No bargain.” (plea bargaining) The American Prospect, May-June 1997 n32 p56(9).
Murphy, Walter F., C. Herman Pritchett, and Lee Epstein. Courts, Judges, & Politics: an Introduction to the Judicial Process 5th ed. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2002.

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Presumption of Innocence

Although "innocent until proven guilty" appeals to our sense of fairness (and justice), there is a practical, rational, and scientific basis for the legal presumption of innocence. It has to do with the necessity of proof--i.e. it is not enough to suspect a person committed a crime, or even to somehow know they did; it must be proven. Legal guilt is altogether different from factual guilt. Furthermore, proving guilt means "proving a positive." Proving innocence, on the other hand, would require "proving a negative," and that is usually much harder to do. Suppose, for example, an acquaintance of yours is found murdered; time of death--between 12:00 AM and 3:00 AM Monday morning. An informant suggests to police that you might have had something to do with it. You have no alibi: on Monday morning between midnight and three you were home in bed asleep, alone. No one can vouch for your story. If you are accused of the murder, should you be presumed innocent until proven guilty or vice versa? If the former, proving guilt would be relatively simple: all prosecutors have to do is produce evidence beyond a reasonable doubt--a witness, a confession, photographs or videotapes, and so on. Assuming the evidence is real and not fabricated, it would be difficult to maintain innocence. On the other hand, if you really are innocent, it would be virtually impossible to produce such evidence unless it is fabricated. But what if there was an assumption of guilt--you are presumed guilty and must prove otherwise? Inability to provide an alibi would then be sufficient for a conviction--for how do you prove you didn't do it? If there was a presumption of guilt, most people would be unable to defend themselves. Suppose you're accused of "providing assistance to terrorists" and there's a presumption of guilt. How do you prove that you've never done that? So proving a negative is extremely prejudicial in the legal system.

The fact that something is prejudicial means the balance of power between the state and the individual has shifted. "Burden of proof" is supposed to be the equalizer, working in an inverse manner: where the burden is placed diminishes power on that side and enhances it on the other. If the burden is on the defendant (to prove his innocence), the state has magnified its power; if the burden is on the state (to prove guilt), the defendant is empowered. The American system, of course, prefers to empower those accused of crimes by placing the burden on the state. This preference has to do with an existing imbalance that is quite extreme--for the state is immensely more powerful than the individual. For example, the state theoretically has unlimited resources to pursue a prosecution--it can lavish money on investigations, forensic lab work, expert testimony, teams of high powered prosecutors; what does an individual have? If you're enormously wealthy you might be able to hire a "dream team" of defense attorneys, but if you're indigent you'll have to depend upon a public defender. Since the accused is already disadvantaged, the burden of proof is placed upon the state.

That's the theory, anyway. But as we know, in the gritty, grimy world of reality pure theories seldom survive. For example, there is now a shift not just in the burden but in the standard of proof--in criminal matters "beyond a reasonable doubt" for a conviction: "Through the 19th century, reasonable doubt was taken to include an element of moral certainty. This assumed that jurors brought with them personal observations, experience and an understanding of the nature of things and applied reason and thought to evaluating the evidence. Over time, that concept has changed. In instructing juries, reasonableness no longer means good judgment or 'based on reason.' Rather, it is taken to mean articulable doubt - a doubt for which a specific reason can be given. This means that a generic doubt - 'the prosecutor's case just didn't convince me' - is not acceptable; the juror must be able to point to a specific deficiency in the prosecutor's case or a specific proposition in the defense" (Ascribe, 2003). The "shift" has emerged from the way jury instructions are written. These instructions are, in practice, a way of limiting juror independence, and what that boils down to is manipulation--i.e. either the prosecution or the defense wielding undue influence upon the jury's fact-finding mission. Jury instructions, it turns out, are written by attorneys from both sides and the judge decides which he will use (Europe Intelligence Wire, 2003). Since judges deal with prosecutors more often, those instructions tend to be selected. According to University of Arkansas law professor Steve Sheppard, "The state no longer has to prove its case, the defense does. The courts have moved the jurors' goal from a vote for the state if the state can convince them of a fact to a vote for the state unless the defense can convince them of a certain type of doubt" (qtd. in Ascribe). This shifts the balance of power, replacing presumption of innocence with a presumption of guilt. Again, "A juror who votes to convict only needs to say, 'I think he is guilty,' and does not need to give a reason. But a juror who votes to acquit must articulate precisely why he doubts the state's case" (ibid). So although our textbooks may detail how things are supposed to work in the system, we should all be aware of how easily abuse can creep in and tilt the scales of justice.

References

"No Longer Presumed Innocent: Shift in 'Reasonable Doubt' Concept Jeopardizes Presumption of Innocence." Ascribe Higher Education News Service, May 15, 2003 pNA.

"Whatever happened to the presumption of innocence?" Europe Intelligence Wire, Nov 1, 2003 pNA.


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Problems with Juries


It does not seem possible ever to achieve a “perfect” system of justice—where no one is capable of deception, where all relevant facts are fully revealed, where there is no vestige of bias or prejudice, where social implications are clear, and where no error can be made. Trial by jury, therefore, appears to be the best that we can do with an “imperfect” system. These imperfections are listed in the following criticisms:

Voir dire procedures—although a jury, theoretically, should be impartial and unbiased, voir dire, as currently practiced, aims for the exact opposite. Prosecutors try to eliminate prospective jurors they think will be too sympathetic toward the defendant and empanel those more likely to convict. Defense attorneys, on the other hand, try to eliminate unsympathetic jurors and select those who might acquit. Supposedly, the adversarial nature of the proceedings balances things out and achieves a truly unbiased jury, but this assumes two things: a) that counsel are competent, even to the extent that they can successfully predict a juror’s verdict; and b) that the voir dire procedure itself is fair and balanced. According to Murphy et al, “One common complaint is that the process of selecting jurors is too time consuming, sometimes taking longer than the trial itself” (2002, p.367). The implication, of course, is that fact finding in court—or the trial itself—is less important than preparing a weapon (sympathetic jurors) to be aimed at one’s opponent. This undercuts the idea of a “fair trial.”

Creating bias—one is supposed to be tried by a “jury of one’s peers,” an idea originating from the common law of England. One’s peers were held to be members of one’s own class. In America this translates to a representative cross-section of society. The alleged bias kicks in because “most states allow numerous exemptions from jury service. Often professionals like lawyers, doctors, teachers, professors, architects, social workers, and public officials are automatically excused…” (ibid). When an elite, upper tier of the polity is excused, the biases held by middle and lower tiers are not sufficiently balanced (we cannot seriously expect, or demand, jurors with no bias whatsoever. The best we can hope for is a mix of conflicting biases that tend to cancel one another out). Again, “The all-too-frequent result is a jury composed mostly of people who are unemployed or elderly and looking for something to do, or too poor and uneducated to give answers that set off lawyer’s alarms” (ibid). One would think that persons most capable of understanding a jury’s “impartial” function, of sifting through facts and conflicting testimonies, of applying the rudimentary standards of law, would be the most sought after. But in fact, these are the very persons who are automatically excluded—i.e. lawyers, doctors, teachers, etc. Otherwise, highly intelligent and independent minded jurors, also, are apt to be excused on voir dire.

“Jury stacking”—as the current hit movie “Runaway Jury” dramatizes, jury selection in high profile cases has become big business. Indeed, there are professional consulting firms, commanding big fees, which specialize in “profiling” prospective jurors. This is one example of social science being applied to decidedly unscientific ends. Suppose the government brings an anti-trust suit against a large corporation, such as Microsoft. The corporation can afford to hire the finest lawyers available, who then hire a jury consultant to profile prospective “ideal” jurors. Results: the ideal juror will be white, Anglo-Saxon, protestant, married, 2.3 children, median income of $55,000 per annum, 35-55 years of age, bachelor’s degree, etc. This profile will be supported by vast amounts of social science data, to an accuracy of plus/minus 5%. By insisting that a jury be comprised of these types of individuals (through elimination of those who do not fit the profile), the defense is “stacking the deck” in its favor. Assuming the government’s and the defense’s cases are equally compelling, the stacked jury is more likely to find for the defense.

Peremptory challenge abuse—specifically, using the peremptory challenge (which requires no justification) during voir dire to exclude jurors on the basis of membership in a particular group. In this way, people can be removed because they are black, white, women, men, elderly, young, poor, rich, or what have you. I call this “abuse” because it is practiced on the basis of the ecological fallacy—that is, the belief that ALL members of a particular group share certain common characteristics. For example, if one thinks that Latinos are religiously superstitious, then all Latinos are religious and superstitious. Thus, a lawyer defending a person who raped a nun or killed a priest would use his peremptory challenges to dismiss any Latino juror from the pool. This ignores the fact that Latinos are just as capable of “impartiality” as anyone else. In the perennial black/white struggle, this has resulted in blacks being excused from juries trying black defendants. But the spectacle of black defendants being tried by all-white juries—especially if the crime was against a white victim—is the stuff of ignoble legend.

All of the criticisms listed above revolve around one theme: attempts to circumvent the unbiased and impartial nature of justice. This is surprisingly easy to accomplish because human nature itself is rarely unbiased and impartial. Individuals with abundances of these qualities are usually held to be “lacking guts and conviction,” to “waffle on the issues,” or be known as “moral relativists.” Even though we expect judges to be aloof and above the fray—paragons of disinterest—they are human too. It is not impossible to lure a judge into the partisan bickering. According to Judge Frankel’s piece (pp 379-82), the threat of being reversed on appeal is one method of “judge baiting”: “Nobody doubts the range of adversary implications in our description of the judge as being ‘on trial.’ Among the more explicit references to trying the judge are the usually proper things lawyers must do or say ‘for the record.’ But propriety or no, the statement may have a cutting edge.” Just as defense attor