Monday, June 29, 2015

Evan Thomas - Being Nixon

Rodney Dangerfield used to joke, "It's not easy being me."  After reading this book, I would say that it was not easy being Richard Nixon.  To say that he was a complicated man would be the least of it.  Perhaps he had the most convoluted mixture of good and bad of any US President.

Did Nixon interfere with President Johnson's efforts to give HHH good publicity in the closing days of the '68 presidential race over Viet Nam.  The author can't say for sure.  If so this surely would have been treason on Nixon's part.  Nixon had no secret plan to end the war.

Was RN in some sense autistic?

Howard Baker asked, "What did he know, and when did he know it?"  The author cannot say.

RN was physically and mechanically clumsy.  I can relate.  :)

Nixon also wondered about the events of his life that led his becoming President.  It was all so unlikely that given his origins that he would go as far as he did.  Like me Nixon was chilled by the contingencies that moved his life forward.  It all could have been totally different for him and for me.  The biggest thing was that Ike picked him to be his running mate in 1952.

"Nixon ay have just been jabbing at Garment for being a boy scout; on the other hand, Nixon did believe that deviousness was an important attribute for a successful politician."  P. 141

Nixon's main interest was always foreign policy.  He made the stupid statement that the country could run itself domestically.  P. 144

"The FBI wiretaps strongly suggest that the Nixon campaign was signaling Saigon to go slow, but they are not conclusive."  P. 180

The image of Nixon as a dark trickster fits the Nixon caricature too neatly.  P. 180

"The whole truth will never be known, but the evidence suggests that Nixon, through layers of deniability, took measures to make sure that Thieu would not agree to the peace talks in time to swing the 1968 election to Humphrey.  Johnson did declare a bombing half, and the Paris negotiations did (fruitlessly) commence, so no permanent harm was done to the peace process, which was not likely to go anywhere.  The effect on Nixon was more long-lasting.  He continued that LBJ had tried to steal the election from him."  P. 181

It seems like Nixon was constantly referencing Hiss.  P. 434

Did Pat Nixon suffer a stroke because of reading Woodward and Bernstein's "The Final Days?"  P. 523

"She (Pat) never quit."  P. 523

His favorite campaign was 1952 because the band would play "You Are My Sunshine" and it would make him think of Pat.  P. 523

He suffered a stroke on 4/18/94 and died four days later.  P. 524

"He achieved greatly, and he suffered greatly, but he never gave up."
-Henry Kissinger P. 525

"Nixon was no saint.  But the fears and insecurities that led him into sinfulness also gave him the drive to push past self-doubt, to pretend to be cheerful, to dare to be brave, to see, often though sadly not always, the light in the dark."  P. 531

The good Nixon and the bad Nixon were both the same person.  It is impossible to disentangle the two.




Flag Rally in Montgomery

Meet the South’s biggest idiot: “I feel very much like the Jews must have felt in the very beginning of the Nazi Germany takeover”

A pro-Confederate flag rally in Alabama is the worst of the worst

Meet the South's biggest idiot: "I feel very much like the Jews must have felt in the very beginning of the Nazi Germany takeover"Supporters of keeping the Confederate battle flag flying at a Confederate monument at the South Carolina Statehouse wave flags during a rally in front of the statehouse in Columbia, S.C., on Saturday, June 27, 2015. Gov. Nikki Haley and a number of other state leaders have called for the removal of the flag following the shooting deaths of nine black parishioners in a church in Charleston last week. (AP Photo/Bruce Smith)(Credit: AP)
Confederate flags returned to the cradle of the Confederacy on Saturday as hundreds of flag supporters arrived at Alabama’s Capitol to protest the removal of four rebel flags from a Confederate monument next to the building where the Confederacy was formed.
Standing at the bottom of the Capitol’s steps, where 50 years ago Martin Luther King Jr. led a march for civil rights, Tim Steadman said it wasn’t right to remove the flags.
“Right now, this past week with everything that is going on, I feel very much like the Jews must have felt in the very beginning of the Nazi Germany takeover,” he said. “I mean I do feel that way, like there is a concerted effort to wipe people like me out, to wipe out my heritage and to erase the truths of history.”
Days earlier, Gov. Robert Bentley had ordered the flags taken down from the 1898 monument amid national controversy about whether Confederate symbols should be displayed on state grounds.
Standing next to Steadman was Ronnie Simmons, who wore a t-shirt with the face of Confederate President Jefferson Davis. Davis, who was elected as the first and only Confederate president inside the historic Alabama Senate chamber inside the Capitol in 1861, once lived a block away in the First White House of the Confederacy while Montgomery was briefly the capital.
Simmons said Bentley was a “scallywag,” referring to a term used in the years after the Civil War during the Reconstruction period to describe white southerners who collaborated with northerners.
“It’s alienating the white people in the state of Alabama when you take something down in a historic setting,” Simmons said. “If scallywag Bentley thinks he’s improved race relations in this state, he’s as crazy as a bed bug.”
Some attendees dressed in Civil War attire while others arrived in motorcycle apparel with Confederate flag patches sewn into vests. Flags flew on motorcycles playing “Sweet Home Alabama” and rested on the shoulders of men in Civil War uniforms. One woman held a sign that said “Southern Lives Matter,” a variation of the “Black Lives Matter” phrase that became a rallying call after the shootings of unarmed black men in multiple states.
Many in the white audience said they feared their heritage was being taken away.
Sherry Butler Clayton said the flag is a way to honor her relatives tied to the Confederacy.
“I have many, many ancestors,” she said. “A lot of them are in unknown graves up North where they died on the battlefield. A lot of them came back maimed. And it’s just a way. I don’t hate anyone. I love all people. My daughter-in-law is black and I love her and I love her family. So it’s not a black white issue. It’s a heritage issue.”
Bentley has received broad support for his decision to remove the flags. In an open letter to the governor, state Sen. Vivian Figures praised him for his action. Figures, who is black, said supporters of the Confederate battle flag “have used the guise of ‘heritage’ to mask the true meaning of the flag.”
“That flag is a message of hatred, bigotry, negativity, white supremacy, shackles, whips, segregation, church bombings, beatings, lynchings, and assassinations,” she wrote.
Event organizer Mike Williams said he was pleased with the turnout. Williams, who was one of the first protesters to arrive at the monument after the flags were removed, said he hopes anyone organizing similar events in southern states will keep rallies “about heritage and not hate.”

Sunday, June 28, 2015

In Defense of Roberts

Photo
Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. in 2008. Credit Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images
LIBERALS and conservatives were exercised and confused by the combination of Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr.’s vote to uphold the Affordable Care Act’s tax subsidies on Thursday and his dissent from the Supreme Court’s decision recognizing a constitutional right of same-sex marriage on Friday. Both sides accused him of voting politically: On Thursday he was taken to task by the right, and on Friday by the left.
In fact, the chief justice’s votes in both cases were entirely consistent and constitutionally principled. He embraced a bipartisan vision of judicial restraint based on the idea that the Supreme Court should generally defer to the choices of Congress and state legislatures. His insistence that the court should hesitate to second-guess the political branches regardless of whether liberals or conservatives win is based on his conception of the limited institutional role of the court in relation to the president, Congress and the states.
On Thursday, when Chief Justice Roberts wrote a 6-to-3 decision preserving a key part of the Affordable Care Act (for the second time), Justice Antonin Scalia accused him once again of engaging in liberal judicial activism. “The somersaults of statutory interpretation” the chief justice had performed in both health care cases, Justice Scalia wrote, signaled to America “the discouraging truth that the Supreme Court of the United States favors some laws over others, and is prepared to do whatever it takes to uphold and assist its favorites.”
The Roberts-Scalia debate is part of a longstanding argument about how judges should interpret laws passed by Congress. As Chief Judge Robert A. Katzmann of the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit in New York argues in his recent book, “Judging Statutes,” the chief justice embraces an approach called “purposivism,” while Justice Scalia prefers “textualism.” In Judge Katzmann’s account, purposivism has been the approach favored for most of American history by conservative and liberal judges, senators, and representatives, as well as administrative agencies. Purposivism holds that judges shouldn’t confine themselves to the words of a law but should try to discern Congress’s broader purposes.
In the 1980s, when he was a lower court judge, Justice Scalia began to champion a competing view of statutory interpretation, textualism, which holds that judges should confine themselves to interpreting the words that Congress chose without trying to discern Congress’s broader purposes. (By contrast, originalism, which Justice Scalia also embraces, holds that judges should consult both text and history to understand constitutional meaning.) Textualism, in this view, promises to constrain judicial activism by preventing judges from roving through legislative history in search of evidence that supports their own policy preferences. But in the view of its critics, like Chief Judge Katzmann, textualism “increases the probability that a judge will construe a law in a manner that the legislators did not intend.” Chief Judge Katzmann, who was appointed by President Bill Clinton, also accuses Justice Scalia of inconsistency for consulting the intent of the framers in the case of constitutional interpretation but not statutory interpretation.
Chief Justice Roberts echoed these criticisms of textualism in his decision holding that federally created health exchanges were eligible for tax subsidies. “Congress passed the Affordable Care Act to improve health insurance markets, not to destroy them,” the chief justice wrote, in a line that enraged conservatives. “If at all possible, we must interpret the Act in a way that is consistent with the former, and avoids the latter.”
The chief justice’s embrace of bipartisan judicial restraint in the second Affordable Care Act case was consistent with his embrace of the same philosophy in the first Affordable Care Act case in 2012, where he quoted one of his heroes, Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr: “The rule is settled that as between two possible interpretations of a statute, by one of which it would be unconstitutional and by the other valid, our plain duty is to adopt that which will save the Act.”
By construing the Affordable Care Act, twice, in ways that respect Congress’s broader purposes rather than thwarting them, Chief Justice Roberts was not, as Justice Scalia charged, rewriting the law. Instead he was advancing the view that he championed soon after his confirmation: In a polarized age, it is important for the Supreme Court to maintain its institutional legitimacy by deferring to the political branches.
The chief justice’s dissent on Friday from the court’s 5-to-4 decision recognizing a right of same-sex marriage defended precisely the same vision. Once again, he quoted Justice Holmes for the same proposition that he invoked in the Affordable Care Act cases: “As this Court has been reminded throughout our history, the Constitution ‘is made for people of fundamentally differing views.’ ”
His dissent in the marriage equality case is undoubtedly the fieriest opinion the chief justice has written on the court. “Five lawyers have closed the debate and enacted their own vision of marriage,” he writes. He compares Justice Anthony M. Kennedy’s same-sex marriage opinion to Roe v. Wade and to Lochner v. New York, a 1905 case striking down maximum hour laws for bakers, both of which he considers prime examples of judicial activism.
CHIEF JUSTICE ROBERTS insists that his passionate opposition to Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion is based on his commitment to judicial restraint, not on his personal disagreement with same-sex marriage. In his dissent on Friday, the chief justice said he would not “begrudge” the celebrations that would follow. Instead, his passions were engaged by his commitment to the court’s limited role in American politics.
However, the chief justice’s commitment to judicial restraint and a limited conception of the court’s institutional role is not unvarying. He has written or joined opinions striking down federal campaign finance laws and voting rights laws. Earlier last week, he wrote an opinion for the court that removes one of the last New Deal farm programs propping up price supports for raisins as a violation of the Fifth Amendments prohibition on takings of property without just compensation. In all of these cases, however, Chief Justice Roberts identified a particular clause of the Constitution — the First Amendment, the Fifth Amendment or the 14th Amendment — that he believed invalidated the federal law in question. In the marriage equality case, he concluded that no clause of the Constitution clearly protected a right of marriage equality, which is why he accused the majority of substituting its own policy preferences for those of the people, as reflected in state legislation.
It’s understandable that liberals and conservatives are disappointed with the chief justice for rejecting positions they deeply favor. But Chief Justice Roberts’s relatively consistent embrace of judicial deference to democratic decisions supports his statement during his confirmation hearings that judges should be like umpires calling “balls and strikes.” As he put it then: “Umpires don’t make the rules, they apply them. The role of an umpire and a judge is critical. They make sure everybody plays by the rules, but it is a limited role. Nobody ever went to a ballgame to see the umpire.”
Although the chief justice’s statement was subsequently mocked, both the Affordable Care Act cases and the marriage equality case show that he meant what he said. Whether writing for the majority or in dissent, he believes that judges should set aside their policy views and generally uphold laws unless they clash with clear prohibitions in the Constitution. In the long term, if he continues to pursue this conception of the deferential role of the court, he may help liberals and conservatives more readily accept their Supreme Court defeats.

Nixon (2)

I continue reading the new Nixon biography.  What a character.  Would Nixon be accepted by today's Republicans?  Don't think so for RN had a pragmatic side that allowed him to do some liberal things.  He wasn't pure like today's clan.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

What the Confederacy Fought For

The 'Cornerstone'

Stephens' speech declared that African slavery was the "immediate cause" of secession, and that the Confederate Constitution had put to rest the "agitating questions" as to the "proper status of the negro in our form of civilization".
The new Constitution has put at rest forever all the agitating questions relating to our peculiar institutions—African slavery as it exists among us—the proper status of the negro in our form of civilization. This was the immediate cause of the late rupture and present revolution. Jefferson, in his forecast, had anticipated this, as the "rock upon which the old Union would split." He was right. What was conjecture with him, is now a realized fact. But whether he fully comprehended the great truth upon which that rock stood and stands, may be doubted. The prevailing ideas entertained by him and most of the leading statesmen at the time of the formation of the old Constitution were, that the enslavement of the African was in violation of the laws of nature; that it was wrong in principle, socially, morally and politically. It was an evil they knew not well how to deal with; but the general opinion of the men of that day was, that, somehow or other, in the order of Providence, the institution would be evanescent and pass away... Those ideas, however, were fundamentally wrong. They rested upon the assumption of the equality of races. This was an error. It was a sandy foundation, and the idea of a Government built upon it—when the "storm came and the wind blew, it fell."
Our new Government is founded upon exactly the opposite ideas; its foundations are laid, its cornerstone rests, upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery, subordination to the superior race, is his natural and normal condition.
. . . look with confidence to the ultimate universal acknowledgement of the truths upon which our system rests? It is the first government ever instituted upon the principles in strict conformity to nature, and the ordination of Providence, in furnishing the materials of human society. Many governments have been founded upon the principle of the subordination and serfdom of certain classes of the same race; such were and are in violation of the laws of nature. Our system commits no such violation of nature's laws.

Alexander Stephens
Vice-President of the Confederate States of America
Marh 21, 1861

Don't Raise That Flag Ever Again

Why the Confederate Banner Must Come Down

This post first appeared at Slavery By Another Name blog.
confederate flag
When I was a Boy Scout in Leland, Mississippi, my patrol in Troop 42 called itself “the Rebels” during 1976. I still have locked in a trunk somewhere little wooden blocks I painted with the names of each scout imposed over a crude image of the Confederate battle flag – a wall decoration of some sort for the scout hall. I was fascinated by the Confederacy, the Civil War, the rebel monuments on every courthouse lawn, the headstone of my ancestor Morris Foshee, with its inscription of his unit, the 47th Alabama infantry.
For a southern boy raised in the wet hothouse of what I call neo-Confederate, nostalgic triumphalism, it is astonishing to see the swift political moves in South Carolina to lower the Confederate battle emblem in the wake of the massacre at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church. All the more so, when compared to the decades of intransigence about Confederate symbols in the South and among a certain lethargic group of white Americans everywhere. How could this change happen in the blink of eye – if it does – when there was such fierce resistance and seeming fealty in the recent past to that striking blue cross and 13 stars on a red field?
Author Douglas Blackmon on 20th Century Neo-Slavery
It is a mistake however, to interpret the resilience of the Confederate battle flag as “popularity” among large numbers of people, or as something that triggers outpourings of affection or other positive emotions. It is wrong even to suggest that support for public display of the flag is even closely related – as it was for me in childhood – to some fond remembrance of the past, or even a sentimental connection to soldiers of long ago who sacrificed for a cause they believed in. No, only the tiniest numbers of southerners with an attachment to the emblem of the Confederate revolt have even a vague awareness of their familial connections to the Civil War, or even faintly what life looked like in the sweaty, un-airconditioned, drawling, poverty stricken, overalls bedecked, brutish farm boy landscape of the pre-1960s South. Only the most dedicated sad-sack members of the Sons of the Confederacy or unshaven faux intellectuals at loony fringe groups like the “League of the South,” or naive little boys in the 1970s, can even tell you that the “Rebel flag” began as a symbol of Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia and gradually came to identify in the eyes of all Americans the entire white southern uprising to defend slavery. Even fewer white southerners can tell their own family histories – like that of my great-great-grandfather Foshee, and his years as an obscure private under that banner in the 47th Alabama.No, the seeming immovability of that symbol over the past half century has been about something very different from an appreciation of actual history. The modern resurrection and defense of the flag was wholly a product of the civil rights struggles since the 1950s, and the need for a rallying point for defenders of segregation and apologists for white discrimination and white privilege. The flag wasn’t even flying in most southern states until the 1960s, and then it was hoisted with the explicit intention of telling the rest of the country, finally emerging from its own racial dark ages, to go to hell. And wherever that flag was invoked, it was accompanied in those days by explicit defenses of the most virulent racism and ethnic hate.
There was no sugar coating what it meant. The legislators and state officials who brought the battle flag out of the closet in the 1960s were the exact same people who openly praised the murders of civil rights workers, openly called Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. a communist ape, openly predicted the “mongrelization” of the white race if segregation ended, publicly said science proved the mental inferiority of African-Americans. The flag was as open a symbol of violent oppression of black people and resistance to democracy, as the German swastika was the symbol of fascism and a desperate desire to murder the Jews of Europe. Mississippi Gov. Ross Barnett, who said ending segregation would be to “drink from the cup of genocide,” knitted together all the imagery, meanings and vile intentions in September 1962, in a 15-word speech at an Ole Miss football game. Standing in a Nuremberg-esque sea of Confederate battle banners, Barnett declared: “I love Mississippi. I love her people, our customs. I love and respect our heritage.” The next day, thousands of white men attacked federal marshals protecting the first black student to enroll at the university. It took 30,000 federal troops to restore calm.
The private letters among carriers of the Confederate battle flag back then are most remarkable in one way: those men actually believed the heinous things they were saying in public. And they acted under a misguided belief that most of the rest of white America, actually shared those views deep down. They honestly believed the Civil Rights Movement was an aberration – a course deviation caused by one spectacularly gifted black orator, his weak-bellied liberal supporters, and, it surely must be, his secret controllers in the Soviet Union. They truly believed all that for a good reason: just 15 or 20 years earlier, they would have been right. In the 1940s, white Americans in every part of the country – including Franklin Delano Roosevelt, most members of his cabinet and the majority of the Supreme Court – agreed that almost all black people were naturally inferior to white people. When southern politicians resurrected Confederate emblems in the 1960s, it was part of a genuine, if gigantically mistaken, belief that white Americans everywhere could be led or inspired back to their own past racist instincts.
Fortunately, that effort failed. Spectacularly.
The refusal to take the flag back down over the 50 years since then has been simply this: an effort to falsely obscure the explicitly racist nature of those leaders – and white southerners and lots of other white Americans generally – in that two-decade long extended moment of national decision when white southern men, women, teachers, preachers, politicians, police, judges, doctors, lawyers, mechanics and every other stripe overwhelmingly failed. Faced with the greatest question of social conscious they would ever confront, they failed as Americans. They failed as Christians. They failed as believers in freedom. They failed as parents and grandparents. And for the next two generations or more, it became important among white southerners to conceal or excuse that abject failure.
As it became apparent that the nation collectively rejected the immoral, backward views of the white South, it became necessary to “window dress” what had happened. The argument hadn’t been about white supremacy, they began to claim, it was about the government getting too big. The objection wasn’t about having black and white kids in school together, it was about violence on campus, they said. They hadn’t meant to suggest that all black boys are inclined to rape, only that teen pregnancy and “welfare queens” are not good. They hadn’t meant to suggest that the people whose labor they had exploited for 300 years were in fact lazy and incompetent. And yes, as Gov. Barnett told you in 1962, the Confederate battle flag wasn’t about suppressing black people, or defending slavery, or endorsing the violence of the Klan. It was about bravery, honor, appreciation of genteel women, limited government and constitutional principles.
It was about “heritage not hate.”
The reason the tide may be turning against this long misuse of the Confederate flag is because, thankfully, enough time and generations have passed that the number of Americans who know anything about the flag or have any legitimate interest in it is getting smaller and smaller. The architects of the flag propaganda of another time have, presumably in the wisdom of god, been taken from the earth, and those of us who remain didn’t listen well. It’s not just young African-Americans who don’t know as much as they should about the abuses suffered by their forebears; hardly any young Americans are interested in all that unpleasant past – especially now that so many of them are dating or coveting members of the other race, listening to Hip Hop and seeing a black man in the White House. One way or another, it has been absorbed that black people achieving some semblance of equality did not in fact cause the earth to consume itself in fire.
So the only people today who exhibit the Confederate flag – other than state governments, ironically, and a few holdout private schools – are in fact white supremacists, loutish rednecks, a has-been country music singer or two, neo-Nazis, and pathetically undereducated fools. Oh, and yes, people who make meth in broken down trailer houses.
That wasn’t the case as recently as the debate in Georgia 20 years ago that led to the removal of the battle emblem from that state flag, or the statewide vote on changing the flag in Mississippi at about the same time. (It failed – with even African-American voters supporting the flag in a twisted expression of home state “loyalty.”) Even as late as those events in the 1990s, there were still a lot of aging white southern males around who had grown up feeling, even after the dust had settled, that the civil rights movement had been at a minimum “unfair” to whites and wrongly impugned them and their fathers before them.
Even if polite about race in public, they were still offended by and quietly seething at the suggestion that poverty and other difficulties of African-Americans were the fault of past and present white racism – instead of laziness as they had always believed. They still needed to believe their teachers were truthful when they taught the historical hoax that enslaved people actually liked slavery in the 1850s, and were happy to have been brought to America – saved from cannibalism, paganism and bestiality. That generation of southern men were not generally supporters of the Ku Klux Klan or racial violence, but at their core they enjoyed the idea that the continued use of the flag bothered the people who so bothered them. They didn’t care a whit – or generally even know a whit – about the true history of the flag or their own connections to the slave-holders rebellion, but they relished how this antiseptic and increasingly invoked “heritage” propaganda innocently explained the battle flag and could be used to goad the critics they so despised.
But time marched on those gentlemen. Those aging white males are no longer the overwhelmingly dominant cohort in the southern states – just as those white voters are declining in political control of the South. Hence Virginia, Florida and North Carolina are presidential battleground states. Georgia is in play. Not many people are so obtuse still to believe that the declining performance educationally and economically of white males in rural America, especially the South, is because of affirmative action or because black people today are allowed to go to high school, and to vote.
We all understand pretty clearly now that a Dylann Roof actually has to stand on his own two feet. He can’t depend on an entrenched system of silent abuse and unspoken conspiracy to prevent women or African-Americans from seeking the same entry level job that Dylann might have desired. He can’t count on “heritage” and tradition to make sure that the majority of the black kids in his town can’t get an education sufficient to seek upwardly mobile employment – as heritage and customs guaranteed for 150 years. The Dylann Roofs of the world have to actually compete now. And for the first time in at least a century, they actually have to be men now – not just members of cowardly mobs protecting themselves with violence and intimidation, and always anonymously. We all understand that now, at least on some level.  The government isn’t going to ensure your success by openly harming black people for you anymore, white man. You’re actually on your own now. The petty complaints and invented aggrievements of that generation – blaming black people for all their woes – make sense to a smaller and smaller group of other people now. Even the sons of the men who still feverishly insisted on that pitiful, self-emasculating logic 20 and 30 years ago increasingly don’t get their own dads anymore.
It’s not dissimilar to what happened with gay marriage: at some point the hollow nature of ridiculously inflexible positions simply begins to be obvious – especially when confronted by some event so clearly horrifying and indefensible as what happened in Charleston.
That’s the reality that Dylann Roof – and the rest of his scraggly, stupid ilk – are truly reeling from. Their own inadequacy. Their own failures. The slow disappearance of the certainty that all the white men will look out for all the other white men first – and somehow still save some kind of place even for the broken, intellectual runts like him. The Dylann Roofs of American today instinctively realize that their day is past. He never even had that day. They see white girls at school making the very rational choice to prefer over them black boys who are actually going somewhere. They discover that the police are willing to arrest them too for their petty drug schemes – and that harsh sentencing laws will wreck their misbegotten lives too.
Even the people that the Dylann Roofs once imagined might be allies now profess politics in which white losers like him – along with everyone else – are on their own. The government isn’t here to help anymore. There is no certainty. Just being white isn’t good enough, Dylann.
So a Dylann Roof lashes out in the perverse way that such an inadequate, violence-intoxicated mind can invent, swathed in the ideas and imagery so intertwined with the Confederate battle flag today. Yet, his rampage becomes a renunciation of whatever little honorable character attached to that symbol long ago. When my great-great grandfather and the rebels fighting with him to dismantle the United States charged up the hill called Little Round Top on July 2, 1863, in a decisive moment of the Battle of Gettysburg, they and their flag made clear who they were and the wrongs they were fighting for. We can at least give them that. And a third of the regiment of 1,500 fell on the battlefield that day, repulsed, thankfully, by soldiers defending the America we live in now.
Perhaps the Confederate battle flag did represent some sort of misguided valor back then. But no more.
Today, it stands for Dylann Roof, a wretch unable even to meaningfully articulate his anger at being required to take responsibility for himself, enraged at being forced to compete and survive in a world finally glimmering with at least a potential for equality. It stands for a coward like him, stripped of the protection of the lynching mobs that would have carried his flag. It stands for a loser without the spine to tell the people he found at Emanuel church who he truly was or what he truly believed – until he already had his gun trained on them. It stands for people like him who lie – by omission or commission – about their intentions. It stands for a murderer who could only savage the defenseless–who was so blind and terrified by his own emptiness that he would assault the only people who actually wanted to help him.
What bloodless shell of a person would choose to fly such a flag now? Finally, all who are willing can see that.
The views expressed in this post are the author’s alone, and presented here to offer a variety of perspectives to our readers.
doug_photo_home
Douglas A. Blackmon is the Pulitzer-Prize winning author of Slavery by Another Name: The Re-Enslavement of Black Americans from the Civil War to World War II, and co-executive producer of the acclaimed PBS documentary of the same name. His is also a contributing editor at The Washington Post and chair and host of Forum, a public affairs program produced by the University of Virginia’s Miller Center and aired on more than 100 PBS affiliates across the US.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Obergefell v. Hodges

The Supreme Court has again made the correct decision by affirming the constitutional right of same-sex couples to marry.  This is another deserved blow to conservatives who rally against equal rights, dignity, and respect for all Americans.  Their politics of divisiveness, inequality, and fear is fading.  Love is at the heart of religious freedom; the "religious freedom" of conservatives is really discrimination.  Gay rights is the civil rights of my generation.  Today this nation took another step towards progress, and we are a better country for it.

As Justice Kennedy wrote in his opinion for the court,

No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right. The judgment of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit is reversed. It is so ordered.

The Republican Party: A Refuge for Rascists

by Timothy Egan

The party label is meaningless. The white South was solidly Democratic after the Civil War, vowing never to vote for the party that liberated the slaves. A hundred years later, the white South changed allegiances with the advent of the civil rights movement. Richard Nixon then sealed the transformation with his Southern Strategy, which parked Southern whites firmly in the Republican Party.
For the many Republicans who believe in free markets, less government and the racial legacy of Lincoln, the question has to be asked: What do some of society’s worst elements see in their party? It’s the coded language, yes, the hard voices of its broadcast wing, but also actions. Of late, this is the party that has been behind restrictive voting measures aimed squarely at blacks. Don’t give racists anything to root for, and they’ll crawl back under their rocks.
gan


Obama: Supreme Court Same-Sex Marriage Ruling 'A Victory For America'

BY Scott Neuman
NPR
26 June 2015

President Obama called the Supreme Court's decision affirming the constitutional right of same-sex couples to marry a "victory for America" that had "made our union a little more perfect."

In the 5-4 decision, Justice Kennedy wrote the opinion of the court, saying the equal protection clause of the 14th Amendment to the Constitution requires states to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples.

"Our nation was founded on a bedrock principle — that we are all created equal," the president said at the White House Rose Garden following the announcement of the decision in Obergefell v. Hodges.

Obama said that, often, progress on the journey to equality "comes in small increments. Sometimes two steps forward, one step back."

"And then sometimes there are days like this, when that slow steady effort is rewarded with justice that arrives like a thunderbolt," the president said.

"When all Americans are treated as equal, we are all more free," he added, acknowledging that "Americans of good will continue to hold a wide range of views on this issue."

"For all our differences, we are one people — stronger together than we will ever be alone. That has always been our story," Obama said.

"Today, we can say in no uncertain terms that we made our union a little more perfect."

The Robert E. Lee "Problem"


The debate about the Charleston Bible study shooting has morphed into a debate about the Confederate battle flag and other symbols of the Confederacy. This is not a trivial sideshow. Racism is not just a personal prejudice and an evolutionary byproduct. It resurfaces year after year because it’s been woven by historical events into the fabric of American culture.
That culture is transmitted through the generations by the things we honor or don’t honor, by the symbols and names we celebrate and don’t celebrate. If we want to reduce racism we have to elevate the symbols that signify the struggle against racism and devalue the symbols that signify its acceptance.
Lowering the Confederate flag from public properties is thus an easy call. There are plenty of ways to celebrate Southern heritage and Southern life without choosing one so enmeshed in the fight to preserve slavery.
The harder call concerns Robert E. Lee. Should schools and other facilities be named after the great Confederate general, or should his name be removed and replaced?
The case for Lee begins with his personal character. It is almost impossible to imagine a finer and more considerate gentleman.
As a general and public figure, he was a man of impeccable honesty, integrity and kindness. As a soldier, he displayed courage from the beginning of his career straight through to the end. Despite his blunders at Gettysburg and elsewhere he was by many accounts the most effective general in the Civil War and maybe in American history. One biographer, Michael Korda, writes, “His generosity of spirit, undiminished by ideological or political differences, and even by the divisive, bloody Civil War, shines through in every letter he writes, and in every conversation of his that was reported or remembered.”
As a family man, he was surprisingly relaxed and affectionate. We think of him as a man of marble, but he loved having his kids jump into bed with him and tickle his feet. With his wife’s loving cooperation, he could write witty and even saucy letters to other women. He was devout in his faith, a gifted watercolorist, a lover of animals and a charming conversationalist.
In theory, he opposed slavery, once calling it “a moral and political evil in any country.” He opposed Southern secession, calling it “silly” and a rash revolutionary act. Moreover we shouldn’t be overly guilty of the sin of “presentism,” judging historical figures by contemporary standards.
The case against Lee begins with the fact that he betrayed his oath to serve the United States. He didn’t need to do it. The late historian Elizabeth Brown Pryor demonstrated that 40 percent of Virginia officers decided to remain with the Union forces, including members of Lee’s family.
As the historian Allen Guelzo emailed me, “He withdrew from the Army and took up arms in a rebellion against the United States.” He could have at least sat out the war. But, Guelzo continues, “he raised his hand against the flag and government he had sworn to defend. This more than fulfills the constitutional definition of treason.”
More germane, while Lee may have opposed slavery in theory he did nothing to eliminate or reduce it in practice. On the contrary, if he’d been successful in the central task of his life, he would have preserved and prolonged it.
Like Lincoln he did not believe African-Americans were yet capable of equality. Unlike Lincoln he accepted the bondage of other human beings with bland complaisance. His wife inherited 196 slaves from her father. Her father’s will (somewhat impractically) said they were to be freed, but Lee didn’t free them.
Lee didn’t enjoy owning slaves, but he was considered a hard taskmaster and he did sell some, breaking up families. Moreover, he supported the institution of slavery as a pillar of Confederate life. He defended the right of Southerners to take their slaves to the Western territories. He fundamentally believed the existence of slavery was, at least for a time, God’s will.
Every generation has a duty to root out the stubborn weed of prejudice from the culture. We do that, in part, through expressions of admiration and disdain. Given our history, it seems right to aggressively go the extra mile to show that prejudice is simply unacceptable, no matter how fine a person might otherwise be.
My own view is that we should preserve most Confederate memorials out of respect for the common soldiers. We should keep Lee’s name on institutions that reflect postwar service, like Washington and Lee University, where he was president. But we should remove Lee’s name from most schools, roads and other institutions, where the name could be seen as acceptance of what he did and stood for during the war.
This is not about rewriting history. It’s about shaping the culture going forward.

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Bibliotherapy

Several years ago, I was given as a gift a remote session with a bibliotherapist at the London headquarters of the School of Life, which offers innovative courses to help people deal with the daily emotional challenges of existence. I have to admit that at first I didn’t really like the idea of being given a reading “prescription.” I’ve generally preferred to mimic Virginia Woolf’s passionate commitment to serendipity in my personal reading discoveries, delighting not only in the books themselves but in the randomly meaningful nature of how I came upon them (on the bus after a breakup, in a backpackers’ hostel in Damascus, or in the dark library stacks at graduate school, while browsing instead of studying). I’ve long been wary of the peculiar evangelism of certain readers: You must read this, they say, thrusting a book into your hands with a beatific gleam in their eyes, with no allowance for the fact that books mean different things to people—or different things to the same person—at various points in our lives. I loved John Updike’s stories about the Maples in my twenties, for example, and hate them in my thirties, and I’m not even exactly sure why.
But the session was a gift, and I found myself unexpectedly enjoying the initial questionnaire about my reading habits that the bibliotherapist, Ella Berthoud, sent me. Nobody had ever asked me these questions before, even though reading fiction is and always has been essential to my life. I love to gorge on books over long breaks—I’ll pack more books than clothes, I told Berthoud. I confided my dirty little secret, which is that I don’t like buying or owning books, and always prefer to get them from the library (which, as I am a writer, does not bring me very good book-sales karma). In response to the question “What is preoccupying you at the moment?,” I was surprised by what I wanted to confess: I am worried about having no spiritual resources to shore myself up against the inevitable future grief of losing somebody I love, I wrote. I’m not religious, and I don’t particularly want to be, but I’d like to read more about other people’s reflections on coming to some sort of early, weird form of faith in a “higher being” as an emotional survival tactic. Simply answering the questions made me feel better, lighter.
We had some satisfying back-and-forths over e-mail, with Berthoud digging deeper, asking about my family’s history and my fear of grief, and when she sent the final reading prescription it was filled with gems, none of which I’d previously read. Among the recommendations was “The Guide,” by R. K. Narayan. Berthoud wrote that it was “a lovely story about a man who starts his working life as a tourist guide at a train station in Malgudi, India, but then goes through many other occupations before finding his unexpected destiny as a spiritual guide.” She had picked it because she hoped it might leave me feeling “strangely enlightened.” Another was “The Gospel According to Jesus Christ,” by José Saramago: “Saramago doesn’t reveal his own spiritual stance here but portrays a vivid and compelling version of the story we know so well.” “Henderson the Rain King,” by Saul Bellow, and “Siddhartha,” by Hermann Hesse, were among other prescribed works of fiction, and she included some nonfiction, too, such as “The Case for God,” by Karen Armstrong, and “Sum,” by the neuroscientist David Eagleman, a “short and wonderful book about possible afterlives.”
I worked my way through the books on the list over the next couple of years, at my own pace—interspersed with my own “discoveries”—and while I am fortunate enough to have my ability to withstand terrible grief untested, thus far, some of the insights I gleaned from these books helped me through something entirely different, when, over several months, I endured acute physical pain. The insights themselves are still nebulous, as learning gained through reading fiction often is—but therein lies its power. In a secular age, I suspect that reading fiction is one of the few remaining paths to transcendence, that elusive state in which the distance between the self and the universe shrinks. Reading fiction makes me lose all sense of self, but at the same time makes me feel most uniquely myself. As Woolf, the most fervent of readers, wrote, a book “splits us into two parts as we read,” for “the state of reading consists in the complete elimination of the ego,” while promising “perpetual union” with another mind.
Bibliotherapy is a very broad term for the ancient practice of encouraging reading for therapeutic effect. The first use of the term is usually dated to a jaunty 1916 article in The Atlantic Monthly, “A Literary Clinic.” In it, the author describes stumbling upon a “bibliopathic institute” run by an acquaintance, Bagster, in the basement of his church, from where he dispenses reading recommendations with healing value. “Bibliotherapy is…a new science,” Bagster explains. “A book may be a stimulant or a sedative or an irritant or a soporific. The point is that it must do something to you, and you ought to know what it is. A book may be of the nature of a soothing syrup or it may be of the nature of a mustard plaster.” To a middle-aged client with “opinions partially ossified,” Bagster gives the following prescription: “You must read more novels. Not pleasant stories that make you forget yourself. They must be searching, drastic, stinging, relentless novels.” (George Bernard Shaw is at the top of the list.) Bagster is finally called away to deal with a patient who has “taken an overdose of war literature,” leaving the author to think about the books that “put new life into us and then set the life pulse strong but slow.”
Today, bibliotherapy takes many different forms, from literature courses run for prison inmates to reading circles for elderly people suffering from dementia. Sometimes it can simply mean one-on-one or group sessions for “lapsed” readers who want to find their way back to an enjoyment of books. Berthoud and her longtime friend and fellow bibliotherapist Susan Elderkin mostly practice “affective” bibliotherapy, advocating the restorative power of reading fiction. The two met at Cambridge University as undergraduates, more than twenty years ago, and bonded immediately over the shared contents of their bookshelves, in particular Italo Calvino’s novel “If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller,” which is itself about the nature of reading. As their friendship developed, they began prescribing novels to cure each other’s ailments, such as a broken heart or career uncertainty. “When Suse was having a crisis about her profession—she wanted to be a writer, but was wondering if she could cope with the inevitable rejection—I gave her Don Marquis’s ‘Archy and Mehitabel’ poems,” Berthoud told me. “If Archy the cockroach could be so dedicated to his art as to jump on the typewriter keys in order to write his free-verse poems every night in the New York offices of the Evening Sun, then surely she should be prepared to suffer for her art, too.” Years later, Elderkin gave Berthoud,who wanted to figure out how to balance being a painter and a mother, Patrick Gale’s novel “Notes from an Exhibition,” about a successful but troubled female artist.
They kept recommending novels to each other, and to friends and family, for many years, and, in 2007, when the philosopher Alain de Botton, a fellow Cambridge classmate, was thinking about starting the School of Life, they pitched to him the idea of running a bibliotherapy clinic. “As far as we knew, nobody was doing it in that form at the time,” Berthoud said. “Bibliotherapy, if it existed at all, tended to be based within a more medical context, with an emphasis on self-help books. But we were dedicated to fiction as the ultimate cure because it gives readers a transformational experience.”
Berthoud and Elderkin trace the method of bibliotherapy all the way back to the Ancient Greeks, “who inscribed above the entrance to a library in Thebes that this was a ‘healing place for the soul.’ ” The practice came into its own at the end of the nineteenth century, when Sigmund Freud began using literature during psychoanalysis sessions. After the First World War, traumatized soldiers returning home from the front were often prescribed a course of reading. “Librarians in the States were given training on how to give books to WWI vets, and there’s a nice story about Jane Austen’s novels being used for bibliotherapeutic purposes at the same time in the U.K.,” Elderkin says. Later in the century, bibliotherapy was used in varying ways in hospitals and libraries, and has more recently been taken up by psychologists, social and aged-care workers, and doctors as a viable mode of therapy.
There is now a network of bibliotherapists selected and trained by Berthoud and Elderkin, and affiliated with the School of Life, working around the world, from New York to Melbourne. The most common ailments people tend to bring to them are the life-juncture transitions, Berthoud says: being stuck in a rut in your career, feeling depressed in your relationship, or suffering bereavement. The bibliotherapists see a lot of retirees, too, who know that they have twenty years of reading ahead of them but perhaps have only previously read crime thrillers, and want to find something new to sustain them. Many seek help adjusting to becoming a parent. “I had a client in New York, a man who was having his first child, and was worried about being responsible for another tiny being,” Berthoud says. “I recommended ‘Room Temperature,’ by Nicholson Baker, which is about a man feeding his baby a bottle and having these meditative thoughts about being a father. And of course ‘To Kill a Mockingbird,’ because Atticus Finch is the ideal father in literature.”
Berthoud and Elderkin are also the authors of “The Novel Cure: An A-Z of Literary Remedies,” which is written in the style of a medical dictionary and matches ailments (“failure, feeling like a”) with suggested reading cures (“The History of Mr. Polly,” by H. G. Wells). First released in the U.K. in 2013, it is now being published in eighteen countries, and, in an interesting twist, the contract allows for a local editor and reading specialist to adapt up to twenty-five per cent of the ailments and reading recommendations to fit each particular country’s readership and include more native writers. The new, adapted ailments are culturally revealing. In the Dutch edition, one of the adapted ailments is “having too high an opinion of your own child”; in the Indian edition, “public urination” and “cricket, obsession with” are included; the Italians introduced “impotence,” “fear of motorways,” and “desire to embalm”; and the Germans added “hating the world” and “hating parties.” Berthoud and Elderkin are now working on a children’s-literature version, “A Spoonful of Stories,” due out in 2016.
For all avid readers who have been self-medicating with great books their entire lives, it comes as no surprise that reading books can be good for your mental health and your relationships with others, but exactly why and how is now becoming clearer, thanks to new research on reading’s effects on the brain. Since the discovery, in the mid-nineties, of “mirror neurons”—neurons that fire in our brains both when we perform an action ourselves and when we see an action performed by someone else—the neuroscience of empathy has become clearer. A 2011 study published in the Annual Review of Psychology, based on analysis of fMRI brain scans of participants, showed that, when people read about an experience, they display stimulation within the same neurological regions as when they go through that experience themselves. We draw on the same brain networks when we’re reading stories and when we’re trying to guess at another person’s feelings.
Other studies published in 2006 and 2009 showed something similar—that people who read a lot of fiction tend to be better at empathizing with others (even after the researchers had accounted for the potential bias that people with greater empathetic tendencies may prefer to read novels). And, in 2013, an influential study published in Science found that reading literary fiction (rather than popular fiction or literary nonfiction) improved participants’ results on tests that measured social perception and empathy, which are crucial to “theory of mind”: the ability to guess with accuracy what another human being might be thinking or feeling, a skill humans only start to develop around the age of four.
Keith Oatley, a novelist and emeritus professor of cognitive psychology at the University of Toronto, has for many years run a research group interested in the psychology of fiction. “We have started to show how identification with fictional characters occurs, how literary art can improve social abilities, how it can move us emotionally, and can prompt changes of selfhood,” he wrote in his 2011 book, “Such Stuff as Dreams: The Psychology of Fiction.” “Fiction is a kind of simulation, one that runs not on computers but on minds: a simulation of selves in their interactions with others in the social world…based in experience, and involving being able to think of possible futures.” This idea echoes a long-held belief among both writers and readers that books are the best kinds of friends; they give us a chance to rehearse for interactions with others in the world, without doing any lasting damage. In his 1905 essay “On Reading,” Marcel Proust puts it nicely: “With books there is no forced sociability. If we pass the evening with those friends—books—it’s because we really want to. When we leave them, we do so with regret and, when we have left them, there are none of those thoughts that spoil friendship: ‘What did they think of us?’—‘Did we make a mistake and say something tactless?’—‘Did they like us?’—nor is there the anxiety of being forgotten because of displacement by someone else.”
George Eliot, who is rumored to have overcome her grief at losing her life partner through a program of guided reading with a young man who went on to become her husband, believed that “art is the nearest thing to life; it is a mode of amplifying experience and extending our contact with our fellow-men beyond the bounds of our personal lot.” But not everybody agrees with this characterization of fiction reading as having the ability to make us behave better in real life. In her 2007 book, “Empathy and the Novel,” Suzanne Keen takes issue with this “empathy-altruism hypothesis,” and is skeptical about whether empathetic connections made while reading fiction really translate into altruistic, prosocial behavior in the world. She also points out how hard it is to really prove such a hypothesis. “Books can’t make change by themselves—and not everyone feels certain that they ought to,” Keen writes. “As any bookworm knows, readers can also seem antisocial and indolent. Novel reading is not a team sport.” Instead, she urges, we should enjoy what fiction does give us, which is a release from the moral obligation to feel something for invented characters—as you would for a real, live human being in pain or suffering—which paradoxically means readers sometimes “respond with greater empathy to an unreal situation and characters because of the protective fictionality.” And she wholeheartedly supports the personal health benefits of an immersive experience like reading, which “allows a refreshing escape from ordinary, everyday pressures.”
So even if you don’t agree that reading fiction makes us treat others better, it is a way of treating ourselves better. Reading has been shown to put our brains into a pleasurable trance-like state, similar to meditation, and it brings the same health benefits of deep relaxation and inner calm. Regular readers sleep better, have lower stress levels, higher self-esteem, and lower rates of depression than non-readers. “Fiction and poetry are doses, medicines,” the author Jeanette Winterson has written. “What they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination.”
One of Berthoud’s clients described to me how the group and individual sessions she has had with Berthoud have helped her cope with the fallout from a series of calamities, including losing her husband, the end of a five-year engagement, and a heart attack. “I felt my life was without purpose,” she says. “I felt a failure as a woman.” Among the books Berthoud initially prescribed was John Irving’s novel “The Hotel New Hampshire.” “He was a favorite writer of my husband, [whom] I had felt unable to attempt for sentimental reasons.” She was “astounded and very moved” to see it on the list, and though she had avoided reading her husband’s books up until then, she found reading it to be “a very rewarding emotional experience, both in the literature itself and ridding myself of demons.” She also greatly appreciated Berthoud guiding her to Tom Robbins’s novel “Jitterbug Perfume,” which was “a real learning curve for me about prejudice and experimentation.”
One of the ailments listed in “The Novel Cure” is “overwhelmed by the number of books in the world,” and it’s one I suffer from frequently. Elderkin says this is one of the most common woes of modern readers, and that it remains a major motivation for her and Berthoud’s work as bibliotherapists. “We feel that though more books are being published than ever before, people are in fact selecting from a smaller and smaller pool. Look at the reading lists of most book clubs, and you’ll see all the same books, the ones that have been shouted about in the press. If you actually calculate how many books you read in a year—and how many that means you’re likely to read before you die—you’ll start to realize that you need to be highly selective in order to make the most of your reading time.” And the best way to do that? See a bibliotherapist, as soon as you can, and take them up on their invitation, to borrow some lines from Shakespeare’s “Titus Andronicus”: “Come, and take choice of all my library/And so beguile thy sorrow…”

Doomsday for Scalia



Supporters of the Affordable Care Act, starting with President Barack Obama, have generally taken the high road in response to Thursday’s decision by the Supreme Court to uphold the heart of the law. Graciousness in victory is, perhaps, its own reward. But it may also be appropriate, on the occasion of the 6–3 decision in King v. Burwell, to observe that this lawsuit was from its inception a shameful and cynical exercise, which illustrated the debasement of the contemporary conservative legal movement.
The facts of the case are by now well known. The core goal of the Affordable Care Act was to provide health insurance to as many Americans as possible. States were encouraged to set up exchanges, or marketplaces, where individuals could buy insurance, and there would be subsidies from the federal government for people who needed them. Before it passed, in 2010, the A.C.A. was subject to one of the longest and most contentious congressional debates in recent history. The law was attacked and analyzed from every conceivable perspective. The law may have been wise, or it may have been foolish, but it was universally understood.
Months after the law went into effect, a group of conservative lawyers discovered what was, at most, a drafting error in the law. A section of the law suggested that the subsidies should only go to individuals who bought insurance on exchanges “established by the State.” This discovery prompted the lawyers to argue that the subsidies would not be available to people who bought insurance on the federal exchange, which is the only exchange in thirty-four states. Notably—crucially—not one member of Congress who debated the law suggested that subsidies were to be denied to purchasers on the federal exchange. Still, these lawyers recruited plaintiffs and argued that more than six million people who bought insurance on the federal exchange should be denied their subsidies.
What principle was at stake in this lawsuit? The correct answer is none. This is a contrast to National Federation of Independent Business v. Sebelius, which was the first challenge to the A.C.A. In that case, the plaintiffs argued that Congress lacked the constitutional authority to pass the law in the first place. The case made a respectable (if ultimately unsuccessful) argument for a narrow conception of the government’s ability to regulate health care under the Constitution. King v. Burwell did not implicate the Constitution at all. It was, rather, based on a claim that the Obama Administration violated the A.C.A. itself by offering subsidies to purchasers on the federal exchange. The case was, in other words, a sophisticated game of gotcha, based on what was, again, essentially a typographical error. The case was only about trying to destroy the law by denying insurance to millions and setting in motion a death spiral of raised premiums, cancelled policies, and more rate hikes until the system collapsed. (The sheer callousness of the plaintiffs’ lawyers in King was something to behold. Millions tossed off health insurance? Hey, deal with it.)
For writing the opinion upholding the law, Chief Justice John G. Roberts, Jr., is being hailed (and denounced) as a latter-day Earl Warren—a Republican appointee who turns out to be a secret liberal. This is hardly accurate. Roberts is still the author of the Shelby County case, which gutted the Voting Rights Act, and an eager member of the court majority in Citizens United and all the other cases that undermined our system of regulating political campaigns. But as his restrained and cogent opinion in King demonstrated, he is not a partisan ideologue. Quoting liberally from opinions by Justice Antonin Scalia, Roberts made the commonsensical observation that a law must be interpreted as a whole, not by the analysis of a few stray words here and there. And the context of the full A.C.A. compelled the obvious conclusion that the subsidies were intended to go to individuals on both the federal as well as state exchanges. The law would otherwise make no sense. As Roberts wrote, “The statutory scheme compels us to reject [the plaintiffs’] interpretation because it would destabilize the individual insurance market in any State with a Federal Exchange, and likely create the very ‘death spirals’ that Congress designed the Act to avoid.” Recognition of this obvious fact does not make Roberts a liberal; it makes him a judge.
In dissent, Scalia cranked up his increasingly tired act as the Court’s sound-bite generator. According to Scalia, the Court engaged in “interpretive jiggery-pokery,” spouted “pure applesauce,” and should prompt Obamacare to be renamed “SCOTUScare.” The problem with Scalia’s dissent is the problem with the lawsuit as a whole. It’s a transparent attempt to undermine the law by whatever means happen to be available rather than by any consistent jurisprudential principle. Back in the nineteen-sixties and seventies, judicial conservatives believed in restraint—in deference to the elected branches of government. That led them to oppose such decisions as Roe v. Wade, which overturned state laws banning abortion, and to support broad exercises of executive power. The King case shows that some conservatives have abandoned their old idea of deference to the executive branch and are simply filing lawsuits against the laws they don’t like—and coming up with whatever reasons they can to support them.
Obamacare remains controversial, and its future will be an important issue in the 2016 elections. That’s as it should be. If Republicans can win the Presidency and extend their control of Congress, they may well have the chance to undo the law, and they will have every right to do so. But today the Court said that the future of the law should be decided in that political process and not in response to litigation stunts like King v. Burwell.