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Tag: morality
Nancy Mace

Are These 'Republican Vixens' Mocking Conservative Morality?

South Carolina Rep. Nancy Mace was in Washington telling a story about how her "fiance" wanted more action in bed earlier that day. "And I was like, 'No baby, we don't got time for that this morning.'" To which she added, "He can wait. I'll see him later tonight."

The occasion was a Christian prayer breakfast attended by evangelicals.

Colorado Rep. Lauren Boebert famously vaped in a theater and grabbed her date's privates. When called out for her offensive conduct, she blamed a "difficult divorce." Meanwhile, self-described "Christian nationalist" Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene showers the House floor with profanities.

I honestly don't care who Nancy Mace shacks up with. But it is fascinating to hear her refer to the guy in her bed as a "fiance" as opposed to some random dude. Makes her adultery sound like almost-marriage.

What are these right-wing vixens up to? For starters, they're advertising their sexual availability. (Tinder never closes.) And as members of Congress, their forays into exhibitionism provide visibility and opportunities to raise money.

These ladies evidently think that they can get away with dishing this coarseness in public while posing as defenders of old-school morality. You sometimes wonder whether they are mocking social conservatives.

Some evangelicals are quite unhappy about this. They are joined by others who simply want more dignity in the political culture.

The road to right-wing vulgarity was paved with hypocrisy. Some of the credit goes to Bill Bennett, who long ago perfected the art of unprincipled rectitude. Former education secretary under Ronald Reagan, Bennett has long peddled a highly elastic moral code — depends on which party benefits — while maintaining a face frozen in pious judgment.

In his 1998 book, The Death of Outrage: Bill Clinton and the Assault on American Ideals, Bennett piled moral censure on Clinton over his tryst with a White House intern. And he went after Democrats for not sharing his indignation.

The first chapter, simply titled "Sex," pounded the pulpit. "In extramarital affairs," Bennett wrote, "there are victims. In marriage, one person has been entrusted with the soul of another." If true, that's bad news for Melania.

Years later, a Fox News interviewer asked Bennett how a man claiming fixed moral views on adultery could support Donald Trump. As the world knows, the former president cheated on his pregnant wife with a porn star and bragged about grabbing women by their genitals.

"I understand how you feel about some of the things," Bennett responded, miraculously keeping a straight face. "But it may be better to lower your standards on things the guy says temporarily than to lose your country permanently."

Ah, so he's using the "fiance" gambit. Branding Trump's lewd talk as "temporary" make it an almost-character flaw. As for the "lose your country" part, that sounds a bit dated considering how close Trump got us to losing our democracy.

"Sexual indiscipline can be a threat to the stability of crucial human affairs," Bennett wrote in reference to Clinton. Would someone kindly translate?

Urging voters to look past Trump's licentious record, Bennett argued, "Think about the economy." Years earlier, he rapped the knuckles of Clinton defenders for allegedly contending that "what matters above all is a healthy economy." Actually, the economy was a lot better under Clinton, and the budget was balanced, too.

Look, Bennett has a First Amendment right to make money off hypocrisy. And let the record show, I too disapprove of adultery. But I also regarded Clinton's misconduct as a private matter to be worked out between a couple and the third party. And I extend that courtesy to Trump, Melania and Stormy Daniels.

Uncomfortable as it may sometimes be, consistency is a good thing.

Reprinted with permission from Alternet.

Will Troy Davis’ Execution Lead To The Abolition Of The Death Penalty? Probably Not.

Troy Davis’ execution in Georgia Wednesday night elicited massive amounts of publicity and general outrage.

But, despite the impression given by the media, Davis wasn’t the only American executed that night. The fact that another execution was met with relative silence reflects most Americans’ persistent refusal to openly call for the complete abolition of the death penalty.

Wednesday marked a climax of death penalty coverage and discussion as the dismayed public learned of Davis’ execution. His case involved a considerable amount of doubt — there was no physical evidence tying him to the 1989 murder of Officer Mark MacPhail, and seven of nine witnesses had recanted their testimonies. For years, Davis’ family and human rights activists around the world campaigned on his behalf. The legal fight culminated with a last-minute appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court, which was ultimately unsuccessful in stopping the execution. Up until his dying breath, Davis asserted his innocence.

On the same night, Lawrence Brewer was executed in Texas. He was convicted of the 1998 racially motivated death of a black man: Brewer and two friends beat James Byrd Jr., chained him to the back of a truck, dragged him for several miles, and dumped his decapitated body near a cemetery. Brewer admitted he was involved in the attack but denied that he killed Byrd. Unsurprisingly, protesters and activists were not as apt to call for the courts to save Brewer’s life.

From a moral standpoint, it’s much easier for people to speak out against the execution of Davis than of Brewer. The dialogue surrounding Davis’ execution focused on the amount of doubt remaining in his case — the outrage was that an innocent man was being put to death. But the divergent reaction to the Brewer execution shows that the general public still supports the death penalty in some instances. Based on these reactions, Americans seem to be more concerned with the innocence of individual death row inmates, rather than challenging the morality of the death penalty in general.

One of the arguments against the death penalty is its permanence; even if the person is later exonerated, it is impossible to retract punishment once the execution has been carried out. In this way, the question of innocence is obviously important in the fight to abolish the death penalty. People wanted justice for Troy Davis — but would they have been just as outraged about his execution if he were definitely guilty?

As Brendan O’Neill wrote in The Telegraph,

The airbrushing of Brewer from yesterday’s heated discussions on the death penalty speaks volumes about the Troy Davis campaign. It seems pretty clear that it was motivated, not by a principled, across-the-board opposition to the state killing of citizens, but rather by campaigners’ desire to indulge in some very public moral preening. Unlike the Brewer execution, which was ugly and complicated, the Davis execution could be squeezed into a cozy moral narrative in which the state of Georgia was depicted as backward and racist and those who opposed the execution of Davis presented themselves as purer than pure, good and decent, and more than willing to prove it by writing tweets of concern every four or five minutes. What message should we take from this disparity in campaigning? That Troy Davis did not deserve to die but Lawrence Brewer did? Such moral flightiness, such brutal arbitrariness, reveals much about today’s very changeable campaigners against the death penalty.

The dialogue — or lack thereof — surrounding Wednesday’s executions reinforces the notion that most Americans still support the death penalty in some cases. A Rasmussen Reports poll from June found that 63 percent of Americans support the death penalty, and only 25 percent oppose it.

This position differs from the international norm. According to the latest capital punishment statistics, only 23 countries carried out executions in 2010. China, Iran, North Korea, and Yemen — countries with notorious human rights records — topped the list of the most executions last year, along with the United States. Despite the controversy surrounding the Troy Davis case, it is still unlikely that the United States will join the rest of the Western Hemisphere, Europe, and many others in abolishing the death penalty.

Amnesty International, which led the protests and vigils in the Davis case, fundamentally opposes the death penalty in all instances. The Troy Davis case became the focus in the fight against capital punishment in part because the glaring inconsistencies made his specific case particularly outrageous and heartbreaking. It is much more complicated to make the public sympathetic to a white supremacist like Brewer, even though Amnesty and others opposed his execution as well. The Amnesty website contained a brief mention of Brewer’s execution: “On the same day, Lawrence Brewer was also executed in Huntsville, Texas. He was sentenced to death for his role in the killing of James Byrd, Jr. in June 1998. Amnesty International opposes the death penalty in all cases, without exception.” Despite this assertion, Amnesty clearly did not mobilize around the Brewer case to the same extent they did for Davis.

While the Troy Davis execution engaged the nation in the death penalty debate, the event might not mobilize the general public in the broader fight to completely abolish the death penalty. Americans are calling for justice, but killing U.S. citizens is still considered “just” in the minds of many people.

The Davis case is indeed tragic, but the greater tragedy is that the United States will most likely continue the practice of killing people convicted of crimes — whether or not they are guilty.

Baseball, Tim Pawlenty, And Celebrity Politics

Aug. 18 (Bloomberg) — You might have missed the news that several courthouse guards are being investigated for accepting autographed baseballs from Roger Clemens, one of the greatest pitchers of the modern era, after his mistrial on charges of lying under oath about steroid use.

This might seem like a minor offense, but it isn’t. Suppose the guards were accused of receiving $200 in cash — one estimate of the resale value of the autographed baseballs. Suppose further that the person handing out the bills happened to be an accused drug dealer, whose case had similarly ended in a mistrial. Presumably we would be outraged, and the story, rather than crawling across the bottom of the screen on the sports channels, would be leading the evening news.

But here is the trouble: Had the offer of a gratuity come from the drug dealer, one assumes the guards would have rejected it out of hand.

Why the difference? Because Clemens is a celebrity, and in the presence of celebrity, people seem to believe it is perfectly normal to act ridiculous — if by ridiculous we mean abandoning whatever notions of duty, morality and common sense that ought to guide our judgment. Celebrities, too, have a societal license to act ridiculous in their own presence, and often do — and, oddly, they often increase the value of their celebrity as a result.

Much has been written over the years about why we follow the doings of celebrities at all, and why we often become goofy in their presence. Some theorists point to data suggesting that celebrity worship fulfills a need formerly satisfied by religious affection. Others, armed with brain scans, contend that celebrities touch our romantic selves, so that our irrationality around them is much like our irrationality around our loved ones. Whatever the reasons, the effect of celebrity is undeniable.

Most of the time, our silliness is harmless. Standing alongside the barrier outside a night club or an awards show, shrieking and swooning as the famous go by, might be a peculiar way to expend energy, but it does no particular social damage. In 1966, when Willie Mays hit the 535th home run of his career – – making him, at the time, the greatest right-handed home run hitter ever — umpire Chris Pelekoudas stepped up to shake his hand as he crossed home plate. Pelekoudas reported himself to the league office for this act of partiality, and was told not to worry about it.

But our love of celebrity can also cause terrible harm — especially when the celebrity culture overflows its banks and pollutes the roiling waters of our politics. In a democracy, politics at its best is a serious business, calling upon all the best traits of our character — reflection, steadfastness, courage, tolerance, compassion, determination. When we instead conduct politics according to the rules of celebrity, we bring into democracy all that is worst in our culture.

Politics of Celebrity

Last week former Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty dropped out of the race for the Republican presidential nomination after finishing third in the Iowa straw poll, a contest that few voters can accurately describe. (Neither can many journalists, evidently: You do not have to hunt far to find dueling stories on whether, for example, anyone who shows up at the door can vote.)

I am not a registered Republican, and I have no particular brief for Pawlenty. But there is something troubling in the media descriptions of the ex-governor’s failings — that he seemed boring on television, for example, or that he never connected with voters. (Not, of course, that there have been any votes cast in the 2012 race yet.)

These criticisms are unrelated to the quality of his ideas, or his capacity to think through tough issues and reach wise decisions. They are, rather, the sorts of comments that a Hollywood producer might make in explaining why a particular actor just isn’t right for his upcoming film.

One sees a version of this battle being fought even today over the legacy of Ronald Reagan. What made him so successful and popular a president? To liberals, it was the power of his communication skills, his ability to connect with voters; to conservatives, it was the power of the ideas he was communicating. I do not pretend to know the answer in Reagan’s case, but I do think it is better for democracy if, in this case, the conservative side is right.

The theory of self-governance rests critically on the notion that we as citizens will take the time to inform ourselves about the issues before making our choices. Unfortunately, as the novelist John le Carre once noted, we tend to reward making a good point badly, and punish making a bad point well. It is style, not substance, that draws our attention.

Triumph of Glibness

The culture of celebrity politics too often rewards the mouthy, the glib and the outrageous, and hurts those who are thoughtful. What becomes important is not being able to present and defend good ideas, but having something succinct to say all the time. If a political candidate answers a question by saying, “That’s a tough one, I’ll have to consult with my advisers and think it over,” we should be delighted; instead, we will probably dismiss him as not ready to lead. Abraham Lincoln possessed a reedy speaking voice and a distracting accent associated at the time with the uneducated; in today’s politics, he would be a miserable failure.

So much of the energy of the partisan is nowadays committed to attacking, to sloganeering, to emoting. We all complain about the raucous absurdity of much of the cable world, but enough people tune in to keep the profits coming. Perhaps what appeals to the viewer is not the battle of great ideas but the conflict itself. Research cited by Daniel L. Wann and his collaborators in their book “Sports Fans: The Psychology and Social Impact of Spectators” suggests that at least among men, a contest becomes more interesting if they know that the teams are bitter enemies.

Yet here one is reminded of the wisdom of Bertrand Russell, who warned that if we never spend time alone with our thoughts, we never have thoughts of our own; we only have other people’s thoughts in our heads. Writing back in the 1930s, Russell argued that we should work less hard, because the vapidity, as he saw it, of popular entertainment was a function of our perpetual exhaustion: We are too tired to think, and so choose to be amused instead.

But if we take democracy seriously, we cannot let politics become amusement. Self-governance is hard work, and a self- governing people should require of its public debate more than telegenic candidates mouthing snappy answers.

(Stephen L. Carter, a novelist, professor of law at Yale and the author of “The Violence of Peace: America’s Wars in the Age of Obama,” is a Bloomberg View columnist. The opinions expressed are his own.)

Copyright 2011 Bloomberg

The New You

Jane Fonda had her eyes done. Granny — an 83-year-old property manager from Santa Ana, Calif. — is making national news for her “boob job.” And not to leave out the men reading this, it has been reported that tough guy Lakers star Kobe Bryant was seen recently having a mani-pedi — a manicure and pedicure.

Every one of them has an excuse, sort of.

Fonda reminds us that she is an actress who needs to be ready for her close-up.

Bryant is trying to deal with injuries to his hand and knee.

As for granny, she’s still working as a property manager, still active and vibrant, even as gravity is literally dragging her down. My guess is that, not being a celebrity, she probably didn’t expect that what would otherwise be considered routine surgery in Southern California would become the national story it is.

Should age matter? Yes.

Should gender? No.

When I say age matters, I don’t mean old age. I have been a fan of Fonda for, well, a very long time. If she wants to let go of her bags, including the ones under her eyes, more power to her. As for granny, I hope her doctor explained to her the risks of anesthesia and took whatever steps he could to minimize those risks. I don’t see myself being willing to take those risks to get rid of the sag and add a cup size or two, but ask me again in a quarter of a century.

There are plenty of people in my hometown, Los Angeles, who are visibly stretched too tight and more than enough doctors who don’t seem to have learned the word “no.” But excess and risk taking are not limited to plastic surgery. For my part, I wouldn’t ride a motorcycle at any age. If Fonda or granny wants to get on a Harley, the most I’ll do is tell them to wear a helmet and drive safely. Ditto for climbing Mount Everest. We live in a free country, which gives people the freedom to take risks, even risks others would consider foolish.

It’s the grandkids that worry me: the teenagers getting boob jobs and sucking fat out of their thighs before they’re old enough to vote; the baby actresses parading high-priced bodies toppling out of dresses that have every 15-year-old running out to search for similar slut-wear and hating themselves for having the body of someone their own age.

I’ve asked my son any number of times about getting a pedi or a polish-free mani. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be influenced by Kobe’s example, but I’m not worried about it, either. A foot massage feels great without regard to gender. I’m not a big Kobe fan, but I love my manicurists, and what’s good for them is fine with me.

Nor do I foresee a rush of 73-year-olds getting their eyes done or 83-year-olds getting boob jobs, if for no other reason than the recessed economy. But the impressive thing about Fonda and Granny is that, by their own definition, the purpose of their surgeries was to make their bodies match the vibrant and active lives they live.

On that score, more power to them. If your body is sagging and your mind is sharp, you can decide for yourself.

It’s the children we should be concerned about, the kids trying to change bodies that have yet to develop in the first place, the parents scraping into their savings to change their kids’ bodies instead of trying to change their minds, and the doctors who are too eager to cut or too busy to heal.

Too old for plastic surgery? No. Too young? Absolutely.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM