Short News and Commentary
REPAYING THE DEBT
The war in Iraq brought countless stories of courage and compassion: Two young American soldiers, left behind in the desert due to the fog of war, are found days later thirsty and hungry because they gave much of their food and water to Iraqi civilians. A severely wounded foreign-born U.S. Marine insists on standing as he takes his oath of citizenship at a Naval hospital and starts sobbing midway as he is overcome by pain and emotion. A soldier loses his leg in battle but bears no ill will and tells the visiting President Bush that it does “not bother me a bit.”
Such examples of honor and sacrifice have made many Americans, including me, beam with pride. But at the same time, I have never felt so ashamed--ashamed that I myself have failed to serve my country. Speaking to friends and peers, I’ve discovered that I’m not alone in feeling this sense of guilt.
Call it the Gen-X lament. I am almost 28 years old, have two Ivy League degrees and work at a large New York law firm. By the standards of the upwardly mobile set in Manhattan, I should be content. But something keeps gnawing at my conscience, and I am left wondering whether I made a mistake by not sharing in my country’s military service. My generation’s parents lived in the age of Vietnam, when respect for the military reached its nadir. Viewing American foreign policy as incorrigibly corrupt, they mainly had disdain toward those in the armed forces. In contrast, we grew up watching medical students rescued by soldiers kissing the ground upon reaching American soil, and seeing jubilant Kuwaitis thanking American fighters for liberating them. And despite the politically correct prattling of our professors, most of us saw America as a force for good in the world. (Radical chic loses its cachet when you see Chinese tanks crushing students.)
So while most of us grew up with respect for men and women in uniform, many of us Gen-Xers at the same time arrogantly treated military service as something almost beneath us. It was perfectly fine for a poor or working-class kid who lacked opportunities to enlist in the military, but it wasn’t meant for us. We were more interested about going to a good school, getting a well-paying job, and aspiring to be the next Master of the Universe. Too many of us chose dot-com over CentCom.
It wasn’t always like this. Only a couple of generations ago, it was not uncommon for someone from a privileged background to have served in the military for a few years, if not for life. Nearly 700 Harvard students died fighting in World War II; only about 20 were killed during the Vietnam War. To be fair, a good number of young Americans from well-to-do backgrounds are in ROTC (at least at schools that have not banished it), attend one of the service academies, or have found their own way into the ranks of the armed forces. I have friends from college and law school who have served in the military. But they represent a small fraction of my peers. Too many ambitious young adults have viewed dedicating a few years to military service during their youth as a hindrance to their manic rush to burnish their paper credentials. Part of the blame also lies with the Baby Boom generation that continues to view the military with suspicion. Many educated parents boast that their children are doing good in the world when they serve in the Peace Corps, or pursue a public interest career. But why shouldn’t service in the military be afforded similar respect and prestige by the so-called “high society”?
The military, unfortunately, has reinforced such elitist assumptions by advertising military service most heavily as an opportunity to earn scholarships or learn job skills. Mottos such as “Army of One” appeal mostly to self-interest. But the honorable and courageous conduct of so many young Americans in Iraq has done what no slick advertising campaign could do. We have been reminded that serving our country in the armed forces--the subordination of one’s selfish goals to service of a greater good--is one of the most noble things any person can do.
Like so many of my peers, I never seriously considered joining the military, and I have come to regret that. This sense of shame for my selfishness is particularly acute as a naturalized American. As my father once told me, America has saved him twice--once when it rescued South Korea from communism, and again 30 years later when it welcomed him to a new land. Several years ago, when my cousin decided to join the U.S. Marines after graduating from high school, I told him he was making a mistake. “You should go to college first,” I said. He didn’t listen to me. He enlisted in the Marines and then went to college later. Now I am the one who envies him, because he did what so few of us do: He repaid the debt that we all owe to our country, and he did “good” for the world.
--New York City lawyer Kenneth Lee writes regularly for The American Enterprise.
HOT SHOT
I have never been what you would call a gun nut. Sure, I’ve always taken libertarian pleasure in defending an individual’s Second Amendment rights in a theoretical argument. But when it comes to real-life encounters with guns themselves, I’ve been happy to keep my distance. I know that “guns don’t kill people,” that “people kill people,” but it always seemed to me that the “people and guns” combo posed the greatest likelihood of doing real damage. So I’ve been content to argue consistently for a right to bear arms, while staying far away from those arms in my everyday life.
That’s why it was so strange to find myself standing in the lane of a Florida shooting range recently, staring down a paper target through the sight of a loaded 9 mm Glock handgun, slowly moving my index finger onto the trigger. And enjoying every minute of it.
I don’t come from Florida. I’m a Canadian living in Toronto. I was in Florida with my boyfriend for the wedding of one of my college pals, and I agreed to accompany him to the shooting range because he had been so patient and good-humored over the weekend in sitting through endless “Whatever happened to . . .” stories, innumerable SARS jokes, and much mocking of his Canadian accent, without complaint. If he wanted to spend the last evening of our vacation at a shooting range, I wasn’t going to be an obstruction.
I was going to be a bit freaked out, mind you. I didn’t know what to expect, and when we walked into the lobby of the shooting range and were greeted with shelves of ammunition, two display cases full of handguns, and a series of automatic weapons mounted on the wall behind the counter, I was ready to turn and run. But the boyfriend was all business, and before I had a chance to plan my escape he was chatting with the reassuringly diminutive young woman behind the counter and setting up his rental of an AK-47.
I, meanwhile, did my best not to hyperventilate as one of the male employees showed me a small cannon whose bullets, I was told, would break through a brick wall.
“Try not to look like a deer caught in headlights,” my boyfriend whispered to me with a smile, as he took my hand and led me over to a table where he could fill out the many sheets of paperwork that were required before the kind folks at the range would turn over one of their automatic weapons to him.
“O.K.,” I said. But my entire body shook with each muted “bang” that leaked through the thick glass and double doors separating the lobby from the shooting lanes. I suppose that’s how the slim, white-haired man in the Army shirt knew I was scared. He came over and asked if I was planning to shoot. I told him I wasn’t. He told me I should. I told him I wouldn’t.
“It’s your duty as a citizen,” the man said. “I’m not a citizen,” I said. “I’m Canadian.”
“Then, you’re right” he said. “You’re not a citizen, you’re a subject."
“What kind of gun would you recommend?” I answered.
What can I tell you? The truth hurts. But sometimes it leads us to action.
In the end, after much consultation with the white-haired man (who turned out to be a calming private instructor named Frank) and the diminutive woman behind the counter (who kindly warned me off the heavier guns and those with a tendency to recoil), I ended up with the 9mm Glock. Then, an immense man named Fred led me through a thorough lesson on how to load, fire, clear, and handle the weapon without shooting my, or anyone else’s, head off.
By the time I was settled into a lane, methodically observing Fred’s safety rules, carefully aiming and firing at the paper target, taking calm instructions from Frank about smoothing out my trigger squeeze, I felt like a different person. I was in control. I was able to respect the weapon in front of me without feeling terrified of it. And, for the first time in my entire life, I understood what it meant to hold the physical power to defend my small, 5’2” self against anyone who might threaten me or my rights. Well, anyone who didn’t happen to be carrying one of those mini cannon things, anyway.
I am still not a gun nut. I doubt I ever will be. But I can now understand, on a gut rather than just an intellectual level, the liberating power of possessing the means and skill to protect oneself.
That is what makes Americans an especially privileged people, and, ultimately, what makes each one of them a citizen, not a subject.
--Toronto lawyer Marni Soupcoff writes a column for TAEmag.com every Friday.
QUACK WHACK
I know an Atlanta hospital that has more than its share of quacks. This is not to suggest a lack of expertise or dedication among the staff physicians. You see, the hospital houses the AFLAC Cancer Center and Blood Disorders Service for children. It and other pediatric oncology centers across the country benefit from the financial generosity of AFLAC, the Georgia insurance company whose commercials have made the duck with the raspy quack a national icon.
But not everyone is pleased to see the bird squawk “AFLAC” on national TV. Because the AFLAC duck is sometimes shown in treacherous situations in the commercials, such as falling into the Grand Canyon, or hanging upside down in a bat cave, the animal rights group United Poultry Concerns has cried foul. The hazardous scenes are obviously played by a robot duck, not a real one, but one UPC official with ruffled feathers has branded the commercials “degrading to ducks,” and claimed that animal abuse could be fostered by them.
Even more berserk is the stand taken by UPC president Karen Davis. It is “specieist,” she believes, to think that “the September 11 attack on the World Trade Center was a greater tragedy than what millions of chickens endured that day, and what they endure every day because they can’t defend themselves against the concerted human appetites against them.” She holds that the destruction of the Twin Towers “actually reduced the pain and suffering in the world, since 3,000 people would no longer be able to eat chickens.”
“If it were up to me,” Davis declares, “there would be no ‘domestic’ animals, by which I mean there would be no slavery, no animal property, no ‘pets.’ Other creatures would live their lives, raising their families, having their own projects.” (Ms. Davis shares her Virginia home with more than 100 duck and chicken “companions.”)
Meanwhile, the AFLAC duck is generating life-saving funds across the country. Sales by the company of stuffed ducks have raised more than $12 million to fight children’s cancer. And animals with snowy white bodies and bright yellow beaks are hugged proudly every night by young patients at the AFLAC Center.
--Tait Trussell watches America from Michigan.
THE LIMITS OF TAXING THE “RICH”
“Soak the rich” rhetoric has been part of American political discourse for as long as I can remember. Democrats and liberals usually insist that the rich should pay more taxes. But the tax dilemma of California Governor Gray Davis shows there are practical limits to this strategy.
Governor Davis, of all people, recently called attention to the fact that the rich already pay most of the income taxes in California. And he noted that California’s tax revenue has become extremely volatile precisely because the incomes of rich people fluctuate up and down a lot.
The state’s treasury did very well during the dot-com boom, when California collected enormous taxes on capital gains and other investments. But this December, after he was safely re-elected, Davis began arguing that California needs a source of revenue that is not dependent on such volatile sources of income. We can’t allow the welfare of the entire state to rely upon the fortunes of a handful of very rich people, he suggested.
You might ask why California needs more money. Unfortunately, Governor Davis spent the flood of tax revenue that came in during the dot-com boom--adding 44,494 new state employees to the payroll. Now that the incomes of the very rich have dropped off sharply with the stock market, Davis is frantic for new funds. (Cutting state government is barely on his radar screen.)
I was intrigued as to where a liberal Democrat like Davis might be going with his warning that pressing the rich harder wasn’t the way to go. After all, at the very moment he said this, Democrats at the national level were attacking George Bush for being too easy on the wealthy.
But the bare facts show what motivated Davis. Both in the state of California and at the federal level, the reality is that the rich pay the lion’s share of taxes. In California, taxpayers with adjusted gross incomes over $100,000 make up the top 11 percent of taxpayers, yet this high-earning group paid 80 percent of the state’s income taxes. Taxpayers with incomes over $500,000 account for less than 1 percent of total tax returns filed, but pay fully 40 percent of the personal income taxes remitted to the state. Tax returns at the federal level reveal a similar, though slightly less skewed, pattern. According to the Tax Foundation, the top 10 percent of U.S. payers contributed 67 percent of all federal personal income taxes. There’s not a lot more that can be squeezed out of that stone.
If we already rely too much on the rich for government revenues, where does one go if he thinks (as Gray Davis does) that the government needs more money? Davis concluded he needed to tax everybody else more. He proposed an increase in the California sales tax, expected to raise $1.7 billion and a $4 billion increase in vehicle license fees. Both are broad levies paid by almost everybody.
So what went around has come around. In taxing rich people heavily to build government revenue, my state (and many others) hitched their wagons to the star of the wealthy. While the rich flourished, the states were flush, but when they fell back to earth, our government coffers dried up.
The truth is, there is a natural limit to “soaking the rich”--and California and other places may have just hit it.
--Jennifer Roback Morse is a fellow of Stanford’s Hoover Institution. An earlier version of this appeared in ToTheSource.
LEFT CLERGY, RIGHT LAITY
The war in Iraq exposed many continuing fissures in U.S. society, but none more evident than the divide between clerics promoting a forgiving “God of Peace” and parishioners favoring a sterner “God of Justice.”
Most mainline Christian faiths--the Roman Catholic Church, the Episcopal Church, the United Church of Christ, the United Methodists, and the National Council of Churches--adamantly opposed the war against Iraq from the outset. Like the secular left, liberal religious leaders denounced the conflict as one of U.S. aggression, likely to evolve into a long, bloody conflict. In contrast, most people in the pews strongly backed President Bush’s goal of ousting Saddam Hussein. According to a prewar poll conducted by the Pew Research Center and Forum on Religion and Public Life, greater than 60 percent of mainline Protestants and Catholics favored attacking Iraq, along with more than 75 percent of evangelical Protestants.
Significantly, this gap between the ecclesiastic establishment and the laity extends beyond issues of war and peace to a wide range of social and political topics. Professor of religion Wade Roof traces the divide to changes in seminary training that began in the 1960s, which brought an increasingly leftward tilt to young clergy on issues ranging from race relations and economics to homosexuality and women’s rights. As a result, the “gap between mainline religious beliefs and what the American people actually think has grown worse,” says Roof.
An intellectual takeover by progressives within mainline churches pushed clergy beliefs well to the left of churchgoers, agrees Scott Appleby, a historian of the American Catholic Church and professor of history at Notre Dame. The sex-abuse scandals in the Catholic Church, Appleby says, have widened the gap between clergy and laity.
This may be one explanation for the inroads made by conservative evangelicals into such groups as Latinos. By 2010, a majority of American Catholics will be Latino, but their loyalty seems to be weakening. An estimated 600,000 Latinos leave the church every year; Catholic sociologist Andrew Greeley predicts that within a decade as many as half of all Latinos will be outside the Catholic fold. The exodus from the church may be even more pronounced among non-Latino Catholics. One factor driving the flow is what liberals like Appleby call “xenophobia” among American Catholics (others might call it patriotism). Many lay Catholics are put off by the church’s increasingly internationalist and pacifist outlook.
Similar splits have developed among American Jews, traditionally among the most liberal and least pro-military groups in U.S. society. Like their Christian peers, many American rabbis have been raised and trained in the “progressive” tradition. Southern California Rabbi Ed Feinstein agrees that Jewish clergy tend to be “far to the left” of their congregants. The Iraq war, pushing many Jews toward the center, deepened this division.
Over time, the split between a liberally trained clergy and increasingly conservative laity are likely to accelerate religious fragmentation, at the expense of mainstream denominations. With the exception of the immigrant-fueled Catholic Church, membership in almost all mainstream faiths has either stagnated or declined in the last ten years. But strong membership gains have been made in more conservative churches, ranging from the Mormons to the Southern Baptists to various evangelical and charismatic churches. There has also been an upsurge in what Roof calls “experimental” religions, including New Age variants of Christianity.
--Condensed from an article by Joel Kotkin and Karen Speicher of Pepperdine University, published in the Los Angeles Times May 11, 2003.
ATHEISTS ON THE MARCH
The Godless March, the first of its kind, recently drew about 2,500 atheists to Washington in a concerted effort to form a political base. Marchers frequently compared themselves to the early women’s and gay rights movement. Ellen Johnson, president of American Atheists and coordinator of the event, claimed that 14 percent of Americans have no religious affiliation, “but so many of us are in the closet.”
Johnson announced the formation of a Godless Americans’ political action committee to support atheist politicians. One issue that has activated atheists is government assistance to faith-based welfare organizations. Michael Newdow, the man who instigated the ruling last summer that the phrase “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance is un-Constitutional, was hailed as a hero at the march, and led the crowd in reciting the new “Godless” pledge.
According to Ron Barrier, spokesman for American Atheists, the Internet and new groups such as Campus Freethought Alliance have been instrumental in channeling young people into atheism. But it remains to be seen if atheism can grow and have much influence beyond its small core following--which is likely far below 14 percent of the population.
--Richard Cimino is editor of religionwatch.com.
ON POLITICAL MOMENTS
Retired Naval commander Lewis McIntyre sent us a copy of a letter he recently
dispatched to Democratic Senator Robert Byrd. Some extracts:
Senator Byrd, As a retired Naval officer, with two Gulf carrier deployments under my belt, I find your criticism of President Bush’s visit to the USS Lincoln offensive in the extreme! This is the first time that the Commander in Chief took time out of his busy wartime schedule to pay a visit to thank those who served in the line of fire, in a way that was both dramatic and meaningful to those on the carrier. Perhaps if LBJ got off his fat behind to do something similar, our troops’ morale in Vietnam might not have been so low.
As an officer I am extremely sensitive to styles of leadership. That is, after all, our stock in trade. And it was not lost on me that the President spent about 30 seconds shaking hands with the Admiral and other brass, and then spent the next 45 minutes putting himself at the disposal of the people who make that ship work: the yellow shirts, the green shirts, the purple shirts, the chiefs, the sailors. Not dressed out in formal uniform (I understand at Bush’s request), but in their greasy, smelly, sweaty working uniforms. He put himself at their disposal. Nineteen- or 20-something-year-olds getting a picture of themselves with the President of the United States, his arm draped around their shoulder. That is a moment those kids a few years out of high school never dreamed would ever happen to them, maybe not even when they knew he was coming aboard.
And it was the most natural moment in the world. You might have thought it was a family reunion, and in a way it was. Bush is one of them. I understand from the pilots with him that he did a pretty good job at formation flying, tucked in close for a lead change. You can always tell a fighter pilot. Apparently even after 30 years it all comes back. Frankly, I would have liked to see him come aboard in an FA-18, but the Secret Service vetoed that, and Bush accepted their judgment. Again, a mark of a good leader.
Bush stands for the common man. While he is the most powerful leader on the planet right now, he hasn’t lost his everyday touch. Was it a political moment? What moment of a President’s life is NOT political? If you had spent some time in the service, you might understand the significance of that moment to all the men and women aboard the Lincoln, and indeed to all the men and women in the service who shared the experience vicariously.
