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Civil War? Part I

A Canadian academic warns that Canada needs to be prepared for the break-up of it southern neighbor. American academics are far beyond that, warning the nation is on the brink of falling into authoritarianism. US General Officers warn the US military is not prepared for–but should be prepared to suppress– insurrection. President Biden likened the January 6th, 2021, riot to an insurrection (a “knife at the throat of our democracy”), and many more commentators called it the first shot in an increasingly violent political battle. A recent poll found one-third of Americans believe it may be necessary (under some circumstances) to take violent action against the federal government!

I agree we live in volatile times, bordering on the violent. The increasing number of road rage incidents and other violent crimes, and the general state of discourse on social media all confirm it. People are on edge, that is unarguable. But civil war?

I’ll take a few blog posts to talk through why civil wars happen, how they happen, and even consider what another American civil war would look like. To begin, I don’t think a civil war is particularly likely. Too much is made of recent history like the January 6th attack on the Capitol, and not enough attention is paid to deeper trends which are much more important.

First off, why do civil wars happen? They are not accidents of history; they require certain fundamental precedents, much like a wildfire requires a dry spell and under-brush. The most fundamental requirement is deep-seated resentment. Groups have to fear one another, loathe one another, separate from one another, and finally hate one another. The reason is immaterial: the attitude is all important.

Next, for cause, there is the absolute necessity for either side to decide there is no way out except through fighting. This is the realization that despite all the pain and suffering envisioned, the only choice is war. This hurdle is the most difficult to surmount. People understand that civil war brings immense uncertainty to their lives, so they don’t undertake it lightly. If there is an alternative, they will usually choose it.

Finally, the resentment and resignation (to fight), like a wildfire, needs a spark. Something happens which crystallizes the thinking of one side or the other: Things will not get better. Mind you, you may need more than one spark. Leading up to the American Civil War, there were crises over Missouri, Kansas, Texas, California, the Supreme Court ruling on the Fugitive Slave Act (Ableman v. Booth), John Brown’s raid, and finally the election of 1860. Ernest Hemingway’s famous comment about how bankruptcy occurs applies here: “Slowly, and then suddenly.”

So where does the United States stand today against these criteria? We certainly have deep-seated resentments among the polar ends of the political spectrum. Progressives and Trumpsters have nothing but venom for one another, and those of us in the middle often get lumped in with one side or the other for any attempt to provide balance or perspective. While most Americans fall somewhere in between the political extremes, the activists on either side–and the media on either side–work hard to divide. At this they are succeeding.

Capitol Police intelligence report before Jan. 6 riot warned 'Congress itself' could be targeted: report | Fox News — Not a good look

Has either side decided there is no way out except for fighting? No, but the trends are not good. The Capitol riot was a horrible affair from start to finish, and the President’s intent (even in the rally) was to intimidate the Congress (and the Vice President) into changing the electoral outcome. It was an ill-conceived, poorly planned, and ultimately unsuccessful effort, but the violence it condoned was another escalatory step. On the other side, Progressives explained away the violence of the Black Lives Matter movement as “understandable” and also excused the anarchist violence against the government in Seattle and the Pacific Northwest. Not at all the same thing, but yet also steps in the wrong direction.

These steps were less important in my opinion than the current moves afoot to change our system of government–or its norms. I will address these changes, and the dangers they pose, in the next bog post. Suffice it to say the current focus on whether January 6th, or the mid-terms, or the 2024 election could be the spark to civil war puts the cart before the horse. Neither side has made the determination that only violence will succeed. But that determination may be forthcoming if it looks like the governmental system itself is up for debate.

Book Report: Rescuing Socrates

Authored by Roosevelt Montás, the senior lecturer in American Studies at Columbia University, this work answers the question “what is the value of a traditional liberal education?” The full title is Rescuing Socrates: How the Great Books Changed My Life and Why They Matter for a New Generation. I am not a fan of putting the full thesis of the work in the subtitle, but then again, no one can complain they were misled about what they were about to read!

Montás is a capable writer, and this work is part autobiography and part argument for a traditional liberal education. By that he means an undergraduate curriculum focused on intense study of the classics of Western philosophy and literature. This is the program he went through as an undergraduate, and it deeply affected him, so much so he dedicated his teaching career to carrying on the tradition.

Thus his arguments do not stem from a neutral perspective, nor does he try to marshal an imposing array of data to support his points. This does not slight his work, which remains powerful based on his personal experience. Through a variety of helpful government, charitable, and fraternal organizations, he moved from a tiny village in the Dominican Republic to New York City, where he eventually lands a scholarship to Columbia and engages its Core Curriculum, one of the few such programs in the country.

Montás begins by describing the original intent of a university education, an intent long lost in modern America: not to earn a good living, but to lead a good life. Working skills were taught by the trades, and were (and still are) an effective means to earn a good living. But what constitutes a life well-lived? Such a challenge requires serious engagement with “what is good?” and “how would we know?” While the classics of Western thought may be of little value in programming the next immersive digital experience, they are critical to those looking for answers to those nagging “why?” questions. Montás believes everyone–even students looking for a solid STEM education–would benefit from an engagement with the classics. A point I would add in his favor: if a person like Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg had spent more time engaging the classics at Harvard, he might not have made the naive mistake of thinking his social media project would only be used for good purposes!

Montás eschews the typical partisan battles about “dead white males” or “what constitutes the Western Canon” by stating of course the material can be enlarged, but whatever is chosen must stand the test of quality and the test of time. For this work, he highlights Plato, St. Augustine, Freud, and Gandhi, winding together a short synopsis of what makes these thinkers “great” with how they affected him. He proofs his argument by including Freud and Gandhi: the former is largely discredited but has a profound influence on society, the latter a modern and non-“Western.” Of the four parts, I found the one on Freud the least interesting, since it leads into Montás personal experience with psychoanalysis, which to me is as useful as astrology (Hey, I’m a Libra!).

I came to this book as a true believer, already convinced of the value of such an education. University curricula today have become à la carte offerings that leave dedicated students with marketable skills but little balance, little depth, and little ability to argue persuasively. One only need look at social media to see the paucity of serious engagement. I hoped for a juggernaut of an argument, but Montás presents more of a personal plea, citing his own rise. This is effective, even if I wanted more.

The book is an easy read, and provides nice summaries of the four great thinkers for those who may have forgotten–or never had the chance to engage with–them. I sincerely hope more parents encourage students to demand a rigorous core curriculum in place of the thin gruel offered today. Some will benefit greatly, and all will benefit some. The rest of us will benefit from a more intelligent discourse!

Vicenza, Italy

You probably have no reason to visit Vicenza, Italy, unless you happen to have family living there, like we do. There’s a US military base there, and it’s a very interesting place, but off the tourist beaten path. Just in case you’re ever in the Veneto region, visiting that tourist mecca called Venice, here’s what your missing if you don’t go forty minutes down the autostrada and visit Vicenza.

Vicenza was home to one Andrea di Pietro della Gondola, aka Palladio. Never heard of him? Me neither! He was an architect and the last of the great Renaissance artists, and his style modeled ancient Rome and Greece, earning him the nickname Palladio. Even if you have never seen his original work, you know his derivative work very well. Palladio was born in nearby Padova but was given free reign to redesign the city center (and several villas outside) of Vicenza, making the town his canvas. Here are some of his works:

Piazza by night with Christmas lights (and my grandkids, hamming it up)

Seem vaguely familiar? See, a few hundred years later, on the far side of the Atlantic, a group of Americans were taken with his style, and that led to some monuments in his style:

Palladio is called the Father of American architecture for his influence, especially on Washington, DC and the Capital region. So you can see Palladio’s work in DC, or in Italy. The food’s better in Italy.

Palladio’s tomb, renovated by the American Society for Architectural Historians

When in *Vicenza*, eat the cod & polenta

Speaking of food, expect all manner of northern Italian cuisine, a small number of Japanese, Chinese, or Indian restaurants, and a few burger or BBQ joints for the Americans. One Balkan, no French, no German, no–well, you get the point. All of Italy’s regions are proud of their local cuisines, and that is what is available. In Vicenza, the local specialty is imported, dried Norwegian cod with polenta called Bacalà alla Vicentina. Why? Some poor local went to work in Venice in the last millennium, and got shipwrecked on an island off the coast of Norway for a few years. He developed a taste for the dried, salted cod there, then brought it back with him when he returned home. For the past seven hundred years, locals have been importing the same dried, salted cod, re-hydrating it with various sauces, and serving it as the city’s special dish. here’s a hint: to our uneducated palates, the cod can be a bit strong (as in fishy), so get it as a lunch or appetizer to avoid taste fatigue.

One final Palladio masterpiece is the Teatro Olympico, the world’s oldest (continuously operating) brick theater. The theater is a remarkable bit of faux design, looking like a large Roman amphitheater carved out of stone, but in reality a brick, mortar, and wood replica using visual tricks to recreate a street scene in ancient Greece as the original scene-set backdrop, which was so convincing it has never been changed. Not to spoil the surprise, but the optical illusions and slights-of-hand Palladio employed were world-class special effects in any age!

Another local hero is Antonio Pigafetta. Who? He was the first person to complete a circumnavigation of the globe. Wait, what, you thought that was Magellan? Magellan was hated by his crew, and was killed by irate islanders in the Philippines, never completing his voyage. Pigafetta was a scholar invited to document the journey, and ended up leading the remaining eighteen crewmen (out of two hundred forty who started) back to Spain. Pigafetta is thus the first one to circumnavigate the globe, the answer to a great trivia question, and he’s buried in his beloved Vicenza.

In another similar story, you might have heard of the great Vicentina love story of Romeo & Giulietta? The original novel of star-crossed lovers was written by local Luigi Da Porto, a retired military man looking for an outlet for his creativity while recovering from battle wounds. He gazed out his window at two distant castles and imagined two families, a feud, and their ill-fated children, all set in nearby Verona. His work of fiction caught the eye of the Bard of Avon (aka Shakespeare) who turned it into the far more famous play Romeo & Juliet. Sort of an early version of a remix.

Vicenza was home to many silver- and goldsmiths, so it has a reputation for fine jewelry in addition to the fine arts. It was usually under the influence or protection of neighboring Venice, and the Venetian link is obvious.

The winged Lion, characteristic of St Mark, and Venice

The weather was c-c-c-cold. Judy noticed it last year; this year it hit me: we’ve acclimatized to Mexico. As in, we don’t do “weather.” In Mexico, it is always sunny and warm. There is always around twelve hours of daylight per day (actually, between eleven and thirteen, but just). There are only two seasons and only one that needs a raincoat or umbrella, and then mostly in the evening. Vicenza is in the far north of Italy, within site of the Dolomite Alps, so we have overnight lows in the twenties and daytime highs in the forties: brrrrr. We didn’t mind wearing masks everywhere, as it covered our otherwise-exposed faces!

Speaking of masks, Italy re-entered the Omicron wave of the pandemic while we visited, so mask wearing (even outside) became the rule. All stores/restaurants/museums asked for the Italian Green Pass (which is not available to tourists) but accepted our CDC card in its stead.

We look forward to visiting the our family (and the region) again when it’s short-sleeve weather!

The Cathedral and old city, with the Alps in the background

Book Report: Forget the Alamo

Why a book report? Why not?

Forget the Alamo is a new work by Bryan Burrough, a onetime Wall Street Journal reporter who now writes at times for Vanity Fair. He has several well-received books, including Barbarians at the Gates (about the takeover of RJR Nabisco) and Public Enemies (about the birth of the FBI). This work takes on the legendary siege at the Mision San Antonio de Valera, a staple of Texas history (where he grew up). His co-authors are Chris Tomlinson and Jason Stanford. I will refer to them collectively as Burrough.

Burrough admits early on, and repeats in summary, that this is not strictly speaking a work of history. He calls it historiography, or a history of the history of how various groups have used the events of the siege to their own ends. Needless to say (based on the title), he believes most of those who cherish the legend are wrong, either in what they believe (the defenders were heroic, they were fighting for freedom, they died to-a-man while fighting) or what they believe in (Anglo superiority, anti-Mexican hate, general hatred of immigrants, macho sexism, or simple racism).

Burrough writes with a clean style and has ample footnotes to work by historians. I find his attempts at humor, introducing today’s jargon for example, as off-putting, but some may enjoy them. His storytelling skills remain strong, and while you never doubt where his sympathies lie, he keeps the narration interesting.

The main challenge this book presents is Burrough’s contention that we should reject the dominant narrative–and he readily admits this narrative is dominant–of heroic Alamo fighters dying in defense of freedom. His bases this claim on a number of supporting points. First, the Anglo settlers in Mexican Tejas were mainly interested in cotton-growing and slavery, and that was the purpose of the secession movement from Mexico. Second, the defense of the Alamo was a colossal military blunder by Colonel Bowie and Sam Houston, so the siege never should have happened. Third, it is uncertain whether the defenders died heroically: some may have been captured, others may have been cut down running away outside the walls. Fourth, General Santa Ana and the Mexican Army have become the bogeymen of the drama. Finally, various groups (e.g., the KKK, Confederates, bigots and racists) have used the Alamo legend to their own unfortunate ends. Let’s deal with each in turn, from last to first.

Obviously, the fact that some malign groups misuse the Alamo legend is no reason to forget what happened there. The most powerful piece of evidence Burrough presents is testimony by many Texas Latinos who grew up feeling as American as apple pie until they took the school-sponsored, mandatory, seventh-grade field trip to the Alamo, where they saw themselves portrayed as the enemy. No one should doubt their stories, and there is ample reason to tell the entire Alamo story, not just the part with heroic white guys dying at the hands of evil brown guys. Yet Burrough must know, in fact he even explains, why this happened. The two groups of settlers in Mexican Tejas were long-standing Tejanos (of Spanish/Mexican descent) and Anglo newcomers called either Texians or Texicans. The Tejanos wanted Tejas to provoke a change in the Mexican federal government toward greater federalism, while the Anglos wanted independence from Mexico. The Texians ended up winning, and the Tejanos were relegated to a side-story in the history of what became American Texas. Their story deserves to be told; some Tejanos died at the Alamo. As Churchill reportedly said however, “History is written by the victors.”

As to General Antonio López de Santa Anna, little needs to be done to confirm his role as a very bad person. He was a slippery leader who moved seamlessly from side to side in the Mexican War of Independence and had a preternatural ability to recover from battlefield losses. He fought against the American government, sought their assistance, sold territory to them, and ceded all of California, New Mexico and Arizona after losing the 1848 war. His behavior on the battlefield in the Tejas campaign was both pitiful and dreadful (more on this later). As a braggart and a vicious bully, he is practically typecast. Even Mexicans consider him “one who failed the nation.”

Another argument Burrough presents is based on more recent evidence that the Anglo defenders did not all die where they stood: some were captured, others apparently sortied (leaving the fort) and were run down by Mexican cavalry. The new accounts come from Mexican military sources, which could present a bias, but let’s accept them at face value. Burrough’s analysis of these sources evinces a lack of military experience. Burrough cites evidence of Davy Crockett (and a few others) being summarily executed after the battle (at the command of Santa Ana) as proof they did not die heroically. A soldier may still be captured without surrendering. Ammunition spent, surrounded by a mass of enemy soldiers, you can swing your rifle and still be subdued. It has no bearing upon your heroism. Likewise, Burrough assumes the men who sortied were running away. With the fort overrun and again out of ammunition, it is natural to strike out away from the enemy. People jumped from the top of the World Trade Center when presented with no other choice; it was not a matter of dying without honor.

The argument over whether the Alamo battle was a blunder is also misguided. True, Sam Houston sent Colonel Jim Bowie to the site to reconnoiter and if necessary, destroy the fort. Bowie recognized it was perhaps the only defensible site between where Santa Ana was marshaling his forces and the Brazos river, where Houston planned to marshal his. The Alamo was not much of a fort; Travis had only two hundred troops, and he would have needed more like one thousand to adequately defend it. However, having made the decision to stay, he counted on being reinforced by the 400 men in Goliad and more from Sam Houston. Neither arrived. Sam Houston thought Bowie was being hysterical, and Colonel James Fannin at Goliad dithered, only to later surrender to Santa Ana and have all his men massacred. In the end, Travis only got thirty volunteers from nearby Gonzales. They arrived after the siege began, demonstrating that the Alamo defenders could have still withdrawn after Santa Ana arrived and laid siege; that they didn’t stands as testament in their favor. Travis probably did not count on causing 600 Mexican casualties and slowing Santa Ana’s advance by two weeks; those were accidents of battle. But there is no way to consider the choice of battle site as a colossal mistake.

Finally, Burrough makes much of the seedy personal stories of men like Crockett and Travis and Bowie, and the reliance of the Anglo settlers on slavery. Crockett was a slimy politician, Bowie a drunk and a slave trader, Travis a deadbeat. Little is made of this in histories of the battle, since it has little to do with what happened inside the walls. These men were emblematic of Texicans in general: men looking for a second chance after failing elsewhere.

Burrough believes his most damning accusation is the Texican’s embrace of slavery. He treats this as a revelation, as if anyone even minimally aware of the history of Texas hadn’t heard it was a slave state that later fought with the Confederacy. Burrough admits the Anglos were invited to settle in Tejas, and slavery permitted, in a series of political compromises with the Mexican state and federal governments. The peace-loving Commanches had nearly depopulated the northern part of Tejas, and the government in Mexico City felt a wave of Anglo settlers might forestall more attacks and perhaps even rile the American government to eliminate the Commanches. It was only after Santa Ana reneged on these deals that the Tejanos supported a revolt (for greater state’s rights, of all things) and the Texicans did so too, to retain their cotton plantations and slaves. As Burrough’s footnotes point out, cotton prices went on a boom during this period, and Tejas had the land to support massive cotton production if slavery was permitted. It wasn’t that Texicans were dedicated slavers as much as they were a collection of desperate men trying out their luck in a situation that can only be described as “the wild west.” If beef or oil had been the hot commodity at that time, it would have been the cause of the revolt.

Perhaps the best work by Burroughs is when he describes the various machinations by the Daughters of the Republic of Texas (DRT), a lineal group who eventually came to own and mismanage the site. Theirs is a story right out of a sorority house, filled with infighting, cliques, and fierce resistance to any change. That they fatally mismanaged the site is proven by a simple visit. Like most visitors, I was stunned at the tawdry ring of wax museums and tourist kitsch surrounding the Alamo. Even the inside locations lacked adequate signage of what happened. Eventually, the Texas State Land Commission withdrew the DRT claim to manage the site, and a renovation has fallen to none other than George P. Bush (eldest son of Jeb). Good luck with that!

This book belongs to a genre that uses anachronistic arguments to attack various ‘sacred cows’ of American history. No one firing on the advancing Mexican army from behind the walls of the Alamo shouted “give me slavery or give me death!” Most of those killed there did not own slaves, yet slavery was a sticking point in the larger argument over Texas independence. The Alamo plays the role it does in Texas (and indeed, American) history for what happened during those thirteen days in February and March, 1836, not for slavery, Jim Crow, civil rights, or Black Lives Matter.

Burrough et al try too hard to forget the Alamo. I hope their work leads to increased interest in the full story, and a much better job at preservation by San Antonio and Texas.

Travelin’ Man

We’re in Vicenza, Italy, right now, visiting family for Christmas! I’ll give a region review soon, but in the meantime, here’s some bullet points on travel during the Omicron portion of the pandemic:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxEy5QX7jHk

Bob said it all

Any international travel remains difficult at best. Omicron (and if you want to be a citizen of the world, pronounce it as “Oh-MIKE-ron” or little O, as the Greeks do) has sent various national governments scrambling, changing the travel rules daily. Right now, you need an antigen test (or better) one day (NOT twenty-four hours) before departing for a plane ride to the States. For Italy, we needed an antigen (or better) test forty-eight hours before departing, and a EU-wide Personal Locator Form stating where we’d been, how we were travelling, where we were going, which resulted in a QR code.
Nobody really checked anything out: it all remains on the honor system. Yes, the airline did check the covid test form for the date, but there remains no way to confirm the piece of paper is a real test! And the gate agent looked at our QR codes but didn’t scan them, so again, all on the honor system.
Finding covid testing sites can be a challenge, given the one-day rule for US travel. I found two really good tools; the first is this website, which also has a handy summary of national regulations. Of course, always verify those regulations with the nation’s official website which you can usually google. The other way to find covid tests is through your airline. Go on their website (especially if you already have tickets) and look for “help with covid testing.” I found a test site near Atlanta’s airport using Delta this way, and it didn’t show up on any other search tools I used. There are some testing sites in airports, too, but be careful to check for opening hours, types of tests, and how fast results come back. You have to manage a wide range of variables to get the right test, in the right time frame, with results before your flight!
Covid test prices are extremely variable. In general, antigen tests are cheaper and PCR tests much more expensive. Be careful not to confuse antibody tests and antigen tests: the former are not accepted for travel, the latter are accepted in many places (but not all, like Canada). Any test promising rapid results is generally more expensive (like double or more) than the same test with results back in days. Rapid antigen tests in Mexico run between a few hundred and a thousand (or two) Mexican pesos. When we were looking for the same tests in the States, we found them for over one-hundred dollars near airports, or two-hundred and fifty dollars in airports! PCR tests were still more expensive. In Italy, it looks like the same tests will run us forty Euros.
Airline traffic is almost back to normal levels: you will see full planes, no social distancing, but masks, always masks! Most airport concessions are open, and those little oases known as airport lounges are serving full meals with drinks again (showers still mostly closed).
Airlines are making rapid changes to their flight schedules to handle the increasing and changing travel patterns. For example, Delta is dropping some domestic routes–even leaving some airports altogether–to focus on new transatlantic routes. Look for more Europe travel opportunities in the near future, with competitive rates, at the cost of regional routes in the US.
Everybody is trying to play by the rules, but it is hard to do so. Landing at Charles de Gaulle airport outside Paris, the flight attendants announced that the airport requires N95 or KN95 masks. Then they handed out simple surgical masks (not N/KN95 masks) to everyone. Flight attendants (and airport personnel) will constantly remind the flying public to wear masks and keep them over the nose and mouth. Any attempt to ignore this guidance is one way to lose your ticket.
The same confusion exists on the ground. Here in Italy, they instituted a Green Pass which people carry as a card (or on their phones) to be allowed inside stores, restaurants, museums, etc.. However, they also accept US tourists with only a CDC card, which they don’t even check (could be a 3 x 5 card with printing on it for all they can tell). I recommend checking with travelers or expats where you are going to find what ground truth is for your destinations!
Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson airport (aka ATL) remains my favorite (especially since I focus my travels on Delta airlines). However, the airport is currently a mess. They are building the first hotel inside the airport (all the others are a short distance away) and the construction has caused major headaches. If you need to stay the night, there is no easy way to use airport shuttles to get to your hotel. Oh, they have them, but you need to wait thirty to forty-five minutes to get a shuttle from the international terminal to the domestic terminal, then wait under a MARTA train overpass (outside) for your hotel shuttle, which could be another thirty minutes or more. My suggestion? Spring for a taxi from whatever terminal you arrive at; most seem to have a twenty dollar flat rate for the mile or less ride to nearby airports, and it is money well spent. Savvy travelers tell me you can follow the international-to-domestic connection inside the airport even if you don’t have a connecting flight (no ticket required) which lets you take the plane train to the domestic side, but requires you to pass through a one-size-fits-all TSA security checkpoint (no PreCheck, no Clear, no Global Entry). And that still leaves you to stand outside with a hundred people huddled under the overpass, waiting to see which shuttle is yours! Spend the money!
Finally, you’ll no doubt see those “do not travel” warnings from the US State Department or CDC. Just like the ones issued regularly due to violence or instability, you need to be a savvy traveler and aware of your own risks before making a decision where/when to travel. There are parts of the US with much worse covid rates than some of the countries where the US is officially saying “don’t go there.” You have to determine (1) your risk from the disease (co-morbidities, general health, etc.) (2) the medical infrastructure of the place you will visit (3) their covid trends, (4) your insurance coverage, (5) whether you can change or reschedule your trip and at what cost, (6) what you will do if you get sick while travelling. But all that information only sets up your decision: only you can determine what risk you are willing to accept!

To Start a Fire(place)

With full apologies to Jack London. If you haven’t already, or don’t remember, you can read the original here. It’s short, and sad, and a classic. Mine is shorter, not sad, and neo-classico.

Day dawned warm and sunny as the man stood reviewing his balcony. It was the usual: always warm and sunny, almost monotonously so. The man liked to joke about the sameness of the weather. It was after all all of twenty-five degrees outside . . . Celsius. The joke ran cold with friends up north, but never failed to elicit a smile on the man and his dog. Or at least he thought his dog was smiling. It could have been his canine sense of humor, or it might have been the bacon which the man regularly fumbled off the table at breakfast. Either way, the dog was definitely smiling.

In a land where the weather never changes, and rarely threatens, the man knew the importance of routine. You arise with the dawn, because the blackout curtains always leave a small crack which the sun penetrates and demands your attention. Or the dog does. You eat breakfast which is always huevos mexicanos, bacon, avocado and tomato, which will tide over a hearty man until a real meal in the afternoon. Not that life is so strenuous it needs fuel; no, it just tastes good. You rest in the afternoon, not because you need sleep, but because it’s hot, and wise not to tempt nature’s fury in the tropical noontime.

The seasons change little, so the man clung to small reminders of times past in order to mark their passing. One was building a fire in the hearth for Christmas. Not that he needed a fire; he didn’t need heating, or air conditioning, or even a blanket at night most of the year. But winter–and the man smiled when he said it, noting he used the term loosely–required something to mark its arrival, and the man chose a fire.

The man knew how to start a fire. He had lit small brush fires as a child, burning his fingers on the matchbook before hastily stamping them out in panic. He had started charcoal grill fires, usually after a heavy dose of lighter fluid and the ensuing rush of ignition. He even lit gas grills, and mostly remembered to open the top BEFORE hitting the starter. He was a man.

But the man’s problem was he was not mechanically inclined. He could tell you the theory of a thing’s design, or describe the components of a chemical process like combustion, but he did not intuit the “how” as someone so-inclined does. And now he faced a challenge: a gas fireplace. Not that that was totally new. He had faced one before, and it nearly defeated him. In the end, he eschewed the fake logs, added a large dog iron full of kindling and fresh firewood, then ignited the gas nozzle directly with a quick-n-flame: dangerous but effective.

All that stands between the man and his hammock

Now he would need to engage with the real thing: a fully enclosed, completely installed gas fireplace. There could be no compromise here, and maybe only a second chance to succeed. It was early afternoon, shortly before his routine siesta, so he had little time. He had instructions; Good Lord, did he have instructions. There were instructions for installation, for warranty, for safety, for lighting or extinguishing the fire, for cleaning. He even had three (three!) sets of hand-written notes from the original owner, scribbled and identical and now faded to illegibility.

He had only one or two tries, less he miss his siesta. He was already growing tired, anticipating a good nap on a hammock in the shade, but near the sun. Yet he persisted. He removed the grill cover and discovered the controls. They were all there, just as the many instructions foretold, but never exactly where they foretold. There was a knob, clearly meant to be turned. A spigot which should control the gas flow just before the igniter. Another knob with “pilot” on it, and a button which had to be the ignition system. But there was also a rocker switch on the wall, and a master handle to control gas flow to the entire system.

His mathematical brain told him 5! (factorial) meant 120 possible combinations for these five knobs/switches. He had no time to start trying them in order, which was the rational thing to do. He made some simple assumptions–always dangerous when one’s siesta is at stake, but still necessary. He reasoned that the fireplace was off, and had been for some time, so he assumed every switch was in the negative. He started to switch them, slowly, to the positive. The dog, which had been following the action closely to this point, backed away, tale between his legs. The man wondered: did the dog smell gas leaking or sense an explosion in the making? It was too late for such introspection: he knew that if gas was flowing, he needed to ignite it now, or risk something much worse than a blown grill lid. The man pushed the igniter, and the dog left the room.

Nothing happened. The igniter snapped, but no gas, no flame. He stopped. Now he remembered the gas tech who years ago told him “if you ever try and fail to start a gas system, you should always, (–and here the grizzled old gasbag paused and repeated for effect–) ALWAYS turn everything off and wait for any gas to dissipate.” Yet it was siesta time, and he realized his assumptions about what-was-on and what-was-off were incorrect: so how to ensure they were “off?”

The man paused. The dog was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the gas had dissipated already. The man lit a match and mover it toward the ignition system, slowly, and nothing happened. It was a rash move, like tasting milk in the fridge to see if it had gone bad, but it worked. As in, nothing exploded. The man decided to press ahead, buoyed by this small success. He was heedless of the small significance of the explosion-that-didn’t-happen, and instead decided to use it as the basis for renewed confidence.

He knew what to do now. He tried each knob or dial in turn, lit match in hand, to determine if any were contributing gas to the igniter. The first knob started a tiny circulating fan, which fascinated the man. Who needs a circulating fan on a fireplace in a place where no fire is needed for warmth? But he had no time to linger on the thought. Probably a Canadian design, he mused before moving on. One switch produced only the slightest, tell-tale smell of gas, so he eliminated that variable. Obviously, the knob-so-named needed to be set to “pilot.” Which left only the wall switch.

He flipped its position and tried the igniter. Nothing. He knew the gas might be flowing, so he tried it again, quickly, realizing time (and his luck) was running out. Still nothing.

At this point he should have backed away, ventilated the area, and reviewed the instructions. But he was tired, so tired. He had been awake for hours, and the hammock sat there, swaying in the wind. Yet the fireplace was between him and his goal, and he was a man. It would light. The man flipped the rocker switch, whispered a small prayer (for success? for safety? we’ll never know) and pushed the ignition button. Still nothing happened. He was just short of delirious now, and resigned to his fate: he pushed it again, and again, willing the spark which would breathe life into the device.

Suddenly, there was a small “whooshing” sound, not the giant bang of a gas grill, but clearly and unmistakably the sound of ignition. There between the fake kindling and ceramic logs was a little blue flame. It spread around the edges of the fireplace, real (if gas-fed) and sustained. The man was pleased. The dog returned, since the fireplace provided a chance to warm one side in the tropical sun while the other toasted near natural gas. The dog had no idea how dangerous it had all been, but then again, the dog had instinctively left the area. The man felt only a sense of peaceful calm. He was already in the hammock, leaving the gas fire to tend itself. He had lit the fire. “Who needs snow?” he thought.

Merry Christmas!

Notre Dame, Brian Kelly, my Dad, & me

This is a complicated story; I hope I make it worth your trouble to follow!

The simple part is Notre Dame football. As an Irish Catholic lad growing up about 3 miles (as the crow flies) from the Golden Dome, I was predestined to be a fan of the Fighting Irish. Going to the local parochial school, still staffed by nuns who led us in prayers of thanksgiving every Monday for the past Saturday’s victory, didn’t hurt. And my adolescence coincided with a run of greatness that included national championships, miraculous comebacks, and legendary players/coaches. Unfortunately, it also came with the childish expectation that such things would continue: “as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.” Amen.

Except of course it wasn’t. While Notre Dame football went through extended periods of mediocrity, I remained a staunch fan. While excellence was a key component of their reputation, so was winning the right way, graduating student-athletes, and enforcing a degree of discipline and decorum. It’s not that the Irish players were better people than the players anywhere else. It’s that the institution held them to a higher standard, and disciplined them when they failed to meet it. And the same went for its coaches.

And then came Brian Kelly, a coaching success at small programs who brought Cincinnati near the top of the college football ledger for a season, right at the end of four failed Irish coaches in a row. He was straight out of central casting: Boston Irish, Catholic, blue collar, with a solid family life and a straight-forward demeanor. My first impression: no, he wasn’t a high-profile choice, but he had all the ingredients for success.

So I was shocked when I first asked my Dad what he thought of Kelly: “I don’t like him, he’s a phony. He’s not the right man to be coach at Notre Dame.” Now Dad couldn’t cite any statistics or even link to any salacious gossip to reinforce his gut instinct, but he stuck with it. What gave me momentary pause was the fact Dad was career policeman–a detective–and was very good at reading people. But he was also old-school, and a blossoming curmudgeon, so I chalked his opinion up to the latter and left it at that.

The fact that Kelly left his undefeated Cincinnati team practically on the field, facing Urban Meyer’s Florida Gators in a major bowl game (they were blown out), was a clue to the man’s character. There were many more to follow. Some were football related, like the time he had his quarterback throw a low-percentage fade route into the end-zone (intercepted) as the team was driving for a winning field goal, resulting in a loss to Tulsa. Yes, Tulsa. Questioned after the game, Kelly responded that was how he called his offense, and “get used to it.” There was the emergence of the screaming, purple-faced Kelly monster, literally losing his religion on the sidelines during a pathetic opening game loss to South Florida. Yes, South Florida.

Lest we EVER forget

Always taking the ball to start the game, often having a false-start out of time out, the star quarterbacks mentored into indecisive wrecks (before transferring), the posse of assistant coaching buddies who failed on the big stage, the offensive play-calling scheme (and I use the term loosely) that was indeed offensive. Not to mention the unending string of humiliating losses in big games.

I’m a Catholic, and a football optimist, so all these past sins could be forgiven. But then there were the off-field issues, too. When a student who helped with filming practices died in a fall from a camera tower, toppled in high winds, Kelly admitted no responsibility. His Athletic Director boss, Jack Swarbrick, called the 50 mph wind gusts “unremarkable.” Kelly’s players got caught cheating. His reaction when asked whether he had ANY responsibility: “Zero. Zilch. None.” He secretly met with representatives of the Philadelphia Eagles professional team (for a job interview) just before a championship match-up against the Alabama Crimson Tide (this in his third year at Notre Dame)!

To be sure, Kelly brought Notre Dame out of the doldrums where they languished when he was hired. Some younger fans admire his record number of victories, ten-win seasons, “appearances” in play-offs, or just his keeping Notre Dame “in the conversation” (a favorite quip of AD Swarbrick). And all those things are true, but counterfeit. His victory total includes wins forfeit due to NCAA violations. He has more ten win seasons than past ND coaching legends because his teams play twelve or thirteen games a season. His appearances in the play-offs and championship games have all the luster of the time when Grandpa showed up at Thanksgiving without his pants. And “the conversation” is highly overrated in today’s social-media saturated world.

And all this happened on top of a constant need to have everything his way. They tore up the grass and put in fake turf because Kelly wanted it. They added a jumbo-tron with nonstop jock-rock because Kelly said the players wanted it. He abandoned the tradition of pregame Mass because, well, there was no reason given. He got more, bigger, and better facilities which serve to separate the players from the other students, previously a hallmark of the Notre Dame experience. He complained about having to meet with so many alumni/booster clubs, perhaps misunderstanding the price of coaching a legendary program.

Did Kelly grow into the job, or embrace the traditions and the challenges they represent. Not really. He did eventually fire coaches, did admit he didn’t need to score a lot of points to generate excitement about the program, did get more involved with his players. These were all do-or-die changes. The closest he ever came to introspection was when he was smart enough to admit (around all the hoopla of “passing” Knute Rockne in total wins) he still didn’t have a championship. Kelly left his players with a tweet (this time), surprising even his chief proponent, AD Swarbrick. One of his assistants found out as he left a recruit’s house! In some respects, Kelly never really believed Notre Dame was different, and he proved his point by first denying any interest in other jobs, then taking one suddenly for a ridiculous payday.

In the end, Brian Kelly was a conniving, grasping, small-time coach. Yes, he was above-average on the sideline, but well below-average as a person of integrity. Despite my harsh words, I hold no grudge against Kelly. He was offered the opportunity, and he took it. He failed in the goal of winning a championship, but got paid admirably along the way. I wish him well, and I hope he performs just as well for Louisiana State. I do hope some future AD and leadership at Notre Dame correctly records Kelly’s tenure–officially–as having only 92 wins. After all, winning isn’t everything, . . . or is it?

So my Dad was right, again. I know he’s been waiting to hear that from me!

What Just Happened: Kenosha

Where to begin? I watched long portions of the jury trial of Kyle Rittenhouse, and then followed-up with segments on various partisan media (Fox News, MSNBC, etc.). I don’t know whether to confess these sins or demand your appreciation. Either way, we’ll start with the facts of the case.

Back in August, 2020, Kenosha (Wisconsin) erupted in two nights of violence after the arrest and shooting of Jacob Blake. Blake, who is black, was arrested and shot (seven times, in the side and back) as he wielded a knife and attempted to enter a car with his girlfriend’s children in the backseat. His girlfriend called the police when he entered her home, as he was already charged with sexual assault, trespassing, and domestic abuse. Instant video analysis and widespread media coverage claimed (incorrectly) that Blake was unarmed and shot in the back while presenting no threat. Subsequent coverage debunked these claims, but not till long after protests against police brutality erupted in Kenosha.

While daytime protests were initially peaceful, at night violent groups seized on the police’ reluctance to intervene, engaging in looting, property destruction, and general mayhem. It was on this second such night that seventeen year-old Kyle Rittenhouse decided to go to Kenosha (he lived just across the State line in Illinois) to “protect (this) business.”‘ He took a medic bag (although he was not a trained EMT) and borrowed an AR-15 for self-defense from a friend who was keeping it for him in Wisconsin.

The Times version is incomplete and biased, but a useful synopsis

After standing watch with other people at a car dealership, Rittenhouse walked over to a nearby crowd where a group had gathered to destroy vehicles and light fires. Joseph Rosenbaum, who had just that morning been released from State mental care, had spent most of the evening threatening those you had arrived (like Rittenhouse) to ‘protect against the looters.’ Rosenbaum seemed to take special interest in Rittenhouse, and began following and harassing him. At one point–immediately after someone else discharged a firearm in the area–Rosenbaum charged Rittenhouse and reached for his rifle, whereupon Rittenhouse shot him in the chest, killing him.

The gunshots initiated a chase sequence with Rittenhouse calling a friend to admit he shot someone and needed help, and a crowd forming and following Rittenhouse as he attempts to run away. Different people in the crowd shout “he’s the shooter” “get the m*therf*cker” as they follow him. One man runs up behind Rittenhouse and hits him in the back of the head before running off. Rittenhouse trips and falls to the ground, as he rises, another man does a running drop kick, glancing off his head. Rittenhouse shoots and misses him. Anthony Huber takes his skateboard and hits Rittenhouse in the shoulder; they struggle for the rifle, and Rittenhouse shoots and kills him. Finally, Gaige Grosskreutz, who was armed with a handgun, approaches Rittenhouse; he stops and backs away, then raises the pistol toward Rittenhouse, who shoots him in the arm, gets up, and heads towards the police vehicles two blocks away.

What we have here is immaturity, stupidity, and rage–multiplied by weapons–resulting in unnecessary deaths. Rittenhouse as a teenage boy is automatically guilty of immaturity. His impulse to go “do something” is misplaced, and where is the parent/guardian saying “no!”? This parental stupidity is trumped by the friend who gave him his weapon: yes, he had a Second Amendment right to carry it, and the laws in Wisconsin permitted public carry of a long-rifle. But as a conservative, I believe rights come with responsibilities, and Rittenhouse was not trained to defend a property. His friend should have told him “no.” If Rittenhouse insisted on doing something, he should have been armed with nothing more than a medic bag and a phone-camera. More properly, he should NOT have gone to the site of previous violence; what did he have to offer?

More stupidity! Rosenbaum had a long history of mental illness, as did Huber. Who among their friends thought either would be a useful, stabilizing addition to the volatile nightly mix in Kenosha? Where were their now-grieving families when they needed to keep them home? And all these people were not just at the afternoon protest; they attended the subsequent evening arson and property destruction, for reasons that remain unclear. Grosskreutz also brought a pistol to the scene, but at least he had the sense to back off. For that momentary sanity, he saved his own life.

Finally, it all goes back to, and ends up in, rage. Why did so many people need to fan the flames when Blake was shot? This was just after the police brutality case of George Floyd in Minnesota, so activists started building a narrative, but it was false in this case. That narrative led to the protests, and the violence, and the shootings. Listen to the mob after Rittenhouse shoots and kills Rosenbaum, if you want to hear vigilante justice in action. It is pure, unadulterated hatred. If they could have torn Rittenhouse limb-from-limb, they would have on the spot. The only thing that stopped them was the AR15.

So what’s the verdict? Well, the jury had little choice. Wisconsin’s self-defense laws (which are mirrored across the United States, and have nothing to do with “stand your ground” laws) draw from hundreds of years of English common law. The defense can assert self-defense, and must provide reasonable facts. These could (and did) include a statement by the defendant that he feared for his life, as well as video evidence he was chased by people with intent to do him serious bodily harm. The prosecution has to prove beyond a reasonable doubt he did NOT fear or the others did NOT present a serious threat. This was an impossible task given the video evidence. The only chance for conviction lay in the initial shooting of Rosenbaum (who was unarmed), but that went out the window when other witnesses testified to his erratic, confrontational, and threatening behavior. No sane person–armed or not–would have been unafraid when confronted by the mob, and the mob’s intent to do deadly violence was evident in the video.

Kyle Rittenhouse is not a hero. We can only hope he learned from this experience and isn’t permanently damaged. He was guilty of extreme immaturity and was let down by several adults who either failed to prevent–or actively supported–his immature actions. Several other adults on the scene were guilty of gross stupidity. Two paid with their lives, and one was injured (shot in the arm). Several others (if you watched the trial, drop-kick man, or the guy who hit Rittenhouse in the back of the head) sneaked back into the shadows, but they participated in the mayhem and deserve our disgust. The activists and media who poured gas on the flames have blood on their hands, but of course they walked away scot free.

Make no mistake: Rittenhouse should have stayed home, or should have left his weapon with his friend. You don’t go to a riot looking for trouble, because it will find you. How overmatched and unprepared Rittenhouse was for what unfolded on the dark streets of Kenosha is evident in the video.

Your rights (to weapons or assembly) come with responsibilities. Ignoring that can be detrimental to society, and deadly to the individual.

Mexico is Changing

Mexico is always changing, just like everywhere else. The changes here in Mexico seem to be ones which would be most evident to expats, and they involve some of the quintessential things that make Mexico, well, Mexican. And therein lies a story.

Ask people who have visited extensively (or expats who live here) what qualities about Mexico are unique, and you’ll quickly find some common themes: the friendliness of the people, the slower pace of life, or the incompetence of the bureaucracy, for example. And in most of these areas, change is afoot.

Take friendliness. Mexicans as a rule remain eager to help and often greet you on the street, regardless of whether they know you or not. Except in big cities like Ciudad de Mexico and Guadalajara. There, you might greet neighbors you know, but if you start “buenos dias“-ing every passerby, you’ll get a mix of responses from greetings to odd looks to being ignored. The larger cities have imported some of the the urban mindset from elsewhere, where you just can’t talk to strangers.

Put on top of that the curse that is the cell phone. Mexicans have taken to their cell phones wholeheartedly, and it’s not unusual to surprise people–even in small towns–by greeting them when they are walking, face-down in their phones. They will startle and still respond, but clearly cell phones are winning the battle for eye-balls.

The slower pace of life is experiencing some acceleration, too. Over the last thirty years, Mexico has developed a sizable middle class, and with it, widespread automobile ownership. Which means traffic, and the delays that come with it. Now Mexicans normally aren’t in a hurry to be on-time, but that’s changing, so when some hit a traffic snarl, they start driving around it in, shall we say, innovative ways. Like creating extra lanes where there are none. Or ignoring traffic lights or turn lanes or even traffic barriers. Some of that is a carry-over from Mexico’s fundamental lack of concern for laws which appear arbitrary (“I only need to go one block the wrong way down this one-way street to get where I want to go.”). But some is an attempt to hurry-up, which is something new.

Finally, many expats comment about changes in taxes and regulations, with the main theme being more enforcement. Many of the small mom-and-pop vendors in Mexico (which can mean nearly every family) operate on a cash-only basis and avoid taxes and regulation. The federal government is gradually tightening its control of money flows, so as to capture the lost tax revenue. There is an growing web of identification which ties people and their income to the taxes they owe. For many larger or recurring transactions, you need a CURP number (Clave Única de Registro de Población), in effect a Mexican Social Security Number. Once you have that, you may also need an RFC (Registro Federal de Contribuyentes) code or clave, a personal/unique tax identification number. We’ve noticed an increase in information required to directly transfer money to Mexican accounts (for example, to pay for our recent home renovations) that have come from Mexican banks, responding to Mexican government directions. Over time, this results in fewer off-the-books transactions and more revenue to the federal government.

Likewise, expats speak of less flexibility in border crossing and immigration enforcement. For a long time, some expats came to Mexico on the automatic 180-day visitor’s visa and simply stayed. They never left the country, never became a temporary or permanent resident, which requires a payment and has financial eligibility requirements. Later, expats with more means came and went every 179 days, in effect renewing their status and avoiding the costs of legal residency. Mexican immigration officials (INM) have started random checks on mass transit hubs (like big city bus stations), arresting and sometimes even deporting those long-time overstays. And border officials sometimes now ask for a departure date (e.g., return flight?) and only renew another visitor’s visa for a set length of time, much less that 180 days. Deportation remains rare; most overstays are offered the opportunity to legalize their status, but again that requires dinero.

As hard as these changes to the bureaucracy are for expats who arrived in the wild west days of yore, they are part and parcel of Mexico becoming a more efficient country. That means making and neutrally enforcing laws, taking control of its borders, collecting tax revenue and distributing it effectively. It won’t be quick, and it surely isn’t painless, but it is necessary.

Most Mexicans will continue to greet and respond to greetings. Most will kindly let you cut in line in heavy traffic. I firmly believe that even after all these changes work out, Mexico will remain Mexico. After all, it will always be full of Mexicans!

Woeful Roe

You may think the Supreme Court decision in Roe v. Wade was a watershed moment in women’s rights. You may think it was the beginning of the end. I’m not going to try and change your opinion on abortion: there are very few people who haven’t developed a very firm opinion on abortion. What I am going to try to do is argue that regardless of your views on abortion, legally Roe must change, and explain why that is so.

To do that, we must first understand the history of abortion, and what the status of abortion as a medical procedure was in the United States in 1973, when Roe was decided.

Of course abortion is nothing new. Some of the oldest medical texts and treatments involve abortion. So abortion has been around just a slightly shorter time than pregnancy, to make a point. And during all those eons, almost all major societies either outlawed abortion, limited it to certain hard cases (e.g., prostitutes, rape victims, women too ill to carry a child to term) or severely frowned upon it. Certainly once Christianity entered the scene, all Christian societies outlawed it. Yet it continued in the shadows. Which reminds us there is a difference between what we dislike or criminalize, and what people do.

In 1967, Colorado decriminalized some forms of abortion, and by 1973 sixteen US states had rules permitting abortion under some circumstances. That is when the US Supreme Court heard the legendary Roe v. Wade case, and held that a Texas law criminalizing abortion was wholly unconstitutional. With that broad ruling, the laws in thirty-four other states were singularly swept aside, and with it even some of the restrictions in the sixteen states which had permitted abortion.

In the place of the slowly changing public mores, the Supreme Court presented an absolute personal right to abortion (based on the right to privacy), and balanced this new right against the interests of the States by providing a trimester policy: in effect, earlier in the pregnancy, the pregnant mother should decide, later in the pregnancy, the State could intervene. This ruling seemed congruent with medical science at the time, which admitted the fetus was of course going to be a person, but could not answer definitively when (other than birth) that person-hood began.

The problems with Roe are several. First, it was overly broad, as already noted. The Supreme Court usually tries to limit the extent and effect of its rulings, but here it emphatically extended and amplified them. Second, the profound change Roe envisioned generated a unique resistance that only grew over time. And third, the pseudo-scientific trimester approach (which seemed so logical) was entirely at the mercy of scientific and medical advances, which would greatly undermine it.

Who am I to call Roe “overly broad?” Nobody. How about Ruth Bader Ginsburg; would her opinion matter? Nobody would dream of calling into question her support for a woman’s right to choose. But when asked about Roe v. Wade, she said “Doctrinal limbs too swiftly shaped may prove unstable.” She went on to criticize the ruling–not its outcome, but the way it was decided–as so sweeping as to be vulnerable to being overturned by future courts for the contention it caused. To be clear, she sought a broader, deeper basis for the right to abortion, not its end. But being the insightful jurist she was, she could not fail to point out Roe’s weak reasoning.

Nor can anyone doubt that Roe unintentionally birthed the pro-life movement, which has only grown over time. Despite little or disparaging coverage in national media, pro-life groups organized crisis pregnancy clinics, prayer vigils, fasts, rallies, and the largest annual protest march in Washington, DC. All this happened despite a series of rulings stigmatizing or even criminalizing their behavior. The pro-life movement is the longest, most successful protest movement in the history of the nation.

Both the pro-choice and pro-life movements enjoy citing strong polling data indicating large majorities of Americans support their cause. How can this be? First off, abortion was the test case among pollsters for how to word and stage questions to elicit results. Ask “do you think rape victims should be forced to carry an attacker’s child to term?” or “should anyone be able to have an abortion for any reason even at the very end of a pregnancy?” and you get predictable results. And most Americans don’t understand the nuances of what Roe held, how it has changed over time, and what role the States still play. Public opinion does not provide a solid basis for determining a way forward.

Finally, scientific advances and improved neonatal care led to pictures worth more than a thousand words. Talk all you want about a fetus or a “potential person,” once the pro-life movement could show high-definition images of a thumb-sucking little person (not to mention the gruesome results of rare, late-stage abortions), the other euphemisms fell cold. These images, and the gradual extension of earliest preemie survival undermined Roe’s trimester approach. It is worthwhile here to mention how quietly pro-life the medical community has always been. While a few outspoken activists carry the headlines, the greatest limiting factor to abortion availability has always been the number of doctors and nurses who refuse to employ the procedure; even most hospitals avoid teaching it. While some claim this is because of the perceived threat of pro-life violence, the medical establishment’s resistance goes back to the beginning, long before Roe came into effect. There was little doubt there what the fetus was, and what an abortion represented.

Practice makes perfect for thumb sucking in the womb | The Times — case closed

The combination of Roe’s sweeping effect, its persistent resistance, and the changing scientific and medical environment played out in unforeseen ways. Roe and its companion Doe v. Bolton case added the concept of a pregnant woman’s “mental health” to the list of possible legal justifications for abortion; subsequent cases expanded the list to include financial and “family” interests. That resulted in the US having one of the most permissive abortion regimes in the world. While the laws vary by state, the most liberal states can and have legalized abortion for any reason at any time. I am not saying abortions happen moments before birth; just that Roe and some state laws would permit it. Most of the so-called liberal nations of Europe severely restrict abortion after twelve weeks; only North Korea and China have fewer restrictions than Roe does.

Since much of the initial opposition to Roe came from religious groups, pro-choice organizations counterattacked by claiming that the Constitution required a separation of Church and State. This charge failed in the courts, which require all policies to be adjudicated on their merits, not on who proposes them. After all, many of our laws stem from religious rules (e.g., “Thou shall not kill.”) and it was only a decade before Roe that religious leaders were lionized for their leadership in the civil rights movement. Note that the growth of the pro-life movement in younger generations has happened at the same time society overall–and younger people in particular–has become less religious. It won’t go away.

Finally, and most importantly in my opinion, the pro-life movement tirelessly submitted legals challenges to Roe, constantly pressuring the courts on the obvious logical fallacies, the detrimental effects on the democratic process, and the changing medical environment. Various members of the Supreme Court were loathe to jettison Roe altogether, and their compromises only further weakened Roe’s basis in law. The final straw was the recent Texas law which is currently before the Supreme Court. This law avoids judicial scrutiny by not using the State to enforce its provisions, but rather deputizing anyone (literally) to sue a doctor or clinic (or others, but never the pregnant woman) for supporting or performing an abortion. The threat of unlimited civil fines of $10k USD has had a truly chilling effect on abortion rates in Texas.

Despite being pro-life, I don’t support the Texas law, and I hope the court invalidates it. This law if replicated could choke the judicial system with similar case involving gun owners, voting rights, and a host of other policies. But the exercise demonstrates how far the pro-life movement is willing to go.

Most likely, the Supreme Court will invalidate the Texas statute. But it will also hear a case in December from Mississippi (Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization) which directly calls for overturning Roe. I believe the Court will do so, to send the matter back to the States and end the federalization engendered by Roe’s privacy right. Some states have trigger laws, either banning abortion or re-instituting Roe. The nation has lived with different laws in different states for drinking, driving, gun-owning, voting, age-of-consent, marriage and divorce, and many other life-and-death matters. Abortion access will become one more.

Ending Roe will not end abortion, either legally or in fact. What it would do is take a hot-button issue off the national stage and send it to the states for local decision. After almost fifty years of increasingly tortured legal rulings, ridiculous charges and counter-charges (on both sides), and entrenched partisanship, that’s good enough.