Afghan Girls

I've been following a program on PBS that features school-aged children in various parts of the world. The series, entitled "Back to School," follows children in Nigeria, Benin, India, Afghanistan, Romania, Japan, and Brazil. (The program is available online.)

What struck me the most about the series is the acknowledgement, in the first episode, that if you are poor and female, the odds are against you in certain corners of the world when it comes to education. In many cases, the daily obligations of girls severely limit their chances for learning the basic skills of reading, writing, and math.

As we debate our future role in Afghanistan, I hope we take into consideration the fact that the displacement of the Taliban has opened up educational opportunities for young girls across the country. In short, this war, which begins its ninth year this month, is not just about keeping the Taliban at bay--it's also about giving a large segment of the Afghan population a chance to educate themselves, despite the horrific hurdles religious despots place in their path.

Perhaps we have a cause to fight for after all?

Dissent and Consent

On my way home I pass a sign in front of a used car dealer in Lahoma, OK, that reads, "I'm 71 years old and hope to live long enough to see Obama not running my country." First, I'm glad the gentleman has lived to 71, and I hope he lives many more years. I'm not so sure about the "my country" part, though. The shrillest voices in the nation seem to be the "nativists," or "reclamationists," or, as I like to think of them, the Puritans. They are the "chosen people," the latter day Israelites who lay claim to the continent via divine convenant, versus the "strangers" (non-Puritans, non-whites, non-traditionalists, non-conservatives) who, via American mythology, don't quite belong in the ranks of true believers, much less in power, much less in the "White" House.

I watched the marchers in Washington, D.C. who held up signs equating President Obama to Adolf Hitler. They completely missed the irony.

Ten Commandments: Redux

A Ten Commandments display is heading for the state capitol grounds, thanks to the effort, and promise of private dollars, from Rep. Ritze.


I would love to see the capitol grounds rife with messages of faith and hope and charity. As I’ve noted elsewhere, I truly admire both the Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plains. So let's have a monument that encourages us to love our enemies, to pray in our "inner rooms," to "Do unto others" as we would have them do unto us, or urges us to stop judging others. I glory in the communal spirit found in the writings of Paul, who defined Christianity at least a decade before the writers of the Gospels, and embraced the core ideals of living out the Christhood in our everyday lives, no matter what our origins. What about "Love is patient, love is kind"? Unfortunately, the Ten Commandments are mostly negative and exclusive, a sequence of prohibitions meant for an older order. Paul says that, thanks to Christ's sacrifice, "the old things have passed away; behold news things have come." The message of renewal hasn't reached Oklahoma's legislature, and the Ten Commandments bill passed with over eighty votes in favor.


At least Rep. Ritze is going to pay for the monument out of his own pocket. But isn’t this the way all things in a democracy should work? A state legislator authors a bill that will allow him to pick up the tab for a religious monument to be erected on public property? This one smells to high heaven.

(Redneck) English-Only Bill

Rep. Randy Terrill (R-Moore) continues to do his best to protect our fair state from unwanted, incipient, and highly dangerous influences, like bilingualism. With the support of his senate gringo, Anthony Sykes (R-Oklahoma City), House Joint Resolution 1042 is heading back to the House before it ultimately ends up on a ballot. Sykes, quoted in the Tulsa World, says, "The resolution states that English is the common and unifying language of the state and that all official actions of the state will be in English."

Rep. Terrill, of course, has a long history of protecting Oklahoma against "undesirables," authoring one of the most draconian anti-immigrant bills in the U.S. What is truly odd about all of this, though, is how our state legislators bend over backwards to make sure Native American languages are overtly protected against any potentially negative effects the bill may cause. But this sudden interest in the preservation of Native American tongues (admirable though it is) is nothing less than pure political pandering. The targets of the bill are clearly Spanish-speaking men, women, and children. The bill is not designed to benignly "encourage" non-English speakers to learn English; it is, rather, a blatant attempt to prevent Oklahoma (ironically a non-English name) from sounding a little too much like Mexico for the comfort of some.

Why do I have the feeling that Representative Terrill and Senator Sykes will not be attending any Cinco de Mayo activities this year?

Tea Parties are a Crock


What a crock of beans . . . .er . . . . tea bags. Where were these taxpayer activists a few years ago when President Bush gave away money to the wealthiest of Americans? How did we, the people, benefit from those enormous tax cuts? We didn't. We suffer from them today, and will continue to do so well into the future.

Why aren't we in the streets protesting the cost of healthcare? Why aren't we standing in front of insurance company offices that deny claims to the people who need care the most? Why aren't we in the streets calling for decent wages for the underemployed who make up our growing low-wage, Wal-Mart economy? Or calling for tuition-free higher education?

Don't get me wrong. I love a good protest. I love the theater of middle-aged guys wearing Colonial three-cornered hats and red tights and carrying flags with thirteen stars. I love to hear the voice of a free people let loose. But there's something missing at the moment: a higher calling, a sense of decency, a righteous cause, an ounce of respect for democracy itself.

I recently asked my students what democracy meant, and I heard many insightful definitions, but the one that stuck in my mind was when one student, an older gentleman, said, "It's when you treat people with equal dignity." And what did we witness at this great gathering of patriots? One man holding up a poster that depicts President Obama as Adolph Hitler, the murderer of millions, the sociopath of the 20th Century.

Taxes have nothing to do with this supposed burgeoning "revolution" (thanks FOX News for making the event much more than it was). What we are hearing are the angry voices of the recently dethroned, the suddenly marginalized, the pissy minority. They looked at the margin of victory on election night and suddenly found themselves in alien territory. A minority as President? And a Neoliberal at that? (Obama is not a socialist, by the way. He's far too centrist to be a good social democrat.) So they balk. They buy guns and ammo. They exaggerate the threat. In short, they wear their fear and anger on their sleeves and they come across as irrational and bestial and mean.

I paid my taxes on April 15th, thousands of dollars in fact, as I suppose did the vast majority of the tea-baggers. I paid them because I want new bridges, because I want high-speed rail service, because I want wind-energy programs, because I want every American to be able to see a physician, because I want every kid to go to a decent, clean school.

The Painful Process of Democracy



In a recent article in The New York Times, Maureen Dowd writes:

The cowboy push by W. and Dick Cheney to be a hyperpower and an empire left America a weakened and tapped-out power, straining to defend its runaway capitalism even as it uneasily adapts to its desperation socialism.

How do we come to terms with the gluttony that exploded our economy and still retain our reptilian American desire for living large? How do we make the pursuit of the American dream a satisfying quest rather than a selfish one?

I have recently engaged in a private email debate with a local newspaper editor regarding Barack Obama. In her blog she called the president a "flippin' idiot" because he proposed reducing the percentage wealthy Americans can deduct from their taxes based on charitable contributions. I argued that Obama's plan is an attempt to level the playing field, not only when it comes to charitable contributions, but also by returning overall tax rates on the wealthiest Americans to pre-W. levels. I reminded her that it was Bush's tax policies (cuts during wartime, no less) that have gotten into this mess. I posed the question: Where does George W. Bush fit in your pantheon of intellectuals if President Obama is a "flippin' idiot"?

We exchanged a few partisan tirades, but then agreed to disagree. However, when I looked up her blog recently, I saw changes that reflected our conversation. She now refers to those who speak of "leveling the playing field" and has expanded on her diatribe against making charitable contributions more equitable by not allowing the truly wealthy to deduct more than, say, the moderately wealthy, or even the average itemizer. Charities need rich people who get tax breaks, she argues--otherwise the money will surely dry up.

The political sticks-in-the-mud continue to believe that our nation is best served by leaving the wealthy alone as much as possible lest they stop contributing to charities and the larger economy via trickle-down economics: as if they will become miserly, hole up in their big houses, and draw the curtains if we trouble them too much. Frankly, I think we should do away with all tax shelters based on charitable giving. Any act of giving that is done with even the vaguest premise of return is egoism, not compassion.

But this little skirmish of mine over tax deductions is but a small side note in a much larger debate that is beginning to take shape.There is a resistance among the old guard to see democracy as an ongoing historical process, not some timeless condition that was established in the 18th century and has remained in pure form ever since. Maureen Dowd says that we are having a hard time adjusting to "desperation socialism." I don't think it's socialism we are adjusting to. Rather, we are trying to figure out how to make democracy work for all rather than just a few.

Why I Like the Ten Commandments, But Don’t Want Them Set in Stone

One of our state legislators has authored a bill that would allow the construction of a Ten Commandments monument on the grounds of our state capitol in Oklahoma City. The bill is entitled, simply enough, “The Ten Commandments Monument Display Act.”

Frankly, I like the Ten Commandments. I get Sundays off, as Mosiac law says I should. I am strongly discouraged from killing, stealing, committing adultery, or coveting my neighbor’s wife, livestock, or servants—all of which are good prohibitions, I think, and fairly easy to live by. I wish our tax code was so simple.

I’m not sure which version of the Commandments we would display, though, or how much of the actual text. In Exodus, King James Version, Chapter 20, the “Thou shalts” and “Thou shalt nots” start in line three and run through line seventeen. Some of the commandments are pretty self-explanatory, even pithy—like “Thou shalt not steal”— while others require several paragraphs of elaboration (see the one about keeping the Sabbath holy). I suppose Rep. Ritze, the author of the bill, can pare it all down to a few key lines—otherwise we’re talking about a big monument, or very miniscule chisel work. We also have to decide whether to go with the Exodus rendering or the version found in Deuteronomy, 5: 6-21. Personally I think the former is best, since Exodus is much easier to say and spell than Deuteronomy.

The argument Rep. Ritze presents in his bill is quite interesting. He notes that the Ten Commandments “are an important component of the moral foundation of the laws and legal system of the United States of America and of the State of Oklahoma,” and that courts “frequently cite” the commandments in their decisions. Fair enough. Afterwards, though, he argues that the Commandments “represent a philosophy of government held by many of the founders of this nation and by many Oklahomans and other Americans today, that God has ordained civil government and has delegated limited authority to civil government, that God has limited the authority of civil government, and that God endowed people with certain unalienable rights, including life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Here’s where things get a bit dicey. First, Rep. Ritze offers a pretty conservative version of what God ordained, having the Almighty endorse “limited” government. I half expect a Divine proclamation on tax cuts and education vouchers. What is more puzzling, though, is the joining of our sacred and secular liberties so marvelously addressed in the Declaration of Independence with a set of rules that essentially establish a monotheistic theocracy. No other gods, no graven images, no bowing down to them, because God, in addition to being for limited government, is also a “jealous God.” Later, in what is certainly his most disingenuous move in the bill, Rep. Ritze writes, “The placement of this monument shall not be construed to mean that the state of Oklahoma favors any particular religion or denomination thereof over others, but rather will be placed on the Capitol grounds where there are numerous other monuments.”

Let’s pause and ponder. Rep. Ritze says this jealous Hebrew God, whose specific rules serve as the very foundation of our civic, moral, and legal philosophy, won’t mind if we create a monument to some of his best work, yet in the same breath, or perhaps out of the other side of our mouths, deny that that monument indicates favoritism? (Am I just hearing things, or did the cock crow three times?) Not only that, but this monument to the Creator’s centrality in our moral and civic lives is to be, ironically, just one among many such presumably secular monuments.

What we should all find disturbing in the bill is not the proposal to allow an additional monument on state property, or even allow for the building of a clearly religious monument on the Capitol grounds. Rather, what is unsettling is the tortured route Rep. Ritze takes to get us there. It will not be erected for the pedagogical reasons Rep. Ritze offers: so that we “may understand and appreciate the basic principles of the American system of government,” or because the monument “would help people of the United States and of Oklahoma to know the Ten Commandments as the moral foundation of law.” It will be erected, if we are honest about it, because Rep. Ritze wants a Judeo-Christian monument on public property as a proclamation, not a mere reflection, of an idealized Christian America. But he can’t speak the naked truth without revealing the unconstitutionality of the bill by virtue of the Establishment Clause, which reads, “Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion.” We can certainly understand why Rep. Ritze calls the Ten Commandments a “philosophy of government,” and the “moral foundation of law,” but not an expression of religion. His bill is a side-step, a hedge, a swerve, a slight of hand.

Quite apart from the dubious rhetorical tactics found in this particular bill, my contention is not that a monument to the Ten Commandments would necessarily violate the oft-cited “separation of church and state,” whereby the state should be cocooned against religious beliefs and influences, or that our elected representatives should leave their religions at home or in their churches or synagogues before crossing the thresholds of their appointed legislative offices. I am not at all interested in protecting the state from religion, as many tend to interpret the Establishment Clause, but rather, as Stephen Carter, a Professor of Law at Yale University explains, the clause is perhaps best read as a way to protect “religion from the state.” I don’t want the state determining what religious monument is appropriate or inappropriate, what element of Christian tradition is the foundation of our moral and legal practice (I prefer the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew’s version, if any one should ask). I will wholeheartedly defend religious speech. After all, what follows the Establishment Clause is the equally important Free Exercise Clause that prevents Congress from prohibiting “the free exercise thereof.” What I do want, however, and what we all must expect for the sake of democracy, is the free and honest flow of dialogue, not the Decalogue set in stone by way of a slickly worded bill.