The Op-Ed Page

Sen. Bill Cassidy, La.-R

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

U.S. Sen. Bill Cassidy and I have never met, but we are contemporaries (I’m five years his junior). Our medical careers have seen tremendous advances regarding the public health. We have watched HIV go from a death sentence to a disease that can often be managed with a single tablet. We have seen smoking rates plummet by more than 50 percent. Lung cancer rates and cardiovascular disease rates have fallen precipitously. Cancer death rates have dropped by roughly a third.

At our graduation from medical school, we took a sacred oath pledging to care for our patients ethically, to offer cure when possible and comfort at the end of life. Cassidy’s medical career seems exemplary. As a physician in Louisiana, he helped establish a free clinic in Baton Rouge. When he embarked on a political career in 2006, he was, I suspect, motivated by the same benevolent impulses that led him to medicine.

Politics, unfortunately, is a fickle and contorting business. Cassidy, a Republican, has done back flips in his relationship with Donald Trump. After courageously voting to impeach him after January 6^th, he has shrunk into the toady Trump demands. Still, I am confident he cares about his constituents and his country. He has accepted his humiliation by Trump as the price of remaining in his Senate seat where he can continue to do good work.

The dilemma of being a physician and a senator is that Cassidy has taken two weighty oaths, one to his country and one to his patients. We have watched him struggle with the pull of these oaths as he agonized about whether to confirm Kennedy. He attempted to assuage his conscience by extracting a series of promises during his confirmation process, both in private conversations and during the public hearings. But since his confirmation, Kennedy has flouted Cassidy again and again. In a private conversation Cassidy said Kennedy assured him that he would make no changes in the CDC’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices (Kennedy denies making this promise). In June, Kennedy purged the committee of all 17 members, replacing them with seven members, several of whom are vaccine skeptics.

In the hearings Cassidy asked Kennedy to state unequivocally that vaccines do not cause autism. He refused to do so. Instead, in a recent interview with Tucker Carlson, Kennedy claimed without evidence that the Hepatitis B vaccine was linked to autism in a study that the CDC had suppressed.

Antoine Bechamp

None of this should come as a surprise. Kennedy’s scientific views are antediluvian. He does not believe in modern germ theory. Let me repeat that. The current occupant of America’s most powerful public health agency, responsible for protecting and promoting the health of more than 340 million people, doesn’t subscribe to one of the foundational principles of modern medicine. He made this no secret. Cassidy had to know this before confirming him. In Kennedy’s 2021 book, The Real Anthony Fauci, he rejects germ theory for a discredited theory from 19^th century scientist Antoine Bechamp called terrain theory. Bechamp proposed that disease arises from the body’s internal environment (terrain) and not from external pathogens. This theory has been discredited so completely that it’s not taught in medical school. In my 36 years as a physician, I had never heard of it until I read about Kennedy.

Cassidy and I trained at a time when it was common for doctors to do our own gram stains. We collected a sample from a hospitalized patient, placed it on a slide and stained it. Then we looked through a microscope to identify the offending organism. If we saw one, we could then treat our patient with an antibiotic specific to that pathogen. Often, we would then see our patient recover, sometimes miraculously. No physician who has cured a patient that way would be tempted to waste time with Bechamps’ bogus idea.

Cassidy brought Kennedy back to the hearing room on Sept. 4 to express his displeasure. He and the Democrats on the committee criticized him harshly. Kennedy was castigated for his claim that mRNA vaccines were not effective (he cancelled nearly $500 million in research funding), despite estimates they saved more than two million American lives and prevented many millions more hospitalizations. He would not answer Sen. John Warners’ question about how many Americans died of COVID (The CDC estimates approximately 1.2 million).

Kennedy claimed he could not trust the CDC’s COVID mortality data. But I don’t have to rely on figures. I lost several friends and patients to COVID. The first death in 2020 was a woman in her 50s who was still teaching. I have close colleagues who worked in the ICU during the pandemic and saw many needless deaths in unvaccinated patients. Overall, it is estimated that more than 200,000 lives could have been saved if unvaccinated people would have taken the vaccine.

Both of Cassidy’s oaths propel him to remedy the danger he has inflicted on America. He knew Kennedy was unqualified. He allowed a naïve hope and empty promises to sway him. Imagine if Kamala Harris had won the election and had offered Kennedy up as the HHS nominee. The nomination would have been dead on arrival. Cassidy compromised his oath to his country and to his patients to protect his seat.

He has three choices: convince Trump to fire Kennedy, lead a successful impeachment of the secretary, or relinquish his medical license.

A version of this column appeared in the September 18^th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

RFK Jr., who apparently found one of his Dad’s old ties in the attic.

The Op-Ed Page

James Earl Jones in the film version of Cry, the Beloved Country.

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

Alan Paton’s 1948 novel, Cry, the Beloved Country, explores the South African apartheid system, which was formally instituted in the year of its publication. The protagonist, Stephen Kumalo, is a black minister of a rural congregation whose son commits a murder in a robbery gone wrong. The white man he kills, Arthur Jarvis, is, ironically, one of the few white people who is actively opposing the new apartheid regime.

Paton’s book was formative for me. It heightened my awareness of racial injustice in South Africa, America, and around the world. Recently, I have returned to the book with a different perspective, as I reflect on the changes in my country since Donald Trump was elected. The current injustices are different from those dealt with in the novel, but have been profoundly disquieting. My previous readings have been empathetic, finding my way into Kumalo’s sorrow and anger with a reader’s detachment. However, watching our new administration operate, my detachment is gone. I have become Kumalo.

In the decade since Trump entered presidential politics, I have, despite my grave misgivings about his character and rhetoric, tried to be generous in my view of him. Some of his policies make sense and align with my own. I think his border policy is more sensible than Biden’s was. He is correct to treat China as an existential threat. I agree with him that biological men should not be in women’s sports or other women-only spaces.

But, to my Republican friends I say, you could have had those policies with dozens of other candidates. None of them would have done to our country what Trump has done. For years his defenders chided his opponents for being worried about “a few mean tweets.” I don’t like trash-talking in politics. It simply makes compromising more difficult, and every piece of significant legislation involves compromise. Since it has become an accepted part of the American dialogue, I doubt there will be any turning back. Nevertheless, calling out other world leaders, especially the presidents of Canada and Mexico, our closest neighbors and two of our closest allies, is gratuitous and counterproductive.

However, the deep, agonizing cry that is silently reverberating in many Americans’ hearts is for Ukraine. This is exactly the kind of country that America should be supporting. I’m not a war monger. I have no interest in the U.S. starting or prolonging a war. I grieve for the dead and wounded on both sides and their families. As a physician, I have seen how tragedies affect patients and loved ones. It is impossible for a person to experience war and come away better for the experience.

Ukraine had no choice but to enter this war. They were invaded without provocation by a much larger country run by a murderous dictator. They responded just as America would, with searing rage and all the firepower they could muster. Most analysts expected the war to be over in weeks. Instead the Ukrainians have bravery held off the Russians for three years. Their democratically-elected president, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, showed commendable courage when he chose to stay rather than flee (as opposed to Trump, who dodged the draft, or his minion Josh Hawley, who ran for his life during the attack on the Capitol). Zelenskyy has made it easy for America to support him, asking only for weapons and ammunition. No American soldier will die in Ukraine.

I suspect we will recover quickly from much of the stupidity and vanity emanating from the White House, e.g., the Gulf of America, the turning of the South Lawn into a Tesla lot, or the threats to take over Greenland, Canada, and the Panama Canal. However, Trump’s choice to forsake Zelenskyy for Vladimir Putin, an authoritarian who censors free media, jails and kills his opponents, and rules by fear, will stain our flag for years to come. The simple question is “Which of these countries aspires to be more like America?” That was, until recently, the way we chose allies. America is the best and brightest hope for the planet. Our democratic system, as fractious and flawed as it is, and our political discourse, as polluted as it is, are still the envy of the world. We are free to say and do everything we want as long as it does not infringe on the rights of our fellow citizens. We will only remain free if we support other countries trying to become like us.

I have had my share of disagreements with past presidents, both those I voted for and those I didn’t. I have been angry before, but I have never felt that the president was trying to contort the United States into a country we don’t recognize and don’t want to be. In the novel, Kumalo says of his son Absalom after he has committed the murder, “Who knows if he ever thought of what he did, of what it meant to his mother and father, to the people of his village, to the white man he had killed, to the wife and children that were left desolate. Who knows if he had remorse, or if he wept for his broken country?”

When I read Kumalo’s last question over forty years ago at the University of Virginia, I never thought I would be asking it of my president.

A version of this column appeared in the March 19^th, 2025 edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

I’m no foreign policy expert, but I have an advantage over most Americans trying to understand the shutdown of the US Agency for International Development (USAID). I have seen its work overseas. In February 2020, I was part of a small group of doctors and medical students from the University of South Carolina who traveled to Tanzania to work in one of the nation’s major referral hospitals.

In my two weeks there, I discovered that Tanzania’s health system is decades behind ours. Due to the lack of medical infrastructure, Tanzanians suffer and die of diseases like HIV and TB at much higher rates than Americans. I met an American couple, both doctors, who had chosen to work for several years in a clinic run by Baylor University dedicated to the prevention of HIV and the care of children and families already infected. Baylor had built a welcoming, modern clinic on the campus of the hospital. One of the funders of the clinic was USAID.

This young couple and their small children were not part of a “criminal organization” as Elon Musk posted on Twitter on February 2^nd, nor were they working for one that was run by “radical lunatics” as Donald Trump said the next day. These were exemplary, highly trained Americans serving sacrificially far from home, in a way that should make us all proud.

It is Trump’s prerogative to shape agencies according to his governing philosophy. It is reasonable for him to roll back programs that focus on diversity, equity, and inclusion as he said we would in his campaign. I may disagree with the hysteria over transgender Americans that Trump was glad to stoke. I may support the simple idea that diverse groups are usually stronger and more productive than homogeneous ones. But Trump won the election, and I respect his right to make changes that will perturb me.

What I object to is a purge of an organization that is so important to America’s standing in the world. USAID has more than 80 missions in approximately 130 countries. As of this writing, all of them have been closed. USAID workers, both those devoting a few years like my friends in Tanzania, and others who have spent their careers overseas, are now locked out of their offices, unsure of their next paycheck, and trying to make contingency plans thousands of miles from home.

There is a sensible way to reform USAID. Conservatives have long complained that USAID is too autonomous and that some programs, such as funding for Palestinian NGOs, were not aligned with American interests. This is a legitimate policy dispute. Some would argue that we should provide humanitarian assistance to families ravaged by a war they had no part in making, others would argue that too much of the aid would end up in the hands of Hamas.

Let’s have those debates. Let’s consider the pros and cons of putting USAID under the control of the State Department. But let’s do it without upending the lives of American citizens abroad or putting the lives of our allies at risk.

Endangering the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) is particularly egregious. PEPFAR was created in 2003 by George W. Bush and has been the most successful anti-HIV effort on the planet, saving millions of lives and preventing untold numbers of cases of HIV, including the most devastating, maternal to infant transmission.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio has issued waivers for critical humanitarian assistance, but there is much confusion about what the waivers will cover and how the new funding streams will operate. It is certain that many patients’ daily HIV medication supply will be disrupted.

Any interruption in PEPFAR services could be disastrous. One of the weaknesses of current HIV therapy is that when patients stop taking their medication, the virus can become resistant and much more difficult to treat, resulting in complications and even death.

HIV has, thankfully, been reduced to a controllable chronic disease here at home. Most people who are diagnosed with HIV in the U.S. can live a normal lifespan. I have about a dozen HIV-positive patients in my practice. All of them have their HIV controlled with a simple daily regimen. Many of us have forgotten what it was like at the peak of the epidemic in the 1990s when thousands of young people were dying, emaciated and terrified. But HIV is still poorly controlled in some of the developing world such as sub-Saharan Africa and India, where USAID is doing lifesaving work.

I’m disappointed by my evangelical Christian brethren, most of whom voted for Trump. Churches usually ask for a 10% tithe. USAID’s budget is less than 1% of the total budget of the United States. The vast majority goes to work that Jesus asks us to do in the 25^th chapter of Matthew – feeding the hungry, inviting in the stranger, caring for the sick. So much for Christian nationalism when it comes to how we treat our neighbors around the world.

All of this was easily predictable and preventable. But that’s no concern for Trump and Musk, who seem locked in a battle for who can demonstrate the least empathy. The shutdown of USAID exposes the current administration as incompetent and cruel.

A version of this column appeared in the February 19^th, 2025 edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Doctors DeMarco: Paul and his daughter Grace, then a 4th-year medical student, in Tanzania…

The Op-Ed Page

President Jimmy Carter addressing the SBC in Atlanta in 1978. In 2000, Carter would break with the SBC over its position on the status of women.

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

Although I am a United Methodist, I have known many, many sweet and skillful Baptist women in my time. My children went to Marion Baptist Kindergarten prior to entering 5K in the public schools and were taught by two of the sweetest, a pair of beloved elderly sisters. Baptist women can organize church events, cook the best caramel layer cakes you have ever tasted, and I’m going to wager that most are smarter than their husbands (that’s no crack on Baptist husbands; it’s true in all denominations and certainly in my household).

I expect that most Baptist ladies of a certain age will stay put and keep doing important work for their congregations and communities. But after the Southern Baptist Convention’s recent annual meeting, I’m not sure how the SBC thinks it’s going to hold onto young women.

Since 2000, the SBC has had a nonbinding statement of faith banning women from the pulpit. At the annual meeting this past June in Indianapolis, the SBC came close to formalizing that ban into the denomination’s constitution.  The ban received support from 61% of the delegates, but it failed to achieve the required two-thirds supermajority. Still, the vote demonstrated that more than half of the delegates hold this outmoded view.

I remember watching my mother struggle with the restrictions placed on women by the Catholic church in which she was raised and educated.  I think she might have been the first doctor in our family if Fordham, the Jesuit university she attended, had allowed her to major in chemistry. However, in the early 1960s, Fordham’s chemistry degree was offered only to men.  As opportunities expanded for women in the secular world, the idea that women could not be priests or use birth control became insupportable to her. Eventually, she and my father found a happy home in the Episcopal church, where men and women are treated equally.

I remember as a teenager meeting a brilliant Mormon high school senior. She had been selected as a Presidential scholar, one of only 100 young people in the country to receive that annual award. To my surprise she was already engaged to be married. She had been admitted to college and had a bright future ahead. But when I asked how she would respond if her husband wanted her to stay home with the children they were sure to bring into the world, she said without hesitation that she would drop out.

My point is not that staying home with children is a bad choice. It’s a wonderful choice. I am grateful to my wife for choosing to stay home with our two when they were young. As a brilliant master’s prepared nurse, she could have decided she wanted to pursue a high-profile academic or administrative position.  How could I have denied her that?  Using a few verses from the Bible, a book written two millennia ago exclusively by men at a time when women were considered property?

The Bible contains great truths, but it must be interpreted (and whether we want to admit it or not, every reader of the Bible interprets Scripture. There is no objective reading of a text so voluminous, complex, or contradictory). As a physician, one of my favorite examples of bringing a modern interpretation to the Bible concerns the Gospel writers’ descriptions of Jesus casting out demons. Today we would diagnose the afflicted as having epilepsy or perhaps psychosis. Building a church infrastructure around exorcism of demons would be foolish based on today’s understanding of the brain.  Likewise, building a church infrastructure to uphold another antiquated idea, that woman are not men’s equals in the work of the church — including, teaching, preaching, and leading — is similarly foolish.

The SBC was founded in 1845 by men who wanted a denomination that would allow its members to own slaves, twisting the message of the Bible to accommodate that view.  It took 150 years for the SBC to formally apologize for that. Ladies, I am confident that at some point in the future, the SBC will recognize that it has made a similar mistake with its treatment of women. But why wait a century and a half for the apology?

If you’re a young or young at heart Baptist woman, consider moving to a denomination that fully recognizes your God-given worth. There are many, but I am partial to my own, the United Methodist Church, where women are viewed as equals in every way and hold every leadership position, including pastor and bishop.

Women lead men successfully in every secular aspect of life-in our homes, in the workplace, and in government.  Does God really want them to remain subservient in the church? Mike Law, pastor of Arlington Baptist Church in Virginia and author of the constitutional amendment banning women pastors argues, “Our culture may see this prohibition as harsh, but our God is all wise, and wrote this word for the flourishing of both men and women.” Reverend Law, let me respond for all the women rolling their eyes right now, “Well, pastor, bless your heart.”

A version of this column appeared in the October 16th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

“We also have a twice-a-month farmer’s market on Main Street.”

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

I enjoyed reading Seth Taylor’s July 29th article “South Carolina is booming, but the Pee Dee is shrinking” which reports on data from the S.C. Revenue and Fiscal Affairs Office. The office estimates that the number of people living in the Pee Dee could shrink by 17 percent by 2042. The most provocative projection is that some counties could lose nearly a third of their populations.

I read with some concern, since I’ve lived in Marion since 1993. My wife and I raised our children here, and we expect to live the rest of our lives here. However, although I’m not a demographer, I have reason for optimism.

First, as Taylor reminds us later in the article, “It’s difficult to make projections for next year, let alone the next 20.” Second, I have anecdotal evidence that there are countertrends at work that may well cause the Pee Dee to grow.

As I mentioned in one of my recent columns, my neighborhood, which had been almost completely white since its development decades ago, has seen a welcome addition of black families in the last five years. Our society’s evolution toward equality may make a tangible economic difference for rural counties. Blacks (who make up 56% of Marion County’s population) can now live wherever they want in the Pee Dee with no expectation of hostility. The era of redlining and white flight are over. There is no reason to migrate to Atlanta or Detroit to feel welcomed and respected.

Taylor quotes Joette Dukes, the executive director of the Pee Dee Council of Governments, who describes the “defeatism” and “apathy” that can occur when rural areas lose population. Per Dukes bio, she has over 30 years’ experience with PDCOG, so she knows of what she speaks. She laments the lack of jobs which force some young people to move even if they would prefer to stay. But she makes one claim with which I disagree. Taylor quotes her as saying that some young people are leaving the rural Pee Dee to look for “a home they can actually afford.”

I think that, in reality, housing prices are a big draw for rural S.C. counties. When I encounter folks looking to buy a home in Marion, my standard response is, “Buy on Wednesday – It’s BOGO for homes in Marion County on Wednesdays.”

My three closest new neighbors are transplants from out of state (two of three from the Northeast) who had no connection to Marion but moved here in part because of the low cost of housing and lower property taxes. I have another new friend who moved from Iowa. He is a digital manager who can work from anywhere and moved to Marion after seeing an affordable home on the web.

My intuition is that we will see more of these types of newcomers in the future: retirees from the North who are tired of the cold and the traffic; and younger, digital workers who are drawn to the natural beauty and amicability that small towns afford.

In addition, our proximity to Myrtle Beach will inevitably result in some spillover. Both of my northern neighbors started their home searches at the beach but concluded it was too crowded and expensive.

Schools are a top consideration for native parents deciding to stay or transplants weighing whether to relocate here. It is true that rural Pee Dee schools don’t look great on paper. But both of my children went to Marion’s public schools from kindergarten through high school and received a solid education. They both attended college on academic scholarship and are both physicians. Since America’s public school covenant is that every child deserves an education, schools in poor areas encounter many students that don’t enter school ready to learn and don’t have enough parental support. Those students are reflected in schools’ data averages. But in every public school there is a cadre of students who are prepared and motivated and teachers who know how to teach them.

My children also benefitted from attending rural public school in some unexpected ways. For example, although they were handicapped by my genes (short and slow), they were both able to play varsity soccer as starters all four years of high school, which would not have been possible at a larger, urban school.

Taylor’s article serves as a warning worth heeding. His opening descriptions “Boarded-up buildings on Main Street… fewer people in the pews on Sunday” are realities. But after the devastating twin losses of tobacco and textiles in the ’90s and ’00s, Marion has rebounded. Main Street will never look the way it did in the ’50s with a department store, a furniture store, a Western Auto, and a movie theatre. But several businesses have opened over the past few years in previously empty storefronts, including a marvelous coffee shop called the Groundout, owned by a beloved local family. We also have a twice-a-month farmer’s market on Main Street. It happens in a space left by a restaurant that burned. The creation of a public green space called the Marion Commons in response to that devastating fire is symbolic of how small towns can revive themselves.

Call me in 2042. I’m hoping to still be living in a thriving, growing Marion.

A version of this column appeared in the September 18th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

If you spend a lot of time with digital news and social media (please don’t), you might think that conservative and liberal Christians have little in common and that we despise each other because of our doctrinal disputes over gay clergy, transgender people, abortion, etc.

But down here in the pews, it’s mostly about the work of the church – caring for your congregation, your neighborhood, and the wider world.

Jesus asked us to “make disciples of all the nations” (Matthew 28:19) by “feeding his sheep” (John 21:17). My layperson’s interpretation of Jesus’ commands is that he wants us to improve people’s lives – feeding, sheltering, visiting, healing – caring for them in the myriad ways that one person can show love to another. Once we do that, they will have a better idea of who he is and may be moved to become his followers, too.

The beauty of the church is that we meet every week to worship and to face human need, both near and far, together. It is a unique uniting force in society. Yes, the church has done some terrible things historically, which I acknowledge and condemn. But that same sin and corruption that drives wars and injustice and abuse also exist outside the church. In my experience, the church has been an overwhelmingly positive force.

Which brings me to my annual sojourn to Hampton County with Salkehatchie Summer Service. Since 1978, Salk has brought United Methodists and other people of faith together to spend a week rehabilitating homes for South Carolinians. The adults supervise teenagers 14 to 18, and the teens are the focus of the ministry. We want them to understand poverty in a new and provocative way and to realize their connection to it. Every summer, dozens of camps gather in various locations all over the state, involving hundreds of young people in total. The one I have attended since 2008 is fittingly housed at Camp Christian, an old-time Baptist campground.

My team of 4 adults and 8 young people were putting a new roof on an old, but well-built, 4-room home. On Monday afternoon, it started to rain (Monday rain is the bane of Salk roofers because the old shingles are off, but the house is not dried in). We tarped the roof well, but there was a deluge and the inside of the house was drenched. The homeowner couple watched despairingly as their mattress, upholstered chairs, and ruined possessions were unceremoniously thrown into a dumpster in the front yard. The couple gathered some clothes and belongings and we paid for a hotel.

The next day, deacons from two local churches came to the house to see how they could help. These were retired men who belonged to rural Baptist churches. We didn’t talk politics or religion, but I suspect that I am significantly more liberal that they are. But those differences, so prominent on social media and in the minds of many who do not understand why churches exist, did not matter at all. Our goal, about which we were completely unified, was helping the homeowners. On Tuesday, it wasn’t clear that the house could be saved. A thorough inspection by our team after the rain had revealed some previously undiscovered electrical problems that would require extensive rewiring (which was in addition to some significant rot in the floor joists about which we already knew).

For the next three days, we acted on faith. We had come to put a roof on, and we put it on. When the inspector came Friday and determined that the house was salvageable, we cheered.

What impressed me most about our week was the deacons. Every day one of them stopped by the house to check on us and the family. And not just casually. They were there to solve the problem, to love their neighbor in the most tangible and pragmatic way. “Well, we can’t pay for them to stay in a hotel very long.” “Can we find them a place that is close enough to their jobs?” (They had a single car and different work schedules). “If we knock the house down and start over, how will they afford the increase in property tax?”

The deacons, the Salk camp director, and a local Methodist minister, met to formulate a plan. Temporary shelter, better than their current home, was secured until the home could be repaired. All their salvageable belongings were packed up and moved to their new residence. The Salk camp had to end after a week, but we are committed to returning as many times as it takes to join forces with the deacons and other friends of the couple until the house is habitable again.

This is the work of the church. But no media outlet would write about this. Why not? First of all, these kinds of displays of Christian love are too commonplace to be considered news. Second, examine how you feel after reading this. Are you upset or angry? Have I dunked on a group that you dislike? No? Well, that answers the question. This is a story about ordinary people who have some differences in their world views. But those differences pale in comparison to the common ground we share. My week in Hampton was a refreshing demonstration of what happens when we focus on what connects us and try to make our corner of the world a little better.

A version of this column appeared in the August 14^th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

My experience with injustice has, fortunately, never been personal. I’m a white, married, straight man who attends a Protestant church, so no one has ever denied me a seat at any table because of who I was. I was born in New York, but when I was 7 years old, my family moved to Charleston, where I entered second grade. It didn’t take me long to understand that not everyone was accepted as readily or treated as well as I was. Racism was easy for even a child to spot. When I was taken shopping at Belk, I saw a cross-section of the community that was missing in my neighborhood, school, and church.

I’m not sure when I first became aware of anti-Semitism. I would guess I learned about it in middle school when we studied the Holocaust. I had the advantage of attending a private school during the 1970s that had a substantial population of Jewish students. I was impressed by the discipline of some of my Jewish friends, who after a full day of regular school then attended Hebrew school. One Orthodox classmate once showed up late for an extracurricular meeting on a Saturday morning. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said sheepishly, “But I had to walk.” (Orthodox Jews are not permitted to drive or ride in cars on the Sabbath). I do remember occasionally hearing my classmates make comments disparaging Jews, but these were few and far between. I think it’s fair to say that my Jewish friends felt safe and respected at our school, although not necessarily celebrated. I graduated from high school feeling that Jews my age would have essentially the same opportunities I had.

In December of 1982, during my second year in college, that belief was challenged. I attended a debutante ball at a South Carolina country club with the woman who would eventually become my wife. I didn’t know most of the other guests, so I made many introductions. When curious partygoers asked from whence I came, I proudly told them “Brooklyn.” Some of the members of the club left our conversations worried that this loud kid from Brooklyn with the big nose and olive skin might be Jewish (I’m actually Sicilian). Jews, of course, were prohibited from being members.

The next day, my future mother-in-law told me that questions about my origin had gotten back to her. She had assured all those worried that a Jew might have polluted the WASP-y ballroom atmosphere that, no, I wasn’t Jewish. However, since then, I generally respond to the question “Where are you from?” (which in the South means “Where were you born?”) with a dodge. I tell people I was raised in Charleston, which is better received from those who might harbor misgivings about Yankees or Jews.

Jews (and, of course, blacks) were not welcome at many Southern private clubs until recently. For example, Forest Lake Country Club in Columbia, which was founded in 1923 and counts Governor Henry McMaster as one of its members, did not admit its first black member until 2017.

I’ve been revisiting my debutante experience as anti-Semitism has resurfaced around the war in Gaza. My naïve sense prior to October 7^th was that the anti-Semitism that I encountered in 1982 had gradually atrophied to the point where it would continue to decline and die. But sadly, anti-Semitism seems impervious – it’s like the fungal spores that can lie dormant in the earth for years only to spring to life as a carpet of mushrooms in favorable conditions.

My one night as a Jew has helped me form my current opinion of the conflict in Gaza. First, Israel must continue to exist. Second, Palestinians must also have their own state and the right of self-determination.

I fully support the rights of those who protest peacefully in support of the Palestinians and against the war which is killing so many civilians. Before the war there was already growing opposition to the Netanyahu government. Netanyahu’s provocative policies such as settlement expansion, the killing of Palestinian demonstrators, and restrictions on Palestinian trade and freedom of movement were staunchly opposed by many in Israel and the United States.

But what hasn’t come across in any protests I have seen is any sense of shame or regret for Hamas’ brutality on October 7^th, not to mention years of suicide bombings, indiscriminate rocket fire, or their grotesque tactic of using their own people as human shields.

Despite our hope for peace and justice for the Palestinians, most Americans rightly find it impossible to be sympathetic toward Hamas. The attack on October 7^th will surely be one of the most evil acts of my lifetime. The barbarity of invading homes, of meticulously killing entire families, and of raping and mutilating the victims, is some of the most base behavior of which humans are capable. No one should cheer for this.

The key to many successful protest movements is their ability to find and elevate principled, sacrificial leaders. The Bible provides examples in Moses and Jesus. More recent examples include Frederick Douglass, Susan B. Anthony, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Nelson Mandela. Neither Netanyahu nor the Hamas leader, Yahya Sinwar, fit this mold. The current conflict cannot be resolved until both the Palestinians and the Israelis elect new and better leaders. That is a rallying cry that would unite campus protesters from both sides and point toward a solution.

A version of this column appeared in the May 16^th, 2024, edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

I was driving towards Johnsonville from Marion on a recent Sunday to make a home visit and had to make a detour because of a wreck on the Highway 378 bridge. The glory of the early spring afternoon mitigated the inconvenience and took me to parts of the Pee Dee I had never travelled. As I passed Good Hope United Methodist Church in Hemingway, an irregularity in the large marble sign in front caught my eye. I circled back and parked to investigate. The word “United” had been covered over with duct tape. (See image below.)

This, sadly, was not the work of a prankster. It was an indication of the schism that is dividing the United Methodist Church (UMC). Like many denominations, we have struggled with the role of the LGBTQ community in the church. After years of discussion by our leadership and in local congregations, the break has finally come. Those churches who are unwilling to see LGBTQ people as full human beings, able to be ordained and to marry each other, are leaving. Many are joining a new conservative denomination, the Global Methodist Church. Others will remain independent or join older denominations with similar views about homosexuality. But whatever road they choose, they have given up on the United Methodist experiment that began in 1968.

I passed two other small, formerly United Methodist Churches on my detour back to Johnsonville, Ebenezer and Old Johnsonville, both of which are disaffiliating from the UMC. They had both removed the “United” from their premises, the former by pulling metal letters out of its brick sign, the latter by painting over the offending adjective.

Disaffiliating pastors and members commonly cite the half-dozen biblical verses that pertain to homosexuality as their reason for leaving. But we in the UMC have for decades routinely ignored biblical teachings about the role of women, adultery, and slavery, among other topics. Our Southern Baptist brethren interpret the Bible such that it excludes women from the pulpit. We in the UMC treat women as equals and allow them full access to roles as ministers and bishops. Disregard of verses such as those that condemn adulterers to death (e.g., Leviticus 20:10 and Deuteronomy 22:22) and verses that condone slavery (e.g., Exodus 21:20-21) is standard practice in the UMC.

The Bible is a big, complicated book which is often contradictory. Every denomination and all Christians must use their best judgment when interpreting scripture. It is therefore disheartening and surprising that so many churches would use such scant scriptural logic to split the church. But an astounding number have. Nationwide, the UMC is losing about 25% of its churches (roughly 7,500 out of 30,000). Most heartbreaking to me is the trapping of good friends of mine in unwelcoming churches. I’ve been shocked by the good people I know who have voted to leave, including a friend I greatly admire.

She is a beautiful human being, one of those people who treats everyone with genuine respect no matter who they are. I have seen her work with the very poorest and the very richest, and with people of all races, religions, and sexual orientations. She treats them all with the dignity they deserve.

I knew she had worked with many LGBTQ patients with full acceptance, so I asked her if she would be willing to talk with me about her decision to leave. She agreed, as I knew she would.

It was a quiet, deep conversation between a Christian brother and sister struggling to discern God’s will. She told me that she was deeply ambivalent about the decision, and that it had moved her to tears. She has gay members of her extended family that she loves. Her congregation includes a family with adult gay siblings. The vote to leave the church was unanimous except for the siblings and their mother. She knew that she would likely never see them again in church, which was upsetting to her.

When I asked her why she voted to leave, she expressed some fears. She mentioned a fear of extremists in the UMC leadership moving the church in a direction that was counter to her understanding of the Bible. She raised the possibility of a cross-dressing or transgender minister as something she could not tolerate.

She mentioned her teenage son and conversations they had had about LGBTQ people. He was accepting of his gay friends and relatives. My friend said without hesitation that if her son turned out to be gay, she would be unconditionally supportive of him. “I know that’s true,” I responded. She is such an open, loving mother that a gay child would be blessed to have her as a parent. “But,” I said, “now you have guaranteed that you will not be able to show that love to a gay member of your church.” We were silent for a few moments. I thanked her, and our conversation ended.

There will be some shuffling of congregations over the next few years as Methodists sort through how they want to express their values. In my church, which remains a United Methodist Church, we have seen some new faces that have come from disaffiliating churches. Perhaps we will lose some of our more conservative members.

My friend will likely stay in her disaffiliating church because of all the ties she has to it, even if it doesn’t represent who she is in her life outside the church. In her work, she lives out the parable of the Good Samaritan. But she has voted to be part of a congregation that, if you are gay, passes by on the other side.

A version of this column appeared in the April 18th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

By some estimates, there are still about a quarter of Americans who haven’t settled on a presidential candidate. I had a recent conversation with one of them. He’s a smart, middle-aged, college-educated man who is somewhat more conservative than me. But he has unplugged from politics for his mental health. When our conversation turned to the election, he parroted the conservative media narrative about Biden being senile.

I admitted to him that I to had been stunned by Special Counsel Hur’s report describing Biden as a “sympathetic, well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory.” I spend some time with conservative media, which for months had been peddling inaccurate descriptions of Biden as a doddering senior ready for the nursing home. But then I watched the entire State of the Union address and was reassured.

So I asked my friend to watch 15 minutes of the SOTU. I knew he wouldn’t agree with some of Biden’s policies, and conceded that he is not as animated as Trump. But I expected he would come away from the viewing confident that Biden was not cognitively impaired. As a general internist, I have seen hundreds of patients with dementia of all varieties in my career, and it would be impossible for someone with dementia to have given that speech or handled the heckling as he did.

I also encouraged him to give Trump 15 minutes of equal time. After I watched Biden’s SOTU, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen more than snippets of either man for months. So I watched Trump’s Super Tuesday victory rally in Rome, Georgia, from two days after the SOTU.

Our enhanced ability to watch people speak for themselves is one of the major advances of modern politics. I enjoy political theatre and try to see as many competitors as I can in person (whether I will vote for them or not) when they come within striking distance. In 2016, I saw Trump, Cruz, Rubio, Carson, Kasich, and Clinton (Bill, who was stumping for Hillary) when they came to Florence. I’d recommend everyone visit the Gallivants Ferry Stump, the longest running stump meeting in the country. There’s no substitute to being in the same location as the candidates. Sometimes you learn as much about them by the crowds they attract as by the speeches they make.

But if you can’t attend in person, you have the next best option – YouTube. With that ability, why not transfer some of the time you are spending being told about the candidates to time listening directly to them? I hadn’t listened to Trump at length but a handful of times since I saw him in person in 2016. That speech is still ringing in my ears. The moment he shouted, “And who’s going to pay for it?!” and the crowd shouted “Mexico!!” was the most frightening example of demagoguery I’ve ever witnessed.

Trump has always been bombastic and vulgar, but watching the Rome speech right after the SOTU highlighted the contrast with normal political speechmaking. Although Biden made many references to “my predecessor,” his allusions to Trump were based on differences in their positions and accomplishments. Right out of the gate in his Rome speech, Trump launched a fusillade of personal attacks. He dismissed Biden’s speech as “The worst president in history making the worst State of the Union in history.” He imitated Biden’s stutter; he mocked his cough.

Although I felt my friend could watch any 15-minute segment of the SOTU and come away with an accurate assessment of Biden, I asked him to watch the last 15 minutes of the Rome rally. If not for the American flags in the background, it would be easy to image Trump’s concluding monologue being delivered from the canvas of a WWE ring.

As foreboding music played in the background, Trump presented the U.S. as a sulfurous wasteland. He intoned “We are a nation in decline, we are a failing nation… we are a nation where free speech is no longer allowed and where crime is rampant like never ever before… and now Russia and China are holding summits to carve up the world… we are a nation that is hostile to liberty, freedom, faith and even to God… we are a nation whose economy is collapsing into a cesspool of ruin… where fentanyl… is easier to get than groceries to feed our beautiful families… we have become a horrible and unfair nation.”

Biden’s SOTU is anchored in reality. I’m not sure what nation Trump is describing, but it’s not America. The surreal and disconnected nature of Trump’s speech can’t be adequately conveyed by my words. It must be seen to be believed. Spend fifteen minutes with each man before you make a decision.

A version of this column appeared in the March 21^st edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

Paul DeMarco at the Gallivants Ferry Stump Meeting in 2006.

The Op-Ed Page

Over the decades, the very few hopeful-seeming moments have been pathetically far between.

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

The war in Gaza has galvanized the American public more than any international conflict in decades. To try to educate myself on this faraway conflict, I have spent many hours listening to the voices, both written and spoken, of Jews and Palestinians. Many of them express mistrust, disdain, and even hatred of the other, none of which I feel.

What I feel is profound sorrow that two peoples who believe in a loving God have let it come to this. The barbarous Oct. 7 attack on innocent Israeli civilians was as cruel as it was shocking. There is no way to justify it. It must be condemned as heinous and self-defeating. Hamas knew it would provoke the overwhelming Israeli response that is unfolding. Many more Palestinians will die than Israelis who were killed in the initial attack. It was desperate and senseless.

But if one puts the attack in context, one can see how a young Palestinian man could be radicalized to feel that this kind of vengeance was his only remaining option. I’ve never been to Gaza, but I think I can understand on a basic human level what it might be like. That young Palestinian man could have grandparents who were driven off their land in the Arab-Israeli War of 1948, could have parents who have lived their entire lives as refugees, and could himself be unable to find work because of the economic and travel restrictions Israel has placed on Gaza. It’s possible for me to understand how such a person could have his mind warped into killing for revenge, particularly if surrounded by a circle of jihadist contemporaries.

I can also understand what it might be like to be a Jewish man of that same age whose great-grandparents were Holocaust survivors, whose grandparents grew up in the new, precarious Jewish state in the 1950 and ’60s and fought in the 1967 war, whose parents fought in the second intifada, and who himself has had to live his entire life fearing suicide bombings and missile strikes. I can understand his wholesale lack of trust in the Palestinians, a simmering anger with the Palestinian Authority’s unwillingness to compromise to achieve a two-state solution, his horror at Gaza being run by Hamas, which advocates for Israel’s dissolution, and his fury over the Oct. 7 attacks.

So where do we look for hope? America’s history provides a glimmer. Our nation knows something about forcibly removing a people from their land, as we did with the Native Americans. In addition to Native Americans, we have historically denied many other groups their full citizenship rights. But America has gradually welcomed those it previously sought to exclude or marginalize. The process has been slow, often begrudging, and it is not yet complete. But America’s direction is clear. Israel has the same duty. It drove Palestinians off their land in order to create a Jewish state and has denied them the right of self-determination. It must find a way, as America has, to right those wrongs.

The Palestinians, for their part, must renounce violence. Every group that was treated unjustly in America has won its rights over the past century by mostly peaceful means. It is essential that the Palestinians do the same. As long as they indiscriminantly fire rockets, detonate suicide bombs, and commit unspeakable atrocities as they did on Oct. 7, Israel is within its rights to fight back.

Imagine if after breaching the border wall on Oct. 7, tens of thousands of Palestinians had marched peacefully into Israel in a demonstration similar to the American March on Washington in 1963. They would have been embraced by the international community. People like me, and I believe there are many, who recognize that both Israelis and Palestinians have a legitimate claim to the land and that both a Jewish and Palestinian state deserve to exist side by side, would have been moved by that display. We know that our nation provides substantial aid to both Israel and the Palestinians and therefore has leverage. We are willing to add a candidate’s position on Middle East peace to our electoral calculus. But we will not support violence from either side.

As a starting point, the two sides have an important commonality – a language of peace. In Hebrew the word is shalom. In Arabic it is salaam. It means more than a sterile absence of war. It means completeness, wholeness, a state in which God’s people treat each other as he intended.

These two words can be the cornerstone of Israeli-Palestinian reconciliation. I had an elderly Jewish patient who would greet me with a resonant “Shalom” when I walked into the exam room. It was so much more powerful than my generic “Hello.” It was tangible, a verbal embrace. Similarly, on a medical mission to Tanzania in 2020, I was sometimes greeted with “Salaam Alaikum” (“Peace be upon you”) by Muslim passersby. One evening, our group was invited to a Christian Bible study by some local missionaries. As we sang a hymn, the Muslim call to prayer could be heard from a nearby mosque, symbolic of the harmony that can exist between the religions.

We in America have a role to play. As voters we should demand that aid for both sides become contingent on seeing real progress toward the two-state solution.

A version of this column appeared in the Dec. 21 edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.