Category Archives: Words

The shallowness of commentary on Sotomayor

The problem with the overwhelming majority of comments you will see on the subject of the Sotomayor nomination, or any other nomination to the court, is that it is shallow, and informed almost entirely by the commenters’ partisan leanings. All you will learn from it is which side the writer chooses in our never-ending party madness, or the parallel culture wars.

That is unfortunately true of this piece in The New Yorker by Jeffrey Toobin. It drips with this attitude: I’m a liberal, so I think this, and if you disagree with me you’re a conservative, and you think this. Never mind what you actually think.

The thrust of the piece is to stick up for the idea that Judge Sotomayor may have been selected in part because of her ethnicity and gender, as a good thing that should be neither side-stepped nor apologized for:

Still, even Obama, in announcing his choice, shied away from stating the obvious: that Sotomayor was picked in part because she is a Hispanic woman. (The President called his choice an “important step” but didn’t say why.) There was no need for such reticence. Earlier Presidents didn’t apologize for preserving the geographic balance, and this one need not be reluctant to acknowledge that Hispanics, the nation’s fastest-growing ethnic group, who by 2050 will represent a third of the American people, deserve a place at this most exclusive table for nine. (Nor, of course, did he note that the nomination was in part to satisfy Hispanic voters—the electoral benefit being another constant among Presidents.) As Barack Obama knows better than most, it is a sign of a mature and healthy society when the best of formerly excluded groups have the opportunity to earn their way to the top.

Actually, there IS good reason for such reticence and the president is to be praised for recognizing that. Mr. Toobin raises as an argument the tradition, dating to the earliest days of the Republic, of providing geographical balance on the court, followed by such notions as the “Catholic seat” or the “Jewish seat.” (Interesting thing about that is that if Sotomayor is confirmed, we’ll be down to one Protestant seat. Which is wonderful for me as a Catholic — or would be, if I didn’t consider it anathema to think in such terms.)

In fact, I think the “geographic balance” is a bad practice to institutionalize as well. If a legislature wants to have representatives of various congressional districts on a board or commission, OK. But in the absence of such requirements, it is a disservice for a president or governor to consider whether a person is from Charleston, or is Latina, or what have you. Those biographical details are points you MIGHT bring up in introducing a speaker, depending on the audience. But they are NOT qualifications for the Court, and only legitimate qualifications should enter into the discussion.

So no, comparing the idea of considering a nominee’s ethnicity to considering his or her hometown doesn’t strengthen your argument.

But that part is just hapless. This part, the part in which prejudices about what other people think are aired, is actually offensive:

As with earlier breakthrough nominations, Obama’s selection of Sotomayor has stirred some old-fashioned ugliness, and in that alone it serves as a reminder of the value of a diverse bench and society. Some anonymous portrayals of the Judge offered the kind of patronizing critiques (“not that smart”) that often greet outsiders at white-male preserves. Women who have integrated such bastions will be familiar, too, with the descriptions of her temperament (“domineering”), which are of a variety that tend to reveal more about the insecurity of male holdovers than about the comportment of female pioneers. The pernicious implication of such views is that white males, who constitute a hundred and six of the hundred and ten individuals who have served on the Court, made it on merit, and that Sotomayor is somehow less deserving.

People who share Mr. Toobin’s mindset are nodding their heads right now: Yep, that’s exactly what those pigs say about women. Yep, that’s the kind of code we hear about minorities. Which, to borrow Mr. Toobin’s condescending tone, tells you more about the nodders than it does about the people they’re nodding about.

Let me propose a couple of thoughts: What if she isn’t “all that smart?” I have no idea whether she is or not, but that can be true even of Latinas, you know, just as it can be of white Anglo men (and are you going to say you don’t know some white guys who aren’t as smart as they should be?). And what if she is domineering? That, too, is possible. It is not automatically impossible for a woman to be overbearing. She doesn’t get a free pass on that by virtue of gender — except among the people who are nodding at Mr. Toobin’s stereotypes.

The interesting thing that apparently escapes Mr. Toobin is that in fact, a white male would have to be very secure indeed in his judgment to offer such a criticism of a Latina nominee — if he dared to do it on the record and for attribution, which evidently none are doing, which is the only point here that argues for the insecurity Mr. Toobin suggests.

As for the last point in that paragraph: Exactly who said the other hundred and six individuals were immune to the objections of not being smart enough, or too domineering? I missed that part. Oh, yeah, I forgot: Surely all the powerful white guys out there ARE saying that, because, you know, that’s how they are. Everybody nod now.

Anyway, I had hoped for something more subtle and thoughtful and nuanced from The New Yorker. The cartoons are certainly more sophisticated than this. So is this wonderful little piece in the same edition, in which a Chinese woman describes what Hemingway meant to her in the summer she was watching her mother go mad. A sample:

I was reading “A Farewell to Arms” one night when my father came into my bedroom. The family was counting on me, he said. Neither he nor my sister could keep my mother from going mad. “She loves you more than your sister or me.” I promised to try my best. When he left, I turned off the light. There was not a trace of a breeze. Through the open window, I could hear a chess party, a group of old bachelors under a street lamp, laughingly cursing one another’s moves on the chessboard. I listened to a man slapping mosquitoes, and wished that I were the hero of Hemingway’s novel. I would have given up the use of both my legs to be in Italy, drinking vermouth, watching horse races, and exchanging off-color jokes with my fellow-officers as the old bachelors were doing outside.

Sound interesting? It was. I got something fresh and original and worth reading from each paragraph. But I can’t say the same for Mr. Toobin’s bit of partisan cheerleading. Or perhaps I should say, nodleading.

To conclude: One reason you don’t see me taking sides on Sotomayor — I might express concerns, or seize upon encouraging signs, but I have no idea whether she should be confirmed or not — is because I don’t subscribe to either side in this game.  I have to think for myself. And I have not had time — nor am I likely to have time — to study her record closely enough to pass judgment one way or the other.

Nor should I be expected to. That’s why we have a system of representative democracy. We elect people to take the time to study these things, and vote in good faith based upon their best judgment. Unfortunately, that breaks down when the elected representatives themselves surrender their thought processes to the parties and interest groups that depend upon pointless conflict for their very existence. And even more unfortunately, elected representatives are all too eager to do that.

Today’s live, breaking haiku

From the live streaming of the Supreme Court arguments:

Hearing Jean and Dick,
I have to wonder: Why can’t
smart folk run our state?

Of course, you could argue that the über-smart Jean Toal does at least participate in running our state, as Chief Justice. But you know what I mean — why can’t such obviously smart people be involved in the day-to-day governance, both making our laws and executing them?

The ever-clever Dick Harpootlian, for his part, DID run for high state office — and lost to Charlie Condon — then consoled himself by making huge amounts of money in the private sector. Which, ironically, should make HIM the darling of the anti-government GOP right, instead of the perpetual public employee Mark Sanford.

Jean was a marvel in the Legislature as well, as I recall. But once one is on the court, we groundlings seldom get exposed in a direct way to her erudition. So this is enjoyable.

I’m going to try to keep this point in mind as we search for a new governor.

First news haiku: “Judge Joe sent it back”

Here at bradwarthen.com — always first with the burst in verse — we’re (note use of royal “we;” I got it from the governor) unveiling a new communication format today: the news haiku.

Twittering got me to thinking haiku, and therefore this was inevitable. I see it as a way to one-up the competition. Although I beat WIS with the news that Judge Joe Anderson had sent the stimulus lawsuits back to state court, I lost out slightly to thestate at Twitter. I thought, But I’ll bet they don’t have it in verse. And I was right.

So here’s my first breaking news haiku:

Mark sued to get feds
to override our state’s rights.
Judge Joe sent it back.

Yes, I know there are weaknesses in it from a literary standpoint — for instance, the “it” in the last line lacks a clear antecedent. For instance, it doesn’t work as a reference to “rights,” but rather to the issue itself. But I liked it better than “them.” And hey, cut me a break. I wrote this on Twitter while driving my truck through Shandon (I pulled over to type it, but didn’t turn off the truck). Therefore this opus should be judged by a different standard from the timeless masterpieces of haiku. It’s a whole new form.

In the future, someone will write an English thesis about this new form, which experts will variously call “Twitter haiku,” or “Twitter-ku,” or simply “news haiku,” which I prefer. That moment in my truck will be examined with the same care as that moment when the rude guy from Porlock interrupted Coleridge. Just watch…

If this is well received, I might start doing it daily. And if it’s not, I might do it anyway. Art will not be repressed!

A sort of lame version of haiku

While my main motive in getting a Twitter account was to promote the blog, I confess to be slightly seduced by the thing itself, as it is slightly fun to try to express something in that straitened form.

Sort of like a cheesy, less-demanding form of haiku.

Here’s what I’ve posted today while I was not blogging:

Cap City closed. Lizard’s Thicket instead. Monday paper $.75. (Paper free at Club). Poor me.

Oppressive Iran regime shuts down Facebook. Oppressive regimes not all bad.

Happy Yankee Memorial Day, y’all! (Six days early, that is…)

Walking across the Horseshoe, thinking, “Could this weather be more perfect?” Even in coat and tie…

Starbucks again. Have to. I do a meeting or two in the a.m. these days, and I’m wiped. PTSD or something.

Yep, it’s insipid, but you can see me trying to post an actual thought there on the Iran thing. Hey, I didn’t say it was profound; but it was a thought.

And I’m actually kind of worried about the Starbucks thing. I posted from there yesterday as well:

I’m at Starbucks now. Got a refill and I’m watching the rain. Is this tedious enough for y’all yet?

Actually, waiting for this cup to cool a bit, feeling the 1st one, watching the rain is sort of beautiful.

I can sort of see why the heathen spend their Sundays this way. An alternative way to keep it holy, perhaps…

(…or is that rank heresy, may God forgive me yet again?) Must go now…

Is it cheating to do multiple tweets in a row like that? Am I failing to preserve the unities? Do I care?

I don’t know why I get so tired by mid-afternoon every day. When I w0rked at the paper, I’d go for 12 hours without feeling a thing. I think it’s more tiring just to do different stuff every day, and to have one’s future so uncertain. Probably good for me in the long run, though. I hope. Don’t new challenges help us stave off Alzheimer’s?

I surrender to Twitter

OK, I did it. I signed up for Twitter. After months of dismissing and abusing the very notion of it, I gave in yesterday and signed up.

The last straw was that Tim Kelly told me last week that you could arrange it so that when you post on your blog, the headline goes out on Twitter. Haven’t figured out how to do that yet, but seems like it would be pretty cool. He said there’s also something clever I could do with Facebook vis-a-vis the blog.

I need to either get serious about this blog — fix up the appearance, promote it more, and most of all post more often — or give it up. As I’ve mentioned before, I actually find it harder to blog without full-time, permanent employment. As busy as I was at the paper, I was sitting at a computer (actually, two computers, or even three if you count the Blackberry) for about 12 hours a day, and I could post any time things slowed down a bit — when I was waiting for copy, or for somebody to call me back, or for proofs, or whatever. I had to go through tons of e-mail each day, and frequently things that came over the transom that way made for quick-and-easy blog fodder.

Now, as I run hither and yon trying to earn a living, I might have ideas for blog posts, but I don’t have time to sit and write them. I need to either figure a way to do that, or the blog’s gonna die on me.

Thanks to those of you who have stuck with me thus far. And suggestions, as always, are welcome.

What do you mean, “we,” white man?

Did you notice that as he got to be more and more alone on the stimulus issue, Mark Sanford resorted more and more to the royal “we” in referring to himself? An example from earlier this week:

“We know a suit will be filed against us on this issue, and as such we’ve filed a suit tonight in response,” Sanford said in a prepared statement. “We believe the Legislature’s end-around move won’t pass constitutional muster.”

Note that this odd locution was in a prepared statement, so it’s not like he just misspoke. I’ve noticed the governor doing this before, but he seems to have stepped it up this week.

The ultimate was this jarring construction in a quote from yesterday:

“This is about the larger question of why have a governor if their hands are constantly tied?”

Note the innovation here — even though he’s speaking of himself in the third person, he shifts from A governor to THEIR hands without pausing for breath. This takes the art of self-pluralization to a whole new level.

Our governor are remarkable that way.

McConnell gets way harsh on the gov

Thought you might be interested in this release from Glenn McConnell. Several points I’ll make about it:

  • First, I don’t often see dramatic political statements from McConnell. He’s generally not one for public posturing in this particular way.
  • What you see here is a particularly articulate expression of the extreme frustration that lawmakers have experienced with this governor. Sen. McConnell is fully fed up, and expresses why in no uncertain terms.
  • McConnell is one of the most ardent libertarians in the General Assembly. It’s one thing for Bobby Harrell or Hugh Leatherman to be fed up with our anti-government governor, but a libertarian really has to try to turn the Senate President Pro Tempore against him to this extent.
  • That said, Sen. McConnell is a passionate defender of legislative prerogatives and state’s rights, which makes the statement a little less remarkable. But only a little.

Anyway, here’s the statement:

SC Senate President Pro Tempore Glenn McConnell Responds to Governor’s Lawsuit
McConnell: “Governor asks federal judge to usurp states’ rights in quest for more power”

Columbia, SC – May 21, 2009 – South Carolina Senate President Pro Tempore Glenn McConnell today issued the following statement in response to Governor Mark Sanford’s lawsuit:

“Governor Sanford says this court case is about the “balance of power.” The truth is that this case is about his power. The Governor wants more of it, and he’s willing to trample over states’ rights to get it. He has run to the federal courts asking them to reinterpret our state Constitution so as to give him powers not granted to him by the people of South Carolina. While we have debated the 10th Amendment, little did we know the Governor was conspiring to ride over it in the federal courts.

For seven years Governor Mark Sanford has worked tirelessly to increase his power and the scope of South Carolina’s executive branch of government. While working to centralize power under one individual, the Governor has continuously attacked the General Assembly for what he describes as liberal tendencies.  Never before have I witnessed such hypocrisy as I did today when Governor Sanford asked a federal judge to usurp South Carolina’s rights.

Whether the stimulus money should have been appropriated by the United State Congress was a federal matter. But the question of separation of powers involves the duties of the executive and legislative branches of government as prescribed by the South Carolina Constitution. As such, the rightful arbiter is the South Carolina Supreme Court. Either he is fearful of a South Carolina court ruling or he is playing to a national audience.

I disagree with Congress’ stimulus plan, but I know that it’s fiscally irresponsible to let South Carolina tax dollars go to other states while we struggle to fund education and public safety at appropriate levels. We have received clarification from the United States Department of Education that if we do not formally apply for the State Fiscal Stabilization Fund Program by July 1st, our stimulus funds will be allocated to other states. Governor Sanford’s move may ensure that our tax dollars will be caught up in legal proceedings for what could be up to two years. He may have finally found a way to send our tax dollars to New Jersey, New Hampshire, and Michigan. Governor Sanford’s lawsuit is an irresponsible move that tramples on the South Carolina Constitution and the future prosperity of our taxpayers.

South Carolinians need to know that Governor Sanford has already politically left this state, sometimes physically, but always mentally. This is just another press stunt to put him on the front page of the Wall Street Journal and in front of Fox News cameras. Governor Sanford’s presidential aspirations and hunger for power are so strong that he is willing to put South Carolina’s future at risk. This lawsuit is a gift that keeps on giving – giving the Governor out-of-state headlines and giving South Carolinians uncertainty and discord.

As the elected voice of South Carolina’s taxpayers, the General Assembly has stated that Governor Sanford should now take all stimulus funds available for appropriation. Sadly, I believe that the end result of this lawsuit may be that on July 1, the people of South Carolina will be left with nothing but the bill. “
###
** This press release is sent on behalf of South Carolina Senate President Pro Tempore Glenn McConnell

See what I mean?

Perspectives on hydrogen

Here’s something that struck me as interesting this morning. Did you read the op-ed piece by my friend Kevin Dietrich, arguing — as you would expect someone at the S.C. Policy Council to argue — against our state’s investment in hydrogen research? An excerpt:

In the past few years, taxpayers have poured tens of millions of state and local tax dollars into hydrogen research even though multiple experts question how viable the technology will be in offsetting U.S. reliance on foreign oil or reducing carbon emissions.

“A hydrogen car is one of the least efficient, most expensive ways to reduce greenhouse gases,” said Joseph Romm, a physicist in charge of renewable energy research during the Carter administration. Asked when hydrogen cars will be broadly available, Romm replied: “Not in our lifetime, and very possibly never.”

The Los Angeles Times was blunter in assessing the future of hydrogen-powered vehicles: “Hydrogen fuel-cell technology won’t work in cars…. Any way you look at it, hydrogen is a lousy way to move cars.”

What struck me about it was that, without naming the author, Kevin was quoting the very same L.A. Times column by Dan Neil that I was praising yesterday. (Now I know why Cindi Scoppe happened to run across the Neil piece and bring it to my attention yesterday — she was doing her due diligence as an editor in checking Kevin’s source material, and recognized the piece as something I’d be interested in.)

The difference, of course, lies in the degrees to which Kevin and I considered the full text of the piece to which we referred. I was up-front with y’all about Neil’s arguments against hydrogen as a fuel source for cars. I didn’t blink at that at all. But I also emphasized the very positive things he said about Honda’s hydrogen car project, on my way to making some positive points about why hydrogen research is worthwhile.

Kevin, in standard S.C. Policy Council “if it involves the government spending money, it’s bad” style, cited ONLY the negative. Kevin’s a good guy, and he’s completely sincere about the things he says. But I ask you — given what I got out of the Neil piece and what Kevin got out of it — who has his eyes completely open? Who explored the full implications of the piece (which I again invite you to go read for yourself)?

I raise this point not to criticize Kevin, but to praise our state and community’s commitment to this research. From what I’ve seen and heard, the hydrogen researchers are very realistic about the limitations of H as a fuel source for cars from where we stand at this moment. But their eyes are open to what this research DOES offer South Carolina, Columbia and the nation.

Apt words from the prophet Nathan

Speaking of Nikki reminds me of her fellow Lexington County rebel Nathan Ballentine, and the nice thing he sent to me when I got laid off.

I should mention, of course, that Nikki was quite kind and thoughtful to me as well — in fact, both Nikkis were. Rep. Haley and Sen. Setzler both called me and said the nicest things (along with a lot of other politicos I’ve written about over the years, ranging from Lindsey Graham on the federal level to former Columbia city councilwoman Ann Sinclair, and lots of nice folks in between — including the gov).

Anyway, my point is to share what Nathan sent me. He e-mailed me to say I should consult Jeremiah 29:11. Which I did:

For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope.

Just the right words, the ones I needed to hear. In this context I also love to read Matthew 7:7-11. (Look it up.) But I already knew that one. Nathan pointed me to a source of inspiration I had missed, and for that I am very grateful. I bookmarked it on my Blackberry, and take heart from it each day.

Three rounds, not ‘a hail of bullets’

Forgive me for being pedantic, but I hate it when I see misleading cliches such as this one in the WSJ today:

U.S. Navy Seal sharpshooters brought a five-day hostage standoff to an abrupt end Sunday with a hail of bullets that killed three pirates holding Capt. Phillips.

It’s not just that it’s a cliche. I’ve got nothing against cliches in general; they can be a handy way to communicate information quickly. What gets me is when they are clearly at odds with the facts.

Those Seals took out those pirates with three perfectly aimed rounds, probably fired simultaneously.

“Hail of bullets” makes it sound as though those Seals were no-talent gangsters wildly spraying the scene on full auto or something. Sonny Corleone died in a hail of bullets. Last scene of “Bonnie and Clyde?” Hail of bullets. But this was not.

Do such things bother you, too? And yes, it seems a small thing to worry about in the context of three lives suddenly and messily snuffed out, but I appreciate precision in language as well as in marksmanship (in a good cause, that is).

We are not amused

Has anyone besides me noticed that, the more Mark Sanford isolates himself with his stance on the stimulus, the more he uses the collective term “we” to refer to himself?

For instance, take this passage from John O’Connor’s interview story over the weekend:

Q: Are you saying that at no point your understanding of how the … law works changed?

A: No, that only we could apply. I think we’ve been totally clear on that. … Let’s be clear. We are in a negotiation. I’m not going to lay all my cards on the table because we’re trying to get, Sen. (Hugh) Leatherman in particular, to take some movement … and at this point he isn’t blinking. And it is indeed up to those budget writers as to what they want to and don’t want to do. … There were a group of lawmakers here that are committed to trying to work with us and finding some alternatives to what Sen. Leatherman suggested.

When he says, “only we could apply,” I’m pretty sure that he means “only I could apply.” Anyone more conversant in Sanfordspeak should correct me, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he means.

Somebody should give this guy a copy of “Anthem,” which, if you go by his statements and behavior, you would think he would have memorized.

Does he mean to suggest the royal “we?” Certainly he doesn’t mean the editorial “we,” which you will notice that I don’t use any more, now that I’m not entitled.

Politicians do this a lot — trying to suggest they are speaking for a group when they’re referring to themselves — and I’ve always thought it odd. But it’s especially so coming from a guy who’s all about his own radical individualism.

This is worse than Facebook

You know how I've complained about how I just don't get Facebook — that I find it disorienting, and just generally a lousy way to communicate information?

Well, I've found a worse way — Twitter.

Have you seen this new site that S.C. Rep. Dan Hamilton and self-described GOP "political operative" Wesley Donehue have started, SCTweets? Basically, its point is:

…to find a creative way to showcase SC’s tech-savvy elected officials.
Specifically, we expect the Statehouse crew to be twittering a lot from
the floor and we thought it would be cool to see what they were saying.
That goal somehow expanded and we decided to showcase all South
Carolina politicos with our directory. We then gave them a way to
interact through #sctweets.

Look, I don't mean to criticize Messrs. Hamilton and Donehue at all. I appreciate the effort. Go for it. But when I try to obtain any sort of information of value from a series of incomplete, typo-ridden sentence fragments from a bunch of people ranging from Anton Gunn to David Thomas to Bob Inglis to Nathan Ballentine to Thad Viers, with a lot of Blogosphere usual suspects such as Mattheus Mei thrown in, I feel like I've trying to get nutrition from a bowl of Lucky Charms mixed with Cracker Jack with cotton candy and Pop Rocks on top, stirred with a Slim Jim. Just a jumble of junk.

The "authors" aren't to blame. It's the medium. I'm still waiting to find any value in this Twitter thing. I suspect I'll be waiting a long time.

What do I consider to be GOOD way to communicate information? Well, here's a coincidence: I actually looked at my Facebook page this morning, and as usual got little out of it. But I noticed where a friend I worked with a quarter-century ago posted something that seemed a deliberate illustration of the incoherence of Facebook. He exhorted readers to:

* Grab the book nearest you. Right now.
* Turn to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post that sentence along with these instructions in a note to your wall.

So I followed his instructions (except for the posting part). The book nearest to my laptop was the literally dog-eared (chewed by a dog that died three decades ago) paperback Byline: Ernest Hemingway. Here's the fifth sentence on page 56 (if you count the incomplete, continued sentence at the top of the page as the first):

"He smiled like a school girl, shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands to his face in a mock gesture of shame."

And you know what? I got more out of that than I got out of that Twitter page. At least I formed a clear, coherent picture of something.

It occurs to me that Twitter is the bright new world that that Colorado congressman who claims credit for killing The Rocky Mountain News extols. And then it occurs to me that to the extent he is right, to the extent that this is the future of political communication, we are in a lot of trouble int his country…

The unspeakable horror

This was a terrible day for news about children.

The awful thing is that the front-page story about the boy shot and killed by his brother while they were idle on a "snow" day was not the worst, most appallingly horrific such news in the paper.

It was awful enough. In my long career in this business, I am often shocked at how unbelievably trivial the incidents leading to domestic homicides (the most common kind) can be. Although I can't remember whether this happened in Tennessee or Kansas or South Carolina (the three places I've worked), the archetype in my mind was a case in which two grown men who were related to each other (I want to say an uncle and his nephew) were drinking heavily, and one shot the other after the quarreled over what to watch on TV.

This case exceeds that one in sheer awfulness, and not only because it was children involved. These boys were arguing over who would sit where while they watched TV. The mind reels, this is so terribly sad and unnecessary.

And those words — "terribly sad and unnecessary" — are so pathetically inadequate. You have to be a better writer than I am to describe it adequately, and I mean a MUCH better writer. Conrad got at it with Kurtz' raw whisper, "The horror! The horror!" Obviously, you don't have to travel to deepest Africa to find the Heart of Darkness.

Then there's Dostoevsky, of whom I was reminded in reading the second, and even worse, item in today's paper. Ivan Karamazov, world-class cynic, told his idealistic brother, "You see, I am fond of collecting certain facts, and, would you believe, I even copy anecdotes of a certain sort from newspapers and books, and I've already got a fine collection." They tended to be of horrific incidents of unspeakably terrible things being done to children, and they confirmed him in his dim view of humanity.

This second story would have fit perfectly in his collection. Before I share it let me warn you that this is by far the most horrible, shocking, painful-to-read thing I have ever posted on this blog.

That said, here it is:

SUMTER, S.C. — The parents of five South Carolina children have been charged after their 1-year-old boy starved to death in a Sumter home crawling with rats and roaches, authorities said Tuesday.
    The toddler, who has not been named, was found unresponsive Monday at a home that Sumter County Coroner Harvin Bullock described as filthy and unsuitable for living.
    The child was taken to a hospital, where he was pronounced dead, Sumter Police Chief Patty Patterson said.
    A police report listed the toddler's weight as 4 pounds.
    The boy's parents have been arrested and charged with homicide by child abuse and unlawful conduct. Kevin Dewayne Isaac, 25, and Marketta Sharnise McCray, 23, were in jail Tuesday awaiting a bond hearing, and it was not immediately clear if they had attorneys, police said.
    If convicted on the homicide by child abuse charge, Isaac and McCray could face life in prison, and Patterson said more charges could be forthcoming.
    The boy's twin sister, whose weight was listed as 9 pounds, has been hospitalized for malnutrition, and three other children in the home have been placed in state custody.
    Those children – ages 4, 6, and 9 – are being checked out by physicians, Patterson said.

As I read that in the paper this morning, it struck me as so massively tragic that the pages of a newspaper seemed far too frail and insubstantial to support it. The item — which is about a child who was a twin, and almost exactly the same age as my precious twin grandchildren — should have dropped through the page, through my breakfast table, and plunged straight into the netherworld before I could see it. Yet there it was.

Ironically, today was the same day that The New York Times editorialized, again, to this effect:

We were horrified to be reminded that the nation still has not plumbed the depths of the Bush administration’s abuses….

Remember when I wrote about that several months ago, about how easy it was to inspire "horror" in the eyes of the NYT editorial board? I even wrote a follow-up to provide a little perspective on things we should truly "watch with horror." I even included some pictures that were very painful to look at.

But you know what? This news about this poor child starved to death is harder to take than what I cited before. You see something like this, and you want to be distracted from it. You say, by all means let's talk instead about how filled with horror we are at that awful George W. Bush and the unspeakable things he did. Let's indict him. After all, the NYT accuses him of "mangling the Constitution." Let's have show trials, 24/7 on television. I promise to shout and wave a pitchfork. Anything to avoid thinking about that little item I read in the paper this morning.

Because I don't want to think about that any more.

Remembering ‘Breaking the News’

Back in the first comment on this post, Lee mentioned James Fallows' excellent book, Breaking the News: The News: How the Media Undermine American Democracy — which, as it happens, I actually reviewed for this newspaper when it came out.

Here's what I wrote, back in 1996:

THE STATE
MEDIA EXAMINES ITSELF<
Published on: 02/25/1996
Section: TEMPO
Edition: FINAL
Page: F6
Reviewed by Brad Warthen
Memo: Brad Warthen is an associate editor of The State's editorial page.

BREAKING THE NEWS: How the Media Undermine American Democracy

By James Fallows
Pantheon, 296 pages, $23

    So you think the news media are dragging the country down with their negativity and their failure to put things in perspective?
    So join the club. A lot of us on the inside of this alleged profession agree. James Fallows, Washington editor of The Atlantic Monthly, is one. Fallows' saving grace is that he's written this book explaining exactly what is wrong and why it matters.
    The problem has to do with perverse cognitive habits that journalists embrace as normal, but which cause them to portray public life in ways that make it hard for readers and viewers to engage it constructively.
    For instance: “Step by step, mainstream journalism has fallen into the habit of portraying public life as a race to the bottom, in which one group of conniving, insincere politicians ceaselessly tries to outmaneuver another.'' Among journalists, casting a jaded eye upon anything a politician does is seen as being “professional.'' We tend to think of it as healthy skepticism. But there is nothing healthy about it.
    In fact, “By choosing to present public life as a contest among scheming political leaders, all of whom the public should view with suspicion, the news media helps bring about that very result.''
    That's exactly what has happened. As a groundbreaking poll discovered last year, the public is now far more cynical about politics and government than are journalists, who are more likely to believe that our political system is sound, and that citizens can make a difference. In other words, the people believe the system is just as bad as we've painted it, and we know better.
    There are excellent examples in this book illustrating the profound disconnect between journalists and sensible people.
    One of the best-documented is the journalists' penchant for reducing everything — every issue, every speech, every policy initiative, every human gesture by a politician — to what it means in terms of the next election. If a politician tries to do something about starving children, we immediately wonder aloud what this means in terms of the way he's trying to position himself in New Hampshire.
    If Fallows didn't do anything else in this book, I would praise him to the skies for drawing so clearly the connection between the way we cover politics and the way we cover sports — which is to say, in virtually the same manner. Journalists tend to see everything as a contest, which one side must win and the other must lose. This, of course, leaves no room for the kind of consensus-building that solves problems in the real world.
    Politics and government matter, but modern journalism has done much to cause the public to despair of it ever meaning anything good.
    The sins that Fallows details in this book are examined in a manner that shows clearly “how they affect the future prospects of every American by distorting the processes by which we choose our leaders and resolve our public problems.''
    Unlike most modern journalism, this book does not merely wallow in unrelieved despair. The author writes encouragingly of such things as the “public journalism'' movement, through which a number of far-sighted, community-oriented journalists (you'll note that few of them are in Washington or New York) have started accepting responsibility for fixing the problem, starting with themselves.
    Fallows draws an interesting connection between the way the U.S. military examined and healed itself after Vietnam, and the way journalists can become their own best physicians. It won't be easy, but it can be done — we just have to unlearn about half of the nonsense that got crammed into our heads in journalism school.
    Fallows has correctly diagnosed what's wrong with American journalism. If you want to know why you ought to be mad at the media, read this book. If everybody would read it (journalists should read it twice), we might find ourselves on the way to a cure.

The awful irony is that this was just when things were starting to get much worse, what with 24/7 shouting heads on cable TV and the blogosphere yet to come. The pointless, yammering, conflict for its own sake is SO much worse now — and it's one of the things I struggle with constantly here on the blog, along with those of you who still hope for a civil town square in which to discuss issues — that when I look back on when that review was written, it's almost like a lost age of innocence….

Well, that’s a big releef

At 11:02 a.m. today, I received a release from Jim Clyburn's office with the following headline on it:

CLYBURN CALLS
JINDAL’S BLUFF, HIGHLIGHTS HYPOCRACY

Then, at 11:33, I got the corrected version, which makes me feel so much better:

CLYBURN CALLS
JINDAL’S BLUFF, HIGHLIGHTS HYPOCRICY

Still awaiting the next correction; I'll let you know when I see it…

Reaganism, boiled down to its essence

Being a word guy, I got a kick out of this first paragraph of a letter we ran on our Sunday page:

Government is the problem. Stop it.

Although those two sentences actually make more sense, something about them reminded me of Stephen Colbert's "I Am America (And So Can You!)"

The temptation was strong to edit the letter so that it stopped there. It would have been perfect, a statement of Reaganism boiled down to its minimalist essence. If Reagan were the coal, this would be the diamond.

But I left the letter alone. Here it is:

Government printing too much money

Government is the problem. Stop it.

It
is printing unprecedented amounts of money. Continuing will lead to
hyper-inflation. Remember the Weimer Republic hyper-inflation, when a
wheelbarrow full of money was needed for a loaf of bread?

It's
simple supply and demand. When the government effectively prints so
many dollars, the value of the dollar will eventually go down,
drastically.

For now, call all members of Congress and urge them to kill the “stimulus” (incredible pork-barrel, not stimulus) bill.

In the longer form, however, the message lacked purity. It gave you things to argue with; you could say, "Hmmm. I seem to recall the Weimar Republic had certain other problems that contributed to the devaluation of the currency, something more than the act itself of printing too much money." Nevertheless, I do love a good historical analogy. My favorite with regard to Weimar inflation is this: The night of the Beer Hall Putsch, until it was time to make their move, one of Hitler's aides bought three beers so the two of them and one other follower could blend in. The beers cost three billion marks. But you know, if I wanted to talk about runaway inflation, I'd probably cite something more immediate: Zimbabwe has to print new denominations every week, because prices double every day. (Then again, though, Zimbabwe has bigger problems that contribute to having to print the money, not vice versa.)

But that first paragraph was very enjoyable, esthetically speaking. It was like haiku or something…

I didn’t get a harrumph out of that guy…

Being an editor is often a thankless job, but you get these little rewards now and then. Such as this one, which probably wouldn't mean anything to anyone who doesn't love words as much as I do, but was a nice treat for me…

One of my colleagues had used "harrumphed" in an editorial I was editing, and I decided that I would check the spelling, on the off chance that it was actually in the Webster's New World College Dictionary, which is the one we use as an official arbiter in our style rules.

And it was! Which I thought was way cool. Also, I believe it's correct to call it an onomatopoeia, which doubles the fun, since that's a fun word to say.

Finally, it allowed me to use my favorite line from "Blazing Saddles" as a blog headline.

And who says editors don't have fun?

Moby Dick is a squitchy good read (Surprise!)

Doug Ross mentioning The Canterbury Tales back on this post — which I never read (somehow, I escaped its being required of me in school) — reminds me of something I'm reading at the moment and sort of enjoying, much to my surprise:

Moby Dick.

For years — for decades in fact; almost four of them — I refused to read Moby Dick on principle. You see, we spent like six weeks on it in my honors English class in the 11th grade at Robinson High School in Tampa, and I never did read it, at least not past "Call me Ishmael." And yet I got an A-plus on the six weeks test on the book. How? First, because it was an essay test — which always gave me a leg up in school. Multiple choice can be such a brutally effective means of telling whether you actually know the material. With an essay, you can be careful to stick to what you know you know, and steer clear of your blank spots. And some, but not all, teachers are dazzled by a nicely worded essay. Although not all teachers — I had one prof in college who wrote on one of my better B.S. efforts something like, "Nicely written; I enjoyed it. But obviously you are not familiar with the material." Enough teachers were snowed for me to get by, though. And I confess this played a not inconsiderable part in my decision to write for a living.

Also — and this is the bigger point — how on Earth could I possibly not be familiar with all the themes, characters and plot after six weeks of listening to people talk and talk and talk about it in class, even if I was only half-listening, which was probably the case?

Anyway, I took such perverse pride in that grade — one of my most dramatic coups of skating without having done the work in my educational career — that I avoided reading the book subsequently because I didn't want to spoil the perfection of my slacker record. I had read — and enjoyed — other books years after I was supposed to have read them in school. Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, for instance. But I kept myself pure on Melville.

But I picked up a copy recently, tempted by the fact that I'm such a huge fan of Patrick O'Brian's seafaring tales and thinking I might actually enjoy this one, although not having high expectations.

And you know what? While I doubt it will ever be my favorite novel, I've been really surprised by how accessible it is. I mean, I always had the impression (based on the way the people who actually read it in school groaned about the experience) that it was just something that no one in our era could possibly relate to, that it was way too 19th century for that (and not in a fun way, like Mark Twain). But on the contrary, I'm struck by how modern its tone and style is in parts. Also, it's very bite-sized — the chapters are no longer than a typical newspaper column, and each one a well-crafted nugget all by its lonesome. So you can read a chapter, think "That wasn't so bad," then read another, and really feel like you're making progress without a lot of time invested all at once. (Try that with Dostoevsky, someone I actually did read and enjoy when I was supposed to in college, but not a guy you'd describe as "accessible" in the sense that I mean here.)

Far from being some boring old guy telling us stuff in boring old language, Ishmael as a narrator is actually sort of hiply ironic. He has a detachment and amusement toward his heavy subject material that is very late-20th century. And sometimes, the language itself goes along with the tone. For instance, in this passage very early in the book, describing a painting he puzzled over at The Spouter Inn:

But what most puzzled and confounded you was a long, limber, portentous, black mass of something hovering in the centre of the picture over three blue, dim, perpendicular lines floating in a nameless yeast. A boggy, soggy, squitchy picture truly, enough to drive a nervous man distracted. Yet was there a sort of indefinite, half-attained, unimaginable sublimity about it that fairly froze you to it, till you involuntarily took an oath with yourself to find out what that marvellous painting meant. Ever and anon a bright, but, alas, deceptive idea would dart you through.–It's the Black Sea in a midnight gale.–It's the unnatural combat of the four primal elements.–It's a blasted heath.–It's a Hyperborean winter scene.–It's the breaking-up of the icebound stream of Time. But at last all these fancies yielded to that one portentous something in the picture's midst. THAT once found out, and all the rest were plain. But stop; does it not bear a faint resemblance to a gigantic fish? even the great leviathan himself?

Who'd have thought Melville could have written such a line as "A boggy, soggy, squitchy picture truly, enough to drive a nervous man distracted?" That is a very New Journalism use of language; one could imagine Tom Wolfe or Hunter S. Thompson being responsible for it. Or, to speak in fiction terms, it can be almost as modern-feeling as Nick Hornby or Roddy Doyle. It strikes me that way, anyway. Way more modern-seeming than much-later writers such as James Joyce or Fitzgerald or even Hemingway (who sounded WAY modern in the 20s, I suppose, but not so much later on).

As I read on, Ishmael is not what I'd call a likable character — he's too much of a wise guy for that, tossing out ironic comments about everyone and everything. But he's certainly accessible.

And that surprised me.

Why is it so hard to say ‘abortion?’

There's nothing unusual about this, but about the thousandth time this morning, in reading an editorial from the weekend in The New York Times, I marveled at how long it took to get past all the pro-choice euphemisms ("women's health," "reproductive health and freedom," "safeguard women's lives," "free speech") and get to the one operative word upon which the issue turns:

Women’s Health, Ungagged
    President Obama on Friday began dismantling his predecessor’s broad and damaging assault on women’s reproductive health and freedom. He lifted the odious gag rule that President George W. Bush imposed on international family planning groups and began trying to restore financing to the United Nations Population Fund.
    It was a reassuring message that Mr. Obama takes seriously his duty to safeguard women’s lives and basic rights, including free speech and the choice of whether to bear a child.
    The gag rule was first imposed by President Ronald Reagan. It barred any health care provider receiving American family planning assistance from counseling women on abortion, engaging in political speech on abortion or providing abortions, even with its own money…

By my count (actually, by Microsoft Word's count — what, you think I've got time to sit and count them?), it took 113 words to get to "abortion." Which actually isn't all that bad, I guess, compared to some instances I've seen. But it strikes me as about 100 words, or two paragraphs, late, by any reasonable standard of getting to the point.

But then, I'm a word guy — and specifically, an editorial guy — so I probably notice stuff like that more than most people do. Also, I disagree with the NYT on the issue, so I'm that much more likely to notice how much they feel compelled to dress up the concept, with layer upon layer of rhetorical clothing, before bringing it out.

Accidents WILL happen

Don't take that headline as me brushing off the seriousness of the problem. Just take it as an opportunity to quote Elvis Costello.

We'll have a correction on tomorrow's editorial page for the second day in a row. I can't remember the last time that happened.

When I first came to editorial in 1994, I thought it a bit much that ALL editors in the department read proofs every day. It didn't seem efficient. By the time I became editor in '97, I had come to value the process for two reasons: It kept everyone plugged in and gave them ownership of what was on the pages (the great danger in newspaper work, since so many things happen at once, is to be so caught up in what you're doing that you miss the overall picture). And it made the editorial pages the cleanest in the paper.

The value of it is underlined in circumstances such as this, when one person is both doing the initial pre-production edit of the copy, and is then the only one reading proofs. The error in Sunday's editorial (corrected on today's page) is sufficiently complicated and esoteric that I can't say I would have caught it myself even if fully staffed, although the initial writing error — the conflation of two projects in the town of Lexington; one public, the other private — is almost certainly the product of the writer working at quadruple pace to crank out editorials to leave behind.

But today's error simply would not have happened if — as was the case not too long ago — there were five senior editors reading proofs. Instead of just me, and I'm the same one who read it on the front end.

Yes, thank you — I know Harvey Peeler introduced the roll-call-voting proposal, not his brother Bob. I know Bob's not in the Senate. I know both guys, and know the difference between them. Got it. Nobody else needs to call to inform me. (Someone just came into my office to tell me while I was typing this.) Thanks. The correction will be in the paper tomorrow.

Now can I get back to doing my best to put out the rest of these pages without errors?

(And oh, yeah — I still feel like total crud, Ferris. I've got a call in to my doctor to see if he'll call in an antibiotic. My chest hurts from the congestion. Oh, didn't I mention that? Yeah, the stomach crud became respiratory crud over the weekend. Still running low fever each night, coughing all day. Taking all sorts of drugs for the symptoms — Oh, look, it's time to take them again — yippee!)