I'm talking, of course, about Ronald Reagan. Ever since the dog days of the GOP debates, where Newt Gingrich took a stand against child labor laws and Rick Santorum reiterated his infallible expertise on mommy-parts, there's been a collective, bipartisan nostalgia for the even-tempered Reagan-Bush years, combined with the sentiment that in these polarized days, Ronald Reagan, Republican hero, couldn’t get elected President. Elected? Reagan, a one-time Democrat who fought against anti-gay discrimination, hiked takes, and, granted mass amnesty to immigrants, wouldn't have even been nominated.
Yet the gap between Reagan-style conservatism and the current Tea Party brand isn't just about policy--it's about philosophy. No matter what you thought of Reagan's doctrinal decisions, it was hard to argue with his publicly stated vision for the nation--that famous "shining city on the hill", an ideal America that was "wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace. A city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity." And if this city must be guarded with walls, he said, those walls ought to have "doors...open to anyone with the will and the heart to get [t]here". As much as the Democrats and Republicans of the past fought bitterly over how to get to that city, it was always clear that such a place was their ideal destination--an America of pride and principle, one that accepted diversity, embraced community, and encouraged upward mobility. However, in the party platform they released last week, the Texas Republicans expressed intentions to steer us towards a very different sort of city--one where the radiance of reason is dimmed, the peaceful hum of coexistence is drowned out, and those sacred doors are shut to all but a select few.
For those of you who happened to be home with the swine flu when your teacher talked about this in government class, a platform is a compilation of a political party's official positions on major issues. They aren't the most exciting reads, especially when you consider the fact that both parties have held the same basic positions since the seventies-Republicans spring for pro-life, natural rights, limited government, and hands-off economics, while Democrats defend the right to choose, government involvement in social change, a strongly centralized national government, and higher taxes on the wealthy. These things are usually as workaday and predictable as car manuals. What's more, they probably should be, as this predictability reflects a rigorous and consistent values system. Thus, Texans of all political stripes ought to be shaken and stirred by our state’s 2012 Republican platform, which contains a series of truly startling proposals that combine stateist ego-stroking with a tacitly declared war on the open society. To wit:
“We affirm that the public acknowledgement of God is undeniable in our history and is vital to our freedom, prosperity and strength. We pledge our influence toward a return to the original intent of the First Amendment and toward dispelling the myth of separation of church and state[1].”
“We oppose the teaching of Higher Order Thinking Skills (HOTS) (values clarification), critical thinking skills and similar programs....which have the purpose of challenging the student’s fixed beliefs and undermining parental authority[1].”
“We recommend that local school boards and classroom teachers be given more authority to deal with disciplinary problems. Corporal punishment is effective and legal in Texas[2].”
Each of these proposals has made national news, and, believe it or not, most have agreed that each individual statement is bad policy. That’s a claim we can prove with as little effort as Kristen Stewart puts into her acting. Firstly, while the words “separation of church and state” never appear in the Constitution, they appear multiple times in some of our earliest legal documents, and, as years upon years of Supreme Court cases show, it may not be a binding law, but it sure as hell ain’t a myth, either.[3] Secondly, while corporate punishment is indeed legal, the American Academy of Pediatrics says that it is ““of limited effectiveness and has potentially deleterious side effects”, and I think I’ll take their word for it.[4] And to say that the anti-critical thinking bit is based on flimsy reasoning is the understatement of the year; the Texas GOP may claim that they discourage such thinking in order to protect a parent’s right to educate their own child, but it’s hard to believe that, with their dedication to tearing down the wall between church and state, they’d have any problem trying to “undermine” the parental authority of two atheist parents. If mom and dad wanted a total monopoly on teaching their kid, they’d homeschool ‘em.
It’d be easy to stop here; however, taking on these claims individually isn’t enough. My real point here is this; these claims are deeply disturbing when addressed one-by-one, but, when taken together, as parts in a belief system, they constitute nothing less than insult to us and a threat to our children. In order to understand what unites the above passages other than the overwhelming smell of bullshit, that is—we must examine two more;
“Our [foreign] policy is based on God’s biblical promise to bless those who bless Israel and curse those who curse Israel and we further invite other nations and organizations to enjoy the benefits of that promise.”[5]
It may seem odd that such a passage would in fact offend a Jew, even one as unconventional as myself. Yet it does. Who is it that defines exactly what it means to “curse” Israel? Should the Palestinian struggle for land redistribution be viewed as a “curse” or simply as a misguided initiative? More to the point, what does it mean to “bless” Israel? Some, including me, would say this means nothing more than forking over a reasonable amount of foreign aid. Others, including several Christian Right standard-bearers like Falwell and Pat Robertson, believe that this means supporting Isarel’s policies without question, even if those policies are driven by some of the most openly militant fundamentalists in the Israeli government. The point is, that while one can take several different approaches to interpreting a policy briefing, one can take countless approaches to interpreting religious scripture. You can’t base something as objective as government policy on one of the most subjective documents in the world. Nonetheless, that’s exactly what the writers of this platform are trying to do—to interpret the world not just through deeply subjective document, the Bible, but through their singular understanding of it. How else can one explain this passage?:
“We believe the current teaching of a multicultural curriculum is divisive. We favor strengthening our common American identity and loyalty instead of political correctness that nurtures alienation among racial and ethnic groups.”[1]
Once again, this passage attempts to distort the subjective into the objective. How is it, exactly, that we can agree upon a definition of “American identity”? Luckily, Texas Republicans have provided one for us, one that suggests that this identity is not just inextricable from Christianity (remember the “myth of church and state” shtick), but, from their specific, deeply errant version of Christianity. Of course, such a radical agenda might rub kids the wrong way, and here we arrive at the true purpose of the critical thinking proposal. It was snuck in under the bogus guise of protecting “fixed beliefs”, but, as I’ve already shown, that argument doesn’t hold water. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the real purpose of the provision; to make sure that, if students disagree with the “objective truth” perpetrated by their teachers, they lack the intellectual acumen to fight back. What we have here is a simultaneous weakening of education, the teaching of the unknown, and strengthening of indoctrination—the repetitive instilling of the same ideas, over and over again, until they become woven into the fabric of the soul. We have now seen how these isolated passages, when linked together, form a true reactionary powder keg.
As far as the corporal punishment passage, if you’re expecting me to argue that the Texas GOP endorses beating kids for fleeing Jesus, you’re wrong. Our teachers are better than that, and our school administrations are smarter than that. But any sane human should be disturbed by a paragraph that a) asserts that beating a child is an effective form of punishment and b) argues that such a punishment is still not adequate. I’ll simply leave this question right here; how often does the desire to enforce a new, government-propagated worldview, combined with expanded coercive and combative abilities to carry out that enforcement, lead to anything other than unmitigated disaster?
George Orwell, eat your heart out.
This platform a rebuke to the very notion that lies at the very
heart of our constitution—liberty. Michele Bachman
and Rick Perry may argue that true liberty means only the freedom to follow
what their diseased breed of Christianity deems correct beliefs, but it should
stand as self-evident that giving us the liberty to be only one sort of person
isn’t giving us liberty at all. What’s more, enacting this platform would
actually weaken organized religion.
What if, for example, the Episcopalian Church came out in favor of gay
adoption, but the government-propagated version of Christianity stood in
opposition to it? Mixing church and state means that, when the state changes,
the churches who disagree with the change are invalidated. This is, in fact,
why many of the first pilgrims came to
the United States—they were tired of being persecuted because the King or Queen
switched the state religion every time they went to tea. What’s more, mandating
a particular way of believing destroys one of the central tenets of the
religious experience—embarking on a personal journey of deistic discovery. A
leap of faith is a lot less life-changing when it’s as mandatory as bubbling in
an answer on a TAKS test.
It probably seems like all
this huffing and puffing is a little excessive. After all, how could ideas this
absurd actually work their way into state or national law? Then again, we also
asked “how absurd can it get?” when Rick Perry appointed anti-science
“scholars” to the Texas Board of Education, when the most radical members of
the Tea Party ran for office, and when Rick Santorum stumped for President.
Each time, the answer was the same: ‘pretty freaking absurd’. The Texas
Republicans aren’t alone in these views—many of them have been espoused in
countless states by the far right—who have, unfortunately, seized control of
the GOP.
Indeed, kicking the far-right out of Congress is an essential task for all of us, for as long as those unwilling to compromise remain in power, our political process will remain fatally crippled. In states where Democratic wins are hugely unlikely and voting across party lines is possible, liberals must consider lending their support to moderate Republicans in order to unseat extremist candidates. In states where there are no moderate Republican candidates, conservatives must consider doing what they can to lend their support to a Democrat. Compromises like this are painful now, but in ten years, with Congress restored to the friendlier, more functional 20th century model, they will seem a small price to pay. Texans in particular must speak out against this platform until November, when we will, if there’s any justice, make people who espouse its most extreme ideas hurt at the polls.
I gaze at my computer screen and realize that, despite all my intentions to finish this behemoth before dinner, the clock has struck midnight. It is the morning of July 4, 2012. It is a day of American pride, and while the folks who drafted this platform might not make me proud to be an American, the countless people, who, regardless of party or personality, unite to stand up against this sort of dangerous rhetoric, make me very proud indeed. And, come Election Day, I hope liberty-loving Americans will make me even prouder by unseating those who draw their Dark Age, distinctly un-American philosophy not from the idea of the shining city on the hill, but from those haunting final lines of The Great Gatsby:
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
[1] Ibid p. 12
[2] Ibid p. 20
[3] If you have
no life like me and would like to see some major separation-of-church-and-state
SCOTUS cases, check out Engel vs. Vitale and
Allegheny County vs. ACLU.
[4] “When does
spanking become abuse?” Toth, Sheree L. CNN. November 11, 2011
[5] Report of
Platform Committee p. 30
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