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Politics : Politics for Pros- moderated -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: Lane3 who wrote (13437)10/22/2003 6:33:47 PM
From: KLP  Respond to of 794529
 
It is that. I'd be happy to see the Preamble to the US Constitution on every single Federal Building in the US.



To: Lane3 who wrote (13437)10/23/2003 12:56:37 AM
From: LindyBill  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 794529
 
A SLATE article about a lady that brings out the opinions of all of us. Susan Estrich
________________________________________

assessment
Susan Estrich
A feminist gropes for consistency.
By Katie Roiphe
Posted Wednesday, October 22, 2003, at 1:40 PM PT

Some found it surprising that one of Arnold Schwarzenegger's most outspoken defenders against charges of groping and harassing women was Susan Estrich, the feminist law professor, who has, by her own account, "spent much of my professional life fighting to reform the law regarding rape and protect women against sexual harassment."

The week before the election she attacked the Los Angles Times for running an exposé about the charges. She complained that the paper had cited outdated accusations, which is a little odd when she herself has argued so passionately against the need for "fresh complaints," saying it often takes women a long time to conquer their fears and report a sexual crime; she also took the newspaper to task for seeking out women who hadn't come forward, when she herself has written extensively on how hard it is to come forward in cases of sexual assault. It may or may not be relevant to all this that she was one of the Democrats later named to Schwarzenegger's transition team.

One could ask how Estrich went from condemning Clarence Thomas' whispered vulgarities to defending Arnold Schwarzenegger's whispered vulgarities in a single decade. Is Estrich a hypocrite, a political opportunist? Or have her views really changed? And if so, what does that tell us about her and the kind of feminism she practices?

Estrich made her name as the youngest woman ever to be a tenured Harvard law professor and as the first woman to run a presidential campaign, in 1988, when she worked for Michael Dukakis. She is now a legal and political analyst on Fox News, and she wrote a very likable and reasonable book called Sex & Power and a diet book "for smart women," which I imagine is likable and reasonable, too. She is arguably the most pragmatic and appealing voice in mainstream feminism (more intelligent than Gloria Steinem, less emotional than Naomi Wolf).

Back in 1987, when Estrich wrote her elegant, tightly argued book Real Rape, she was pretty hard-core. She wrote that not only does "no" mean "no" when it comes to sexual advances, but that "yes" sometimes means "no" as well: "Many feminists would argue that so long as women are powerless relative to men, viewing a 'yes' as a sign of true consent is misguided. For myself, I am quite certain that many women who say 'yes' to men they know, whether on dates or on the job, would say 'no' if they could. I have no doubt that women's silence sometimes is not the product of passion and desire but of pressure and fear." But that was then, and this is now.

As it turns out, Estrich's unlikely support of Schwarzenegger has a precedent: When Clinton had his difficulties with Paula Jones, Juanita Broderick, Kathleen Willey, Monica Lewinksy, et al., Estrich rallied to his defense. She said in Slate and elsewhere that she was sure that he would not have done it. Why? For one thing, "Bill Clinton was my friend." For another thing, "He didn't have to." This type of reasoning would never have made it past the Estrich of Real Rape, the Estrich who passionately supported Anita Hill, the Estrich who coined the phrase "the nuts and sluts defense."

Estrich's radical shifts of position on sexual matters mirror the bizarre turnaround of the feminist movement in general. (Take Gloria Steinem's astonishing op-ed in the New York Times, defending Clinton against Kathleen Willey. After pit-bull-like attacks on Clarence Thomas and Bob Packwood, her argument, essentially, was "It's OK if it was just a little grope.") Of course, what made the feminists' defense of Clinton's behavior such a strange spectacle was that they were (in some cases personally) responsible for the worldview that led to his impeachment. They were responsible for the misguided and dangerous idea that "the personal is political," for the overheated, McCarthyite atmosphere surrounding sexual issues in the early '90s.

But the climate of the country had changed since the Anita Hill hearing. The hysteria surrounding sexual crimes had abated. All of a sudden, the idea that the office was full of lurking male sexual predators ready to pounce on delicate, offended career girls was no longer everybody's obsession. People began to wish that the "personal" could be personal again. Writers from David Mamet to Michael Crichton wrote works of art devoted to the excesses and absurdities of the feminist preoccupation with sexual harassment. By the time a towheaded 6-year-old was suspended from school for kissing a little girl on the cheek, most of the country had come to think the women's movement had gone too far; and the movement retreated from the absolutism surrounding issues like sexual harassment and date rape; feminist pundits began to muse on the paradoxes of sexual power. By the time Monica Lewinsky showed her thong to the president, even ardent, party-line feminists were saying it was condescending to women to view her as a victim. When conservatives called them on their sudden change of mind, these feminists obfuscated their former positions, glossing over everything from glaring inconsistencies to outright hypocrisy.

When it comes down to it, Estrich is a good feminist. She is far more balanced, articulate, and intellectually rigorous then most of the people who fit into that category; she rises above them with a sense of humor and humility. But she is nonetheless someone who hangs around with the pack. In the early '90s the party faithful wore "I believe Anita Hill" buttons. And by the late '90s, the party faithful thought a few dirty jokes by the water cooler weren't such a big deal; it must have felt very warm and comforting to be part of the fashionable hysteria about sexual harassment; to "tsk tsk" together about Long Dong Silver and the pubic hair on Coke cans, embraced in the righteousness of the common cause. And Estrich was very much a part of the club; she was a woman with shrewd political instincts and not a huge amount of imagination.

But at least Estrich addresses the moral complexities involved in the kind of flip-flopping mainstream feminists do all the time. She takes responsibility for the opinions she held in the past and admits to and puzzles over her own inconsistencies. She writes in Sex & Power that Clinton "was being wrongly accused. And the rules I had supported and helped to create … were the means of waging that attack." She talks about how her attack of Clarence Thomas "came back to haunt many of us years later, when the issue was not crude jokes but sex between the president and an intern." She argued vehemently against using the victim's mental history or sexual past in court, but now she writes, "Imagine if it were your husband or brother. … Would you want to know if the woman making the accusation had been hospitalized for mental illness? Is there anything you wouldn't want to know about her?" She nakedly states the political motivations behind some of her shifts of position, explaining, "[T]he core of the dispute is not about what's welcome and what's unwelcome in terms of sexual harassment, but whose ox is being gored." Estrich has the grace to be honest about her reversals and the ambiguities they raise. That alone lifts her above myriad pundits, chatterers, and feminists.

What the evolution of Estrich's views does tell us though, is that the kind of burning melodrama that surrounds sexual issues vanishes as quickly as it appears; that a woman who can write passionately about "women's silence" one minute can later take a man's side. It is precisely the opinions that seem the most rigid, absolute, and emotional that are subject to the whims of fashion.

Katie Roiphe is the author of Still She Haunts Me.

Article URL: slate.msn.com



To: Lane3 who wrote (13437)10/23/2003 1:31:49 AM
From: LindyBill  Respond to of 794529
 
A Defense Secretary Undeterred

By George F. Will

Thursday, October 23, 2003; Page A31

He tackled a job that couldn't be done, With a smile, he went right to it.

He tackled a job that couldn't be done, And couldn't do it.


In 1969 President Nixon appointed a former congressman named Donald Rumsfeld, then a stripling of 36, to head the Office of Economic Opportunity, an agency devoted to the task of eliminating poverty in America. Rumsfeld returned home late one night to find that his wife Joyce had taped the above doggerel to the refrigerator door. If you wonder why Rumsfeld, now 71, is not discouraged by the problems of postwar Iraq, remember he headed Nixon's Cost of Living Council, an absurdity devoted to the impossible -- administering wage and price controls. Over the years he has had really difficult jobs -- jobs about which he could have, and may have, produced memos every bit as sobering as his "long, hard slog" memo about Iraq, which surfaced this week and caused much feigned excitement among the very war critics who have hitherto complained that Rumsfeld is incapable of seeing the dark side of things.

In our time, only George Shultz (the first director of the Office of Management and Budget, secretary of labor, then treasury, then state) and Pat Moynihan (assistant secretary of labor, White House domestic policy adviser, U.S. representative to the United Nations, ambassador to India, four-term senator) have had public careers with the breadth of Rumsfeld's (member of Congress, ambassador to NATO, White House chief of staff, special envoy to the Middle East, twice secretary of defense).

Like Saul Bellow's Augie March, Rumsfeld is "an American, Chicago born," and Midge Decter, in her just-published biographical essay "Rumsfeld: A Personal Portrait," correctly says he is still not a Washingtonian, but remains a "child of that prairie-driven culture of vitality." Yet no one knows more about Washington's ways. And last Saturday afternoon, in a hushed Pentagon where the escalators are turned off on weekends -- and you thought government is not frugal -- Rumsfeld, wearing a fleece vest and feeling feisty, reflected on current controversies.

He argues that although certainty is desirable when making policy, there also is one of Rumsfeld's axioms: "A narrow focus on the certain obscures the almost-certain." Critics contend, correctly, that six months of postwar access to Iraq reveal more uncertainties than anyone imagined in prewar intelligence. But in the realm of shadows and mirrors that is intelligence from secretive societies, certainty is a luxury policymakers often cannot wait for.

How much certainty is requisite as a basis for action depends in part on the consequences of being wrong. If, Rumsfeld says, the Iraqi regime had been less wicked, or if it had been in pursuit of the military equivalent of "a BB gun," the United States, even in the post-Sept. 11, 2001, environment, could have afforded to give the regime the benefit of more doubts. And it could have been more relaxed about classifying matters as "doubts."

The administration's critics would be more credible if they had a few doubts of their own concerning their own judgments, such as their reiterated insistence that only mendacity can explain the failure, so far, to find weapons of mass destruction. After all, they say, Rumsfeld, the president and Secretary of State Colin L. Powell repeatedly asserted that Iraq's weapons programs posed an "imminent" threat.

Such assertions by those three officials may have numbered zero. Rumsfeld is more bemused than angered, and certainly not shocked, that critics profess themselves shocked and angered because he, Powell and the president supposedly said, repeatedly, something that none of them actually ever said. At least, says a Rumsfeld aide, an electronic search finds not a single instance of them using the argument that Iraq posed an "imminent" WMD threat to the United States.

The president said Iraq posed a "grave and gathering danger" rather than the familiar locution "clear and present danger," because it is reckless to wait until a terrorist danger is present or imminent. In interviews and press briefings before the war, Rumsfeld, like other administration officials, was repeatedly asked to apply the word "imminent" to the Iraqi threat, and he repeatedly did not. Today, as then, he stresses the problem of knowing when a threat is imminent: When were the Sept. 11 attacks imminent? "A week before, a month before, a year before, an hour before?"

The remarkable souring of political argument in 2003 continues as some Democrats, with their calculated extravagance, insist there was "no plan" for postwar Iraq. But if that were so, how is it that we have gone, in just six months, from zero to 85,000 Iraqis participating in providing security? And what was all that work done with the World Food Program before the war?

Critics correctly fault the mistaken certitude of some of the administration's prewar pronouncements. But critics indicting the administration not merely for mistakes but for meretriciousness would do well to avoid that in their indictments.

georgewill@washpost.com

washingtonpost.com