Trish Wilson has pointed out that this seems to be happening regularly about once every three months: some liberal boy blogger or another suddenly discovers sexism in the blogging world (call it Quasi-feminist Male Syndrome, or QMS) and feels compelled to put out some musings on the musical question:

Q: Where are all the female political bloggers?

A: On the Internet, dummy. Try reading some of them:

• CultureCat
• feministe
• Margaret Cho
• ms.musings
• Pinko Feminist Hellcat
• Rox Populi
• Sappho’s Breathing
• Totalitarianism Today
• Trish Wilson
• wicked thoughts
• etc., etc., etc.

Where does QMS come from? Like the e-mail promising that Bill Gates will pay you $200 for everyone you forward it to, it keeps going around and around in cyberspace; for better or for worse, though, it is starting to raise some important discussions about Leftist boys and the nature of feminism. Wicked Muse, for example, took the fracas as an opportunity to put up a great post on Male Feminists and, among many other things, whether men who support the feminist movement should identify as feminists or pro-feminists (along with the corresponding question of what boys’ role in the movement should be):

Matt Stoller, over in the comments of the post listed above, says:

More to the point, feminism doesn’t belong to women, and until you realize that we’re in this together, the more marginalized you will continue to be.

Well, I disagree. I almost wrote, I’m sorry, I disagree, but the fact is I am NOT sorry for my viewpoint. (I have to stop that.) Feminism DOES belong to women, though it will take both women and men to get things to where they need to be. Part of me can’t help but get a little irritated at the whole thing and wonder why women can’t just have one thing that men aren’t sticking their noses into or trying to take over. I realize how immature that may sound, but the issues feminism deals with, as Mr. Ripley says in his comment, are sometimes life-and-death for women and men can avail themselves of priviledges that make it much less so for them. Many women are feminists because they HAVE to be, so the whole movement is nearer and dearer to our hearts.

I think men who truly support the movement by trying to do something beyond offering lip-service (perhaps in an attempt to ingratiate themselves and/or feel less guilty) are wonderful and I welcome them with open arms. Things are only going to get better by working together, which is one point I agree with Matt on. However, in a society where labels are all important, as much as we eschew them at times, I think the feminist label needs to be left for women to grasp, either to help keep them afloat or to hold high in defiance. If you’re a man and support the cause, I daresay we love you. Men like you are rare… much too rare. The support is appreciated, no doubt, but I, for one, would feel much more comfortable if at least the symbol of the movement was left to us rather than it being yet one more thing co-opted, which is just one step from having it taken away.

Well, I am a Leftist boy and I agree completely with Wicked Muse that feminism belongs to women (I was, quite honestly, astonished that Matt Stoller could get that sentence out of his mouth without the cognitive dissonance making his head explode). And while I think that men have a responsibility to get involved and to seriously work with feminist efforts to undermine male supremacy, we have to be aware of the fact that we are men in the women’s movement, that feminist women have been doing fine without us for the past 150 years, and that it is their movement to own, direct, and lead. Not ours.

Not mine. This is something I have to tell myself a lot. What I hope I can do is listen to women and take what they say seriously. Not get into ideological arguments and tell them what their organization needs or what I can do to save them. If I end up doing nothing at a meeting other than volunteering to put some flyers or baking some brownies, that’s quite alright. Shit work needs to be done by somebody, and why shouldn’t a boy be the one to do it every now and again?

I understand and I sympathize with the reasons that some feminists give for wanting men to refer to themselves as pro-feminist rather than feminist. No matter how important feminism is to my life, it can’t mean to me what it means to a woman who lives it; no matter how much I know about sexism, I can’t know as much as a woman knows who faces it everyday. That’s hard for me to swallow sometimes–feminism is the most important political commitment in my life, by a very long shot. To explain the reasons behind that would involve delving into a lot of personal details about my life, my family, and my dearest friends, which is more than a bit beyond the scope of this post. But that’s just it: it takes a lot of telling why it matters so damn much to me. Were I a woman, it would be easy to say why it does, because I’d have to put up with a bunch of shit every day that, as a man, I don’t have to. And, whether I like or not, that puts me in a very different situation when I go around talking about the feminist movement.

That said, I do want to mention a bit about why I do usually describe myself as a feminist and not as a pro-feminist man. I think that all the concerns Wicked Muse raises are legitimate, and important. If I’m in a space where women would rather I don’t refer to myself as a feminist, I don’t. As I said, I understand the reasons, and it’s not my place to get into a fight over it. But I do just say feminist in most circumstances. My reason for worrying is this: pro-feminist suggests a distance from the movement. Not surprising; that’s what the phrase was intended to do, to point out the importance of men being willing to step back, if they’re serious about it, let women have their say, and listen to them, and follow their lead. But for all too many men who identify as pro-feminist the distance has ended up being cashed out in a much worse way: a sort of wishy-washy non-politic, in which the distance from the movement is taken to mean distance from taking action. Calling out other men on sexism, or moping about your own sexism, rather than doing what you can to help end it. Forming groups of men to talk about women’s liberation (?!), which becomes talking about “sexism”, which becomes talking about men and how they feel in a sexist society, which becomes dithering around and trying to change how men touch and feel each other rather than making a serious political commitment to ending male supremacy and violence against women. Maybe it comes down to the likelihood that boys who genuinely want to do some good, but who feel guilty and don’t necessarily know just what to make of it, will do what a lot of boys do: think in terms of ourselves, and take the pro- in pro-feminism to mean a psychological attitude (say, warm fuzzy feelings towards feminism) instead of a political and moral commitment (say, taking feminism seriously and acting like mean it). I don’t think that’s what pro-feminism has to mean, but I do think that given a lot of the pitfalls that have shown up in boys trying to get involved in feminism, it’s unfortunately likely. I worry that this it’s what has happened to all too many–maybe almost all–large-scale efforts by sympathetic men to get involved in feminism. (Andrea Dworkin’s speech, I Want A Twenty-Four Hour Truce During Which There Is No Rape, has been really influential in how I think about these things.)

Now I don’t think that it’s a huge loss for feminism if men’s efforts end up being lame. Feminism doesn’t need boys to win. But it is too bad for the boys involved: we can do better, and we ought to do better. What I hope is that I am living my life, being accountable instead of defensive, listening to women and changing the way I act and think based on what I hear, in such a way that I can live up to a commitment to the feminist movement. So I call myself a feminist in many contexts. I understand the worries around it, and I can’t say I blame Astarte or Wicked Muse at all for finding the phrase a bit creepy and worrying about co-optation. But I do hope that some of the worries that I’ve raised here make sense, and maybe even that they might help continue the conversation. It’s a conversation that’s well worth having, and I’m glad that some of the posts floating around at the moment have brought it up.

What do y’all think?

CSPAN is always a bit hard-up for programming at 12 in the morning, except when a marathon Congressional debate happens to be stretching into the long, cold hours. Tonight they’ve managed to do–maybe without realizing it–quite a public service, for those who had the chance to see it: they replayed, in its entirety, a remarkable episode of the Dick Cavett show from 1971, featuring a debate between a 27-year-old John F. Kerry, representing Vietnam Veterans for the War, and John O’Neill, representing a small administration front-group calling itself Vietnam Veterans for a Just Peace. In a generation endlessly bombarded with pre-packaged popcult nostalgia, where whole channels are devoted to sit-com reruns and to musical has-beens, this is something unique, and valuable: a chance to sit your fat ass in front of the television and see some actual political history–some of the stuff that people were actually worried about in the 1970s. Of course, that remembering and witnessing basic points of the political debate at a time so recent in living memory counts as mining history, by the standards of our day, is sad enough in itself–but that is another diatribe for another time.

As for the show itself: it’s interesting, but I’m not really that concerned with the current well-publicized flap between Mr. Kerry and Mr. O’Neill, or how the Cavett debate illuminates it. It’s obvious that Mr. O’Neill is a two-bit character assassin; and it’s also obvious that he’s a dishonest tool. You could tell that from his recent appearances, and you could tell it from his endless, vituperative red herrings from the encounter in 1971. Nothing new here. And while I do think that the tenor and the conduct of the debate–where, for all of Mr. O’Neill’s interruptions and hectoring, Mr. Kerry’s tightly-argued case was given the space and time and moderation to win the audience over by force of reason–is remarkable as a point of contrast to Howler Monkey cognitive style that is so favored in contemporary public debate, that’s also not what grabs my attention most tonight. What I’m more interested in is what Mr. Kerry said then, when he was younger and wiser:

I want to know why we can’t set a date when we know that the prisoners will come home, when we know that people will stop being maimed for the most senseless purpose in the world …

…

Whether or not the group on the other side knows it or not–in fact, they should change their name from Vietnam Veterans for a Just Peace to Vietnam Veterans for a Continued War because that in fact is really what Vietnamization is. It is nothing more than a way of getting the United States out of Vietnam by changing the colors of the bodies in that country. It’s a military solution in a problem that requires a very, very sophisticated political solution. And all that it will do in the end is possibly intricate us into a much, much deeper war than we are in now or at least allow us to withdraw in time for the elections of next year when the president can say, Yes, indeed, we did withdraw, at which time more Americans will have lost their lives and more Vietnamese will have lost their lives needlessly.

…

The bigger issue at hand is the question literally of how the United States is going to get out of Vietnam now, and I have said again and again this evening that we can set a date, that we can bring the prisoners home, but the point is I think this administration is still seeking some kind of victory over there.

…

as long as you do not settle the political question of how the Vietnamese communists are going to fit in to some kind of regime, as long as you continue the hypocrisy of saying that we are fighting for a democracy when you have a regime which only recently passed a law which may not let them have other candidates in an election, which has some 40 thousand to 100 to 200 thousand political prisoners in jail, which 14 days ago closed down–excuse me–10 days ago closed down 14 newspapers because they printed a key speech about the corruption of the government, as long as we’re supporting this kind of government that doesn’t allow representative forces to be part of it, you are asking for trouble, and that’s what we’re doing.

…

But I’m glad you’ve raised the question of the Pentagon Papers because I think that … they are a terribly, terribly important aspect of what has happened because they do show–well, they show a great many things and they are partially incomplete, but they certainly show the duplicity and the deceit which has been involved in building up this war because clearly there was a peace candidate who ran in 1964 who was not a peace candidate, and clearly we had–we were committing aggressive acts against–covert warfare against Laos and against North Vietnam prior–without telling the American people. We’ve been bombing Laos now for seven years, and only this year the American people were told, and I think that this typifies a great deal of the most recent approach of the American government to the people, that they’ve shown a kind of disdain for the ability of the American people to determine for themselves the difference between right and wrong, and I think clearly that when it comes to a question of sending men off to fight and to die, the people of this country have the ability to make that decision for themselves.

–John F. Kerry, on the Dick Cavett show in 1971. You can read a decent full transcript online from an anti-John Kerry hatchet site.

What is it about walking in the halls of power that has put John Kerry so far away from the man who said these words in 1971, with a sense of urgency and earnest moral conviction? When did the mental and moral rot of national honor and winning the peace sink in? Why doesn’t he seem to believe, anymore, that we have a real duty to honestly account for the human costs of a seemingly endless, futile counter-insurgency war?

Why doesn’t he see how living up to his younger seriousness and earnestness would help him (both morally and practically)? Is it controversial, at this point, that Vietnam was a dreadful mistake? How much longer will it be controversial that the Iraq war and the ongoing occupation are also dreadful mistakes, for almost exactly the same reasons as in Vietnam? Why doesn’t Kerry feel that he can connect with the people he’s trying to win over on these grounds? (Hell, when Kerry is facing a steady barrage of character-assassination over how he spent the late 1960s and early 1970s, why aren’t the Democrats paying to run the tapes of this show during prime-time?)

And why don’t we, as citizens, remember what it was like then, and what he was like then? Why can’t we do a better job of urging Mr. Kerry to live up to his best self, and hold him to the standards that he set for himself three decades ago?

Utah Phillips put it this way, and I think he was right: The long memory is the most radical idea in America.

In other news, Senator Kerry tried to head off charges of inconsistent dithering by announcing the other day that he still would have voted for the Iraq war even if he’d known it was all a bunch of goddamned lies. Mr. Bush responded by claiming that this vindicated his bunch of goddamned lies and attempted to slam Mr. Kerry by saying My opponent has found a new nuance–apparently suggesting that nuanced political positions are a sign of weakness. May God continue to bless America, and may God have mercy on our souls.

Further reading

• GT 2003/11/11: Winning the Peace

When it comes to political argument, you can usually count on abortion to get a response, and it seems that Why We Marched (GT 2004/05/30) was no exception to the trend. Fortunately, unlike most of the responses that you usually expect to draw by writing on abortion, the responses to my article were thoughtful, carefully argued, and deserve consideration and reply. (I think this just goes to show that pessimism about conversation on abortion is understandable but overly hasty. The problem is not that rational argument on the topic is impossible–just that it is very hard; not that people can’t talk reasonably about it, but rather that they don’t. Here, even more than in other areas, it’s vitally important to elicit just what the structure of the arguments is, and I hope I’ve helped a bit in that direction.)

After reading over my post again, and seeing how the responses sorted themselves out, I do think that I didn’t do nearly as good a job as I should have in marking out the two different purposes that I had in the post–the fact that it had two different purposes, that is; if you got that, then I think what they were is pretty easy to discern. This is important, because I think some of the critical replies to my post seemed to muddle the two different issues together, and I think that muddling allowed people to endorse claims for abortion that they would be hesitant–or, at least ought to be hesitant–about endorsing in other areas.

Well, what were the two points being made? To wit:

1. … that arguments against pro-choice political strategy as anti-democratic (by judicial tyranny in Roe v. Wade-style court decisions as a means to repeal abortion laws) are question-begging: if the basic pro-choice position is correct, then it would be judicial activism to uphold an abortion bill–because there could be no such thing as a (legimately enacted) law to ban abortion.

2. … that the basic pro-choice position is in fact both reasonable and correct–and thus that courts do have an obligation to throw out abortion bills.

Both of these points are connected with the deductive argument that I gave in defense of Roe-style court decisions:

1. No government body has the legitimate authority to legalize slavery. (premise)
2. A legislature can only successfully make a law if they have the legitimate authority to enact that law. (premise)
3. Courts can only enforce such laws as have successfully been made by the legislature. (premise)
4. Forcing a woman to carry a pregnancy to term against her will is a form of slavery. (premise)
5. Courts can only enforce bills that the legislature has the legitimate authority to enact (from 2, 3)
6. Courts cannot enforce bills that purport to legalize slavery (from 1, 5)
7. Courts cannot enforce bills that purport to legalize forcing a woman to carry a pregnancy to term against her will. (from 4, 6)

Therefore, no court can rightly uphold, or make a ruling based on, a law that purports to criminalize abortion. Q.E.D.

The first point that I was defending (which I had already argued at some length in my comments at Alas, A Blog) is that this argument is valid, and that all of the premises other than (4) are not only eminently reasonable, but also premises that you have to endorse in order to take judicial activism seriously as a term of critique. And what that means is that if (4) is true, you ought to endorse the conclusion; thus, whether premise (4) is true or not, it is the real issue in the debate. If (4) is accepted, then upholding state abortion bills, not overturning them, would be an act of judicial activism (since no such laws could legitimately have been made by the state legislature). Even if (4) is denied, a charge of judicial activism against pro-choice political methods without an independent argument against pro-choice political goals just begs the question against the pro-choice position–much like trying to give a Christian an argument that Christian doctrines stifle social reform, without first showing her that quietistic doctrines are false.

The second point that I was defending, enlarging on the first, is that the argument is not only valid but also sound: not only are premises (1)-(3) true, but so is premise (4) (because a woman has the right to control her own internal organs–yes, even the reproductive ones–and that right cannot be undermined by someone else’s need to use them). It’s important to see here that you can (indeed, should) accept the first point even if you don’t buy my defense of the second point. If you’re unconvinced by my argument in defense of (4), and remain unconvinced after my clarifications and emendations here, fine–but don’t keep basing your arguments on claims about judicial tyranny (or, mutatis mutandis, principles of democracy, federalism, etc.). The real action is in the debate over premise (4).

Well, just saying that you should accept the first point is not the same as demonstrating it, and apparently some of my interlocutors aren’t yet ready to buy in. Thus, for example, Otto Kerner wrote:

Charles, the flaw in your QED is in an implicit assumption that it is relevant to Roe. It is not. The US Supreme Court has no business enforcing or not enforcing state laws, except in a few specific cases. It was acting outside of its jurisdiction.

The question, of course, is why the Supreme Court has no business upholding or nullifying state laws; and there are a few different reasons that you might hold that. You might, for example, base it on a view of the powers delegated by the United States Constitution; or maybe on a prior notion of state sovereignty (perhaps as recognized by the Constitution); or on a strategic concern for political decentralization. Far be it from me to impute an argument to Otto without his consent–but since I’ll discuss the decentralist concerns in greater detail below I’ll take a moment to deal with the Constitutional claim here whether that’s Otto’s claim or not.

Now, I don’t recognize the authority of the U.S. Constitution in the first place; but since most people seem to think it matters, we can set aside my views on the nature of legal authority for the moment for a bit of immanent critique. The first of the common-sense premises I introduced for my argument was (1) that no government body has the legitimate authority to legalize slavery. I think that (1) is always and everywhere true, under principles of natural law. But whether I’m right about that or not, it’s certainly true of governing bodies if they derive their authority from the United States Constitution–since that reads, in part:

Amendment XIII

Section 1. Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.

Section 2. Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation.

Note that it says within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction; if that doesn’t make state slavery bills the Feds’ concern, I don’t know what could. So if the Supreme Court were ever to hear a case concerning a state bill that purported to legalize slavery, what possible basis could it have for devolving the issue to state courts rather than applying the clear text of the federal Constitution? (Again, since under the Thirteenth Amendment no state legislature can have the authority to make a law that authorizes slavery, it follows that any bill that a state legislature passed to that effect would not be a law; it’s a dead letter just as surely as some “bill” that I wrote on a napkin and passed around to my friends. Thus, any Court which upheld the bill would, in fact, be engaging in an astonishing act of judicial activism, since it is purporting to effect a law where no law had been made by the legislature.)

Of course, this leaves open an additional question (which, I suppose, Otto is right to chide me on) of whether the Supreme Court should hear these cases in the first place. But I can hardly see any way that one could argue that (given the scope of the Thirteenth Amendment) a case over a state slavery bill would not be within the category of all cases, in law and equity, arising under this Constitution (Article III).

Of course, you might argue that forced childbearing is not slavery. You might even think it’s outrageous to even compare the two. But if so, your issue is with premise (4), not with the other premises. (Acid test: would you say the same thing if, say, South Carolina’s legislature were to pass a bill authorizing the enslavement of all Blacks, and the Supreme Court proceeded to strike it down? If you would, you’re nuts. If you wouldn’t, your problem is with (4) alone.)

You might also give me a thwack on the noggin and point out that the Court did not base its decision, in Roe, on the Thirteenth Amendment. True; and that’s too bad, because I think the reasoning would have been much stronger and the ruling much better if they had relied on the Thirteenth Amendment rather than on privacy rights that Griswold claimed to find hanging out in the penumbra of various parts of the Bill of Rights. But you can defend the outcome of a Court case (and the fact that it was decided by the Court) without defending the reasoning behind that outcome. And besides, aren’t the rights protected in the Bill of Rights also the U.S. Supreme Court’s concern (mutatis, mutandis), under the Fourteenth Amendment’s provision that No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States? (If not, then what in the world does that provision do?)

Moving away from Constitutional exegesis, Kevin Vallier objected to what he saw as my neglect of the libertarian arguments against Roe specifically: to wit, that

the decision allows the judiciary to literally create rights out of thin air — that in the end, creating a right to privacy and having an institution that is allowed to do this will be destructive of liberty. It isn’t that many libertarians think that abortion should be illegal. It’s that Roe should be repealed and the battle fought in a different way. That’s the reason I’m against Roe; it increases statism by centralizing power.

Now, I don’t doubt that this is an argument against Roe, but I have trouble understanding it as a libertarian argument. I take it to be absolutely vital to libertarianism (as a theory of justice, not as a region on the Nolan Chart) that rights can be recognized or ignored, respected or violated, but they cannot be created or destroyed by anyone–not by judges, not by legislatures, not by executives, and not by constitutions either. A corollary of this is that when a piece of jurisprudence claims to recognize a right, the important question to ask is not whether the judge has the authority to make or unmake the right (no-one does), but rather whether the judge’s claims are true or false. Do you think that a woman’s right to control her own body includes the right to seek an abortion? If so, then you think Roe was rightly decided (although perhaps for the wrong reasons). And if you think that Roe recognizes a legitimate right, then what’s the problem with enforcing it?

That’s not to say that there’s no legitimate issue worth raising here: aside from the question of whether defending Roe is just, there is also the question of whether defending Roe is prudent. As I’ve argued elsewhere (concerning the Violence Against Women Act), it’s perfectly reasonable to be concerned about the strategic value of vesting our hopes in the tender mercies of a highly centralized federal court. It’s something worth worrying about on libertarian grounds–and, for that matter, on radical feminist grounds too (anyone who thinks that a bunch of old white dudes with black robes and government pensions are the source of, or a reliable bulwark for, women’s liberation needs to get their head checked). But I think it’s no less foolish to put our hopes in highly centralized state courts, or state legislatures. When it comes to matters of strategy in playing the two off one another, we have to ask ourselves which of these pompous outlaw gangs is likely to commit or sanction fewer rights violations in the long run? I think any honest appraisal of the past couple centuries of American history has to show that the answer is Well, it depends. Reactionary states have been the primary agents of tyranny no less than the Feds (see: Crow, Jim; see also: race slavery), and choosing which to side with in a conflict is not something to which I think there is any good answer other than ad hockery based on historical precedent. And if we look at the history of cases decided under the Supreme Court’s doctrine of privacy rights, I have to say that the record looks pretty positive: Griswold (1965) abolished state laws banning married couples from obtaining contraceptives, Eisenstadt v. Baird (1972) struck down all state laws banning consenting adults from obtaining contraceptives from a doctor, Roe (1973) nullified most state abortion laws, and Lawrence (2003) did away with state sodomy laws. If you’re pro-choice (mildly or otherwise) and libertarian, that looks like a pretty solid record!

Broadly speaking, it’s very difficult for me to understand the charge that the Court’s privacy doctrine is a harbinger of statism. Whatever the hell the penumbral right of privacy is supposed to mean (and I’m not at all clear on this myself), it is certainly privacy from government interference. It’s no accident that every landmark ruling on the doctrine has curtailed the power of government over the individual rather than enlarged it. How, exactly, is a ruling based on such a principle, even such an admittedly vague one, supposed to give the State more power over people’s day to day lives?

Now, again, I suspect that a lot of the worry that seems to be directed against premises (1)-(3) actually has more to do with discomfort with (4)–and with my failure to adequately put asunder the two questions in my last post. If forced childbearing is slavery, then how could we possibly let the modest rhetorical gains that statism might make in delivering a Supreme Court decision outweigh the massive victory for women’s freedom from government control over their own bodies that the abolition of state abortion bills wins? If, on the other hand, you’re not willing to defend the rightness of the Roe decision, isn’t that just an indicator that you think forced childbearing is different from slavery in some salient respect?

What about the second point of my post–that premise (4) is true, and so that the argument for defending Roe (or similar court rulings) is sound? Well, there’s plenty to say about that, too–but not, alas, tonight. I hope, for now, that I’ve cleared the ground for approaching what I take to be the real issue in the debate.

For further reading

• GT 2004/02/05: Because of assholes like this guy… — the decentralist justice case for VAWA
• In a Blog’s Stead 2004/08/26: The Stone Idol — Roderick Long on ex-Chief Justice Roy Moore his battle against Federal jurisdiction
• In a Blog’s Stead 2004/06/26: The Constitution of Liberty — Roderick Long on the Lawrence decision

(Standard disclaimer: People other than myself may or may not agree with everything I have to say here; and while they certainly ought to, my act of linking shouldn’t be taken as a claim in either direction.)

For those who may be interested, here’s a bit more about my troubles with the public utilities, and a reply to my friend Sergio Méndez’s comments.

A new router was ordered and arrived some days ago (you may have guessed as much from the increased volume of posts), and thanks to Microsoft Corporation decision to exit the wireless market, I managed to get a faster, more secure, and much more reliable wireless LAN (802.11g secured with WPA, nosy) in my house for fire-sale prices.

The water is back on, for the time being at least, and the power surges have–as far as I can tell–stopped. On the other hand, they didn’t stop before they had also fried my cable modem–meaning that for a while I was not only without a router, but not even able to plug my laptop in directly for Internet access for even a limited part of the day. Thanks, tax-supported utilities!

We’re renting the equipment from Comcast, so I took it into their payment center; they swapped it out for a new one with no questions asked and at no charge.

Meanwhile, the road outside of my house is still torn up, a month and a half after they ripped the pavement up.

I say this by way of an entre into replying to Sergio’s comments on my post. He quite rightly prods me about what is said and what is left unsaid in my post:

Charles, with all due respect…Do you actually think it will have been different if the public roads and electricity company was privately owned?

Short answer: yes. Longer answer: it would be a little bit different no matter what, but a lot depends on what is being envisioned as the form of private ownership.

I think that what Sergio has in mind here is something like the wave of IMF-driven privatization schemes for government utilities in Latin American and sub-Saharan Africa, and the Republicans’ idea of a programme for privatization in America (those Republicans, at least, who still harbor faint dreams of being something other than shameless lackeys for the Bush Administration’s economic royalism). I can sympathize with having a lot of misgivings over the idea of privatization if that’s the only kind that’s on offer; and in the present political environment (where brazen Mussolinism passes for free marketeering) it may very well be the only kind that’s likely to happen in the near future. But it’s worth remembering that privatization just means the transfer of businesses and resources from government control to control by individual citizens or groups of them–which does not necessarily mean selling them off in sweetheart deals to large corporations. It could mean something quite different, and something very much more humane and empowering.

I’ll have more to say about that in a moment. But first I want to note an important aspect in which even traditional corporate-driven privatization of utilities would have made a difference to the sort of crap that government providers put us through. One of the arguments that people give all the time when they are arguing for nationalizing utility services is that utilities need to be provided by projects that are accountable to the people, and not to the bottom line; thus, they should be entrusted to the elected government in a liberal democratic polity, and not left to the hard-bitten world of corporate commerce. But this neglects an extremely important point: the degree to which being accountable to the bottom line makes them accountable to the public–at least if the public here is taken to mean you, the individual person having to deal with them, and not some Rousseauian mystification of the the general will. (Since I entirely lack a general will, I’ll leave any questions concerning it to other, more enlightened commentators.)

Don’t get me wrong: corporations can be huge assholes. In this vale of tears, there are people who are foolish, short-sighted, irresponsible, avaricious, or cruel, and no small number of them seem to be in the world of business. I realize all this, and I want a radically different world; the red in my flag means socialism. But the black in my flag means anarchism, and I don’t see any reason to think that people in government bureaucracies would be somehow more angelic than those in corporate bureaucracies, so I think the important question to ask is one of incentives. And if you look at the incentives, the facts are that you, personally, can make a difference on the margin when you are dealing with a private company, whereas you can’t with the government. Think of it this way: who is going to be more accountable to you and more ready to help you with your problems–someone who could lose $60/month right now if you’re unsatisfied, or who has the power to take your money for the service whether you like it or not, who was appointed by some other person, who in turn might lose your one vote amongst the thousands or millions that determine whether or not they will keep their job–if you’re so pissed off that one or two or four years from now the crappy service from your public utilities happens to be the deciding factor for your vote? (And who, by the way, will suffer no marginal loss whatsoever of power or responsibility or income for having lost one vote that they had before….)

Let alone if you happen to live in a Black neighborhood (or a working-class white neighborhood), or if you are a woman, or a member of any number of other groups who are drastically underrepresented in the government and who are often dismissed or marginalized in the political process.

Of course, you might object that these are all reasons for democratic political reform: if it’s so hard for individual citizens (especially those without established political connections) to make any difference to how government-run utilities do business, then why not make politicians more accountable to the citizens, by instituting reforms like public comment periods, shorter election cycles, term limits, citizen recalls, voter initiatives, and so on? Well, fine–and I think these would all be laudable reforms. But if you get to change around the constitution of the government for hypothetical purposes, then I should certainly be able to put forward ideas based on a radically environment in terms of the coordination of businesses, private ownership, and privatization of government resources. If we’re talking about instituting fundamental reforms, then why not also talk about what privatization would be like with fundamental reforms to how services are privatized and who gets chances to buy up the resources?

Imagine what it would be like if privatization meant that you and your neighbors (organized into a neighborhood co-operative) owned the street in front of your house? If privatized parks meant selling land to the Trust for Public Land rather than corporate developers, or simply donating park land as public property (instead of government property: for the difference, see Roderick Long‘s essay, In Defense of Public Space)? If privatized water meant that the local government would sell different parts and aspects its water works to a half-dozen local groups, including worker-owned union shops and not-for-profit co-operatives? If privatized electricity meant no more subsidies for huge, centralized fossil fuel plants and selling power wires to local neighborhood associations that work towards putting up small-scale solar energy production from panels on their roofs? That you and your neighbors were the ones who made the decisions about when your road needs to be fixed and who should be hired to fix it? That you can switch power companies if their service causes power surges and they refuse to compensate you for equipment destroyed, or switch water companies if they start turning the water off without warning for hours at a time? If it meant that utilities would be in the control of a vast, bottom-up network of individual people, voluntary associations, and local co-operatives making the decisions about what they want and need?

I can tell you one thing for sure: nobody on Olive St. would be paying for a bunch of assholes who leave our road torn up for a month and a half while they go work on other stuff.

If you want the services that matter to your life to be provided cheaply and reliably, with high quality and under your own control rather than the control of unaccountable bureaucrats, then the answer to Behemoth corporations is not a Leviathan state! The answer is a society based on local autonomy, co-operative production, and mutual aid–that’s cooperative, not coerced, and mutual aid, not the crumbs of tax monies that the sovereign deigns to drop from the table. Freedom makes your life better. And if it is done in a spirit of giving the people back their own, rather than in the spirit of cutting sweetheart deals with big corporate contributors, then it will especially make life better for people who have historically been oppressed and disenfranchised. That’s not actually the primary reason you should support it (your primary reason should be that other people are not your property). But some things are valued both for themselves and for their consequences; and as consequences go, this is as good a reason as any.

Well, it has been about a month since the March on Washington; and what better time, I ask you, than a month after the March, to post some photos? It’s also been about a month since I promised I would return to the topic of abortion, democracy, and the courts. And what better time to respond to an argument than a month after you have said you would?

Thus, I intend to do both. Let’s begin.

About a month ago, about 1.15 million of us marched to defend a woman’s right to abortion. Specifically, we marched–at least most of us did–to support the Supreme Court’s decision in Roe v. Wade and to oppose the Bush administration’s on-going war to undermine, and perhaps eventually reverse, that landmark achievement in the government’s recognition of women’s rights.

One of the more weaselly rhetorical maneuvers that some anti-abortionists make is to complain about the centrality of Roe to our political demands. By relying on the Court’s nullification of nearly all state abortion laws in Roe, and by working to defend the decision from being overturned, we are–the argument goes–guilty of sanctioning and escalating something called judicial activism (or, more extravagantly, judicial tyranny). The pro-choice movement, it is claimed, is playing dirty pool by bypassing the democratic process in order to force our favored policy on abortion from the federal bench–rather than working through democratic procedures on a state-by-state basis. And that is, we are told, a dangerous compromise of both federalism and the separation of powers between the legislature and the judiciary.

Now, I say the argument is weaselly because it’s almost never put forward out of any principled concern for the separation of powers or political decentralization–as is well-demonstrated by the fact that the very same people who advance the argument rarely have any qualms about standing behind federal bans on specific abortion procedures, a Human Life Amendment to the federal Constitution that would impose an abortion ban on all 50 states, or judicial activism that happens to suit their policy prescriptions on abortion. It’s an argument almost always advanced out of sheer opportunism; anti-choicers want the abortion debate to devolve to the States only because, and to the degree that, devolving it ensures that they’ll pick up a few along the way (ie, most of the Deep South and the inland West, and probably Michigan and much of the Midwest, too). That said, being weaselly is not the same as being unsound; it’s a property of the arguer, not the argument. And so even a weaselly argument might be a good argument–although it cannot be a good argument for a weasel who advances it even though s/he is unwilling to own up consistently to its premises. So, in the spirit of interpretive charity, let’s look at the charge and what we ought to say about it now that we have sat down from the march and have some time to talk.

What’s the charge of judicial activism supposed to mean? Well, the argument, apparently, is that abortion is a matter properly dealt with as it was before Roe–that is, to be regulated or left unregulated by the state legislatures–and that the justice’s decision to nullify state abortion laws in Roe exceeded any possible authority that they might have. The complaint, then, is that the pro-choice movement’s support for Roe means bypassing (1) the proper separation of powers between the judiciary and the legislature, and (2) putting important policy decisions in the hands of appointed judges rather than in the hands of the democratically-accountable legislature. (I think that’s a fairly romanticized view of how the legislature actually relates to the electorate over a given single issue in a liberal republic. But let’s move on.)

The critical claim here is a claim about who has the authority to make law. If the argument succeeds, it has the attractive feature (for the anti-abortionists) of short-circuiting the political argument over abortion in favor of convicting pro-choice activism on a purely procedural point. The problem, however, is that the argument only can succeed by either (a) begging the question on the political debate over abortion, or (b) endorsing a totalitarian theory about the authority of elected legislatures. And doing (a) makes the argument premature until we have already come to an agreement on the debate over abortion on independent grounds, whereas (b) requires a premise so repugnant that no non-question-begging reasons can be given for it Why? Because given what pro-choicers believe about abortion, asking them to leave it up to the state legislatures is like demanding that slavery be put up for a vote state-by-state; it’s making the recognition of women’s fundamental rights to their own bodies contingent on the outcome of innumerable local legislative processes.

Another way of getting to this point is by considering the short argument in defense of Roe-style court rulings that I offered in the comments on Alas. Thus:

1. No government body has the legitimate authority to legalize slavery. (premise)
2. A legislature can only successfully make a law if they have the legitimate authority to enact that law. (premise)
3. Courts can only enforce such laws as have successfully been made by the legislature. (premise)
4. Forcing a woman to carry a pregnancy to term against her will is a form of slavery. (premise)
5. Courts can only enforce bills that the legislature has the legitimate authority to enact (from 2, 3)
6. Courts cannot enforce bills that purport to legalize slavery (from 1, 5)
7. Courts cannot enforce bills that purport to legalize forcing a woman to carry a pregnancy to term against her will. (from 4, 6)

Therefore, no court can rightly uphold, or make a ruling based on, a law that purports to criminalize abortion. Q.E.D.

So is there something wrong with this argument? If so, what? If not, then what’s the problem with overturning abortion laws in the courts?

(One interesting feature of the argument to note: it takes the separation of powers complaint and turns it on the anti-abortionist who advanced it. If the argument here is sound, then upholding any abortion law would be a brute act of judicial activism; it would be a ruling without basis in any law that the legislature had actually passed. Contrary to an all-too-common lament, it’s far from impossible to find common ground from which to argue abortion politics.)

The argument from premises (1), (2), (3), and (4) to (7) is, as far as I can tell, valid; so the only way to avoid the conclusion is to deny at least one of the premises. Now, of course, any anti-abortionist in his right mind is going to object to premise (4); the point of introducing this argument is not primarily to convince you that it is sound (although, in fact, it is). The main point here is to show why the charge of judicial activism is premature. Why? Because (1), (2), and (3) are completely reasonable premises on which both pro-choicers and anti-abortionists should agree. To deny (3) is to deny that you have any objection to judges making up law–which is just to give up on the original complaint of judicial activism against Roe. To deny either (1) or (2), on the other hand, is to endorse totalitarian powers for the representative legislatures–i.e., to claim that the worst crimes are legally O.K. as long as they are approved by an elective assembly. The only point at which the opponent of Roe can object to the argument is at step (4)–to deny that outlawing abortion is in fact a form of slavery.

But that is just to admit that any charge of judicial activism hinges on whether or not outlawing abortion means denying women the fundamental right to control over their own body–which in turn is to admit that it hinges on finding some independent resolution to the controversy between the pro-choice position and the anti-abortion position. Trying to weasel out of the abortion debate by accusing pro-choicers of supporting judicial activism just is to bypass the real debate and beg the question against the pro-choice position.

So what about (4)? Is forcing a woman to carry her pregnancy to term against her will a form of slavery? Well, here is how Pangloss, my (apparently anti-abortion) interlocutor on Alas, objected to it:

(4) False. You trivialize the historical institution and current practice of slavery. BTW, who’s doing the forcing in your hypo?

Well, let’s start with the latter first: if you’re puzzled about where the forcing comes in in an anti-choice regime, then try get an abortion under one and see what happens to you. A very wise man, who probably did not realize the applicability of his thesis for radical feminism, once put it this way:

It is important to remember that government interference always means either violent action or the threat of such action. . . . Government is in the last resort the employment of armed men, of policemen, gendarmes, soldiers, prison guards, and hangmen. The essential feature of government is the enforcement of its decrees by beating, killing, and imprisoning. Those who are asking for more government interference are asking ultimately for more compulsion and less freedom.

Ludwig von Mises, Human Action, ch. XXVII, p. 719

This doesn’t mean, of course, that nothing a government does can be worthwhile. More compulsion and less freedom is exactly what we want when it comes to the freedom to murder, torture, or pillage. But what it does mean is that you’d better be awfully sure that whatever you’re getting the government to do is worth forcing other people to do. Government decrees are not magical incantations; they are provisions for the use of violent force. And if you’re not willing to own up to using violent force against people trying to get an abortion, then you oughtn’t be asking the legislature to outlaw it.

So why categorize the forced completion of a pregnancy as slavery? Well, according to one common theory, what slavery means is a condition of involuntary servitude: to be enslaved is to be forced to give up the use of your body to another person, for a sustained period of time, whether you like it or not. And how else would you describe forcing a woman to turn her uterine lining over to the use of a fetus (or, rather, a bunch of grown men purporting to act on the fetus’s behalf)? The only thing that could make the use of force here legitimate would be for the fetus, or someone else other than the woman, to own the woman’s reproductive organs. And for anyone to claim that just is to claim ownership over the woman’s body–which is another quick elucidation of what it means to claim that someone is your slave.

Of course, an anti-abortionist will object that she doesn’t have the right to control her own internal organs when someone else’s life depends on it. Now, it’s tendentious enough to claim that a fetus is a political agent that could have a right to anything. But set that aside for the moment. The fact is that this is not a principle that nearly anyone would ever endorse if we weren’t talking about women and their wombs–it’s only because people have thought of women’s reproductive organs as the property of men for so long that the idea even gets a hearing. Don’t believe me? Try another hypothetical: Susan needs a kidney or she will die. John has two good kidneys; and it turns out that he’s the best match in town. One problem: John likes his kidneys and won’t undergo surgery. Now, some people might think that John’s action is cruel and selfish. Maybe so; but vanishingly few people would be inclined to suggest that Susan has the right to have John tied down and to cut out one of his kidneys against his will. That’s because John owns his own body, not Susan. Slavery is still slavery, even if the slaver can’t survive without it. When it comes to other people’s rights to control their own bodies, a need is not a claim.

It might also be objected that being forced to carry a pregnancy to term is not slavery because the woman has tacitly forfeited control over her uterus when she consented to have sex. Let’s set aside the fact that the majority of pregnancies resulting from rape end in abortion; at least some anti-choicers are willing to allow for abortion in cases of rape and incest. Still, could a woman forfeit her rights to determine who makes use of her uterine lining by consenting to sex? No, of course not; the idea of tacit consent here is silly to begin with, but more importantly even if there were explicit consent the woman would still have the right to revoke it at any time. She could only fail to have that right if her right to control her own internal organs were alienable. But it’s not; she has (and so do you) the right to withdraw consent, at any time; claiming irrevocable, completely open-ended rights over her internal organs would, again, be claiming that she is your slave just as assuredly as claiming irrevocable, completely open-ended rights over the work of her arms and legs.

(What about the claim that the description of anti-choice politics as slavery trivializes the reality of slavery? That would only be true if saying this is slavery were the same as saying this is just as bad as American race slavery, or whatever other instance of the institution the interlocutor happens to have in mind. But it’s not. Any honest appraisal of historical evidence would show that the position of thralls in medieval Scandinavia was far, far better than that of field slaves in the Caribbean, or the forced laborers in Dachau or the gulag. But that does not mean that we shouldn’t categorize the thralls as slaves. And similarly, it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t categorize forced pregnancy as a form of slavery, either.)

Is there some other basis for asserting that the government has a right to force a woman not to terminate a pregnancy? If there is, I’d be glad to hear it. But if there is not, then we are left to conclude that premise (4) is true. And if premise (4) is true, then no government could have the authority to outlaw abortion, and any judge which upheld a bill purporting to outlaw abortion would be engaging in the worst sort of judicial activism. And thus the Court made the right decision in Roe. Those who fight against that decision are fighting for a Court to uphold the government’s right to legalize slavery and enact reproductive tyranny.

That’s why I marched, anyway. What about you?