Free Choice and Choosing Rightly

What does it mean to choose?

In the wake of last week's revelation that Sarah Palin's daughter Bristol "chose" to have her baby at age 17, much has been made in progressive circles that Bristol had the right to choose. One such example from the Huffington Post:

There was one overlooked part of Sarah Palin's announcement of her daughter's pregnancy. She said that her daughter had decided to carry the child to term. She later remarked that no one had pressured her daughter to do so.

I take Sarah at her word. Is it not wonderful, and will this not be a happier baby and marital circumstance, that they all had these unpressured choices? The issue is not abortion vs carrying to term, it is who gets to make that choice. Sarah Palin would have the government choose. My vote is for Bristol Palin.

What scares me the most about the abortion debate is that there is no more real debate on the issue. We've walled ourselves into two camps: those who believe in the right to choose, and those who believe there is really only one choice. We've stopped debating, and decided that shouting real loud is more cathartic and fun.

Maybe we ought to review the orginal debate. On the one side, Pro-choice/abortion advocates frame the issue thusly: abortion is a choice best left to individuals, not the government. On face value, it's a great libertarian argument. Why should the government get involved in medical decisions best left to individuals and the family?

The argument cracks, however, when you frame the debate as the Anti-abortion/choice camp does: abortion is, at its core, murder. Why should the government get involved? Because the government has been tasked to protect the inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness of all Americans; especially, it could be argued, those Americans who are marginalized, oppressed, and out of sight.

With that being said, the debate over Bristol Palin having a choice vs. making the right choice amounts to two side shouting "CHOICE" at each other without first agreeing what "choice" means. For the left, "choice" is the ability to choose what's best for the individual-- it's a celebration of the free will of the individual. For the right, "choice" is the ability to choose rightly -- it's a celebration of the choice to put the rights of the unborn over the physical pain, emotional turmoil, and social pressures of pregnancy and birth.

This is why politicos and pundits ought to shut up four-fifths of the time when they have the urge to speak about abortion and choice. The two sides are using such wildly different vocabularies that only under careful moderation can any headway be made. We need facilitators of debate, not talking-heads shouting at each other for ratings or political points.

What I wish progressives would understand is that there are many thinking-religious-types who want to see change in Washington, who can stand with progressives on issues like health care, the economy, the environment, crime, drug policy, campaign finance reform and America's foreign policy. But every time progressives take a swipe at how if Sarah Palin had her way, her daughter wouldn't have had the ability to choose in the first place, they miss the point:

Free choice is a wonderful concept. But as soon it impedes on the rights of others, choice can and should be limited. I can choose to drive my car to the grocery store, yet if I choose to drive down on the left side of the road, I break the law. I can choose to own a gun to protect my home from burglars, yet if I choose to shoot someone on the street for no reason, I break the law.

When thinking-religious-types hear from talking-heads that Palin's a hypocrite because she praises her daughter's choice but doesn't want to allow choice in the first place, they hear something like this: Palin's a hypocrite because she praises Americans when they don't kill their co-workers over missed deadlines but wants to legislate against Americans killing their co-workers over missed deadlines. Hypocrite city!

I don't know how else to say it, but every time progressives bring up this BS argument, I find myself one step closer to voting for Bob Barr, Ralph Nader, or no one at all.

A Sort-Of Framework: What It Means for Me to Blog in 2008

Why we type, at least part of the time. Mostly though, it's just for giggles.

If I'm up for it, alot is going to be said this year. And throughout all the bitching, and all the snark, and all the times I try to be funny or ironic or smarter than the world, I thought it might be nice to explain why I care about these things I type about. Why I care about elections and the elected and the function and responsibilities of the electors. Essentially, why I give a crap.

If there's one thing I want people to take away from whatever BS goes up on this blog, I guess it's this:

There is a thing called government, and it is a tool -- a means to an end. Government isn't inherently good, and government isn't inherently evil. It's a result of Evil to be sure. We wouldn't need it were we still living in the paradise of Eden. But it's a result of Good, too. We wouldn't have created it unless we saw in it some temporary relief from lawlessness and disorder. A democratic government is only as good as its people. And that's a plain fact. We get out of government what we put into it.

To wit, the government is the people. It is chosen by us, in a remarkable process of the popular vote (well, in most cases). It acts for us, legislating and executing laws on our behalf. And in the end, it is answerable only to the people. We are it and it is us. And when we grow tired of it, we tear it down and elect a new one, without a shot being fired. This is what we do every presidential election. We either confirm the status quo or reject it by brining in someone new. A bloodless revolution every four years.

My view of government has been evolving in fits and spurts for some time now. With all this rhetoric, it's easy to assume I've adopted a populist point of view. And maybe you'd be right. But mostly you'd be wrong. My view of government has less to do with the Roosevelts of the world, and more to do with the Calvins and Luthers. It's Judeo-Christian to be sure, but it's Reformed as well. My view of government is one that says the people have a right and a responsibility to stand up to the Great Powers of the world and say, "Sit down and shuttup. You are not our authorities, our representatives or our judges. We walk with you as long as you walk with us. The only power you have is what we give you. And should you cross us, we will tear you a new one. Then doodle funny little cartoons about how stupid you are. Because seriously. You are stupid."

Essentially, the purpose of government is to stand against tyranny -- in any form. 250 years ago, that meant the tyranny of Mother England. Unrepresented in Parliament, the people of the American colonies revolted. Today that might mean the tyranny of the few over the many. The tyrannies of excessive wealth and corporate greed, consolidated media and big business, corporations who tell us how to live our lives but who in no way represent us or our best interests. If the Founders had seen what unchecked business could do to their nation, they'd be aghast, Jefferson and Hamilton alike (for all their differences).

Anyone who knew me five or six years ago would have thought I was interested in theology mostly, and maybe a few other things from time to time. And theology still has a strong hold over me. But my reasons for asking the "Big Questions" have shifted somewhat. In the day, I asked the questions out of curiosity. Not enough people were asking them, so I thought, " Why not me?"

Now I ask the questions out of a desire for proper praxis. I want to know how to live rightly in 21st century America. Also, I want to know if that's even a possibility. And living rightly, in a political sense, brings up different questions than "Does God know the future?" or "Is there a magic way to read the Bible so that we all agree on every issue?" (And don't try to kid yourself; if you live and work in America, you're already a politically active person. The act of owning property or goods or simply buying milk and where you buy it are all political acts.)

And I want to know what it means -- both politically and theologically -- what it means to own land, and what it means to purchase items others have made, and what it means to buy milk at Kroger rather than IGA, or 2% rather than skim, or organic rather than conventional. And if you don't think your theology informs all those decisions, then it's time to rethink your theology.

Of course, exploring these issues brings up loads of hypocrisy. But that's only human. We believe in things so deeply at times, that it's hard to bring our praxis (our actions) up to speed with our doxis (our beliefs) in the midst of a fallen world. But just because it's a hard thing, doesn't mean it's a futile thing. We try because we must. We try because we're people, because we don't get things right the first time or the second time or the third time. Because we know that even though we may never get things right, we learn something new and something powerful and something useful every time we fail. And we become better people for it.

And yes. The process of reforming our government seems like an impossible task sometimes; but that doesn't give us the right to sit back and let someone else take care of it. This little website, in its own small, insignificant way, is my own small, insignificant voice. It is one of many small, insignificant political acts, that I hope add up to something not so small or insignificant. It's my way of saying, "I have a voice, weak though it may be. And it counts for something."

Over the next 10 months, remember that. And remember this, too: Your government functions on your behalf for as long as you would have it. And then, every four years, a revolution happens. Picking a new president isn't a political game, it is the responsibility of the polis, who in our country consent to be governed by others -- others who owe no loyalty to any other nation or institution or corporation, but do what they do for the express purpose of what's right for all of America. In a perfect world, we wouldn't need government....

But you know the rest.

Vengeance and Harry Potter

Its only a couple of hours before Deathly Hallows hits the stores...and I already have a beef. Actually, it's been stewing for about two years now. Alright, J.K., let's have at it.

Book 6 has been sitting on the floor next to my bed for about six weeks now, collecting dust. I figured I'd pop it open sometime before the 20th and get myself ready for book 7. But there it sits. Where's the excitement I had for books 5 and 6? Where's the animal rabidity I unearthed ripping through books 1-4? I've been wondering some about that and doing some thinking.

And this is what I thought. This series rests on one central fact -- Harry wants revenge. In the first three books, Harry and his clan were so enamored with wonder and discovery that the vengeance aspect of the series took a back seat. At their core, these Potter books are about exploration -- discovery of self and wonder of world. All throughout volumes 1-5 it was clear that these books were wonderful examples of sacrifice and love.

But somewhere along the line, things changed. Book 5 was the first in the series I read as it came out. I loved it. But Sirius Black's death near the end introduced a new tone to the series, or perhaps more accurately, brought to light a shadowy undercurrent that had been running through the books all along. For Harry to "win", he needed vengeance. He needed revenge against Voldemort for killing his parents, his uncle and many others. With the death of Dumbledoor in book 6, this need for vengeance only became more acute. By the end of Half-Blood Prince, the only avenue left for Harry was to leave school and focus his efforts on ending Voldemort once and for all.

And there's my worry. That the Potter books, such a miraculous example of sacrificial love, are going to degenerate into a simple quest for vengeance. Did Harry's parents die to give Harry life? Or did they sacrifice themselves simply because Harry was the only one who could defeat (and kill) Voldemort? And what's the distinction?

When using Harry's mother (and her sacrifice) as an example of Christ's sacrificial love, the answer leans towards the former. But if Harry's quest for redemption can only succeed through the application of vengeance, the whole "Christian defense" of the Potter books crumbles. Imagine if Christ died so that his followers would rise up in revenge against a hypocritical religious establishment and a secular political order. What if his death had nothing to do with forgiveness or remission, and was simply the first spark in a long war for retribution through the application of violence and war?

If that sounds absurd, then the potential for a violent book 7 should scare us. Some of Christ's followers no doubt would have wanted to return violence for violence in response to Christ's death, just as Harry wishes violence upon Voldemort. But the problem they struggled with is the problem we all deal with on a daily basis (and more acutely since 9/11). Namely, that vengeance is not Christian. The concept of revenge should be as foreign to the Christ-follower as greed or adultery. And the thirst for it is anathema to the spirit of the Christian faith.

Love your enemies. Pray for them. Turn the other cheek. Go the extra mile. Bust most importantly:

Vengeance is mine, thus saith the LORD.

That's not to say that old Voldey deserves a pat on the back and a big bowl of ice cream. While vengeance is God's, justice is something the Christian should be supremely concerned with. Not only justice for the poor and oppressed, but justice upon those who abuse their wealth and power. Justice is to be served on both the oppressors and the oppressed. Thieves, warmongers and murderers deserve justice, too.

And that's where the arguments start. That's where the trouble lies. Can violence be used as a means towards justice? Unjust states have been violently overthrown with both great and terrible results. But as Christ-followers we have to ask if it's ever worth it? Can the ends justify the means?

But now we're way off topic. Because justice is not vengeance. These are two very different concepts, with very different outcomes. Is justice served if Harry kills Voldemort? Perhaps. Most certainly, vengeance is served. Yet there's this inescapable idea that we can't have both. In dispensing justice, it's difficult for the aggrieved party to accurately mete out a suitable punishment, because in most cases, it's difficult for them to be rational adjudicators of justice. Ideally, judges are meant to be impartial arbiters of confiscation, correction and reparation. Maybe that's not entirely possible, but it's important to strive for it, and the aggrieved will have the hardest of times doing so.

Justice restores things to their proper order and balance. That's its purpose, and it's a righteous concept. Vengeance, while not its stark opposite, is still diametrically opposed to justice. It is the (irrational?) use of force in a state of rage to punish a wrong with an even greater wrong. It does not concern itself with restoration or recompense. Only revenge.

And that's the difference. The world of Harry Potter began in the last days of the roaring 90s. But it ends in a post-9/11 world, where we ask questions like "what is justice?" and "what is vengeance?" on a daily basis.

I hope book 7 has Harry deal with these issues in a frank and startling way. I hope he wrestles with what it means to kill or be killed in his final confrontation with Voldemort. War is hell. There's death and blood and guts and vomit. When you move from restorative justice to singular vengeance, you have to deal with the consequences in all their muddy glory.

And in my heart of hearts, I hope there's way for Harry to restore things to their rightful place without resorting to vengeance. It's the difference between a Mel Gibson war movie and Terrence Malik one. There ought to be a struggle in Harry Potter, as he grows from an adolescent into a young man, and deals with how far he's willing to go in his quest to restore the right things to their proper places.

But I fear that won't happen. Miss Rowling has been leading us down this vengeful path for two books now (maybe more), and I fear it's simply too late to turn back. There were signs in books 4 and 5, but we had invested so much in the character by that time, that it was hard to recognize the warning signs. It wasn't until halfway through book 6 that I finally realized where this was going. It all ends in revenge. It all ends in a final confrontation, where Harry will have the opportunity to seek vengeance upon those who have wronged him. And most likely, he will succeed.

But what then? In reality, life doesn't end after book 7. It doesn't end at age 18. In reality, killing killers doesn't bring resolution, it just eliminates the danger of them killing again. In reality, bombs dropped in Afghanistan fail to bring closure to a grieving nation. Instead, they bring even greater violence, leaving oppression and corruption and unrelenting guilt in their wake.

But Harry (most likely) will never have to deal with that. Because his life ends, whether he dies or not, on July 21st. He'll never have to come to grips with the fact that he's ended the lives of other human people, actual human beings, and that their deaths will never bring back his parents, or his friends, or his mentor. No one will have to deal with the aftermath, six years later, because that portion of his life will never be written.

What kind of message is that? Mission Accomplished? Not one of self-sacrifice and unfailing love, but one of hatred and rage and ignorance. Because in Harry's world, there are no long-term consequences for his actions. There's no long term anythings.

And the sad thing is, we know that's bullshit. It's just simply not true. We see it for the lie it is every night we watch the news, or open the paper, or surf the internet. There are always consequences. There is rarely closure.

And there is always more violence.

All Your Wilberforce Are Belong To Philip Anschutz

"It's like Amistad, but with lots more religion."

Bring on the 18-century political intrigue, my friends! An American film distributor has purchased the rights to a film based on the life and work of British abolitionist William Wilberforce, titled Amazing Grace, which was financially backed and produced by Walden Media, the same production company that brought us Holes, The Chronicles of Narnia, and the upcoming How To Eat Fried Worms. Walden Media, owned by Christian billionaire Philip Anschutz, has promised to launch an educational/marketing program dealing with slavery in today's world and social steps people can take to combat it.

In an interesting Walden Media twist, what might make the film appealing for evangelical Christians is the fact that William Wilberforce was an evangelical Methodist and a friend of John Newton (where we the get the title, "Amazing Grace", I'd presume). Wilberforce worked for much of his life as a member of British parliament in opposition to the Empire's slave trade. While not an outright abolitionist in the sense that he wanted to see every slave freed, he did fight for an end to the gross inhumanities perpetuated by the global slave trade. With the evangelical angle, Wilberforce's story seems an easy fit for targeting a Christian audience (evangelical or otherwise).

But what's really piqued my interest are the players involved in the production of the film. While Anschutz's Walden Media can boast a fine pedigree for getting evangelical butts in the seats for The Chronicles of Narnia, Amazing Grace may be an entirely different film altogether. Handling the scripting chores is Steven Knight, who received an Oscar nomination for his work on Dirty Pretty Things, while director Michael Apted (The World Is Not Enough, Nell, HBO's Rome) oversaw things from behind the camera. If not for the inclusion of Walden Media, I would assume the pic to have an R or PG-13 rating based on the creators involved. While an R rating for a story based on the crucifixion of Christ might not hurt a movie's chances for reaching evangelicals, it could turn that same audience away from a historical film dealing with British politics.

But the plot thickens a bit when you add to the fact that Chuck Colson (conservative Christian founder of Prison Fellowship and BreakPoint ministries) has an evangelical think tank named in honor of Wilberforce, the Wilberforce Forum, whose mission is to "help Christians approach life with a biblical worldview so that they can in turn shape culture from a biblical perspective." Said think tank deals with issues such as the Federal Marriage Amendment, cloning, embryonic stem cell research, creationism and global human rights. While I might not line up politically with Colson, I harbor the man no ill will, mostly due to his fantastically readable autobiography Born Again, and also due to the fact that he was the first evangelical leader to come out in support of the Harry Potter series of books. That being said, getting Colson behind Amazing Grace would be a gigantic first step in marketing the film to conservative Christians, which is why having an owner like Philip Anschutz behind Walden Media will be an important piece to that puzzle.

No matter who the film is marketed to, and no matter what rating it's given, I'm looking forward to what ought to be a fairly engrossing film. Wilberforce -- coming from a wealthy family, converting to Methodism at an early age, and spending such a large part of his life in opposition to a lucrative business for English slave traders and the British crown -- is an interesting character, and if the pic is done well, worthy of a good two hours. Let's just hope that in an effort to appeal to the broadest possible audience (young children included), Walden Media doesn't feel the need to sanitize certain events in order to maximize its profits. Wilberforce was a flawed individual who fought for a righteous cause during a very ugly time. Looking at the players involved, I hope they have the courage to tell that story, warts and all.