Top Ten Reasons Good People Do Bad Things

The blog for The State Bar of Michigan–the fancy name for the organization of Michigan’s lawyers–recently asked this question: “Why do people who not only should know better but who have exemplary professional records and to all appearances are morally upstanding in other aspects of their lives sometimes commit appalling ethical breaches?” In other words, why do good people do bad things?

Haven’t we all had the experience of being shocked with news of a respected public figure getting caught doing something very wrong? The family-values preacher found with a prostitute. The Hollywood star who turns out to be a closet racist. The politician e-mailing naked pics to a woman not his wife.

But it isn’t just famous people who surprise us with their bad choices; our friends and neighbors do it too. The couple whose long-time marriage seemed unassailable gets a divorce when one finds out that the other’s been having an affair. The woman with a squeaky-clean rep and a head for figures embezzles money from the Little League. The bank president drives drunk and kills someone in a collision.

How many of us have heard news like that on the street or read an article in the newspaper and blurted out: “Oh my gosh! I never would have suspected that _____ would  _____!” What’s the explanation? Why might a good person do a bad thing?

1. Drugs and alcohol. Addictions lead people to do terrible things they would not otherwise think of doing. It starts small when I think I can keep my addiction ”under control”, but the drugs or alcohol end up controlling me. And leading me into very poor choices. Like stealing from good friends and loved ones to support my prescription-drug addiction.
2. Small things lead to big things. I start out by taking small amounts from my employer’s accounts to cover my gambling losses knowing that I’ll pay it back later when I win. He won’t miss it anyway. Except I keep losing. And I decide to steal even more. Then he does miss it. What started out small has turned into something very big. It’s a slippery slope.
3. It can’t happen to me. Do I have an overly optimistic opinion of my ability to avoid bad choices? Do I believe that ethical lapses are things that other people do? But not me. The Book of Proverbs tells us that pride goes before a fall. Failure to recognize that I am not only capable of good deeds but also–given the right set of circumstances–capable of great evil, makes me vulnerable to poor decisions.
4. Mental illness. There are some medical conditions that make me susceptible to bad decision-making. Closed-head injuries can cause a personality change. The mania stage of bipolar disorder creates an exaggerated sense of one’s importance and decreases one’s willingness to defer one’s wants to the needs of others and the rules of society. When someone unexpectedly makes an out-of-character choice, maybe he’s just plain sick.
5. Lack of preparation. Coaches tell us there’s no such thing as luck. What we call “good luck” is when preparation meets opportunity. Bad luck is when poor preparation meets a problem. The world rarely give me a period of quiet reflection and ethical contemplation before it asks me to make a choice. I am confronted with those choices unexpectedly and with little time to make the right choice. I have to be prepared ahead of time with well-grounded principles and a solid commitment to live according to my values.
6. That’s not the real me. I call it the Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde syndrome. I believe I can conveniently separate myself into the bad me and the good me. Of course, the good me is the real me. The good me believes that the sheer weight of all the good things I’ve done excuses this tiny bad thing I did. But, really, I am Mr. Hyde as well as Dr. Jekyll. I’m responsible for all that I do, good and bad.
7. Burnout. We live in the days of “do more with less”. Stressed-out, multi-tasking parents. Employers who try to survive recession by laying off employees and making the survivors pick up the slack. When I am tired, when I get worn down by the steady drip, drip, drip of duties that are never done, I get burned out. I cut corners. I make poor choices.
8. Underestimating the power of emotion. We left-brain thinkers are uncomfortable with emotion. We don’t understand it. We underestimate its effect on our decisions. We tend to think that logic is the only force propelling our choices. But I get angry. I lust. I get greedy. And I feel all sorts of other emotions I refuse to acknowledge. When I don’t acknowledge my emotion, when I don’t account for it in my decision-making, it can lead me to make ill-considered–and ultimately poor–choices that get me into trouble.
9. After-the-fact justification. I am so convinced that I am a good person who does not make unethical choices that I have developed the amazing ability to devise reasons why my terrible choice was actually a good thing, or was absolutely unavoidable, or was forced upon me. I am a gold-medalist at the mental gymnastics needed to justify my bad behavior. But there’s that nagging little voice that comes to me at 3 a.m. It’s hard to consistently fool that still, small voice.
10. Ends justify the means. Beware the true believer! His cause is so just, his goal is so worthy, that no price is too great to pay on the epic journey toward fulfillment of that dream. You have to break a few eggs if you want to make an omelette! The end result may indeed be laudable, but history is littered with a tragic trail of eggs that were broken by good people thinking that their high-minded goal justified their hurtful decisions.
11. Worn down by temptation. Bonus reason #11! Resisting temptation is not like weight training; one does not become stronger the longer one resists temptation. Steel is strong but it doesn’t become even stronger when it’s consistently exposed to water. It rusts. And deteriorates. And breaks. The water always wins. “Flee from temptation”, the Bible tells us. I think God really means it because it’s in there about four times! Just run. Run away. Quickly.

Luke’s gospel tells the story of a socially prominent young man–one whom I think made an honest effort to do the right thing and serve the people under his care–who came to Jesus and asked: “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone.”

So, the question posed by this post is actually a trick question. The answer is that none of us is good. We make a mistake we when divide the world into good people (us) and bad people (them). All of us are capable of doing bad things, and –truth be told–all of us have done bad things. We’re desperately in need of grace and forgiveness. Ironically, acceptance of that truth will prepare us to make good decisions and will also help us receive without surprise or shock the bad decisions of others. There, but for the grace of God, go I.

For more information: http://sbmblog.typepad.com/sbm-blog/2013/05/why-good-people-including-lawyers-sometimes-make-bad-ethical-mistakes.html

Top Ten – Mom’s Words of Wisdom

Happy Mother’s Day! Where would we all be without mothers to teach us our earliest lessons about the importance of taking responsibility for our actions? And let’s not forget grandmothers, aunts and all our “adopted” moms–those women who step into empty spaces in our lives when moms, grandmas and aunties cannot–or choose not to–be there for us.

My mom–now 95 years old–was nicknamed Sunshine by my grandfather, cared for my invalid grandmother, became a bride to the dashing Captain Schofield at age 24, prayed for his safe return while he fought the Nazis, raised four kids on a shoestring budget, and was “mom” to countless of my friends, neighbors, cousins and classmates. Here are some classic mom-isms:

1. Be careful with that thing; you’ll put somebody’s eye out.
   Mom taught me to be careful. If I’m not, I can injure someone–or myself! It’s better to carefully avoid hurting others than to have to apologize for it afterwards.
2. Be home before the street lights come on.
   Mom taught me to follow rules. I will always be under someone’s authority and have to follow the rules he or she lays down. I might think the rules are unfair. I might think they’re unwise. I might want to play with my friends after dark. But responsibility means following the rules.
3. If you make a mess, clean it up.
   Mom taught me that saying “I’m sorry” is not enough when I’ve made a mess of things. The next step is to make things right to the extent that I can.
4. Go ahead, give it a try. You can do it.
   Mom taught me to attempt to do things I didn’t think I could do. Does anyone remember the story of The Little Engine That Could? She read it to me countless times. When, at age 50, I was trying to learn how to swim, I thought of that little locomotive: “I think I can, I think I can.” I thought I could, and I did. I finished my first triathlon two years later.
5. Wear clean underwear.
   Mom taught me to expect the unexpected. You just never know.
6. Don’t pick at it. Let it heal.
   Mom taught me not to pick my scabs. It’s tempting. They’re right there in front of me. But Mom was right. It’s no good to re-open old wounds and re-visit them. Let them alone. Give them time. Let them heal.
7. Actions speak louder than words.
   Mom taught me that talk is cheap. It’s good to intend to do something. It’s good to say I’m going to do something. It’s bad not to follow that up by actually doing something. She has no tolerance for people who are full of BS. Except she wouldn’t say BS. She’d say the real word, the one’s that’s politely referred to as a “barnyard epithet”. Mom talks plainly. And directly.
8. You want to cry? I’ll give you something to cry about.
   Mom taught me not to whine. Go ahead and have a good cry, but then suck it up and move on with the day’s business. And save your complaining for when things are really tough. Then keep the pity party short.
9. If you hurt someone, say you’re sorry.
   Mom taught me to apologize when my bad choice hurts someone. Look him in the eye and say “I’m sorry”. And mean it. Then shake his hand.
10. Don’t do anything that won’t make me proud.
    Mom taught me that a good reputation is hard thing to get and an easy thing to lose. To this day, when I’m faced with an ethical choice, it helps to think: “What would my mom think of me if she found out I did this?” I just hope she never finds out about those things I did in junior high when I told her I was sleeping out in my friend’s backyard.

May all you moms–real, bio, step, grand, surrogate, adopted, whatever–have a great day Sunday. You deserve it.

Do You Know My Name?

Rachel’s slutty, man-stealing sister on Friends. The ditzy sorority girl who talked her way into Harvard Law School in Legally Blonde. Sweet-singing June Carter who couldn’t help falling for bad-boy Johnny Cash in Walk the Line. Is there anyone who doesn’t smile when Reese Witherspoon walks on screen?

There is at least one person who didn’t smile at the Oscar-winning actress. That would be the cop who arrested her for disorderly conduct on April 19. She and her husband were returning from a dinner date early that morning when hubby was pulled over by an Atlanta police officer and arrested for drunk driving. Witherspoon’s husband acted like a perfect gentleman (albeit an apparently inebriated one), but the actress was not nearly so well-behaved. She ignored the officer’s command to stay in the car and began berating him by telling him that she was “an American” standing “on American soil”. In her altered state of mind that meant that she had a right to get in the officer’s face as he conducted his DUI investigation of her husband. As he was leading her in handcuffs back to a patrol car, she played the celebrity card: “Do you know my name?” When he replied that no, he did not, the famous actress warned him that “you’re about to find out my name.” The officer remained unimpressed.

It actually did become a PR nightmare. But not for the Atlanta police. It was the perky actress whose career depends on maintaining her good-girl image who had to do damage control. She issued a statement of apology:

I clearly had one drink too many and I am deeply embarrassed about the things I said. It was definitely a scary situation and I was frightened for my husband, but that is no excuse. I was disrespectful to the officer who was just doing his job. I have nothing but respect for the police and I’m very sorry for my behavior.

When that failed to sufficiently quell the Witherspoon storm, she continued her apologies during an interview with George Stephanopoulos on Good Morning America.

We went out to dinner in Atlanta and we had one too many glasses of wine. We thought we were fine to drive and we absolutely were not, and it’s just completely unacceptable and we are so sorry and embarrassed and we know better.

I’m reminded of what Miracle Max said when asked to revive the apparently dead Wesley in The Princess Bride: “I’ve seen worse.” Witherspoon touched many of the right apology bases. She was contrite. She didn’t try to shift blame onto the police officer. She admitted being “disrespectful”. She said she was sorry. She admitted “poor judgment”.

But Witherspoon’s apology does not get an A+. Or an A-.  A more carefully crafted statement would have avoided the following acceptance of responsibility traps and helped the actress put her poor choices behind her more quickly:

• She opened her GMA apology by claiming that it was just “one of those nights”. The unfortunate message that she sends with that phrase is that her poor choices were unavoidable, the product of bad luck, something that happens to everyone. Like a flat tire. It’s better to start an apology with a clear admission of one’s wrongdoing.
• She’s consistently minimized the poor choices that led up to her misbehavior by stating that she had “one too many”. Really? Or is it more accurate to say “way too many”. Minimizing one’s bad decisions fools no one and is no way to accept responsibility for those decisions.
• “Scary situation?” Ms. Witherspoon you seem not the least bit scared. Angry and arrogant appear to be more accurate. Excuses–especially flimsy ones like that–have no place in your statement.
• We don’t really care if you’re embarrassed. An apology is not about you and your feelings. You’re a famous actress, but for once this isn’t about you.  It’s about the police officer out there on the streets of a big city just trying to do his job.
• And while we’re talking about the police officer, how about directing your apology to him. You say you’re sorry–which is good–but even better would be to state the person to whom you’re sorry, the one to whom your apology is directed. The words ”I’m sorry” are important, but they should always be followed by someone’s name.

Am I being too critical? Nit-picking? I hope not. I’m just guilty of believing that the words I choose are important, and that when making an apology I should choose my words carefully to clearly accept responsibility. This helps to heal both the person I’ve wronged and me. Well-chosen apology words allow us both to move on. Let’s hope America’s Sweetheart can move on. I’d love to smile the next time I see her on the big screen.

Arrest video on TMZ: http://www.tmz.com/2013/05/02/reese-witherspoon-arrest-dash-cam-video/?adid=hero5

Confessional and apology with George Stephanopoulos: http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/tv/showtracker/la-et-st-reese-witherspoon-arrest-pregnant-good-morning-america-20130502,0,2322625.story

Some of My Best Friends Are …

The film biography of Jackie Robinson is playing in movie theaters all over the country. It’s a heart-warming and inspiring story of a courageous man and his wife facing down hatred and prejudice. But be forewarned. 42 presents no sanitized, politically-correct version of the taunts–and worse!–that major-league baseball’s first African-American player chose to quietly endure in the late 1940s. Our 21st Century ears are not used to hearing what is now called “the n-word”. Our eyes don’t even see it in print. But that was not so 60 years ago. One sinks back into one’s theater seat in shame and embarrassment when opposing teams shout n****r at Robinson in unsuccessful attempts to rattle him and throw him off his game. And they shout that word a lot, sometimes in rapid succession.

Which makes the January statement of Gloria Platko even more shocking than the movie. She said the word in 2013. And she is the elected clerk of Buena Vista Township, a municipality located outside Saginaw, Michigan. She’s white. The township supervisor, Dwayne Parker, is black. They’re both Democrats. And, as frequently happens with local officials, the two of them have their political differences and policy disagreements. Which is why another official wanted a record of what was said between him and Platko. So he taped his telephone conversation with the township clerk, a chat in which Platko, in essence, called her African-American colleague uppity:

You know what I think of Mr. Parker right now, and I know you’re not even going to like this, but he’s just an arrogant (N-word). And I’m sorry to say it that way, but that’s the way I feel.

When she was called out for her blatant racist slur, she claimed it was “a slip of the tongue”, admitting she should have used another word like “ignoramus”. (Is she claiming that’s a synonym? If so, she’s not making things better.) And she’s obviously no racist, she says, because “I’ve eaten Thanksgiving dinner with black friends at their house. So I’m far from prejudiced.”

Platko joins a long line of white people who, after saying something obviously racist, quickly back-pedal and loudly proclaim that they’re not prejudiced, that their remarks were taken out of context, that they were set up, that they meant no offense, or that they were misinterpreted. They proclaim: “That’s not the real me; people who know me well will tell you that.”  Some even resort to the long discredited some-of-my-best-friends-are-black defense. Ms. Platko, that didn’t work in 1953, 1973 or 1993. It certainly doesn’t work in 2013. She forgot the first thing you must do when you’ve dug yourself a deep hole: stop digging.

Instead of digging the hole deeper, why not accept responsibility? How about saying this:

I said a racist thing. It was totally wrong of me to do so. I’m elected to serve all citizens of this township, many of whom are African-Americans. All my township’s citizens deserved much better from me. And starting today I’m going to work to regain your trust. I’ll begin by coming to grips with my unfair attitudes and beliefs. Up to now I’ve done a good job of fooling myself, telling myself that I have no prejudices. But I do. That’s going to change, and I’ll need your help. I’m committed to becoming the fair-minded public servant you deserve me to be.

For more information:

http://www.mediaite.com/online/local-michigan-democrat-caught-on-tape-calling-town-official-an-arrogant-ngger/

http://blogs.detroitnews.com/politics/2013/04/30/political-hypocrisy-on-view-regarding-racist-comment-from-mi-democrat/

Taking Responsibility on the Appalachian Trail

Mark Sanford had it all in 2009. A beautiful, intelligent wife named Jenny who often set her own career goals aside to help him realize his dreams. A wonderful family. Governor of South Carolina. And Republican leaders had begun sniffing around to see if he might be Presidential material. Life was good. The future looked bright.

Then Mark Sanford went for a hike on the Appalachian Trail. Or at least that’s what his media people said when the press started wondering why he wasn’t he at work in the statehouse. The far-fetched explanation didn’t hold up very long. Turns out the Governor was hiking a very different trail: he’d gone on a secret trip to Argentina to see his girlfriend.

All hell broke loose. Jenny left him, retreating to the family beach house. The citizens who elected him were outraged about the infidelity, but even more outraged about the lies to cover it up and the revelation that the affair had begun on a taxpayer-funded trip to South America. His wife divorced him and got the beach house. The public outcry forced him from the governor’s office and into political oblivion.

But voters have short memories. We forgive easily. We love to give people second chances. Sanford’s oblivion was short-lived. Like a phoenix, he recently rose from the ashes of his incinerated career and won a South Carolina special election to become the GOP candidate for Congress. That particular congressional district is so Republican that it’s not just red, it’s scarlet. Sanford’s win in the GOP primary assured him of victory in the general election.

Or almost assured him of victory. The only way he could lose is if he did something stupid again. If he hiked the Appalachian Trail again. Which Sanford proceeded to do. The man just has a knack for snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory. He was under court order not to set foot in the beach house. Imagine his ex-wife’s surprise when she walked into the beach house one night only to find Sanford on his way out using only a cell phone to illuminate his exit. She filed a trespass complaint against her ex. If somethinglike that hits the press when you’re running for Congress, it’s not a good thing.

But all hope was not lost. If he came clean, if  he fully accepted responsibility, then there was a chance. After all, voters have short memories. We forgive easily. We love to give people second chances. But instead of courageously accepting responsibility, instead of confessing that he’d done something stupid, instead of asking that his ex-wife and the voters once again forgive him, he came up with this tepid response:

It’s an unfortunate reality that divorced couples sometimes have disagreements that spill over into family court. I did indeed watch the second half of the Super Bowl at the beach house with our 14-year-old son because as a father I didn’t think he should watch it alone. Given she was out-of-town I tried to reach her beforehand to tell her of the situation that had arisen, and met her at the back steps under the light of my cell phone when she returned and told her what had happened. There is always another side to every story, and while I am particularly curious how records that were sealed to avoid the boys dealing with embarrassment are now somehow exposed less than three weeks before this election, I agree with Jenny that the media is no place to debate what is ultimately a family court matter, and out of respect for Jenny and the boys, I’m not going to have any further comment at this time.

It’s hard to capture all of the ways that Sanford’s response weakly misses the responsibility-acceptance mark, but let me give it a shot:

• It’s an unfortunate reality that divorced couples sometimes have disagreements that spill over into family court. This is not about a “disagreement”; it’s about your violation of a court order protecting your ex from you. And no, not all divorced couples wind up back in family court. Some actually respect and obey the court’s orders. By saying this, Governor, you’re really just saying: “No big deal, everybody does it.” That didn’t work in high school when I said that to my mom; it doesn’t work any better now for you.
• I did indeed watch the second half of the Super Bowl at the beach house with our 14-year-old son … . Oh! You were only violating a court order for one half of the Super Bowl. I guess it’s OK then. It’s not like you violated the law for the whole game or anything.
• … because as a father I didn’t think he should watch it alone. Yes, who knows what irreparable damage could be done to a 14-year-old boy if he had to watch the second half of a Super Bowl all alone!
• Given she was out-of-town I tried to reach her beforehand to tell her of the situation that had arisen, … . Oh my goodness! I just found out that there’s a Super Bowl today! And my son will be watching it all alone! I have to reach Jenny and advise her of this terrible situation that has arisen! Certainly she’ll understand and allow me to violate a court order so our son does not have to watch BOTH halves of the Super Bowl alone!
• … and met her at the back steps under the light of my cell phone when she returned … . Yes, God forbid you should turn on the back-porch light and meet her at the back door like an ordinary human being. Of course, Governor, if you’re leaving your ex-wife’s house “under the light of my cell phone” you might create the unfortunate impression that you’re trying to sneak out to avoid getting caught.
•  … and told her what had happened. Happened is a weasel word used by people trying to mask their responsibility for an event. Do you mean to say: “told her the dumb thing I did”?
• There is always another side to every story, … . OK let’s hear it. We’re all ears.
• … and while I am particularly curious how records that were sealed to avoid the boys dealing with embarrassment are now somehow exposed less than three weeks before this election … . Hey, I’ve got a great idea! Instead of talking about my violation of the court order, let’s try to divert attention from my poor choice by claiming I’m the victim of some mysterious political conspiracy. Go look up “red herring” in the dictionary.
• I agree with Jenny that the media is no place to debate what is ultimately a family court matter, … . Hmmm, are you sure that a congressional candidate’s alleged violation of a court order is not a proper subject for media discussion?
• … and out of respect for Jenny and the boys, I’m not going to have any further comment at this time. Thank goodness your actions are governed by your boundless respect for your ex-wife and your children.

Just a suggestion, Governor, but maybe a statement like this would have served you better:

My ex-wife Jenny was awarded our beach house in the divorce, and the court ordered me not to enter the premises. I was fully aware of that, but I went to the house anyway without Jenny’s permission when I thought she was out of town. I just wanted to watch the Super Bowl with our son. But it was me who caused the divorce by having an affair, and one of the consequences of that choice of mine is that I no longer get to spend as much time with my sons as I used to. That includes sitting down with them to watch special sporting events like the Super Bowl. I should never have gone to my wife’s house without her permission. I violated the court’s order, and I’m ready to accept any consequences the judge sees fit to impose. I deserve it. And Jenny, I know what’s even worse than violating the court’s order is violating your privacy. Because of my actions I’m no longer your husband, and I no longer have the rights and privileges of a husband. I’m sorry.

At last report, the national Republican leadership abandoned plans to pour money into Mark Sanford’s congressional race. Anybody care to speculate about what they believe their candidate’s chances are now in what was once a sure-win race? How much has Mark Sanford’s failure to accept responsibility cost him? Again.

Racism: No Accident

Brad Paisley sings about a guy who only wanted a cup of Starbucks dark roast. He was a Deep-South musician waking up in the big city. Maybe he had a lot of songwriting to do that morning and ordered a venti because he’d stayed up too late the night before. But because he chose to pull on his Confederate-flag T-shirt that morning, he got more than an oversized cup of bold brew. He got branded as a racist. The barista took offense at the shirt. Was he African-American? To him, the shirt was a badge of prejudice and hate. To his customer, it was a souvenir from a Lynard Skynard concert. The musician asked himself: “Am I a racist?”

Brad Paisley teamed up with LL Cool J for the song, calling it Accidental Racist. It was inspired by Paisley’s real-life experience; he got tweets calling him out as a racist after he appeared on television wearing a T-shirt that prominently featured a Confederate flag. The song ignited a firestorm, and Paisley’s choice of title must bear part of the blame for that criticism. Because one can be a racist out of ignorance, but one can never be a racist by accident. The song opens with these lines:

To the man that waited on me at the Starbucks down on Main, I hope you understand
When I put on that t-shirt, the only thing I meant to say is I’m a Skynyrd fan
The red flag on my chest somehow is like the elephant in the corner of the south
And I just walked him right in the room
Just a proud rebel son with an ‘ol can of worms
Lookin’ like I got a lot to learn but from my point of view

I’m just a white man comin’ to you from the southland
Tryin’ to understand what it’s like not to be
I’m proud of where I’m from but not everything we’ve done
And it ain’t like you and me can re-write history
Our generation didn’t start this nation
We’re still pickin’ up the pieces, walkin’ on eggshells, fightin’ over yesterday
And caught between southern pride and southern blame

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot to like about the song. What other country-music star has the guts to tackle the issue of race relations and team up with an African-American rap star to do it? The problem ain’t going away if we continue to treat it as “the elephant in the corner of the south”. Though his effort missed the mark in a ham-fisted way, give Paisley props for having the courage to make the attempt. But it’s Paisley’s casual dismissal of his own responsibility that caused this blogger to see red–and not Confederate-flag red either.

• How could anyone who has been paying the least bit of attention to American culture over the last two decades not know that the flag of the Confederacy is offensive to African-Americans–and tons of white folks too? In 2000, after the NAACP announced a boycott of South Carolina, its legislature voted to remove the Confederate flag from its perch flying above the Statehouse. No, it had not been flying there since the end of the Civil War but only since an all-white legislature placed it there in 1962 at the height of segregationist resistance to the Civil Rights Movement. In 2001 Georgia adopted a new state flag, discarding the old version bearing a version of that same Confederate battle flag. No, that flag had not been flying on poles all over Georgia since the end of the Civil War. Like their friends in South Carolina, Georgia did not display an official fondness for the Confederate flag until 1956–two years after Brown v Board of Education. It is not a benign symbol of Southern heritage; it’s obviously a symbol of Jim Crow resistance to equal opportunity for ancestors of the South’s former slaves.
• How could anyone who stayed awake at least half the time in American History class not know that the flag was flown in battle by forces in rebellion against the United States of America. The prime reason for that rebellion in which 600,000 Americans died: Southerners were determined to keep their slaves and were willing to go to war with their own country in order to keep those men,women and children in chains. (In 1860, slaves made up 44% of the population in the Deep South.*) Said a South Carolina Congressman on the floor of the House just weeks before that state fired on Fort Sumter:  “African slavery is the cornerstone of … the South. … The anti-slavery party [Lincoln's Republicans] contend that slavery is wrong in itself. … We of the South contend that slavery is right, and that this is a confederate Republic of sovereign States.”
• Given this history of the rebellion and the reason behind it, how could anyone think that bragging about being “a proud rebel son” is anything but racist?
• One cannot so easily divest oneself of responsibility for racism by saying things like “I can’t change the past” or “That all happened long ago; I wasn’t even there.” No, we can’t “re-write history” but we can learn history’s lesson and try to correct the mistakes of the past.  We can expect to be “fightin’ over yesterday” for as long as it takes to discern what yesterday teaches us and right yesterday’s wrongs.
• Want a symbol for Southern pride or Southern heritage, why don’t you pick something that doesn’t reek of centuries of slavery and another century of Jim Crow oppression? How about a Georgia peach? Or a South Carolina palmetto palm? Even a jug of Tennessee moonshine would be a better symbol that the flag that led to the deaths of hundreds of thousands in the futile hope that millions more could be kept in bondage.

One can be a racist out of hate or suspicion or fear or ignorance or all of the above. But one cannot wear the Confederate flag into a coffee shop in 2013–or, worse yet, wear it on television– and call oneself “an accidental racist”. We can only move forward if we all–south and north–are aware of the past, accept responsibility for it, apologize for it, and do what we can now to make things right.

*1860 census numbers found on page 254, American Slavery 1619-1869, by Peter Kolchin.

Experts in Washington

Experts at shifting the blame, making excuses, and avoiding responsibility for failures?

A thank you to my Libertarian friend Sarah for sharing this cartoon.