In my continual attempts to avoid homework, I came across this interesting article from The Witherspoon Forum’s excellent blog, Public Discourse. The author gives and assessment of modern art and the need for a conservative cultural response. Art has become an expression of the self and soul (often an ugly sight today), the conservative answer is to make it as an expression of the beauty—tragic included—inherent within the world.

A limited, but still profoundly significant understanding of the arts therefore lies buried beneath the rarified, religious, and radical distortions of fine art that conservatives rightfully criticize. This understanding sees fine art as a means of pursuing beauty—even the terrible or wounded kind—for its own sake, in a way that opens towards the transcendence best mediated by traditional faith. This is where the more conservative tradition of artistic patronage and reflection finds its home.

Spending the summer in the nation’s capitol has reminded me of two very important thoughts. First, that the District of Columbia is one of the few places in the world where the people are singularly focused. Second, that despite good-intentions, true kindness, and best intentions; social changes are for the vast part limited to the individual and local level.

Washington revolves around the government. No less than 200,000 area residents are employed by the federal government at any time, and the number is probably much higher. Many of these are civic servants, running the Department of So-and-So or This-n-That. Fewer work on the Hill, in Senate and House office; far more work to influence the Congress, Courts, Departments and White House into favoring one policy over another, this bill over that, and so forth. The attention of the city is always focused on these attempts and the actions coming out of the government—how will this effect us? How will we benefit or lose? Is this law good for me? All attention is given to government actions, a focus rarely seen in any community.

It is a regrettable focus, of course. People pay attention because they are paid to, and they have skin in the game. It isn’t a community, it’s a populace driven by self-interest and need. Woe that so few places nowadays seem to suffer from a complete lack of community, or common interest, or even concern.

The second point is a child of the first. Much ink is spilled in attempts to improve communities, help children, give better educations and have better families. But government policy can only do so much—it can direct actions, but it cannot direct hearts. And in a society where men are still largely free to make their own life choices, their hearts matter more. Attempting to fix human behavior through legislation is fine if your population is made of robots; but all efforts will ultimately fail if they are human and corrupted. You can change the system, but you cannot change the actors within. You can direct them, but you only direct them fully if you have robbed them of their capacity as actors.

I don’t know how to conclude these slightly related musings. Suffice to say, do good, encourage good, be good; and know that change finally comes from those who act, not those who direct.

This article at Salon.com says, from perhaps a slightly different angle, what I was trying to get at in my post earlier this week. Although I would differ with Ms. Moore on several issues of approach and purpose, I must agree that there times–many times, in fact–when we must simply accept the inevitable decline of our health and allow ourselves to pass from this world:

At the end of our long and increasingly longer lives, when we are terminally ill and in the last months of life, we must accept our bodies’ decline, face our own mortality, gather our families and say goodbye. Say no to feeding tubes, ventilators, resuscitators, the isolation of ICU.

So much of our healthcare today, regardless of the proposed “reforms,” is focused on holding death off a little bit longer. I am young, it is easy for me to say that we should be able to let go when our time comes (and presumably my time is not for a long while yet). Modern medicine has further enabled our ‘escape.’ But there is a dignity that comes with death that we’ve lost, rather than simply face it as so many of our fathers or the steely old men one reads about in novels, we call 911, do another transplant or infusion, squeezing whatever drop of life possible out of our bodies. We go with whimpers and screams, not peace and grace. This is not to say I reject life and modern medicine, nor do I advocate proposals for ‘humane’ euthanasia; I merely note that life has a natural order and that natural order must eventually be allowed to come to its proper end. Moreover, such choices are inherently of a personal nature, not to be made by any board or policy.

The impact this understanding has on the healthcare debate is huge. The economics of putting death off are, and probably always will be, extraordinary:

End-of-life care eats up 12 percent of U.S. healthcare dollars; next year, we’ll spend $135 billion on it. That’s not money spent getting well and extending life, that’s money spent preventing and easing death in terminally ill patients. Indeed, 40 percent of Medicare dollars are spent in the last 30 days of life.

The great danger is the utilitarian view that such figures could inspire. Currently doctors, individuals, families and insurance companies together make such decisions about near-death care. Under a single-payer system, as is being proposed, such flexibility would likely be lost in the name of cost-effectiveness. It’s a frightening scenario and choice that no one wants to face, but no one wants to be made by someone else. Any society or government that feels qualified to decry one’s medical worthiness to live h assumed an entirely new power its citizens and their very lives. James M. Kushiner at Touchstone described the problem very well:

what worries me most is that the conversation and decisions about all these matters will be made by politicians and bureaucrats who do not have a fundamental respect for the sanctity of human life in the first place. From that foundation, all manner of mischief may come. It’s a small step from one imposed form of hospice to the duty to (voluntarily) die to the loss of the right to live (involuntary euthanasia).

The following is what is commonly called ‘a rant,’ and should be taken as such. It may contain many truths but also many exaggerations. — The Editor

On of the arguments we frequently hear in the current debate about healthcare is that of choice and freedom. We seem rather confused about the exact meaning of these words as they apply to health care, however. FDR and a progressive would view healthcare “freedom” as access and treatment for all; while a more traditional use would mean one has the right, according to his ability, to seek the best treatment available. Complicating the discussion is the traditional, near sacred view we give to the practice of medicine. A doctor’s first duty is “to do no harm,”  with the doctor bearing a moral obligation the doctor-patient relationship is granted a special place of privacy and trust within society and law.

Consider how in this normally works: a patient has a problem, and goes to his doctor seeking advice. The doctor, taking the entire situation into consideration, advises the best course of treatment. The patient receives this treatment and pays the doctor back as he is able–in the history books, many times that was in chickens, eggs or some other commodity rather than cash. The doctor has always preformed charity work, but has always been well paid as well. In modern times the landscape is quite different. The doctor still sees the patient and advises treatment, many times involving modern technologies and methods that he himself does not oversee. Marvelous as technology and modern medicine is, the costs associated with involving multiple layers of treatment–physician, x-ray, technicians, lab tests, advanced drugs and so forth–is fairly large. Fundamental to our debate is the understanding that health care is expensive.

Since the 40s and 50s, we’ve developed  insurance plans, HMOs, shared-cost plans and other forms of spreading the cost that also add several layers of cost and bureaucracy to the final bill. A visit to my doctor may only cost me a $20 co-pay, but my doctor has to submit a claim which must be reviewed by an insurance company which must write a check to pay my doctor for services I received. Meanwhile, I and my fellow insurance plan members are paying into a giant bucket of money that is being spread around to cover the various doctor bills each of us accrue. Currently employers subsidize much of this cost, helping to hide the true cost of a doctors visit or surgery.

Now is a system like this free choice? Many would say yes, but realize that ultimately the insurance company is calling the shots on your treatment so as not to bankrupt itself and its members. Cancer patients usually find this out when they hit the $50,000 or $100,000 cap on treatment many companies impose. I’m not bashing the companies for being heartless, they have to make their ends meet and provide the best standard of care they can to all. I am saying that insurance is not a means of treatment, but merely a cost-sharing mechanism within a certain group of people. When everyone uses it too much, however, the system breaks down. And when a single night in the hospital can cost upwards of $1000, even the little things can easily break the bank.

Healthcare costs are out of control, and the current “system” of third party payments cannot bear the rising costs much longer. As babyboomers retire, reducing the ratio of worker to beneficiary to nearly 2:1 levels, something has to give before doctors stop practicing and hospitals close down. The problem is that it takes money–and lots of it–to have true freedom in health care. People who say they merely want to keep their current plan or doctor are right to want that–but they cannot expect someone else to pay for it. The careful balance of the past that gave relative freedom and choice along with lower costs won’t last much longer.

There are lots of things that can be changed. Medical providers can reduce costs, simplify their payment structure, medical malpractice tort laws (“lawyer enrichment”) can be severely curtailed, bureaucratic paper work can be cut down, people can live healthier. But health care is fundamentally expensive, and if you want true “healthcare freedom” you need to either pay for it yourself or have a completely subsidized and generously funded state-system of doctors and hospitals that treats all regardless of condition or practicality. Neither is likely to be fully the case, but I’d prefer a system where I maintain the responsibility of decisions and costs over a government system hamstringed unsupportable burdens. The traditional practice of medicine left few untreated, perhaps we should stop seeking a system and instead turn responsibility back over to those who know best how to use it.

I hope to post more fully on the issue of health care reform tomorrow, but in the meantime an important point to consider.

In all our debates about healthcare policy and reform, what is our end goal? “To provide better care to more people” seems to be the obvious answer, but that doesn’t necessarily break down as cleanly as one would like. Most people would probably agree that treating breast cancer is good, but what about the rare cancer victim who only has six months at most to live, even with $50,000 drug treatments? By providing those drugs do we provide better care, or simply give him a little bit longer on earth before he has to say a final goodbye? It’s a fine difference, and I’m not arguing cost effectiveness (an important topic in its own right). What I’m saying is that modern medicine has reached the point where we can extend our lives far beyond their natural legenth, and before we attempt to reform healthcare perhaps we should review first how we view medicine. Many today seem to view it as a means of reaching physical eternal life–and if that is the case, our healthcare policy is going to be radically different .

Gov. Sarah Palin’s sudden resignation as the governor of Alaska without any clear future plans leaves me, as many people, baffled. I had Friday off, however, and spent the weekend celebrating Independence Day instead of reading every pundits thought on the surprise political twist. Looking back after the dust has settled some, we seem just as confused as before. Many such as Mark Steyn says she is tired and wants out of the national stage. It certainly is a reasonable position for any mother (and grandmother) with five children to take–life is stressful enough without the relentless attention, scrutiny, and late-night TV jokes. Others say she is stepping back to focus on 2012, but if that were the case she surely would have been a bit more scripted in her approach. Victor Davis Hanson says it is a long-term strategy to prepare for 2016 or beyond, an argument I find plausible but not fully watertight.

When John McCain announced Sarah Palin as his running mate, I grudgingly consented on the basis of novelty and last-minute campaign boosts. She has impressed me since then, but generally comes across as somewhat naive and in need of more experience and training, but with the right ideas and energy. The sudden pullback seems to me either a very carefully thought decision or a very hasty one; both likely inspired by a need pull back for the sake of her family and consider what the future holds.

She could leave politics for good. This seems doubtful, given her sudden rise and popularity with many Republicans. More likely in my mind is Victor Davis Hanson’s suggestion, that she spend the next several years developing herself into a candidate more ready for prime-time and with credible exposure. People who hoped Gov. Palin would lead the GOP to victory in 2012 are sadly delusional–Sarah Palin’s popular anti-establishment with homegrown doses of conservatism has many appeals, but would be hopeless against a black president who won on the platform of “change.” As an instrument of conservatism, she would fall easily. If, however, she determines to strengthen her positions and knowledge in the next several years, she could easily come back as an articulate, intellectual and punchy answer to the Left  in 2016.

That is a big if. But it is the only way for her to have any presidential aspirations in my mind. Perhaps after a rest she will return, either to Alaska state politics or the broader national scene, but Republicans should give her time to think and consider the costs to her family and the high-states she will be playing. She is not ready at this moment, and if she is ever to be ready the GOP should look elsewhere until then.

The sudden death of Michael Jackson has taken many people and the media by storm. I was walking around D.C. when the news hit, and people were yelling it to each other as they got the word, through cell phones and Blackberries, or even police radios. Some where stunned, others tearful; many, like myself, merely shrugged.

The newscasts tell me Michael Jackson was a pop sensation and icon. I cannot deny it. Who can forget the cute little kid singing “Easy as A-B-C,, 1-2-3, Doe-Rae-Me, You-and-Me,”? or the crazy excitement of the Thriller album? And yet, the Michael Jackson that I tend to remember most is the incredibly disturbed and confused man that seemed unable to face reality or himself. The Michael Jackson of debt, of two long-drawn court trials, of dismal tabloid headlines that I remember most.

In part this has to do with my own age and generation. Michael Jackson is the same age as my mother, someone cool but not as contemporary as the Backstreet Boys or whatever other boybands we adored in the 90s. He was old news by then, a part of the so-called Generation X that we never really fit into. And when he made the headlines, we knew who he was but many of us, I suspect, did not care (I could be entirely wrong, of course). Thus his death brings to us no emotional power, except perhaps for a fond memory of the high-pitched kid of the Jackson5.

For Generation X, Blacks, and many others, Jackson was a star that transcended reality. He certainly did much to ease the post-60s racial tension, by appealing to both blacks and whites. His music was fun, his concerts alive with energy, and his appeal somehow charming. But it seems that for Jackson himself as much as any body, the dream he promised and the ideas he preached lead to a dead-end.

I’m not quite sure how to take the emotional reaction I’ve been seeing. He was in my eyes a talented figure gone horribly astray, someone who discovered that all the glitter and golds of fortune and stardom offered nothing, but couldn’t find any place else to hide. If I mourn for him it is for his sorrow in the last few years, not because we have lost a great leader or icon. He influneced many, but how many will take his life as a greater lesson than his words?

I, like many people, was shocked and saddened to hear of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford’s affair. The pain and sorrow he and his entire family are experiencing deserve the sympathy of all Americans. But I also found myself incredibly angry, not only with Governor Sanford but also with a party and officials who constantly fail personally and politically. Mark Sanford is merely the latest in a string of personal scandals for Republicans beginning with Congressman Mark Foley (anybody remember him?).

The issue at stake is credibility, and Republicans have successfully proven within my young memory that they have none to offer. The sweep of the 1994 elections (the year Mark Sanford was first elected to Congress) and the Contract with America was supposed to continue Reagan era and lead us back towards limited government and personal freedoms. Instead, fed by a booming economy and an amiable President Clinton, Republicans quickly lost focus and will, collapsing into gridlock after Newt Gingrich’s own extra-martial affair. The election of George W. Bush, whom I admire and respect on many levels, continued a bloated conservatism that trampled on the ideas of fiscal conservatism, small government and personal responsibility. The world certainly changed on September 11th, but conservative ideals did not. But rather than adapt to a new world of terrorism and para-state politics, the Republican party largely abandoned any idea of principles and became a softer form of the Democratic opposition.

Having proved our indifference in politics, Republicans attempted to returned to moral high ground by carrying elections on appeals to Evangelical Christians and the broader “Christian Coalition.” This too, was a mistake, for the Christian Coalition (as an organization and movement) lost much of its potency in the 1990s as Americans not only turned away from religion, but from scandal-ridden preacher demagogues. Even as someone raised within the “Christian Right,” I am horrified by the blatant attempts to associate the Republican party with the idea of a Christian America. Especially when those claiming “moral values” fail to live up to them.

All men stumble and fail, and all may receive forgiveness from God and their fellow man. But politically, Republicans have reached the end of the rope. We have exhausted every avenue of credibility we have—fiscally, individually and morally. We spend like mad men and then attack President Obama’s proposals as “irresponsible.” We proclaim personal freedom and responsibility and pass the PATRIOT Act and authorize TARP funds. We proclaim family and marriage only to leave our wives for other women. Why should anyone trust us?

Ever since the 2000 Election the GOP has suffered from a leadership vacuum. Many have attempted to fill it, all have failed. Some, such as Senator Ensign or Governor Sanford, were considered front-runners to lead the GOP and even as candidates in the 2012 elections. But as the last weeks have shown, neither are up to the calling; and few are in line to replace them. Things have gotten so bad we have attempted to resurrect Newt Gingrich to lead a clarion call of conservatism—but who can forget his own past failings? Those who say the GOP just needs to “stick to its principles” over-simplify things, but are correct that principles are only worth the weight you personally put in them.

Republicans need to clean house, if there is any house left standing to clean. I believe in forgiveness, but forgiveness does not mean a future in politics. Governor Sanford should resign, as should Senator Ensign. To put it bluntly: our party has no room for liars, adulators or hypocrites. There can be no more “rehabilitation” or return for them to elected office. Their opportunity came and they squandered it and the name of the party in the process. A party that is struggling to focus its message and restore its brand—as the GOP should be doing—cannot tolerate any deviation from the key planks, as Senator Ensign and Governor Sanford have clearly done. Unfortunately, the existing party leadership and roster of elected officials offers few options to replace them. Massive reforms, energy and focus are needed if the GOP is to survive, and new leaders must be cultivated and launched to ensure the party’s future. If not, we deserve to die as a failure of the political free market.

Yesterday’s news of the death of prominent abortionist Dr. George Tiller at the hands of a gunman has produced a firestorm of criticism for pro-life groups and other “right wingers” whose language against abortion many blame for encouraging violence against Doctors as Dr. Tiller. While it is true that there have been a series of unfortunate attacks on abortion doctors in the past, such actions are hardly characteristic of the pro-life movement as a whole. Critics point to the hypocrisy of murdering in the name of life, and they are right to do so.

Murder is murder–whether it be the shooting of a aged man or a yet-to-be-born infant.  To the Christian, both are created in the image of God, and both are worthy of protection as such. The only difference between them is that Dr. Tiller may be considered to have blood on his hands in the eyes of Christians–but not so in the eyes of law. The murder of innocents is what makes abortion so incredibly offense, yet is is only slightly worse that cold-blooded murder in a church foyer on Sunday morning. Murder is murder. Thus the men who (multiple) times have shot at Dr. Tiller, and in this final case killed him, are morally on the same ground as him–murderers.

The shooter yesterday paid no favors to anyone. He committed a crime as great as the one he thought he was stopping, he defamed and betrayed a movement and he put his own soul in peril. I will not be able to mourn Dr. Tiller, I admit–his actions and brutalities to thousands of innocent unborns only makes me pity his soul, and this is a fault on my part. He too, is a man, and anything that tiny reflection of God is destroyed, I must weep for my own, no matter how dirty or corrupted that picture may be. And so I mourn for mankind lost, I mourn the children lost, I mourn for the soul lost without repentence. Murder is destruction, and we cannot rejoice in its appearance.

This Memorial Day I was fortunate enough to witness the humbly titled “National Memorial Day Parade” down Constitution Avenue in Washington. Two hours of military men and women, veterans associations and high school marching bands from across the United States left my feet somewhat tired, but gave me ample opportunity to consider not only the meaning of Memorial Day—a civically sacred day we set aside to memorialize our war dead and their sacrifices. Such remembrances I fully support as a means of maintaining our national consciousness and identity, but that identity as it is so frequently portrayed in parades, by rally speakers and even in the responses of a crowd cause me some pause.

When we cheer for the wounded Vietnam solider or the last World War I veteran alive we show a genuine appreciation nd respect for sacrifice and service. But when we cheer for the “Rolling Thunder” bikers or Lee Eastwood’s horribly catchy “I’m Proud to be an American” song, what are we cheering for? In a very healthy sense we are cheering for the things we love, the particular habits and things that Americans do. C.S. Lewis notes in his classic The Four Loves that men feel a sort of fondness for their country, a patriotism that is not about being better, but the peculiar things that make a German a German or an Italian an Italian. The Frenchman is fond of his street cafes and baguette because they are French and part of his very Frenchness, he does not except his Spanish neighbor to share an equal appreciation. In the same way the Spaniard enjoys (or did, until recently) his siestas because he is a Spaniard, and that is what Spaniards do.

This affection is the natural outgrowth of a culture and identity; its corruption comes in the belief that it is superior to all other such loves that others may have for their own countries. To invoke the tired Third Reich analogy, when Hitler declared the Aryan culture and habits to the culture, he elevated something that cannot be elevated, for he could never make the Frenchman love sausage and beer in the same way as a German. Military patriotism is arrogance; affectionate patriotism is a love regardless of imperfection or practicality.

For the American, I fear pride too often misleads our patriotism. We may say we have the “best damned country in the world,” for we believe it to be true. But are we patriots because of what we as a nation have done and are capable of doing? because of what we stand for and where we came from? or because we truly do love mother’s apple pie and baseball? All three have their natural place at the alter of state; I would prefer the latter have preeminence. If Americans ride Harley-Davidsons and play cheesy country anthems, so be it; let us take care, however, when we attempt to associate principles with particularities. Too often it seems we take a broad principle and tie it directly to something that has no dependency on that principal what-so-ever. Apple pie will forever be apple pig, regardless of government. We send men to war because of deep underlying principles that our hearts do not understand, they yearn for home because they remember the fireworks and hotdogs on the grill. Perhaps my observation is not that we love our country, but that we easily confuse this love. Let us fight for what is right, let us love what we love as Americans.