chris webster wrote:I dunno, Stevens. If we're arguing with guys who have lots of guns, it's probably wise to stay polite. And not many of us are really in a position to score shouty points when arguing with an American former lawyer/politician about US constitutional law. Maybe we've just given you an easy ride so far? 
Heh. While I confess I am fond of the idea that my resumé might be so daunting as to muzzle my critics, I can assure you that: a) experience long ago showed me that my critics are not so easily daunted; and b) I can recognize a good argument, which I'm seeing a lot of here.
It's really very refreshing, but not entirely unprecedented. One of the lessons I've learned in politics is that most of us have more common ground than we think. It just takes a bit of self-confidence to find it. Why do I say it takes self-confidence? I'll explain that with a short war story.
Back in 2009, towards the end of the year, my county indulged itself in what had, by then, become an annual festival involving The Court House
Lawn Policy. This was the rule-book for deciding who could put up what displays outside the court house (you know, on its lawn). For a long, long time, a nativity scene had been put up at private expense, at a good location right on the corner at the main intersection of Leesburg (our biggest town). Some years ago, the nativity scene was joined by a menorah (more or less: Hannukah doesn't come along at the same time every year) and, later, a Muslim display. These three co-existed happily for a while, until someone else got a bug up his rear and decided to ask permission for some deliberately provocative stuff. We ended up putting up signs with parody versions of the lyrics to The Twelve Days of Christmas. "12 master debaters, 11 cunning linguists," that sort of thing. (There was
more, if you're interested.) Then the atheists wanted to get into the act, with displays encouraging people to respect the laws of physics with as much reverence as some people devote to scripture. Later, we got a cross with a
skeleton in a Santa suit. No, we really did:
Ho, ho, ho, eh?
Skeleton Santa didn't last long:
Well, the board of supervisors had to sort this mess out. Residents came to speak about it at our public input sessions, many of them having been encouraged to do so by politicians who were telling them that Loudoun county was going to ban Christmas, criminalize the name of Jesus, and declare martial law on the court house grounds. With a briefing like that, you can imagine what they came to say to us.
This is where I got my chance to
commit political suicide stand alone on my principles. See, I believe in the Bill of Rights, but I also know that there are more articles in it than just the first one, or even the first two. Fully half of them are designed to protect the fair administration of justice. So, I took the position that we shouldn't have displays at all, since people coming to the courthouse, not all of whom are atheists, Christians, Muslims, or whatever was represented by Skeleton Santa, are not there to participate in religious observances (which our constitution firmly seeks to protect). They are there to participate in the administration of justice (which our constitution firmly seeks to protect). That is, if I need a Muslim witness to come to court and testify, that witness shouldn't have to wonder if the displays they must walk past to get inside reflect some kind of bias for or against their testimony based on their religious identity.
Also, it had, by then, become a goddam carnival show. So, I said the displays should be outside the government building (our "city hall," if you will), since that was just as public and, perhaps, the citizens were already used to the idea that it was a big sideshow complete with clowns and barkers already.
This did not go over well. Of nine supervisors, I was the only one who voted to keep all displays off the court house lawn (well to be precise, I voted in favor of limiting the court house lawn to our permanent war memorials, which I said displayed the names of dead Americans who shouldn't be asked to share that place with Skeleton Santa).
One of my critics managed to get my name into some kind of national e-mail list or something, and I started getting phone calls from
all over the country about it. Got interviewed on a couple of national conservative talk-radio shows (not Rush, but I'm still available). And there was the guy from Iowa. Not only did he call to complain about my attempt to abolish God, but he wanted me to call him back. So I did. He ranted a bit, but got tired after a while, at which point we started having a conversation. That's where self-confidence came into play.
His self-confidence, not mine. See, a lot of people will call you (or be called), rant, and then hang up. I think that's because they are, deep down, a bit nervous about their ability to defend what they've just been ranting about. This fellow was different. We had a great chat. We actually found a lot of common ground, starting with the idea that no democracy succeeds if its people don't converse. By the end of the call, this gentleman was gracious enough to say that, although he still didn't agree with my no-displays policy, he'd consider voting for me if I ever moved to Iowa.
That's not the only time I ever found common ground with a critic, but
every time I have, it's been after we stopped ranting, and started talking.
Which is what I see us doing here in The Rattlesnake Pit. If anyone can figure out the formula we're using, and bottle it, we may yet be able to save the Republic.
P.S. If you wonder what a computer-geek-turned-lawyer/politician is like, have a look at the video at
that link. I forgot I was actually in it. I think I look pretty flaming geeky, to be honest, which is a point I try hard to make to my fellow geeks when they say they don't think they could ever win an election because nobody votes for geeks. Look at that video, and you'll see that they do.
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