By Nick Paleologos, on Tue Apr 23, 2013 at 1:30 PM ET
Last week, the US Senate voted 54-46 to strengthen gun safety laws in America. It failed.
That’s right. 54%–a solid majority of the US Senate–voted in favor of universal background checks, and the bill still lost. Because the filibuster rule requires a 60% vote for anything to pass.
Which made me think about Elizabeth Warren.
You will recall that Ms. Warren carried her reform message together with everybody’s highest hopes into the halls of congress. Shortly after her election–I received an email from her. This is what she said:
“You know what I want to do. You know what I care about. But here’s the honest truth: Any senator can make a phone call to register an objection to a bill, then business comes to a screeching halt. On the first day of the new session in January, the Senate will have a unique opportunity to change the filibuster rule with a simple majority vote. I’ve joined Senator Jeff Merkle and four other senators to fight for this reform on day one. No more bringing the work of this country to a dead stop.”
The only problem is that on the first day of the session she fought for nothing of the sort.
Neither did Jeff Merkle, nor any other senator—Democrat or Republican. And by fight, I mean rise to their feet on the floor of the Senate and use the filibuster to change the filibuster. Bring that shameful institution to a screeching halt on behalf of majority rule.
Stop everything. Force a national conversation on why—in the “world’s greatest deliberative body”–a simple majority isn’t enough.
Why–after 20 kids got their heads blown off—doesn’t 54% of Senators voting in favor of gun safety legislation advance that bill to the next step? I’d like Ms. Warren, and Mr. Reid, and the Democratic majority in the United States Senate to explain to the parents of those twenty dead six year olds, why protecting the filibuster is so much more important than protecting our children?
Read the rest of… Nick Paleologos: Filibuster the Filibuster
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Apr 23, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
The other day I was interviewed about who I thought run in the 2015 Governor’s race. Here is an answer I fleshed out that didn’t get quoted but I re-read it and liked.
“As fun as it is to speculate about who will run for governor in 2015 and who will be the strongest candidates, it is more art than science and more about personal timing than politcal timing. At bottom, running for governor is an irrational decision. One morning you wake up and decide to run because you can’t not run. It is a leap of faith. One of the boldest leaps of faith a mortal can ever take who is also politically inclined. And especially in Kentucky. Where it is two parts political and one part horse race.
And the gambling metaphor is fitting. Running for governor is like walking up to a casino craps table and grabbing the dice. But before you throw the die, striping off all your clothes and crawling onto the table. And betting everything on yourself –physical, mental and emotional–on a single roll. Not because it is a wise or prudent thing to do. And not because you have nothing to lose or something to gain. It is deeper than that. There is something in the gubernatorial candidate’s DNA code that makes him or her feel they are betraying their genetic make-up if they don’t run. They run not because they worry of what others will say in their presence if they don’t run —but rather worry what they will whisper to themselves when no one else is around.
It is, in these candidate types, as if they were born with invisible wings. And like any animal blessed with wings, there will come a day when it is time to try to fly.
And that day, so to speak, is more about instinct and impulse that intellect and preparation. The day a gubernatorial candidate files to run for office is, in a very real sense, the day that particular political animal believes is the day he or she is finally ready to fly.
By Artur Davis, on Tue Apr 23, 2013 at 10:00 AM ET
Give the New Republic’s Adam Winkler credit for laying some of the blame for the collapse of background checks on gun sales not just on NRA sophistry but on a poorly executed, badly timed, overly polarizing campaign by the Obama Administration. As Winkler points out, the over-reach of going after an assault weapon ban boomeranged badly, serving only to galvanize opposition and define even incremental regulations as a wedge to confiscate guns. And the virtues of a go-for-broke strategy, whatever they were, never compensated for the fact that no assault weapons ban had even a remote chance of passing the House.
I would add an additional point that goes much deeper than tactics and the debate over guns. To a degree that could not have been anticipated, and seems doubly odd for a reelected president, Barack Obama smothers his own initiatives. He has the capacity to lend eloquence to his own followers’ views, but no demonstrated ability to organize them behind any cause other than putting him in office. He moves literally no sector of the electorate that didn’t vote for him. His intervention in a legislative fight seems good primarily for preserving gridlock. Obama wins elections but through pathways that close quickly and elevate few specific policy aims: in 2008, a backlash against George Bush’s unpopularity and an airy promise of a post-racial society, and in 2012, a relentlessly negative siege against Mitt Romney. And the country that has elected Obama twice is still split to the core, more so today than when he was a senator signing book contracts. And the deepest splits are more around the country’s perception of Obama than around any singular issue.
None of this means, of course, that there are not a variety of other elements that contribute to the hyper-polarization of the past four years, from the internet’s inevitable pipeline for misinformation, to the continued weight of interest groups like the NRA, to a cable culture that dismisses any efforts by politicians to craft a middle ground as expediency. But it would take an element of willful denial to ignore the fact that Obama occupies the single most divisive space in American politics since Nixon, and that one of the costs is a presidency that is frustratingly weak at persuasion.
It is not too early to wonder if Obama a generation from now looks weirdly like, of all people, Margaret Thatcher: a highly effective campaigner whose victories spun off the unintended consequence of an entrenched cultural opposition, and whose “conviction politics” seem like a relic. Twenty plus years after Thatcherism formally ended, it has been supplanted by a run of center-leaning British prime ministers with a penchant for downplaying sharp ideological rifts. It is not hard to imagine that Obama’s successors won’t be similarly preoccupied with navigating away from the intense divisions of the Obama era.
Read the rest of… Artur Davis: Obama the Polarizer
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Apr 22, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
A seven foot basketball goal at a neighboring condo from the one we rented in Amelia Island, FL where I played basketball with my kids almost every spring break for nine years.
And probably will never see or play on again
The first few spring breaks the goal seemed big to my kids. And then about right. And then too small. And then too embarrassing to be seen playing on
For me, today, it seems too big —as I drive away for the last time
Who knows what this tortured week in Boston means for the future? After all, the hunting down and killing of Osama Bin Laden hardly lifted America out of the morass that has distorted politics for the better part of five years, not even a little bit. There was agony at the shooting and maiming of a congresswoman while she was attending to her constituents, and the misery of knowing that a child died that day while on an outing to see democracy in action. Those tears haven’t washed any of the anger out of our campaigns, and they haven’t slowed down the denigration of public service.
But permit me one burst of wishful thinking. It goes like this. If only the fanaticism of two brothers who twisted themselves into killers would remind us that America faces threats worse than anything our left or right fear of each other. If only the intensity of the Tsarnaev brothers’ hatred makes the values we clash over, from immigration to gun laws to the weight of government, seem not unimportant but not worth surrendering our civility over, either.
If only both sides of the ideological divide will forego the politics this one time: the fact that one killer turned into a radical under the protection of a student visa, and that another plotted how to sever bodies months after becoming a citizen, tells us much about the unpredictable warp in human souls, but next to nothing about the immigration deal Marco Rubio is trying to save. The agents and officers who wove this case together in four days from thin air can’t be lifted up enough, but spare us any side lectures on sequestration or talking points about the limitations of federalism. Save it for a week that doesn’t keep punching our gut.
If only we could savor one moment, let it be the faces in the crowds gathering in Watertown to celebrate a return to the ideal of being safe in one’s own home. I spent enough time as a student in metropolitan Boston to know that the blacks and whites and browns, and Catholics and Arabs and Jews don’t ordinarily mix so easily on those streets after dark. They often clutch their purses and roll up their car windows, and clench when they see each other. What a striking thing to watch them unclench their mutual suspicions for even a little while. It only took two bad seeds to make those gritty, divided neighborhoods re-imagine the meaning of “us” and “them.”
(A version of this essay was cross-published at Ricochet.com)
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Apr 19, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Creatures of habit and dorsal fins
I remember in 3rd grade learning that some fish used to have a dorsal fin but no longer does because over the centuries there was no longer a need for it and it just sort of evaporated with time.
We humans are comfortable with what we know and have to be dragged kicking and screaming to try a new way of doing things (in the workplace and at home), even when it is obvious to everyone but us it is a far superior to our current approach
And then we try it.
And eventually get comfortable with it and even become an advocate for the “new way.”
Until there is a newer and obviously superior way to do things.
And we have to be dragged kicking and screaming to change from the old new way we are now comfortable with to the newer new way,
Maybe the solution is to give up our notion of ever being on auto pilot. Of ever getting too accustomed or comfortable with any process. Maybe the comfort of habit is like a human dorsal fin that has outlived its purpose
But that’s an awfully uncomfortable thought.
Maybe we can at least make a fashion statement with our dorsal fin of mindless habit. Pierce or tattoo it –or hang our new high tech gadgets (iPhone or Wifi tablets) on our hook of a needless fin.
But don’t get rid of it completely.
I may not need or use it but I don’t want to give it up.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Apr 18, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Gangsta fantasies and crotchety, judgmental old men (me) advising.
Seeing several privileged white kids at a private school in Louisville trying to look “gansta” made me remember this video.
This is as about as tough, fellas, as you coul…d ever hope to look. (Please watch the video.) And you will never look or be as “street” as Vanilla Ice. And that should deter you.
It just ain’t happening.
Comb you hair. Pull up your pants. Tuck in your shirt. Do your homework. Because not doing your homework is about as “bad” as you are ever going to be.
By Jennifer Mann, on Thu Apr 18, 2013 at 10:00 AM ET
Only a few months have passed since I left office as a state representative—a position I held for fourteen years. I entered the Pennsylvania House of Representatives an entrepreneur, having started my first business at the age of 25, and gained a reputation during my tenure as a business-friendly legislator. During the last few years of serving my district, an inner voice increasingly grew louder, calling me back to the private sector and to new challenges.
Without missing a beat, I launched a consulting firm immediately after leaving office. I never really gave myself an opportunity to enjoy a transition period in which I could reflect upon the past 14 years with the exception of a brief moment of an awkward feeling in not seeing my name on the ballot. And so, for the most part, my transition happened. No fanfare and no deep thoughts of reflection,
My new reality began to hit home immediately upon showing up to work—alone. Although I never took for granted the dedicated staffers who worked for me, and I did realize just how dependent I was on them, I just didn’t know how hard it would be to maintain the level of activity without them, until I was out on my own. Most of all, I miss their presence. The past presidential election brought some pretty bad jokes about empty chairs, but now when I walk into my office, it’s me, myself, and I, and…that empty chair in the corner. I miss the smiles and the chatter and the interoffice banter (It still happens some today, but by email and it’s not the same).
Fortunately, my new business involves a lot of face time with clients, prospective clients and those my clients would like to do business with. I am by the nature of my work in the company of others daily. But now, I am solely responsible for the scheduling of meetings, for the execution for each item on the to-do lists I bring out of meetings, and for the meticulous follow up I am known for. No more delegation. As a state representative, 90 percent of my to-do list would be carried out by my reliable team. Now, it’s me, myself and I…and that empty chair.
But I still enjoy a touch of public life in some regards. I remain active with local charities, nonprofits, and serve on boards making speeches, shaking hands, and conversing with colleagues about political hot topics. Though I enjoy remaining connected in that way, I have to consciously draw the line and remind myself where to stop.
For example, the Washington Bureau writer of my city newspaper recently asked me to share my thoughts about a poll concerning next year’s gubernatorial election. Instinctively, I began to formulate a response. But then after thinking the matter through for a few moments, I decided to decline. Although I felt honored that a reporter approached me for a quote even though he was aware I left office, the torch has been passed and it is time to let others weigh in.
That is not to say I will no longer make comment concerning issues involving state government. As a state representative, I sponsored legislation to protect children against sexual predators and widen law enforcement’s net in capturing those who harm them. Protecting our children from predators is an issue dear to my heart and I will gladly lend my voice to protecting those young ones.
Life changed substantially since I left office. I do not regret my decision to return to the private sector and I remain excited by the prospects ahead. The transition I never took is moving full speed ahead on its own, as it will for any of us who have served our constituents over time. I look forward to sharing with you in the months ahead my reflections of that journey.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Apr 17, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
What would you think if you were at a dinner party and discovered you were seated next to this woman?
I would get very nervous and try furtively to move the name cards so I could sit next to someone who looked more like Richard Branson–who would allow me to enjoy whatever is being served for dinner and be able to digest it without sweating bullets about which fork I am using and trying to think of the name “Endive” to describe my salad.
Manners are very important. No doubt about it. It’s the oil that lets us navigate human relations smoothly.
But as I tried to explain to my daughter this past weekend in one of my non sequitur fatherly talk tangents, “If you have to chose which type of person to be—it’s more desirable to be a pleasant and approachable person at a party rather than be the person who merely knows how to send out the perfect party invitation.” Or something like that.
In other words, I wouldn’t mind reading Ms Manner’s book. But wouldn’t want to have to sit and discuss it with her. It just seems like she is always looking for a comma splice in ever conversation. And to point out that something from lunch is still on the corner of your mouth. I would probably tell her (politely) she had bad breath and “something on her nose” (even though she didn’t), just to help me level the playing field with her and relax enough to get through learning, again, which fork goes where. So I can, again, feel like a “manners failure” when I inevitably forget the rules again.
Whoever invented forks should have made a rule we only need one kind. A simple single all-purpose fork. That would have made eating a lot less stressful. And one less thing to feel ashamed about not ever being able to remember.
Manners violation confession. While out of town last week and eating at Asian restaurant, I picked up the dipping sauce for the steamed dumplings and drank the last few drops. I made sure no one was looking and took the chance.
It was worth the risk!! Even if I had a little on the corner of my mouth 30 minutes later.
The only problem is that on the first day of the session she fought for nothing of the sort.
