WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
Writing for a Real World
2010–2011
A multidisciplinary anthology by USF students
PUBLISHED BY THE UNIVERSITY OF SAN FRANCISCO DEPARTMENT OF RHETORIC AND LANGUAGE www.usfca.edu/wrw
Writing for a Real World (WRW) is published annually by the Department of Rhetoric and Language, College of Arts and Sciences, University of San Francisco.
WRW is governed by the Rhetoric and Language Publication Committee, chaired by David Holler. Members are: Brian Komei Dempster, Michelle LaVigne, Michael Rozendal, and David Ryan.
Writing for a Real World: 9th edition © 2011 The opinions stated herein are those of the authors. Authors retain copyright for their individual work. Essays include bibliographical references. The format and practice of documenting sources are determined by each writer. Writers are responsible for validating and citing their research.
Cover image courtesy of Marti S. This photograph was taken in Havana, Cuba.
Printer: DeHarts Printing, San Jose, Calif.
To get involved as a referee, serve on the publication committee, obtain back print issues, or to learn about submitting to WRW, please contact David Holler
Fair Use Statement: Writing for a Real World is an educational journal whose mission is to showcase the best undergraduate writing at the University of San Francisco. Student work often contextualizes and recontextualizes the work of others within the scope of course- related assignments. WRW presents these articles with the specifi c objective of advancing an understanding of academic knowledge, scholarship, and research. We believe that this context constitutes a “fair use” of copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the U.S. Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, the material herein is made available by WRW without profi t to those students and faculty who are interested in receiving this information for research, scholarship, and educational purposes.
2 Writing for a Real World 2010–2011
Executive Editor David Ryan
Editor David Holler
Associate Editors Brian Komei Dempster Michelle LaVigne Mark Meritt Michael Rozendal
Copy Editors Carl S. Braun Giuliana Ferrante
Program Assistant Tara Donohoe
Publication Assistants Ana Kitapini Estephanie Bautista Sunga
Journal Referees Veronica Andrew, Rhetoric and Language Brian Komei Dempster, Rhetoric and Language Leslie Dennen, Rhetoric and Language Johnnie Johnson Hafernik, Rhetoric and Language David Holler, Rhetoric and Language Devon C. Holmes, Rhetoric and Language Saera Khan, Psychology Kara Knafelc, Rhetoric and Language, Martin-Baró Scholars Program Moira Kuo, Rhetoric and Language Lois Lorentzen, Interim Associate Dean, College of Arts & Sciences Tom Lugo, Rhetoric and Language Theodore Matula, Rhetoric and Language Sean Michaelson, S.J., English / St. Ignatius Institute Star Moore, Leo T. McCarthy Center Angelika Rappe, Rhetoric and Language Michael Rozendal, Rhetoric and Language David Ryan, Rhetoric and Language Carol Spector, Gleeson Library Eleni Stecopoulos, Rhetoric and Language Ellen Thompson, Rhetoric and Language Stephanie Vandrick, Rhetoric and Language Fredel Wiant, Rhetoric and Language 3 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
Table of Contents
WRW as a Literacy Project 6
Honorable Mentions 10
JADE BATSTONE Cowboy vs. Mad Dog: An Analysis of Reagan’s Rhetoric Surrounding the 1986 Libyan Airstrikes 12
MICHAEL BRATEN The Marriage Act 1753: Drastic Alteration or Mere Development? 30
MELISSA FESSEL Maternal Mortality and Mayan Women in Guatemala 44
HEATHER M. FOX Appreciating but Resisting Nietzsche’s Chief Normative Worry 53
EVAN GIUSTO In Defense of Same-Sex Marriage 60
MICHAEL GREENBERG Public Sector Unions, Pensions, and Collective Bargaining Rights: Striving For a More Perfect Union? 76
LAUREN HILL The Guatemalan Civil War: The Prevalence of and U.S. Involvement in State-Sponsored Violence 91
MELISSA D. LEWIS Examining Marc Anthony’s Poetic Rhetoric in Julius Caesar 112
4 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
AN MAI and JAMEY PADOJINO Yarn and Yarning: Communication Patterns of a “Stitch and Bitch” Club 125
DEREK POPPERT Why Peace Has Not Been Achieved Between Israelis and Palestinians 140
JILLIAN RAMOS In Honor of the Forgotten: A Search for Equity for Filipino–American World War II Veterans 151
SAMUEL WEISS Aesthetic Obsession in Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home 164
2011-2012 Submissions Information 194
5 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
WRW as a Literacy Project
RITING FOR A REAL WORLD was founded in 2002 with the Wfocused idea of illustrating exceptional undergraduate academic writing at USF. Since then, access to our journal has broadened, for teachers have integrated our essays into their courses as models of good writing. Our Gleeson Library has digitized every edition to allow others to read, study, and refl ect on our student papers. Textbook publishers, as well, have selected some of our more remarkable essays to include in their textbooks. This scholarly interchange has prompted us to recontextualize our celebratory journal as a literacy project, one that allows us to see the kind of writing that is important to faculty and understand what subjects preoccupy our students. Because most writing assignments compel students to respond to other kinds of writing, WRW also instructs us as to what our students are reading, thinking, and concluding. Among the many things we can deduce from our project is that eff ective, successful writers are also diligent, perceptive readers—those who are able to off er deep insight into texts, discovering and explaining what a text does and how a text communicates its messages. Other students work to explain how texts are inscribed by the cultural, social, and historical forces that helped shape the reading. These academic eff orts speak to the aesthetic and epistemic interest in the power of reading and writing. Without a doubt, constructing a broader, more comprehensive inventory about what students are reading and writing from year-to-year (beyond what appears in WRW) would be helpful in identifying broader disciplinary trends as well as measuring student achievement at USF; however, there is no viable method to identify all the texts read or review all the papers written. Nevertheless, we believe that WRW off ers a small yet richly sedimented sample of well-written papers from varying disciplines. The power of such a varied collection derives largely from the academic choices of USF’s instructors and the more personal choices of students who are willing to test their ideas against normative traditions and emerging trends.
6 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
Notes on the Selection Process
Our referees reviewed carefully 97 entries. Every paper was read by at least two readers, and every winning submission had to pass the review of at least four referees. No names appeared on the manuscripts and reviewers who recognized their students’ work recused themselves. Here, then, we present 12 outstanding papers written during the 2010-11 academic year, and we acknowledge 12 more papers as Honorable Mentions. We thank our new as well as experienced judges for reviewing the submissions with great care and patience. Our list of referees is on page 3.
Fr. Urban Grassi, S.J. Award
In this issue, the Department of Rhetoric and Language announces Jade Batsone is our recipient for the Fr. Urban Grassi, S.J. Award for Eloquentia Perfecta, an award named after USF’s fi rst professor of English and Elocution. This award is given to the highest rated entry. Our reviewers rated Jade’s essay, “Cowboy vs. Mad Dog: An Analysis of Reagan’s Rhetoric Surrounding the 1986 Libyan Air Strikes,” written for Professor David Holler, as the most exemplary. Congratulations to Jade for her remarkable accomplishment!
Acknowledgements and Gratitude
With every issue, we re-affi rm our gratitude to those who support our project. We are deeply grateful to Provost Jennifer Turpin; Marcelo Camperi, Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences; Lois Lorentzen, Interim Associate Dean of Arts and Humanities, College of Arts and Sciences; and Eileen Fung, Associate Dean of Arts and Humanities, College of Arts and Sciences—all of whom continue to support this institutional project with respect and admiration for our students. Our thanks extend to Associate Editors Brian Komei Dempster, Michelle LaVigne, Mark Meritt and Michael Rozendal for their continuous work. We also thank our two eagle-eyed student copy editors, Giuliana Ferrante and Carl S. Braun, for their detailed review
7 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
of manuscripts and help with page layouts. Our program assistant, Tara Donohoe, and publication assistants, Estephanie Bautista Sunga and Ana Kitapini, deserve special mention for helping WRW meet its year-round deadlines. We gratefully acknowledge the work of Digital Collections Librarian Zheng Lu who helped digitize this journal as well as past issues. Thank you to Norma Washington and John Pinelli for helping us meet our fi nancial obligations, and a large debt, as always, is owed to Fredel Wiant, Chair of the Rhetoric and Language Department, for her long-standing commitment. We o ff er our special thanks to Ronald Hussey, Senior Permissions Manager at Houghton-Miffl in Harcourt Publishing, who generously allowed us to reprint so many of Alison Bechdel’s images in Samuel Weiss’s essay on Fun Home. Finally, the instructors of our authors earn our gratitude for composing their introductions during their summer break, but our deepest thanks are reserved for those students who submitted their work. As our Honorable Mentions list illustrates on page 10, we received many more commendable papers than we were able to publish. Congratulations to those who earned honorable mention, and, of course, congratulations to our winners, for all of our authors bravely enter the realm of writers writing for a real world. This journal is dedicated to them.
—David Ryan and David Holler
8 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
9 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
Honorable Mentions
JADE BATSTONE “From Rubble to Respect: Emerging from the ‘Ground Zero Mosque’ Debate with Mutual Understanding” Written for Rhetoric and Politics David Holler, Rhetoric and Language
ANABEL CASSADY “Brief for Appellant, Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission” Written for Free Expression and The Constitution Brian Weiner, Politics
TZIPPORAH DANG “Failure to Launch: The Validity of Sex Addiction” Written for Writing for Psychology Lisa Biesemeyer, Rhetoric and Language
ALEXANDRA DELEON “Japan’s Dirty Secret: Sexual Violence and Cultural Challenges” Written for Advanced Writing Practicum Darrell g.h. Schramm, St. Ignatius Institute and “The Beast of Beauty: Oppression of Women Through Beauty Ideals” Written for Advanced Writing Practicum Darrell g.h. Schramm, St. Ignatius Institute
HEATHER M. FOX “Reconsidering the Purported Advantages to Black Americans of Racially Homogenous Liberation Movements Relative to Racially Heterogeneous Ones” Written for Honors 339 (Moral Psychology) Manuel Vargas, Philosophy and “On the Need for Community- and Individually-Based Rights in Political and Moral Systems” Written for Philosophy 484 (Ethics) David Kim, Philosophy
10 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD
EVAN GIUSTO “Theory of Evolution: Science or Religion?” Written for Written and Oral Communication David Ryan, Rhetoric and Language
MICHAEL GREENBERG “Love By the Fireside: A Rhetorical Perspective of America’s Romance with Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and How it Saved the Banking System” Written for Rhetoric and Politics David Holler, Rhetoric and Language
DEREK POPPERT “The Ambiguous Relationship Between Political Equality and Economic Inequality” Written for Introduction to Political Theory Brian Weiner, Politics
ANTHONY RISUCCI “Wicked Witches of the Western World: Analyzing the Evil Witch Archetype in Fairy Tales” Written for Advanced Writing Practicum Darrell g.h. Schramm, St. Ignatius Institute
STEVEN SLASTEN “The Gullibility of a Nation: A Rhetorical Analysis of the Election of 1824” Written for Rhetoric and Politics David Holler, Rhetoric and Language
SAMUEL WEISS “Identity and Storytelling in Sherman Alexie’s Poetry” Written for Contemporary Native American Literature Dean Rader, English and “Military Subversion in Tristram Shandy” Written for English 320 (1700-1900) Rachel Crawford, English
NICOLE WICKSTROM “The Spiritual Autobiography of Robinson Crusoe” Written for English 320 (1700-1900) Rachel Crawford, English
11 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
WRITER’S COMMENTS
This year the world spotlight turned to the Middle East and North Af- rica as the regions experienced a wave of popular upheavals and protest movements now commonly referred to as the ‘Arab Awakening.’ One of the fi rst countries to see civilians organize and demonstrate was Libya, where thousands of people took to the streets to protest the repres- sive 42-year rule of President Muammar Gaddafi . The reactions of the U.S. government to these tumultuous events incited me to examine past Libyan-U.S. relations. This essay employs a rhetorical lens to analyze the events surrounding the 1986 U.S. air strikes on Libya. I focus on Reagan’s strategic oratorical campaign against Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi . Reagan’s mastery of rhetoric framed the bombing of Tripoli and Beng- hazi as a strong front to his administration’s response to international terrorist threats. Drawing on his thespian past, Reagan was able to cast the world into dramatic polarities, presenting events to the American public in the context of simplifi ed, diametrically opposed entities such as good vs. evil, hero vs. villain, rational vs. irrational, terrorist vs. freedom fi ghter, and aggression vs. self-defense. Americans, in turn, perceived him to be a master of these binaries, possessing the ability to fi rmly separate right from wrong. Bestowed with this moral authority, I realized that Reagan was able to achieve a feat that President Obama fails to match through his unsuccessful efforts to garner American support for the current NATO air strikes in Libya. In the wake of the 1986 Operation El Dorado Canyon, Reagan was able to legitimate his actions by associating Gaddafi and his regime with the greater forces of world evil. —Jade Batstone
INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS
With analytical acumen and stylistic fl air, Jade arrives at a subtle inter- pretation of Reagan’s “success” against the perennially menacing fi gure of Gaddafi (whose regime, it appears, is mercifully crumbling as this book goes to press). I was particularly impressed with Jade’s ability to connect Reagan’s command of kairos to our current foreign-policy imbroglio, but I was even more impressed with Jade’s clear overall command of the calculus of rhetorical and political analysis. This essay will serve as an out- standing model for future students in my Rhetoric and Politics course. —David Holler, Department of Rhetoric and Language
12 JADE BATSTONE
JADE BATSTONE
Cowboy vs. Mad Dog: An Analysis of Reagan’s Rhetoric Surrounding the 1986 Libyan Air Strikes
Fig. 1. Hook, Geoff rey. “Showdown.” 26 March 1986.
RAW!” With his pistols free from their holsters, his legs plant- “Ded in a defensive stance, and bullets whizzing by his oversized hat, we can almost hear the cowboy drawl in this command to his adversary. Clearly no Billy the Kid, the deranged-looking outlaw of this cartoon stands amid clouds of smoke in full military garb. The presence of a modern high-rise labeled “U.N.” transports the scene to the 20th century. A dialogue bubble coming from within the building reads: “Do you ever get the feeling we’re redundant?” This satirical gunfi ght contextualized the political face-off between President Ronald Reagan and Libyan President Muammar Gaddafi within the Old West of American cultural mythology. Political art- ist Geoff rey Hook (see Fig. 1 above) spoke to the events of 1986,
13 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
condemning the administration for relinquishing true diplomatic eff orts in favor of a rhetorical showdown. Leading the charge in this endeavor was President Reagan himself, who promoted the idea of a world divided between freedom-loving cowboys and ter- rorist-endorsing outlaws. The dramatic polarities served Reagan well; when the dust from the Libyan air strikes had settled, the cowboy-president was left standing tall. By employing a host of rhetorical strategies to categorize events and people in simple bi- naries, Reagan successfully justifi ed to American onlookers one of the most controversial actions during his two terms in offi ce. Reagan stormed on to the presidential scene in 1980 touting an assertive foreign policy. The perceived weakness of the Carter administration, as well as the heightened concern over terrorism in the wake of the Iranian hostage crisis, perfectly set the stage for Reagan’s aggressive outlook. A key component of his hard-line stance was the resolution to never again negotiate with terrorists (Hoyt). However, the decentralized nature of international terror- ism made it diffi cult for the Reagan administration to enact force- ful opposition, whether verbal or material, against it. In order to ease American fear and confusion at the hands of seemingly in- visible actors, Reagan needed to delineate a clear adversary: giv- ing the enemy a human face meant that he could be targeted and subsequently eliminated. Thus, Libyan President Muammar Gad- dafi , with his anti-American rhetoric and repressive Libyan regime, soon became the real and symbolic nemesis for Reagan’s dealings with international terrorist threats. In his book Qaddafi , Terrorism, and the Origins of the U.S. Attack on Libya, military expert Brian L. Davis traces the collision course that Gaddafi and Reagan steered their respective nations towards from the outset of the 1980s. Beginning in 1981, a fl ood of rumors permeated U.S. media regarding a Libyan hit squad running loose within the country (Davis 48). These sensational news stories in- cited further anti-Libyan sentiment from the administration and in December of that year Reagan called for all Americans to leave Libya (49). The following spring the administration announced a boycott on the importation of oil and imposed various other eco- nomic sanctions on the North African country (Davis 49). How-
14 JADE BATSTONE
ever, according to Davis, the 1983 bombing of the U.S. embassy in Beirut by anti-Western “Islamic Jihad” militants marked the real turn in the Reagan administration’s policies towards terrorist ac- tors (and, by extension, Libya). The attack radicalized Reagan’s White House towards military punishment for acts of terror—a view embodied by Secretary of State George Shultz’s 1984 speech “Terrorism in the Modern World” (Davis 64). In a fi ery oratorical display, Shultz argued that “one of the best deterrents to terror- ism is certainly that swift and sure measures will be taken against those who engage in it” (qtd. in Davis 64). Reagan espoused this hard-line view by vowing to undertake transnational military retri- bution against terrorism (solidifi ed by his signing of the 1984 Na- tional Security Decision Directive 138 which established a policy of preemptive and retaliatory strikes against terrorists)—an un- precedented stance in United States foreign policy (Davis 64). However, for all the militaristic bluster, the mid–1980s inun- dated Americans in violent threats and actions by non-state actors concentrated in the Middle East. On June 14, 1985, members of the Shi’ite terrorist group Hezbollah hijacked American TWA Flight 847 on its leg from Athens to Rome (Hertog). The traumatic event and the three-day hostage crisis that ensued led to Reagan’s fi rm declaration that when it came to terrorism, “our limits have been reached” (qtd. in Davis 70). While there were some unconfi rmed reports that Libya had played a behind-the-scenes role in the in- cident, no solid evidence ever surfaced (Davis 70). Nevertheless, the trauma of the hijacking increased public support for counter- terrorist action and administration offi cials would later credit the event with shaping the political will necessary to enact future mili- tary action against Libya (Hertog). By 1985 U.S. intelligence was reportedly intercepting yet more incriminating links between the Libyan government and active terrorist organizations, including the brutal Palestinian Abu Nidal group (Davis 68). The militant faction belonged to an international terrorist network, coordinating with Hezbollah, PLO, and Europe- an Marxist groups as well as receiving substantial aid from hostile countries like Syria, Iran, and (of course) Libya (Davis 68). Through intercepted telephone exchanges and other covertly gathered evi-
15 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
dence, the U.S. government was able to discern that Abu Nidal had moved signifi cant parts of its operational base to Tripoli, where the Libyan dictator received them with open arms (Davis 69). Reports in the Libyan press confi rmed that Gaddafi and Abu Nidal engaged in regular meetings wherein the former promised funding, training, arms, and logistical support to the brutal organization (Davis 69). The Reagan administration’s concern over the marriage of these two dangerous actors was tragically confi rmed on the morning of December 27, 1985, when Abu Nidal militants simultaneously at- tacked travelers in Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Airport and Vien- na’s Schwechat Airport (Hertog). The joint attacks left 110 people wounded and 20 killed, including an eleven-year-old American girl named Natasha Simpson (Hertog). Her death in particular would come to symbolize the barbarism of world terrorism and the need for American retaliation in order to protect its victims (consider, for example, the impact of a New York Times editorial supporting the 1986 U.S. bombing of Libya titled “To Save the Next Natasha Simpson”) (Chomsky 128). In responding to the jarring incident, Reagan shifted the focus from the militant perpetrators to the Libyan role in the massacres: “By providing material support to terrorist groups which attack U.S. citizens, Libya has engaged in armed aggression against the United States … Qaddafi deserves to be treated as a pariah in the world community” (qtd. in Davis 81). Despite many calls within his administration for retaliation, Reagan deferred to calls for increased economic sanctions for the time being (Davis 82). However, the U.S. Sixth Fleet was tread- ing more dangerous waters, so to speak, in the Mediterranean Sea. For years Gaddafi had dramatically referred to the nautical area surrounding the Gulf of Sidra as the “line of death,” barring its crossing to any foreign power (Hertog). While the U.S. government publicly stated that its fl eet was merely engaged in naval exercises, the coincidental timing with the Rome and Vienna massacres and rising anti-Libyan sentiment seemed a bit too convenient (Chom- sky 135). If Reagan did indeed intend to provoke Gaddafi into ac- tion, the President got his wish on March 23, 1986, when Libya opened missile fi re on U.S. aircraft carriers (Hertog). In a statement made the next day, Press Secretary Larry Speakes claimed that the
16 JADE BATSTONE
attacks were “entirely unprovoked and beyond the bounds of normal international conduct … U.S. forces were intent only upon making the legal point that the Gulf of Sidra belongs to no one and that all nations are free to move through interna- tional waters and airspace” (“Gulf of Sidra”). After several days of exchanged hostilities the United States, lacking enough in- criminating evidence from past terrorist actions to legitimate a more comprehensive strike, withdrew (Davis 105). The bloodied waters of the Mediterranean had yet to set- tle when an explosion in East Berlin shifted the international spotlight, providing Reagan with the fi nal rhetorical armory necessary to “bring the hammer down” on Libya. On April 4, 1986, the U.S. army brigade stationed in Berlin intercepted a message sent from the East Berlin People’s Bureau to Tripo- li. The cable read: “It will happen soon, the bomb will blow, American soldiers must be hit” (Davis 115). Fifteen minutes after the Americans translated the daunting words, a bomb ex- ploded in a West Berlin discothèque called La Belle— a night- spot which U.S. soldiers were known to frequent. The terrorist action left over two hundred people wounded, seventy-nine of who were American citizens. It was the fi nal straw for the American public, making the international terrorist threat seem imminent, irrespective of continental boundaries. Into this fertile American soil, President Reagan sowed the seeds of aggression against a distinguishable enemy. Murky telegrams quickly became the smoking gun of the Gaddafi regime, lay- ing the basis for Reagan’s April 14th claim that “our evidence is direct, it is precise, it is irrefutable” (qtd. in Chomsky 140). The President thus prepared to strike a symbolic blow against terrorism in general, implementing his long-professed canon of rigid dealings with the perpetrators of such acts. In the early hours of April 14, U.S. fi ghter jets swooped down on Tripoli and Benghazi to deal retribution from the skies (Davis 134). Called Operation El Dorado Canyon by the Reagan administration, the joint attacks on the Libyan cities were intended to eliminate alleged terrorist training facilities as well as military and missile sites (Hertog). The targets chosen for the assault bore an additional signifi cance, however, as they
17 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
were all areas that Gaddafi was known to frequent (Hertog). No matter; after the smoke had cleared, the mad dog himself was left unscathed while his two-year-old daughter and an ad- ditional hundred Libyan civilian casualties paid the fatal price of America’s counter-terrorism policy (Hertog). Forced to con- tend with an incriminating death toll (and critics like Noam Chomsky calling the air strikes a “U.S. terrorist attack”), Rea- gan faced the rhetorical challenge of depicting the air strikes as an act of heroism to subdue the enemy—a feat he undoubtedly accomplished (Chomsky 148). Through a televised address to the nation following the bombings, Reagan began his oratorical campaign to justify his actions to the American people. Citing numerous economic sanctions and other shows of “quiet diplomacy” as warnings, Reagan began the address by lamenting that “Qadhafi contin- ued his reckless policy of intimidation, his relentless pursuit of terror” (Reagan Apr. 14, 1986 address). This clear nod to those who would oppose his use of force framed the air strikes as a last-ditch eff ort to stop a ruthless aggressor. He then proceed- ed to supply a laundry list of terrorist acts supposedly com- mitted by Gaddafi . Though merely an independent actor, obvi- ously possessing many Libyan advisors and elites surrounding him, Reagan attributes sole blame to the “mad dog” himself. This verbal strategy pinpoints the source of the opposition, strengthening his adversarial rhetoric, and allowing for further character attacks like “Colonel Qadhafi had engaged in acts of international terror, acts that put him outside the company of civilized men.” Referring to his opponent as “Colonel” instead of “President,” subtly excuses the American act of war by deny- ing Gaddafi the legitimacy over an established state that such a title would connote. Another key aspect of the April 14th address was Reagan’s depiction of the air strikes as a preemptive (rather than retal- iatory) action. To this end, the President merely threw some rhetorical frills and bows on a briefi ng given by Press Secretary Larry Speakes earlier the same day, during which Speakes stated that: “it is our hope that this action will preempt and discour-
18 JADE BATSTONE
age Libyan attacks against innocent civilians in the future.” Validat- ing the bombing as a “preemptive action against [Gaddafi ’s] terror- ist installations” aimed to “diminish Colonel Qadhafi ’s capacity to export terror,” Reagan successfully portrayed himself as a protector of the nation rather than as a vengeful aggressor (Reagan Apr. 14, 1986 address). The line between persuasive oratory and outright de- ception, however, blurs around his ensuing claim of possessing “sol- id evidence about other attacks Qadhafi has planned against the United States’ installations and diplomats and even American tour- ists.” No evidence to confi rm Reagan’s bold assertion ever emerged, proving that he harbored little reservation about using fear tactics to bolster the perceived necessity of his actions. Not only did Reagan describe these “preemptive” measures as crucial, but he also used the address to place the air strikes fi rmly within the American ethos: “Self-defense is not only our right, it is our duty.” Reagan’s enthymeme that the attacks were defensive rather than antagonistic, struck the right chord among an Ameri- can public traumatized by the preceding decade of terrorist aggres- sion. The watershed of public support that Reagan’s prime-time address managed to unleash for an originally unpopular military campaign was nothing short of groundbreaking; one national poll reported an approval rating between seventy and eighty percent (Peffl ey, Langley, and Goidel). In the aftermath of this fi rst successful appeal to the American people, President Reagan faced additional rhetorical challenges in convincing his constituency that the unprecedented policy of avenging a terrorist attack was in fact legitimate and in line with core American values. The “Great Communicator” earned his esteemed appellation through his ability to direct the public’s fears and anger around international terrorist threats to a specifi c aggressor—the arch-terrorist himself, Muammar Gaddafi . After conjuring a clear adversary, Reagan’s verbal assault on the Libyan dictator proved to eff ectively denigrate the man and thus garner support for military actions taken against his regime. Finally, Rea- gan emerged from the controversial bombing with his moral au- thority unscathed, for he successfully deployed a range of rhetori-
19 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
cal combatants to force the action within a wider context of the battle of good versus evil. Reagan’s verbal crusade began in 1981, when he entered offi ce to rescue America—whether the assailant be an economy fraught with loose spending and high taxes, Communist aggression, or international terrorism. He loved playing the hero—a role PBS’s American Experience documentary entitled “Reagan” revealed he spent a lifetime preparing for. Beginning with Reagan’s youthful days working as a lifeguard on the Rock River, he cherished the sense that he could help those in need (Hoyt and Bosch). In the McCarthy era, those victims were members of the Screen Actors Guild, whom Reagan aimed to save from the purported commu- nist spies in their midst (Hoyt and Bosch). Even his onscreen per- sona continued this heroic theme, for throughout Reagan’s entire career as an actor (appearing in over 50 fi lms) he only played the villain once (Hoyt and Bosch). As president, the strongman veneer served him well as most Americans believed in his Superman-like ability to lift the heavy vehicle of the nation from a period of eco- nomic and political uncertainty. Yet, what is a champion without a veritable adversary to fl ex his muscles against? In the face of in- ternational terrorist threats, Reagan designated a foil character in order to employ the “savior of the nation” rhetoric that he was so fond of. Every hero needs a villain. When casting the world’s Lex Luthor, Reagan needn’t have looked farther than Libyan President Muammar Gaddafi . Bizarre, shrewd, conspiratorial, and shockingly unscrupulous in his rheto- ric, Gaddafi was ideally suited to play the anti-hero. When Ameri- cans needed an outlet for their fear and confusion in the wake of escalating acts of terror, a seemingly unhinged man spewing state- ments like, “We want every one of us to say, ‘I have decided to die just to spite America’ ” easily fi t the bill (qtd. in Davis 67). Even so, the Reagan administration engaged in a verbal campaign against Gaddafi , using a variety of argumentum ad hominems (abusive, ste- reotypical claims intended to degrade a man and delegitimize his actions) to make Gaddafi the face of international terrorism and Libya the pariah of the international community. In a televised news conference held fi ve days before Opera-
20 JADE BATSTONE
tion El Dorado Canyon, Reagan assured Americans that “this mad dog of the Middle East has a goal of a world revolution” (Reagan Apr. 9, 1986 address). This hyperbolized statement reveals the ad- ministration’s doctrine of linking Gaddafi indiscriminately to acts of worldwide evil. Here, Reagan also assigns Gaddafi the title of “mad dog”—a nickname that would stay with the man for the ensu- ing twenty-fi ve years. The dehumanizing slurs wouldn’t end there, however, as Reagan used the same appearance to state that “ev- eryone is entitled to call him whatever animal they want.” Among those who took this permission to heart was the American comic book industry. A one-shot comic book published in 1986 illustrat- ed popular culture’s take on the Arab leader. The cover depicted President Gaddafi alongside an image of Daff y Duck dressed in the same military garb—the title read “Daff y Qaddafi .” (See the Appendix for the cover image.) Sketches of a “mad-dog” terrorist defeated by a reasonable Daff y Duck and his army of small children comprised the scathing political satire. The “Daff y Qaddafi ” comic popularized a weak and irrational picture of the Libyan President. This view aligned with the man- ner in which the administration hoped to present Gaddafi to the American public. Reagan vowed in speech given in July of that year, “We are especially not going to tolerate these attacks by outlaw states run by the strangest collection of misfi ts, Looney Tunes, and squalid criminals since the advent of the Third Reich” (qtd. in Davis 70). This loaded statement served various purposes, not the least of which was to recall the caricatured image of Gaddafi . Rather than providing an examination of U.S. foreign policy that could poten- tially incite aggression from Middle Eastern-based terrorist groups, Reagan chose to focus on a reckless actor whose ideas he could equate to those of a cartoon character. Also, by referring to Libya as an “outlaw state,” Reagan employs an enthymeme to frame the con- fl ict as a cowboy vs. Indian drama with America as the gun-slinging protagonists and Arabs as the hostile savages. Finally, mentioning the Third Reich ties Libya to an evil regime that Americans were al- ready familiar with. This was no aberration from Reagan’s narrative of heroes and villains: all the bad guys played on the same team. And if the slew of derogatory names and images associated
21 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
with Gaddafi and his government wasn’t enough to garner support for his military operation, Reagan also possessed an arsenal of anti- Arab sentiment to draw from. In his article “Arab Images in Ameri- can Comic Books” Jack Shaheen points out that from 1950 to 1986 American comic books failed to depict a single Arab “fi ghting the good fi ght.” Instead, villains dominate the pages, fulfi lling one of three main characters: the repulsive terrorist, the menacing sheik, or the greedy thief (Shaheen 123). The caricature of the perpetually angry Arab found its way to more reputable publications as well. The cover of Time magazine’s April publication in 1973 featured a stern portrait of Gaddafi in his colonel uniform beside a head- ing that read: “The Arabs: Oil, Power, Violence.” These negative stereotypes again appeared on the cover of the July 1981 issue of Newsweek; a furtive-looking Gaddafi stares into the distance as two Arab men fi re semi-automatics against a scenery of camels and des- ert. (Both images are easily found online.) With these demonized views of Arabs at the fore, it was easy for Reagan to use Americans’ pre-existing stereotypes in order to legitimize his government’s ac- tions. For example, in his remarks to members of the American Business Conference held the day after the bombings, Reagan an- nounced: “yesterday pilots of the air and naval forces of the United States spoke to the outlaw Libyan regime in the only language that Colonel Qadhafi seems to understand.” Both by linking Libya to the criminals of American pioneering times and by invoking the sentiment that Arabs are purely violent, aggressive by nature, Rea- gan utilizes popular culture to justify his Libyan campaign. In the same speech on April 15, Reagan added, “I would remind the House voting this week that this arch-terrorist has sent $400 mil- lion and an arsenal of weapons and advisers into Nicaragua to bring his war home to the United States.” This reference to the upcoming House vote (timed perfectly for the day after the bombing) on aid for rebel groups in Nicaragua against a Communist–leaning Sandini- sta government, revealed the Reagan administration’s strategy of us- ing the Libya off ensive as a means to prepare public opinion for an escalation of U.S. military action in other parts of the world. Reagan was faced with the task of gaining support at home for the Contra insurgents, whom he lauded as “the moral equals of our founding
22 JADE BATSTONE
fathers and the brave men and women of the French resistance” (qtd. in Shane). The challenge consisted of drawing the rhetorical distinction between the state-sanctioned terrorism of the Gaddafi regime and the U.S. backing of Central American guerillas. Thus, the administration birthed the term “freedom fi ghter,” bestowing a purity of arms, so to speak, to any militants supporting a cause that the U.S. supported. The term “freedom fi ghter” contrasted starkly with the term “terrorist,” an appellation which Stanford University scholar Martha Crenshaw claimed in a 1972 essay “delegitimizes the opponent” (qtd. in Shane). According to Crenshaw, “It’s not just the tactics that are discredited, it’s the cause as well” (qtd. in Shane). In this vein, Reagan referred to Gaddafi as the “arch-terrorist,” defam- ing the man by linking him to a breed of worldwide villains and thus validating actions taken against him. Inevitably the mechanisms of violence and resultant death tolls mattered little in American rhetoric. Rather, the meaning ascribed to violence by those in positions of power was what inevitably de- termined whether the cause was just and the use of force legitimate. Operation El Dorado embodied this concept, as the bombing of Tripoli and Benghazi resulted in the deaths of more than one hun- dred Libyans—mostly civilians according to the Western press— compared to the solitary American serviceman fatally wounded in the La Belle bombing (Chomsky 138). In order to distinguish this off ensive from the illegitimate acts of terrorist violence that his administration had repeatedly condemned, Reagan stated in his April 14 address to the nation on the state of Libya: “The attacks were concentrated and carefully targeted to minimize casualties among the Libyan people with whom we have no quarrel.” Notably, he called the victims of the attacks “the Libyan people” instead of “civilians”—the Great Communicator no doubt realized that the term alone could trigger associations with terrorist bombings. To solidify the gradient spectrum of violence, he used the same ad- dress to contrast the careful U.S. attack with the “maximum and indiscriminate casualties” that Qaddafi -sponsored terrorist actions aimed to infl ict. Not only was the Reagan administration able to turn public
23 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
support in favor of the Libyan bombings, but the perceived success of the operation hastened changes in American attitudes toward terrorism (Peffl ey, Langley, and Goidel). In the wake of Operation El Dorado, public opinion polls indicated that Americans were more accepting of military force as an eff ective tool for dealing with state-sponsored terrorism (Peffl ey, Langley, and Goidel). These re- visions in public perception owed in large part to Reagan’s mastery of rhetorically framing issues in a manner that would appeal distinc- tively to American society. For instance, Reagan activated the con- servative mentality and moral code held by many Americans in the 1980s by using a “strict father model” in his rhetoric. As described by George Lakoff in his book Don’t Think of An Elephant, this view necessitates a strong and capable authority fi gure to off er protec- tion for his children against the world’s perils. Reagan evoked this sentiment in a 1986 address on national security: “The past 5 years have shown that American strength is once again a sheltering arm for freedom in a dangerous world” (Reagan Feb. 26, 1986 address). Another facet of Lakoff ’s model is a vision of the world divided between clear winners and losers. Reagan alluded to this competi- tive ideology with his assertion that “We live in a world where it’s dangerous if not fatal to be second best” (qtd. in Hoyt and Bosch). Speaking of the Libyan situation with such phrases as, “there are limits to our patience” and “we must teach them a lesson,” called to mind a parent chastising a rebellious child and thus further in- grained the strict father model of seeing the world (Davis 47). With this mental frame in place, the United States was justifi ed in taking the belt strap, so to speak, to a misbehaving Libya—in fact, it was the moral thing to do. Just as strict fathers believe that the only way to teach children right from wrong is through harsh (and in some cases) painful punishment, Reagan sought to con- vince the American people that Libya, Gaddafi , and terrorists in general would only change their erroneous ways if they when met with forceful consequences. Speaking of the terrorists involved in the La Belle bombings earlier that week, Reagan warned that “if somebody does this and gets away with it and nothing happens to them, that encourages them to try even harder and do more” (Apr. 9, 1986 press conference).
24 JADE BATSTONE
As a “strict father,” a moral authority to the world, it was cru- cial that the United States was perceived as a strong international presence. Reagan’s “peace through strength” doctrine solidifi ed this image of the nation as well as portrayed the Libyan off ensive as a show of might that would make the world a safer place. Military capacity was the instrument of peace that Reagan referred to most often and that which he invariably pointed to as a measure of the country’s strength. Conversely, weakness, in Reagan’s eyes, con- sisted of inaction in the face of external threat. In the aftermath of the Rome and Vienna massacres Secretary of State Shultz adopted this aggressive outlook as well, asserting that “state-sponsored ter- ror will increase through our submission to it, not from our ac- tive resistance” (qtd. in Davis 84). Reagan, for his part, told the American people that “[Qaddafi ] counted on America to be passive … he counted wrong”—a clear nod to the “passivity as weakness” doctrine (Reagan Apr. 14, 1986 address). By disregarding the poten- tial for peaceful negotiations or state-issued sanctions to serve as a form of action, albeit non-violent, Reagan legitimizes his unde- clared war on Libya by presenting it as the only recourse for taking action against enemies. Quoting Edmund Burke, he reminded the audience of a White House meeting held the day after Operation El Dorado, “In order for evil to succeed, it’s only necessary that good men do nothing.” Reagan’s militaristic foreign policy didn’t begin with the terror- ist threat, however: he assumed the presidential offi ce armed with the belief that a strong front face was exactly what was needed to force the Soviet Union to keel over (Hoyt and Bosch). Reagan then framed the Libyan attacks as an extension of the fi ght against the same forces of world evil. By placing the new disturbing threat to their safety within a preexisting realm of shared experiences, Reagan was able to console anxious Americans and gain support for his administration’s policies. He assured Americans that there was still a bear loose in the forest, albeit a bear of a distinctly Arab breed. To enact this strategy, Reagan and those in his government used pre-existing anti-communist rhetoric in their verbal campaign against world terrorists. Secretary of State Alexander Haig made a
25 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
public statement in 1986 claiming that “the punishment necessary to defeat the terrorists is not a tit-for-tat which leaves them the choice of escalation” (qtd. in Davis). By espousing strong action to create a deterrence eff ect, Haig invoked a line of reasoning that Americans were already familiar with. It drew on widely accept- ed American values: the immorality and innate evil of the Soviet Union. Likewise, one political writer of the time termed Reagan’s approach to Libya “containment, rollback, and bleeding all at the same time” (Davis 60). Casting international terrorism, and by ex- tension the Libyan regime, in the same light as the dreaded Com- munists paved the way for Reagan to earn overwhelming public support for his anti-terrorism endeavors. Selling a combative foreign policy to the American people was a great oratorical feat of Reagan’s presidency. The cult of person- ality that he managed to create for himself facilitated a rhetoric that drew theatrical representations of heroes and villains on the world stage. With the threat of international terrorism looming over the American people, Reagan utilized this simplistic script to cast a clear aggressor (Gaddafi ) and make a show of vanquish- ing the dangerous foe. In this way, Reagan successfully legitimized the 1986 Libyan air strikes as a demonstration of meeting the evil scourge of terrorism with force—an impressive achievement when we look at our current president’s failure to achieve a similar rhe- torical victory against the very same opponent. Despite a near international consensus that Gaddafi should be ousted from his repressive Libyan regime, Obama’s deployment of U.S. military aid was largely seen as a “folly” (Falk). Whereas Reagan embodied con- fi dence and decisiveness with his actions (no matter how fl awed), Obama’s deliberation over a course of action in Libya merited the pejorative description of “dithering” by some (Falk). Rather than a heroic crusade, one Al Jazeera columnist lamented that Obama’s “military intervention has not saved the day” (Falk). Thus, even the staunchest liberals must concede a grudging admiration for the late Great Communicator’s masterful wielding of public opin- ion. When it comes to rhetorical gunfi ghts, Obama could use some target practice.
26 JADE BATSTONE
Appendix
Daff y Qaddafi : Malice in Wonderland. Comic Book. Comics Unlimited. 1986. Print.
27 ANALYSIS OF REAGAN’S RHETORIC SURROUNDING THE 1986 LIBYAN AIR STRIKES
Works Cited
Chomsky, Noam. Pirates and Empires: International Terrorism in the Real World. Brattleboro, VT: Amana, 1990. Print.
Daff y Qaddafi : Malice in Wonderland. Comic Book. Comics Unlimited. 1986. Print.
Davis, Brian L. Qaddafi , Terrorism, and the Origins of the U.S. Attack on Libya. New York: Praeger, 1990. Print.
Falk, Richard. “Obama’s Libyan Folly.” Al Jazeera. 4 Apr. 2011. Web. 6 Apr. 2011.
Hertog, James. “Elite Press Coverage of the 1986 U.S.-Libya Confl ict: A Case Study of Tactical and Strategic Critique.” Journalism & Mass Communication Quarterly 77.3 (2000): 612-27. Print.
Hook, Geoff rey. “Showdown.” Cartoon. 26 March 1986.
Hoyt, Austin, and Adriana Bosch. “Reagan.” American Experience. Prod. Austin Hoyt. PBS. Television.
Ivie, Robert L. “Images of Savagery in American Justifi cations for War.” Communication Monographs 47.4 (1980): 279-294. Communication & Mass Media Complete. EBSCO. Web. 24 Mar. 2011.
Lakoff , George. “Framing 101: How to Take Back Public Discourse.” Don’t Think of An Elephant. White River Junction, VT: Chelsea Green, 2004. 3-34. Print.
Peffl ey, Mark, Ronald E. Langley, and Robert Kirby Goidel. “Public Re- sponses to the Presidential Use of Military Force: A Panel Analysis.” Political Behavior 17.3 (1995): 307. Web.
Reagan, Ronald. Address. The President’s News Conference. East Room at the White House, Washington. 9 Apr. 1986. Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. Web. 29 Mar. 2011. 28 JADE BATSTONE edu/archives/speeches/1986/50786a.htm>. ______. Address. President Reagan’s Address to the Nation on U.S. Air Strikes against Libya. Oval Offi ce at the White House, Washington. 14 Apr. 1986. Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. Web. 29 Mar. 2011. ______. Address. Remarks at a White House Meeting With Members of the American Business Conference. In Room 450 of the Old Executive Offi ce Building, Washington. 15 Apr. 1986. Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. Web. 29 Mar. 2011. ______. Address. Address to the Nation on National Security. The Oval Offi ce at the White House, Washington. 26 Feb. 1986. The Ronald Reagan Presidential Foundation and Library. Web. 29 Mar. 2011. Shaheen, Jack G. “Arab Images in American Comic Books.” Journal of Popular Culture 28.1 (1994): 123-133. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. Web. 25 Mar. 2011. Shane, Scott. “Words as Weapons: Dropping the ‘Terrorism’ Bomb.” The New York Times. 2 Apr. 2010. Web. 6 Apr. 2010. Speakes, Larry M. “Statement by Principal Deputy Press Secretary Speakes on the Gulf of Sidra Incident.” Address. Briefi ng Room at the White House, Washington. 24 Mar. 1986. Ronald Reagan Presi- dential Library. Web. 29 Mar. 2011. 29 THE MARRIAGE ACT OF 1753 WRITER’S COMMENTS I was far from excited when I fi rst chose to research and write about marriage in eighteenth-century Britain for Professor Crawford’s course. Quite frankly, it seemed a dull and irrelevant subject, but this changed when I encountered information about the Marriage Act of 1753. I was surprised to fi nd that the arguments of proponents and opponents of the Act were nearly the same as those I had heard when Proposition 8 was on the ballot in 2008. In addition, I found it fascinating that more than two hundred years later, scholars like Probert and Bannet still hadn’t reached a consensus about the impact of the Act. Using primary and secondary sources I sought to discover what led to the Act’s rati- fi cation as well as the effects of the Act and how they could be used to inform our theory and practice of marriage in contemporary America. — Michael Braten INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS Michael wrote this essay for a British Eighteenth-Century Literature course and chose a subject that grew out of his formal, oral presenta- tion to the class. The paper that emerged, however, introduced an entirely different focus than the original project. During his research Michael dis- covered a shameful historical fact: problems that attach to institutions such as the family rarely change; rather, they simply disport themselves in unfamiliar sartorial display. He was thus able, early in the essay, to parallel Proposition 8 with the Marriage Act of 1753. This transference of knowl- edge takes cognitive maturity: the thinking skills associated with form- ing relationships between topics seemingly divorced from each other by time and even content can be shown to have much in common, can even show that nothing much has changed. To write this paper, Michael not only had to conduct research into the Marriage Act, which few people, frankly, know about, and consequently know nothing of the legal statutes that, in a process over time, we fi rst import into ways that we think about the fam- ily, and, second, we naturalize so that they become invisible. Michael’s essay brings the Marriage Act into visibility and thus frames an astute argument. Like all of Michael’s written work, however, the perspicuity of his argu- ment owes much to the solidity of his writing. Although Michael learned to write good academic prose early on, he demonstrates here that he clearly understands not only how to make and support an argument—he can also transform a subject that initially seemed dull into a politics that is relevant for us today. —Rachel Crawford, Department of English 30 MICHAEL BRATEN MICHAEL BRATEN The Marriage Act of 1753: Drastic Alteration or Mere Development? N NOVEMBER 4, 2008, Californians entered polling stations Oand cast their votes to elect new government offi cials as well as to support or oppose a series of statewide and municipal mea- sures. One measure that appeared on the ballot was Proposition 8, which sought to defi ne marriage in California as the union be- tween a man and a woman. The measure descended from Propo- sition 22 that had passed in 2001, but which the State Supreme Court had overturned, citing that the California State Constitu- tion required equal treatment of individuals regardless of their sex- ual orientation. In the months prior to the 2008 election, a debate raged throughout the state over the consequences of the proposi- tion. Many proponents argued that if Proposition 8 did not pass, it would destroy the sanctity of marriage and dissolve the modern family (Garrison). When Proposition 8 passed with 52.5 percent of Californians voting in favor, supporters celebrated the victory as one that pro- tected society and children. “I think we made them realize,” said supporter and proposition strategist Jeff Flint, “that there are broader implications to society and particularly the children when you make that fundamental change that’s at the core of how soci- ety is organized, which is marriage” (qtd. in Garrison). While many who voted in the 2008 election saw Proposition 8’s attempt to (re) defi ne marriage as a contemporary phenomenon, the truth is that Prop 8 was only the most recent change occurring to an institution which, for hundreds of years, has undergone a process of constant revision. More than 250 years before Proposition 8 appeared on the bal- 31 THE MARRIAGE ACT OF 1753 lots, long before the United States of America even existed, Eng- land faced a measure called the Marriage Act of 1753. At the time, many argued that the Act altered the defi nition of marriage and aff ected society profoundly. Proponents of Prop 8 echoed the exact words of dissenters of the Act in Parliament who “protested that the government was giving ‘the word marriage … a diff erent signifi - cation from what it had before’ ” (Bannet 233). The truth, contrary to arguments in the 18th century, is that the Marriage Act of 1753, was not a radical revision of existing practice, but rather “a devel- opment of what already existed” (Probert 249). In addition, the Marriage Act was not, as originally argued in the House, a safety measure put in place by Parliament to protect young wealthy heirs and heiresses from being seduced by members of a lower socioeco- nomic class. Instead, it was a way to increase the population of the commonwealth. It succeeded. Whereas contemporary measures such as Proposition 8 seek to defi ne marriage as the union between one man and one woman, de- fending it from the alleged menace of homosexuality, the Marriage Act of 1753 sought to defend marriage from the menace of clan- destine marriages (O’Connell 100). In order to understand exactly what clandestine arrangement were, and why Parliament wished to prevent them from occurring, it is essential to look at not only the variety of ways in which individuals could have married in the 18th century, but also the reasons why individuals chose to marry. Most marriages that took place in England prior to and well into the 18th century were arranged. Arranged marriages occurred “among landed or moneyed families” as well as middle-class fami- lies, and were “essentially fi nancial agreements designed to ce- ment powerful alliances and exchange or acquire land or property” (Moore 1). The fathers of the involved families arranged these mar- riages, usually while the bride and groom to be were still infants. The marriages came to fruition in the betrothed individuals’ teen- age years, many times without either of the individuals knowing each other. Sometimes, the individuals wed without ever having met each other, which was to be the case with Mary Pierrepont. When she was 23, Pierrepont’s father arranged a marriage between her and an Irish aristocrat whom she had never met. She went on 32 MICHAEL BRATEN to describe the wedding arrangements as “daily preparations for [her] journey through Hell.” Pierrepont was fortunate enough to escape this arrangement when she eloped and married her long- time lover just days before the marriage ceremony was slated to take place (Moore 1). Very few couples were able to do what Pier- repont did; most arranged marriages were, of course, disastrous and unhappy. The marriage that Pierrepont chose to pursue, one founded in love rather than in the alliances and fi nances of her father, is an ex- ample of the other form of marriage gaining popularity in the 18th century, the companionate marriage. Considered to be the norm today, marriages in which “spouses put the prospects of emotional satisfaction before the ambition for increased income or status” were a new phenomenon for the upper and middle classes in 18th century England (Stone 217). The lower classes had always been free to choose their own mate, so long as they were of the same social standing (Moore 1). As Daniel Defoe (1660–1731) noted: persons of lower station are, generally speaking, much [more happy] in their marriages than princes or persons of distinction. So I take much of it, if not all, to consist in the advantage they have to choose and refuse. (qtd. in Stone 218) When people of a lower class married for love rather than fi nan- cial gain, however, it caused fewer problems for parents than when upper-class individuals decided to do the same. Thus, many upper- class betrothed children like Pierrepont who chose to marry for love were forced to marry under clandestine arrangements that their parents could not prevent, but which still carried many ad- vantages of a legal marriage. Understanding what it meant to celebrate a clandestine marriage in the 18th century requires that one understand what made a mar- riage offi cial at the time. According to Stone, an offi cial marriage involved a series of distinct steps. The fi rst was a written legal contract between parents concerning the fi nancial arrange- ments. The second was the spousals (also called a contract), the 33 THE MARRIAGE ACT OF 1753 formal exchange, usually before witnesses, of oral promises. The third step was the public proclamation of banns in church, three times the purpose of which was to allow claims of pre-contract to be heard (by the seventeenth century nearly all the well-to-do evaded this step by obtaining a license). The fourth step was the wedding in church, in which mutual consent was publicly veri- fi ed, and the union received the formal blessing of the Church. The fi fth and fi nal step was the sexual consummation. (30) A clandestine marriage abandoned many of these steps yet remained valid under ecclesiastical law, and retained property rights under common law (O’Connell 71). This was possible because “at canon law, consent, not ceremony, made marriage,” and thus “the crucial distinction for ecclesiastical courts was not whether a priest was present” at a wedding, but whether or not couples voiced marriage vows in the present or future tense. Marriage vows said in the pres- ent tense (spousia per verba de praesenti) before witnesses constituted a binding marriage, while vows said in the future tense (spousia per verba de futuro) in the presence of witnesses constituted a marriage upon consummation, but could be broken with mutual consent any time before that (O’Connell 80-81). If couples only exchanged vows without witnesses present the marriage was considered a contract marriage. If couples made the vows in the presence of a priest, but without any of the aforementioned steps, the marriage was con- sidered clandestine. These marriages were understandably more popular among individuals because they could be proven when it came to the death of a spouse and inheritance became an issue (Probert 249). Clandestine marriages were also popular because they were performed without many of steps in which disapproving family members would have had to participate. It comes as no surprise, then, that in order to pass the Act, as Bannet points out, “the Government said that the Act was de- signed to prevent rich heirs and heiresses of good family from be- ing seduced into clandestine or runaway marriages with their so- cial or economic inferiors” (233). Many even referred to the Act as “An Act for the Better Preventing of Clandestine Marriages.” The Act stipulated that the only valid marriage under law was one “per- 34 MICHAEL BRATEN formed by an ordained priest according to the Anglican Liturgy in a parish church or public chapel of the Established Church after thrice called banns or the purchase of a license from the bishop” (O’Connell 67) and made a marriage nearly impossible without parental consent for couples under 21 (Moore 1). All of these restrictions appeared to aim at preventing clan- destine marriages, but the government’s motives are uncon- vincing considering the facts of the Act. First, because the Act only applied to England and Wales, couples desiring to marry against their parents’ wishes eloped in “Scotland where the Act did not apply” and “married at Gretna Green, the fi rst village across the border” (Moore 1). Second, as Probert points out, “it was possible to marry within the letter of the law, but still evade the notice of friends and family” (254). Several large loopholes in the law enabled this. For example, a marriage could not be nullifi ed after occurring if banns were not published in the lo- cale where the parties resided. In addition, couples under the age of 21 “could marry by banns without parental consent,” and “such a marriage was valid unless the parent or guardian had publicly expressed dissent in the church or chapel where the banns were published” (Probert 254-55). Thus, if couples mar- ried in a parish other than the one that they regularly attend- ed, their parents could not dissent. Allegedly, this was widely practiced in the wake of the Act, given the fact that “parishes surrounding London lost much of their marriage trade to the anonymous urban parishes” (Probert 255). With the information above taken into consideration, Ban- net is correct in noting that rather than being aimed at prevent- ing clandestine marriage, the Act can be interpreted as “one of the fi rst fruits of the new discipline of political economy.” For Bannet, it “represented the best contemporary thinking about how to manage population in order to increase Britain’s wealth” (235). Philosophers of the 18th century, such as Adam Smith, expressed that a country’s industrial ability was of the highest value and that in order to increase this industrial abil- ity, a country needed as many helping hands as it could man- age. In other words, as Smith said, “the most decisive mark of the prosperity of any country is the increase in the number of 35 THE MARRIAGE ACT OF 1753 its inhabitants” (65). Bannet notes that in the time before the Act passed, opinions of the House diff ered over whether or not the Act would increase population. “But,” Bannet points out, “they agreed that ‘propagation of species’ and ‘the good of so- ciety’ were the ‘two great ends [they] should have in view when [they] make any laws relating to marriage’ ” (234). Additionally, English Parliament understood that an increased population didn’t necessarily equate to a productive one. As British econo- mist James Steuart (1712-1780) explained: Children produced from parents who are able to maintain them, and bring them up to a way of getting bread for them- selves, do really multiply and serve the state. Those born of parents whose subsistence is precarious, or which is propor- tioned to their own physical necessary only, have a precari- ous existence, and will undoubtedly begin their life by being beggars. (XII) The government recognized that children born to uncertain, disastrous, or broken marriages often died of untended diseas- es, starved, or fell into the hands of the parish and the nation for support. Only when parents raised children in a stable mar- riage assured by the Marriage Act of 1753, would they be pro- ductive members of the commonwealth. These children would then also go on to mirror the marriage that they were raised in as a result, and would in turn produce more commonwealths- men (Bannet 234). Considering the statistics, the Marriage Act accomplished the goal of increasing Britain’s population. As Bannet states, “the population’s growth rate accelerated steadily in the latter half of the eighteenth century according to Rickman’s fi rst cen- sus in 1801, and Britain’s population almost doubled between 1791 and 1831 when it went from 7.74 million to 13.28 million in about a generation and a half” (250). During this period, how- ever, illegitimate births more than doubled, thus calling into question whether or not the Act succeeded in positively im- pacting Britain’s political economy (241). In the essay, “The Marriage Act of 1753: ‘A Most Cruel Law 36 MICHAEL BRATEN for the Fair Sex,’ ” Eve Tavor Bannet argues that the British gov- ernment reached the aforementioned goals of population growth at the expense of women. She cites the rise in illegitimate births as proof that women suff ered the most because of the Act. Ban- net demonstrates this noting that before the Act, marriage relied solely on the “private exchange of promises between a man and a woman to live together as [husband] and wife.” Thus, “church courts and justices of the peace would uphold the claim of a preg- nant woman [if] ‘she had been debauched under promise of mar- riage.’ ” They also, if necessary, compelled the man in question to uphold his promise. This meant that “seductions, as well as, abduc- tions and clandestine marriages were, for all intents and purposes, real marriages” (234). When the Marriage Act came into being, if a woman consummated with her lover and had a child as a result, even if spousals had been exchanged prior to intercourse, and the male involved chose to fl ee, the woman would be stuck with a bas- tard child. To illustrate this, Bannet quotes Sir William Blackstone, from his Commentaries on Laws of England, who said: Any contract made, per verba de praesenti or in words of the pres- ent tense, and in case of cohabitation per verba de futuro also, be- tween persons able to contract was before the late act deemed a valid marriage to many purposes; and the parties might be com- pelled in the spiritual courts to celebrate it in facie ecclesiae. But these verbal contracts are now of no force, to compel a future marriage. (234) In this sense the Act made women who engaged in sexual activity out of the confi nes of the law whores, and any children born as a result of the sexual activity bastards. And Bannet is not alone in her opinion. When the Act was debated in the House, opponents said that it was “one of the most cruel enterprises against the fair sex that ever entered into the heart of man,” for it would be “the ruin of a multitude of young women” (Bannet 235). Further, Bannet ex- plains, because “men had increasingly appropriated to themselves what had once been considered women’s jobs in the economy at 37 THE MARRIAGE ACT OF 1753 large,” a debauched single woman and her children barely stood a chance to survive, let alone be successful in any way (241).To illus- trate how this might have happened, Bannet cites the case that al- legedly spurred the Marriage Act. In 1746, the case of Campbell v. Cochran began when Captain John Campbell died in combat at the Battle of Fantenoy. Shortly after, a woman named Magdalen Cochran came forward as Camp- bell’s widowed wife expecting his pension, despite the fact that Mr. Campbell had been married to another woman, Jean Camp- bell, for over 20 years. Jean Campbell thus “raised a Declarator of Marriage process before the Commissary Court” (Leneman 2). The case went to trial, where Cochran claimed that she had been clandestinely married to John Campbell in the summer of 1724. Al- though she lacked a marriage certifi cate, she produced a document signed by John Campbell verifying their wedding, as well as hun- dreds of love letters, in which Mr. Campbell referred to her as his wife. At the time of the marriage, Mr. Campbell asked Cochran to keep the marriage secret “because he was dependent on the Duke of Argyll who would not approve of it” (Leneman 2). Soon after, Mr. Campbell married Jean, and when confronted by Magdalen about it, he claimed that he was drunk when she se- duced him and that he had impregnated her and had to marry her to avoid consternation from the Duke of Argyll. Despite this, John and Magdalen continued their relationship, writing letters, and sometimes even seeing each other in person. Jean Campbell even- tually learned about the relationship and was understandably upset, but nothing could have prepared her for the shock of learning that Magdalen appeared in English court as Campbell’s wife to claim his pension. If Magdalen succeeded in her claim, Jean Campbell’s 22-year-long marriage would have been nullifi ed and her daughter would have been declared a bastard. Fortunately for Jean, “the Court found that the marriage had been suffi ciently proven and barred Magdalen Cochran from bringing evidence of her claim” (Leneman 4). But Magdalen did not give up and appealed to the House of Lords in 1749. In the summer of 1751 Magdalen’s process was again dismissed after which she appealed again. According to Leneman, “it was that fi nal appeal, in January 1753, that led the Lords to press for new legislation to prevent clandestine marriag- 38 MICHAEL BRATEN es, something Lord Hardwicke had long advocated” (5). Although it took place before the Marriage Act of 1753, Bannet notes that this case represents the potential consequences of many post-Marriage Act relationships. For Bannet, this is an example of “a woman who thought herself [a man’s] widow [and who] had ac- tually lived with him publicly as his wife for many years [but] was set aside by the true or trumped up evidence of his pre-contract to another woman.” For Bannet it also would have meant “that the woman who thought herself his widow had been married to him bigamously and that her children were in fact illegitimate” (237). Fortunately, Magdalen did not have children from her relation- ship with Campbell and thus was not left poor and husbandless, as many women in the 18th century allegedly were due to broken marriage promises. Bannet concludes that before the Marriage Act, unions were constituted by “ ‘truth’ of the sexual union and its potential fruit” and that the old laws regarding these unions were designed to “follow, acknowledge and, where necessary, uphold the ‘troth’ of the union.” Marriage was viewed as a union that had existed since Adam and Eve, before civilized society, and only depended on the private vows made between a man and a woman. Laws then existed only “to repeat and publicly enforce ‘every obligation which natu- rally arises from the Marriage Contract.’ ” According to Bannet, the Marriage Act, “on the other hand, sought to regulate people’s natural impulses in order to bring them under the control of public police.” The Act regarded reproduction as a necessary ingredient to the economy, and marriage a precursor to healthy reproduction, although for generations “churchmen and moralists had taught that marriage was a remedy against fornication designed for mu- tual comfort and the procreation of children” (250). And in the end for Bannet, women were the primary victims, their sexuality com- moditized and regulated by the Marriage Act, and valued as long it could be proven to have occurred while they were bound in an offi cial marriage with a man. Despite the convincing nature of Bannet’s argument, Rebecca Probert manages to counteract many of her points in the essay “The Impact of the Marriage Act Of 1753: Was It Really ‘A Most 39 THE MARRIAGE ACT OF 1753 Cruel Law For The Fair Sex?’ ” Probert’s essay demonstrates that the Marriage Act was, by no means, a drastic alteration to existing practice, but merely “constituted a shift in practice” (248). She il- lustrates this by pointing out that “the Church had long prescribed the form that marriages should take, even if less formal ceremonies were accepted as valid” (248). According to Probert’s research, cou- ples were required to announce banns for hundreds of years prior to the passing of the Act, and the Ecclesiastical License Act of 1533 made it possible for couples to dispense banns and instead obtain a license. Further, she says that “church courts had the power to pun- ish couples who failed to comply with these formalities and could require the parties to solemnize their marriage in the approved form” (248). Bannet’s argument is founded on the idea that after the pass- ing of the Marriage Act, women who were seduced under promises of marriage and then abandoned had no means of recourse and were left to fend for themselves with an illegitimate child. This hy- pothesis only works if contract marriages (the simple exchange of vows) were prevalent before the Marriage Act. Probert’s research indicates that this is not true. She quotes Stone who claims that contract marriages “died away to almost nothing between 1680 and 1733,” and that three cases in the 1730s “made legal history as the last of their kind” (qtd. in Probert 250). It is possible that contract marriages may have remained popular despite instances of dispute within them, but even then, contract marriages were very diffi cult to prove, and thus it is unlikely that woman would have been seduced into relationships based on the promise of one. As Probert points out, “a woman who surrendered her chastity upon a promise of marriage breathed into her ear by a man who then rejected her in favor of someone else would have diffi culties in establishing that she was his wife in law as well as in conscience” (251). Lord Hardwicke, who is largely credited with the Act, made the point during the trial of Priest v. Parrot that contract marriage promises were instances “which it is almost impossible to give evi- dence of” (251). Responding to Bannet’s claim that women could also be se- duced into clandestine marriages after the Act, Probert states that 40 MICHAEL BRATEN “estimates of the proportion of clandestine marriages over the country” varied “from four per cent to thirty per cent” (249). Even then, the thirty percent is an outlier because, as O’Connell pointed out, clandestine marriages were the “ ‘commonest means’ of mar- riage in London … before the Marriage Act,” yet we cannot assume that the rest of England functioned as London did (76). Further, as Probert notes, many of these marriages may have only been clan- destine so far as they were “celebrated at uncanonical hours” (mar- riages were supposed to be celebrated before noon) or were cel- ebrated “in a parish to which the parties did not belong” (249). All things considered, formal marriages were actually more common than not. As Probert says, “clandestine marriages peaked at the end of the seventeenth century” and by “1753 conformity with the church’s formal requirements was almost universal” (249). Thus, it is hard to argue that a woman would be tricked into uncertain unions with a man as Bannet argues, before or after the drafting of the Act. Even if a woman was seduced by a man and made pregnant, there were still means of recourse. If a man promised marriage before the seduction, a woman could sue for breach of contract. If marriage wasn’t promised there were still ways of holding the man fi nancially responsible. “The Poor Law guardians,” Probert notes, “could recover from the putative father sums they had paid to the mother.” In addition, the victimized woman’s father “could bring an action for aggravated trespass or loss of services against his daughter’s seducer” (256). With all of the aforementioned information taken into con- sideration, what is to be made of the spike in illegitimacy rates after the passing of the Act? Probert notes that illegitimate births were already on the rise before 1753, that there was an increase in marital fertility in the latter half of the 18th century. Probert also calls attention to the fact that other countries (who had not made changes to their marriage laws) were also witnessing a similar rise (255). Probert also examines the relationship between law and behav- ior in her essay, an aspect that is absent in Bannet’s. Probert asks: 41 THE MARRIAGE ACT OF 1753 How far is human behavior—especially the behavior of lovers— dictated by the law? Did the Marriage Act really lead to a rise in the number of cynical seducers, who took advantage of the Act to take advantage of women, safe in the knowledge that they could not be made to marry them? Is it not more likely that the type of man who would seek to rely on the lack of legal enforce- ability of promises of marriage after 1753 would have been careful not to utter a direct promise of marriage before that date? Such men were likely to be exceptional. The great majority, both be- fore and after the passage of the Act, married not because the law constrained them to do so, but because they wanted to marry the woman in question. (256) Although the consciences and opinions of 18th century men cannot be proven, unless we take letters and novels to be a direct represen- tation of their thought, Probert is justifi ed in pointing out that very few men acted in the manner which Bannet assumes they did. In ad- dition, Probert calls attention to the way in which we view women. She agrees that the prior to the Act and after the Act, marriage dis- advantaged woman in some way. She argues, however, that we need to appreciate “that women were not—and are not—inevitably pas- sive victims of either individual men or the collective male might of the law.” While it is true that women “have suff ered manifest injustices in the past,” Probert argues that we need to “accept the possibility that some developments were an improvement” (259). Probert concludes that “it seems unlikely that the Marriage Act resulted in a signifi cant change in the way people thought about mar- riage.” She notes that, as has been demonstrated in this essay, “most couples had married in the church before the Act, and more married in the church after it was passed,” whether due to social pressure, legal advantages, or their own personal convictions (256). We must look at contemporary amendments to marriage in the same way. As Probert argued, “the Marriage Act of 1753” was not “a breach with what had gone before, but rather a development of what already ex- isted” (249). And is this not what recent legislation involving mar- riage rights boils down to? Surely, the mere development of marriage by making it inclusive to a group of people, much like anti-misce- 42 MICHAEL BRATEN genation bans did in the 1960s, will not cause marriage to dissolve, and cause the family as we know it to break down. If anything, it will merely cement the institution and broaden its reaches. Works Cited Bannet, Eve Tavor. “The Marriage Act of 1753: ‘A Most Cruel Law For The Fair Sex.’ ” Eighteenth-Century Studies 30.3 (1997): 233-54. Print. Garrison, Jessica. “Nation Watches as State Weighs Ban.” The Los Angeles Times. 5 Nov. 2008. Web. Leneman, Leah. “The Scottish Case That Led to Hardwicke’s Marriage Act.” Law and History Review 17.1 (1999): 161-71. Print. Moore, Wendy. “Love and Marriage in 18th-Century Britain.” Histori- cally Speaking 10.3 (2009): 8-10. Print. O’Connell, Lisa. “Marriage Acts: Stages in the Transformation of Mod- ern Nuptial Culture.” Diff erences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies 11.1 (1999): 68-111. Print. Probert, Rebecca. “The Impact Of The Marriage Act Of 1753: Was It Really ‘A Most Cruel Law For The Fair Sex’?” Eighteenth-Century Studies 38.2 (2005): 247-62. Print. Smith, Adam. The Wealth of Nations. 1776. Clarendon: Oxford, 1979. Print. Steuart, James. “An Inquiry into the Principles of Political Economy by James Steuart.” 1767. Marxists Internet Archive. Web. Stone, Lawrence. The Family, Sex and Marriage in England: 1500-1800 (abridged ed.). New York: Harper & Row, 1979. Print. 43 MATERNAL MORTALITY AND MAYAN WOMEN IN GUATEMALA WRITER’S COMMENTS Learning to provide culturally sensitive care was a key component of my training as a nurse. Through the service learning project developed by the University of San Francisco School of Nursing and led by USF instructor and certifi ed nurse-midwife Dr. Linda Walsh, I was given the opportunity to travel with ten other nursing students to Guatemala in January 2010 to provide prenatal and intrapartum care to almost one hundred Mayan women in 14 remote rural villages. We were one of a dozen groups of USF nursing students over the six-year long partnership with the com- munity who have traveled to San Lucas Tolimán, Guatemala. We worked alongside traditional comadronas, or midwives, in order to improve the access and quality of prenatal care to the Mayan community. The indig- enous women of Guatemala have some of the highest rates of infant and maternal mortality in the world, and this paper discusses the contribut- ing factors that I observed during the immersion program and suggests interventions that could address this health problem. — Melissa Fessel INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS Maternal mortality is a sensitive measure of women’s place in a society. It speaks not only to the medical care available to a given population but also to the rights enjoyed or denied to women. In the developing world, women often have limited options for childbearing. Outside urban areas, the choices are usually the traditional birth attendant, assistance by a family member, or no assistance at all at the time of the birth. Melissa Fessel explores the reasons that government and non-governmental organizations have not experienced success in decreasing the mater- nal mortality rate through the training of traditional birth attendants. It has become clear that the midwives are not the primary factor in the high death rates. Discrimination against the indigenous people in the health care system, and the poverty-related factors of lack of transpor- tation, poor nutrition and closely-spaced pregnancies have a far more profound effect on the outcome of pregnancy. Until we can work with communities to develop creative, culturally sensitive interventions, we will continue to see poor women suffering a disproportionate share of the pregnancy-related deaths in these communities. —Linda V. Walsh, Professor Emeritus, School of Nursing 44 MELISSA FESSEL MELISSA FESSEL Maternal Mortality and Mayan Women in Guatemala UATEMALA has one of the highest rates of infant and maternal Gmortality in the world. Women’s Health Weekly (2004) under- scores this appalling statistic with the fact that “maternal mortality among indigenous women is 83% higher than the national rate” (“Obstetrics; Indigenous groups,” p. 109). Over half of the Guate- malan population is indigenous, or descendants of the Mayans, and these women prefer to be cared for by midwives (Glei, Goldman, & Rodriguez, 2000). During a recent service project to Guatemala, eleven nursing students, a nurse practitioner, and a certifi ed nurse- midwife (CNM) provided prenatal care to women living in villages near the town of San Lucas Tolimán. The students estimated that 90% of the ninety-seven women they assessed were Mayan, and almost all of whom stated that they had a midwife, or comadrona, to care for them during pregnancy and birth. As noted by Michel, Mahady, Veliz, Soejarto, and Caceres (2006), “more than 80% of rural births are attended exclusively by a traditional birth mid- wife,” and with the majority of the population living in rural areas, this makes comadronas the main source of maternity care for Gua- temalan women (p. 734). The Ministry of Public Health recognizes that the Guatema- lan health establishment must work with Mayan midwives in order to improve the maternal mortality rates in their country, and in 1935 an offi cial mandate was established in the hopes of orienting the comadronas to modern Western birthing methods and instru- ments (Hinojosa, 2004). The public-health ministry has been of- fering educational programs to midwives in Guatemala for the past fi fty years, but despite the increase in women seeking training and 45 MATERNAL MORTALITY AND MAYAN WOMEN IN GUATEMALA licensure, Guatemala’s high maternal mortality rates have not im- proved. While health authorities continue to blame these discour- aging statistics on the lack of knowledge of the informally trained comadronas, it has become increasingly apparent that the failure of the midwife training programs and correlating high maternal mortality rates of the indigenous population is not the fault of the comadronas, but due to a lack of sensitivity among health workers concerning the Mayan culture and traditional birth practices. The Guatemalan Ministry of Health (MSPAS)1 emphasizes the biological aspects of delivery and disregards the Mayan view of the importance of social and spiritual factors in birth (Berry, 2006). For instance, Mayan women have a certain degree of pena, or embarrassment, discussing and revealing their bodies (Schooley, Mundt, Wagner, Fullerton, & O’Donnell, 2009). This reluctance to divulge health concerns was witnessed fi rsthand by the nursing stu- dents during their patient interactions in Guatemala. The women went to great lengths in order to maintain their privacy as well as the reason behind their clinic visit. For instance, it was observed that when a urine sample was needed, the women would hide the cup given to them for this purpose under the fabric of their skirt or apron. The students additionally confi rmed that many of the women were reluctant to explain any personal health concerns and it was common that the comadrona would report the women’s com- plaints rather than the patient herself. A cultural barrier is erected when the fi rst instruction pregnant women are given when arriving at a clinic is “take your clothes off ,” and this is furthered by the lack of communication between health workers and patients (“Obstetrics; Indigenous groups,” 2004, p.109). As Glei, Goldman, and Rodriguez (2003) explain, “previous qualitative studies have indicated that medical staff in Guatemala may be condescending or discriminatory towards the poor, espe- cially indigenous people” (p. 2449). Alejandro Silva of the Guate- malan Health Ministry’s National Reproductive Health Program notes that it is not the lack of access that keeps the Mayan women away from the clinics, but rather the discrimination they face when 1 Spanish acronym is being used, which stands for the Ministerio de Salud Publica y Asistencia Social. 46 MELISSA FESSEL seeking health services. Silva explains how the MSPAS studies have shown that “people don’t question the quality of our services, they question the way we treat them” (Replogle, 2007, p. 178). These fi ndings are congruent with the fi rst-hand experiences of the nursing students, as they collectively recalled the hesita- tion among Mayan women to seek care from Westernized health care providers who do not speak their language nor make any at- tempt to accommodate their cultural beliefs. The students were told that it was common for a woman’s comadrona to be sent away if she accompanied her patient to the clinic, and the women would later confess to their midwives that they were terrifi ed by the lack of privacy during their physician examinations. Students also wit- nessed annoyance by clinic health workers when one woman’s fam- ily was praying for her while she was in labor, even though this is an important spiritual aspect of birth in the Mayan culture. The Maya view health and disease as a product of both natu- ral and supernatural causes. Successful pregnancies are associated with a balance between body and mind, in addition to “the mainte- nance of healthy relationships with family, community, and nature” (Michel et al., 2006, p. 739). One nursing student recalls how a pa- tient blamed her case of fetal demise on the mal ojo, or evil eye, put on her. She believed that the evil eye was placed on her by an angry woman, cursing her so that she would never have a baby survive again. Even though both the student and her instructor Dr. Walsh, a CNM, knew there were physiological reasons for the death of the fetus, they did not dispute the woman’s claim because to do so would have undermined the religious and social beliefs of the patient and ignored the woman’s culture. The student explained that she was taught to use cultural sensitivity when working with the Mayan patients because it is important to respect the tradi- tional beliefs of the Mayan culture. Unfortunately, clinic health care workers do not commonly employ this consideration. Glei and Goldman (2000) support this observation when they conclude that the lower use of biomedical care by the indigenous population is largely due to the increased likelihood of “discriminatory treat- ment” they have with Spanish-speaking providers (p. 20). The language barrier that Mayan women are confronted with 47 MATERNAL MORTALITY AND MAYAN WOMEN IN GUATEMALA when visiting clinics is an unavoidable obstacle. According to Glei and Goldman (2000), “only about 60% of the indigenous women of reproductive age are able to speak Spanish,” and even though provid- ers serve a mostly indigenous population, a majority of them do not speak an indigenous language (p. 8). The impact of this lack of com- munication is further supported by a study that examined pregnancy care and ethnic variation in rural Guatemala. It was found that fewer than 3% of non-Spanish-speaking indigenous women gave birth in medical facilities and less than one in ten of this sub-group visited a physician at all during her pregnancy. Spanish-speaking indigenous women, however, were more likely to visit a biomedical provider, which suggests that communication is a key element that women consider when seeking maternal care (Glei & Goldman, 2000). The current initiatives in place to strengthen the relationship between traditional midwives in Guatemala and modern Western obstetrics include programs aimed at formally training and licens- ing comadronas. The training sessions are held at local health centers and last about two weeks, with refresher courses approximately ev- ery year. Without a license, midwives are not allowed to practice openly, and the work authorization they receive must be renewed annually at their local health center (Hinojosa, 2004). The nursing students reported that there is a monthly reunión, or meeting, of the comadronas from the villages surrounding San Lucas Tolimán. The meeting is organized by San Lucas Tolimán health promoter Jesus Antonio Perez-Aguilar, and is an opportuni- ty for education and the discussion of recent cases. While the stu- dents on the most recent trip to Guatemala were unable to attend such a meeting, they explained that students from their nursing program have been accompanying Dr. Walsh to San Lucas Tolimán biannually for the past fi ve years. During each visit they plan an educational presentation for the reunión, with topics ranging from diabetes to pregnancy risk factors and premature births. Dr. Walsh re-affi rmed this claim and described how one group performed a skit for the comadronas and acted out prenatal interventions (Dr. Linda Walsh, personal communication, January 10, 2010). There are a myriad of problems associated with the current at- tempts by the Guatemalan Ministry of Health to improve health- 48 MELISSA FESSEL care for Mayan women. The training programs in place that aim to educate the comadronas are ineff ective. The trainers do not speak indigenous languages and use teaching methods that are inappro- priate for the older and largely illiterate midwives. Lecturing with- out any practical instruction disregards the way comadronas have traditionally gained their knowledge and skills. Instead of learning experientially, midwives are authoritatively taught pre-established guidelines. These guidelines do not allow the various therapeutic techniques used by the comadronas, and this results in a medical- ization of birth that plainly ignores the cultural belief systems of Mayan women. Glei et al. (2003) summarize the drawbacks to the current midwife training programs when they explain their fi nding that the medical personnel teaching the comadronas have “little ex- perience attending births, are unable to speak indigenous languag- es, and are condescending to the midwives” (p. 2449). These trainers discredit the knowledge and practice the mid- wives already have, and in no way make an attempt to incorpo- rate their local customs. Health offi cials criticize the traditional techniques of comadronas that they neither understand nor care to examine. Instead, they accept Western medical principles imposed upon them without hesitation (Glei et al., 2003). For example, MSPAS offi cials forbid the traditionally used kneeling or squat- ting birth positions—even though medical studies have found that techniques such as ambulation during labor and squatting births off er advantages including decreased pain and shorter labor. Train- ers criticize the use of prenatal massage and external cephalic ver- sion, even though these techniques are known to be safe and useful (Hinojosa, 2004). A number of interventions off er the promise of decreasing Guatemala’s high maternal mortality rates, and most of these are centered around the utilization of more culturally appropriate care. For instance, as opposed to the one-way, didactic approach of teaching, the format of the midwife training programs should be interactive, participatory, and taught by a provider with experi- ence in attending births. It is imperative that the trainer be able to speak indigenous languages. The information conveyed should be relevant to the rural midwives, and not merely a summary of foreign policies and medical jargon. 49 MATERNAL MORTALITY AND MAYAN WOMEN IN GUATEMALA The monthly reunións in San Lucas Tolimán are a success- ful collaboration between midwives, as they learn from each other’s experiences in a trusting environment. The longevity of Dr. Walsh’s partnership with the San Lucas Tolimán health promoters and comadronas has also been proven to benefi t the health status of the women in the community. One nursing stu- dent, M.-L. Wong, stated her opinion: The comadronas know Dr. Walsh and respect her advice. She doesn’t try to force modern medical norms on the women but instead fi nds a way to use her techniques in partnership with the traditional practice of the comadronas in a way that still acknowledges and respects the Mayan cultural beliefs. (personal communication, January 20, 2010) The students explained that the community respects Dr. Walsh because she has demonstrated her dedication to improving their health program by returning every six months. A combination of these two eff ective initiatives by the biomedical health care providers would benefi t their relation- ship with the comadronas. Similar to the reunións of San Lucas Tolimán, through regular meetings the physicians would have an opportunity to educate the midwives on new obstetrical techniques and information. During these interactions the co- madronas would also have the chance to teach the Westernized providers about their cultural beliefs, and the importance of spirituality and religion in Mayan health. An improved cross- cultural understanding between the indigenous population and the Westernized physicians in Guatemala would increase the frequency of Maya seeking biomedical care. A supportive envi- ronment that respects traditional values would be much more successful in providing indigenous women care than a setting that imposes Westernized medical views on them. Dr. Walsh’s personal practice of cultural sensitivity is not the only principle that should be upheld by physicians work- ing with comadronas. Her continuity of care is also imperative when building a relationship with health workers in Guatemala. Dr. Walsh has returned to the villages surrounding San Lucas 50 MELISSA FESSEL Tolimán more than ten times in the past fi ve years, and continues to work to improve their prenatal and intrapartum care. The prob- lem of high maternal mortality rates cannot be solved by short, sporadic visits by health care providers with no community ties. One nursing student recalled a diagram in a village health center about contraceptives, which showed that over the course of two years there was hardly any birth control use except for one month in which patients received Depo-Provera contraceptive injections. The consensus of the group was that a visiting group of “medi- cal tourists” had most likely given the shots. While this was good exposure, the injections off er eff ective birth control for only three months and were not a long-term solution. The students realized that in order to create real, long-lasting change, programs need to be developed that allow for a continued partnership and dialogue between midwives and modern medical providers. The foundation of these programs should be the Mayan comad- ronas and health promoters, as midwives are the main providers for Mayan women and their children. In order to decrease mater- nal mortality rates in Guatemala, physicians must work together with these comadronas to provide better maternal healthcare. The current system in place in Guatemala undermines the knowledge and traditional practices of Mayan midwives. Instead of blindly conforming to the suggestions of Western medicine, biomedi- cal providers should learn more about the pros and cons of tra- ditional birth methods, recognizing the complementary benefi ts of diff ering interventions. If midwives and biomedical providers worked together they would be able to successfully integrate mod- ern obstetrical techniques into the practice of the comadronas. It is through cultural sensitivity and collaboration that Westernized physicians and traditional midwives will be able to bridge the gaps in their maternal care and off er Guatemalan women comprehen- sive, safe, and respectful treatment. 51 MATERNAL MORTALITY AND MAYAN WOMEN IN GUATEMALA References Berry, N.S. (2006). Kaqchikel midwives, home births, and emergency obstetric referrals in Guatemala: Contextualizing the choice to stay at home. Social Science & Medicine, 62, 1958–1969. Glei, D.A. & Goldman, N. (2000). Understanding ethnic variation in pregnancy-related care in rural Guatemala. Ethnicity & Health, 5(1), 5–22. Glei, D.A., Goldman, N., & Rodriguez, G. (2003). Utilization of care during pregnancy in rural Guatemala: Does obstetrical need matter? Social Science & Medicine, 57, 2447–2463. Hinojosa, S.Z. (2004). Authorizing tradition: Vectors of contention in highland Maya midwifery. Social Science & Medicine, 59, 637–651. Michel, J.L., Mahady, G.B., Veliz, M., Soejarto, D.D., & Caceres, A. (2006). Symptoms, attitudes, and treatment choices surrounding menopause among Q’eqchi Maya of Livingston, Guatemala. Social Science & Medicine, 63, 732–724. Obstetrics; Indigenous groups in the Americas have higher maternal, infant mortality rates. (2004, July 29). Women’s Health Weekly, p.109. Replogle, J. (2007). Training traditional birth attendants in Guatemala. The Lancet, 368 (9546), 177–178. Schooley, J., Mundt, C., Wagner, P., Fullerton, J., & O’Donnell, M. (2009). Factors infl uencing health care-seeking behaviours among Mayan women in Guatemala. Midwifery, 25, 411–421. 52 HEATHER M. FOX WRITER’S COMMENTS In Professor Sundstrom’s Ethics for Majors course, we examined crucial works from the history of leading theories in Western normative ethics, from Aristotle through Rawls. In this essay, which is the second draft of my fi rst written assignment for the course, I engage with Nietzsche’s Genealogy of Morality, a work whose striking account of the origins, de- velopment, and entrenchment of ethics identifi es human beings alone as the source of normativity—“dragging ethics,” as I attribute to Professor Sundstrom in my frantically written class notes, “down from the heavens and placing it in the breast of humanity.” The essay is my response to our assigned prompt. In it, I try to explain Nietzsche’s idea of the “slave revolt of morality,” an event vital to his account of the evolution of our moral values, and its implications for our understanding of these values, and grapple with Nietzsche’s worries about these implications for hu- manity and his underlying conception of the human person that fuels these worries. —Heather M. Fox EDITOR’S COMMENTS Nietzsche’s provocations often engender vehement responses. (I still, for example, bristle at Nietzsche’s notion that altruism is somehow an impediment to a more pure form of morality.) Therefore, I appreciate all the more Heather Fox’s admirably even-handed response to one of Nietzsche’s most diffi cult claims. Note how Heather’s summary resists the temptation to immediately reject the low-hanging fruit of some of Nietzsche’s more dubious assertions; instead, she patiently explores his most intriguing ideas and arrives at an admirably measured conclusion on one of the 19th century’s most infamous and perhaps indispens- able polemicists. In this essay, and many others submitted to Writing for a Real World during her undergraduate career which have earned her both publications and honorable mentions, I see strong evidence that Heather Fox is a fi rst-rate intellect. I would not be surprised at all to see her work in print elsewhere in the near future. —David Holler, Editor, Writing for a Real World 53 APPRECIATING BUT RESISTING NIETZSCHE’S CHIEF NORMATIVE WORRY HEATHER M. FOX Appreciating but Resisting Nietzsche’s Chief Normative Worry IETZSCHE’S On the Genealogy of Morality1 provides a naturalistic, Ndescriptive account of “the conditions and circumstances out of which [moral values] have grown, [...] developed and shifted” (Nietzsche, 6). He traces the emergence and unfolding of these val- ues in order, ultimately, to critique them—to fi nally interrogate the otherwise uncritically embraced “value of these values”—through an amoral, normative analysis (ibid.). This paper endeavors to probe Nietzsche’s Genealogy via an investigation of his not uncontrover- sial “slave revolt of morality,” which Nietzsche understands to have catalyzed the shift from our early, modest moral foundations to our current moral system—one that he views, on the whole, as detri- mental to individual and collective human fl ourishing, and in these regards, inferior to the earlier, though also imperfect, morality. In what follows, I shall seek, fi rst, to faithfully re-sketch the descriptive contours of this crucial event and Nietzsche’s norma- tive assessment of it. I shall withhold my critiques of the descrip- tive (which I nevertheless fi nd problematic, and not ultimately plausible), in favor of accommodating a discussion of Nietzsche’s aforementioned normative worry. My thesis is that this (potentially quite dangerous) worry is not without merit, but that Nietzsche takes the worry too far, for he seems (mistakenly) to think that unless at least some humans can live in such a way as to exhibit unbridled forcefulness and strength as nobles do, humans cannot and will not aspire to and sometimes 1 Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm. On the Genealogy of Morality. 1887. Trans. Maudemarie Clark and Alan J. Swensen. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1998. Print. 54 HEATHER M. FOX achieve greatness, and will in this sense be signifi cantly worsened by their post-revolt moral constraints. Breaking with Nietzsche, I argue that virtues such as compassion, which, by his account, have been made available to us and are held in esteem by “slave moral- ity,” appear perfectly capable of motivating striving and achieve- ment similar to that which Nietzsche otherwise rightly considers impressive, but evidently holds to be impossible under such vir- tues. Nietzsche’s account, with its clear admiration for ‘noble’ val- ues, and misguided view of non-noble ones, off ers us only a partial sense of what a magnifi cent life involves. Nietzsche’s theory of “the slave revolt of morality,” which he characterizes as symbolizing “a radical reevaluation of [...] values,” and “an act of spiritual revenge,” is the culmination of “a two-thou- sand year history” (16-17). The deep and tangled roots of this event stretch to the fi rst moral distinctions and tenuous moral framework, which were invented and practiced by the nobility and endured by common/conquered people for ages. Surveying the etymology of words meaning “good” and “bad” in several languages, Nietzsche begins his genealogy with the insight that notions of social-political superiority and inferiority have, historically, extended to concep- tions of superiority and inferiority of soul (14). The understanding of “good” by aristocrats stemmed (egoistically) from their concep- tion of themselves, i.e., who they took themselves to be and how they took themselves to live: fully and happily; they attributed the label “bad” to their counterparts, i.e., non-nobles and their behav- iors. Nobles’ behavior essentially conformed to these distinctions: toward fellow nobles, they typically exercised “consideration, self- control, tact, loyalty, pride, and friendship,” whereas they behaved less uprightly toward non-nobles, whom they regarded as inferior and thus deserving of the lesser and often exploitative and/or abu- sive treatment (22-23). “The slave revolt of morality,” initiated by priests, an off shoot of the aristocracy, was the response of the weak masses against the prevailing, noble moral ideals, which sanctioned their mistreatment and touted a supremacy that they lacked and of which they were deeply jealous. Driven by a disdain for the powerful, their superior natures, and their way of life, treacherous priests, posits Nietzsche, 55 APPRECIATING BUT RESISTING NIETZSCHE’S CHIEF NORMATIVE WORRY cultivated and channeled an “ideal-creating, value-reshaping hate,” ressentiment (17). On this view, the Jews, possessed by ressentiment, inverted the nobles’ heretofore triumphant “value equation,”2 and began spewing dangerous distortions under the guise of moral revelations, including the following: only the “ ‘poor, powerless, [and] lowly’ ” are good; piety consists in and blessedness emanates from suff ering, deprivation, sickness, and ugliness; and the nobles (whose behavior is animated by the aforementioned nature) are evil and will suff er eternal damnation (16-17). Assailing those he counts as the slave class for having so championed attitudes and behaviors that he views as twisted, weak, and reactive—i.e., con- trary to the naturally deeply active and expansive “Will to Power” and human thriving itself—and having elevated them to the posi- tion of virtues and to the keys to salvation, no less, Nietzsche holds that the priests and their unhappy followers have infl icted serious harm on human beings, individually and collectively. “The slave revolt of morality,” reasons Nietzsche, has disgusted humans with the very aspects of their nature that compel them to strive for greatness and sometimes achieve it. This morality and its new values, which have brought humans “society and peace” and made humans inward-looking and interesting, have neverthe- less greatly harmed humans through their fundamental devalua- tion of the instincts according to which they formerly acted and with which they made sense of the world (56). This new structure implores people to refrain, for instance, from following their in- stincts to behave forcefully and exercise their strength when they so desire, but the primal drives, though now seldom acted on, re- main straining within people. With their natures and impulses so obstructed, Nietzsche theorizes, people began to direct their most abusive and aggressive instincts inwardly, hence the rise of guilt or “bad conscience”—feelings that would come to cause people not just to experience emotional distress generally, but that would positively undermine human thriving, for this morality and its side-eff ects are thought gravely to stifl e human beings, infect their spirits, and discourage individuals’ striving for excellence. 2 This “equation” held that “good=noble=powerful=beautiful=happy= beloved of God” (16). 56 HEATHER M. FOX I think that these worries about the implications of “the slave revolt” for individual and collective human achievement and fl our- ishing have some merit. Mainly, they eff ectively highlight for us what is beautiful and inspiring about the authentic noble spirit: its inexhaustible striving, pushing, and yearning for self-improvement, its propensity not just to say, but scream, “YES,” to itself, its burst- ing with life and compulsion to express its being most forcefully. The worries thus suggest both what might be at risk through the decline of “noble” values and rise of “slave” values, and what about the “noble” we might want to attempt to distill and salvage in our eventual post- or supra-moral system. Nietzsche, who makes clear his wish to transcend “good” and “evil” and to carve open the path for thorough moral transformation, indicates that we should not, in our transformation, accept a loss of what is most glorious about human beings, and should fi ercely resist processes that dilute hu- man potential. We should not ignore these concerns. We should, however, critically appraise them and ensure that they are reason- ably counterbalanced. It seems to me that we can appreciate Nietzsche’s admiration of those aspects or expressions of humanity that he considers most noble and his darkly romantic vision of human authenticity more broadly, without accepting his entire view. In particular, we need not accept his full account of the development of noble persons, the prime worth he places on the value of strength and activity or exertion in such development, and his neglect of at least most non-noble values in this process. It is not at all clear that noble values, as he conceives of them, are suffi cient to form or encour- age the formation of human beings of the sort Nietzsche longs to see, that is to say, people who “justif[y] man himself,” who are “completely formed, happy, powerful, triumphant,” and who, like taut bows, stand “unbreakable, tensed, ready for something new […] more diffi cult, more distant” (24). Noble values, as Nietzsche understands them, which rest on visions of “powerful physicality, a blossoming, rich, even overfl owing health,” and which are achieved through “war, adventure, the hunt, dance, athletic contests, and in general everything which includes strong, free, cheerful-hearted activity,” do seem to get us partly there, and highlight much of what 57 APPRECIATING BUT RESISTING NIETZSCHE’S CHIEF NORMATIVE WORRY a grand, rich life involves, but do not provide us a full picture (16). I think, that is, Nietzsche is right to say that these values play important roles in the process of developing authentic, impressive human beings, but wrong to think that such values and the above conditions that foster them are enough. Nietzsche goes too far in suggesting that less forceful ex- pressions of individual strength or will, and activities which evidently stem from non-noble values (e.g., collaborative activ- ities people might engage in or personal sacrifi ces they might make for one another’s benefi t), in fact divert us from such ide- als as he prizes and discourage or all together impede the devel- opment of the persons he considers extraordinary. I think that we have good reason to resist Nietzsche’s position, expressed throughout his Genealogy, that the more compassionate, less aggressive human beings we encounter following the “slave re- volt of morality” are “deformed, reduced, atrophied, poisoned” persons, and that they mark “the regression of humankind” (23- 24). On the supplementary view for which I am advocating, the characteristics or values evident in such persons whom Nietzsche considers disgraceful, are closer to robust than dis- eased or atrophied, and are necessary ingredients for process of the shaping of those humans Nietzsche champions. In an eff ort to make my point clearer, I wish to briefl y sketch some examples of the characteristics I have in mind, that for Nietzsche are thoroughgoing “slave values,” antitheti- cal to his ideal of the human person, which I think, any such ideal, if it is to be plausible, must take seriously (i.e., recognize the value of) and be able to accommodate. Compassion is a characteristic which, roughly, involves treating others kindly, and living in such a way as to not contribute to the suff ering of others, as well as possibly taking positive steps to amelio- rate that suff ering when one can reasonably do so. Sacrifi ce or generosity is another characteristic, which (again, roughly) in- volves one giving something to others, primarily for the others’ benefi t, at some cost, perhaps considerable, to the benefactor. Both such sketches are indeed cursory, but suffi cient for our purposes, for they capture elements of value that we typically 58 HEATHER M. FOX view as necessary for the development of good persons or ad- mirable characters, but that are at least deemed inessential, if not absolutely obstructive or detrimental, to Nietzsche’s con- ception of the extraordinary person. In Nietzsche’s view, indi- viduals such as those who take serious personal risks to save strangers’ lives or relieve their suff ering, or who give to others in desperate need when they can, that is, people who evidence deep compassion for others, and generosity towards them, are not, through their compassion, generosity, or their evidencing of similar characteristics, exhibiting anything like profound strength, great humanity, or acting in a way that people would rightly fi nd inspiring. They are instead exhibiting a form of weakness refl ective of “slave values,” which noble individuals should make an eff ort to avoid. I think Nietzsche is mistaken to exclude these character- istics from his conception of nobility. It is important for us to recognize that Nietzsche’s position on the danger of these characteristics or values to human thriving is not obviously cor- rect, for it seems that in practicing what Nietzsche considers to be dangerously and thoroughly self-denying or -negating moral ideals, like compassion or generosity toward other human be- ings, people appear very much to be engaged in a sort of noble activity—a striving for and sometimes achieving excellence, even in forcefully affi rming and asserting themselves, albeit in ways diff erent than one is typically understood to engage in that striving or related activities. Contra Nietzsche, I do not think that such compassion-driven striving, or self-affi rmation or assertion is “fake” or illusory, life-denying or sick. I think it represents an other, probably less conspicuous, but never- theless real and utterly necessary way for humans to live full, rich lives. Nietzsche’s account unfortunately misses this point and to the extent that such compassion or other slave-value- driven activities do motivate behaviors and achievements that are noble, the account provides us only an incomplete account of what an authentic, noble life involves. 59 IN DEFENSE OF SAME-SEX MARRIAGE WRITER’S COMMENTS Our essay assignment for Professor Ryan’s Rhetoric 131 course called for analysis of a social issue particular to the City of San Francisco. San Francisco is known for the vitality of its gay and lesbian community, and in 2004 gained notoriety as the fi rst American city to legalize same-sex marriage, beginning a pitched legal battle that is still ongoing. My family has a wide circle of gay friends and acquaintances who were denied the right to marry by the passage of California’s Proposition 8 in 2008, so I wanted to more fully understand both sides of the issue. I decided to research the current legal status of same-sex marriage, the sociological arguments for and against state sanction of same-sex marriage, and the impact of same-sex marriage on both the gay community and society at large. My research led me to conclude that any denial of same-sex mar- riage is unjust and socially detrimental. —Evan Giusto INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS For the research assignment in my Oral and Written Communication course, I usually advise my students to pick a subject that is either relat- ed to their specifi c disciplinary major or has some personal signifi cance. Then, they must counter-argue. In Evan’s paper, we can see the most effective compositional and rhetorical concepts at work: claims and reasoning, data and evidence, empiricism and logic, interpretation and evaluation, invention and disposition, warrants and research. Of course, there are many more, and Evan manages to organize the elements of his argument into a very clear, coherent shape, arguing that same-sex mar- riage should be sanctioned not just legally but ethically and morally. — David Ryan, Department of Rhetoric and Language and the Leo T. McCarthy Center for Public Service and the Common Good 60 EVAN GIUSTO EVAN GIUSTO In Defense of Same-Sex Marriage Abstract The legal sanction of same-sex marriage has become one of the defi ning social issues of our time, because allowing gay and lesbian couples full inclusion in society confi rms our commitment to core values such as liberty, equality, and equitable property rights. These are all ideals on which our country was founded, but we still dis- regard them despite the United States Supreme Court’s decision more than forty years ago that the right to marry is a fundamental freedom. To date, same-sex marriage is banned in the majority of U.S. states and by our federal government. This paper examines the legal status of same-sex marriage at the federal and state levels, focusing specifi cally on California, where the issue is currently be- ing contested in the courts. The paper also analyzes objections to same-sex marriage, and how allowing gay marriage has impacted both same-sex couples and society in general in Europe. Finally, the paper looks at the thriving gay community in San Francisco to get a glimpse of the impact of the same-sex marriage battle. Keywords: same-sex marriage, gay marriage, Defense of Marriage Act, DOMA, Prop 8, San Francisco Castro District 61 IN DEFENSE OF SAME-SEX MARRIAGE Introduction AME-SEX MARRIAGE implicates the deepest issues that defi ne us Sas a society. The issue requires us to question our values with re- spect to liberty, equality, and equitable property rights—all principles upon which our country was founded. However, despite the fact that the United States Supreme Court long ago declared that the right to marry is a fundamental freedom (Loving v. Virginia, 1967)1, same-sex marriage continues to be banned in the majority of states as well as by the federal government. Juxtaposed against this fact are studies that show that inclusion of same-sex marriage generally has a posi- tive eff ect, contributing to the stability of society (Badgett, 2009, p. 127-28). Conversely, suicide attempts by both gay and straight teenagers “are more common in politically conservative areas where schools don’t have programs supporting gay rights” (Tanner, 2011, p. A4). Thriving homosexual communities such as the Castro in San Francisco are evidence of the benefi ts of a socially inclusive environ- ment, be it straight or gay. This paper will examine the legal status of gay marriage in the United States, the social implications of le- galizing same-sex marriage, and how the legal sanction of same-sex commitments is playing out both here and abroad. Legal Precedent Federal Law During the Clinton administration, an overwhelming majority of both houses of Congress voted to enact the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), which defi nes marriage as the legal union of one man and one woman (DOMA, 1996)2. Thus, even if a same-sex couple legally marries in the handful of jurisdictions that allow it, the couple is not entitled to federal benefi ts, including Social Secu- 1 Loving v. Virginia decided the issue of interracial marriage (Loving v. Virginia, 1967). 2 Specifi cally, the statute states, “the word ‘marriage’ means only a legal union between one man and one woman as husband and wife, and the word ‘spouse’ refers only to a person of the opposite sex who is a husband or a wife” (DOMA, 1 U.S.C. § 7) (1997). 62 EVAN GIUSTO rity and immigration rights3. However, in an ironic twist, the IRS reversed its position in May 2010, ruling that while homosexual married couples and registered domestic partners cannot fi le joint federal tax returns, they must, nevertheless, be treated equally with respect to state law. In California, one of the nine commu- nity property states, this condition means that gay married people and registered domestic partners must each declare one half of the couple’s joint income on their individual federal income tax returns (Meckler, 2010). As shown below, this IRS ruling will result in a substantial tax break for same-sex couples with disparate in- comes (Meckler, 2010). Fig. 1. Meckler, L. (2010, June 5). Gay couples get equal tax treatment. The Wall Street Journal. As the chart above from the Wall Street Journal indicates, surprising inequities might emerge in the tax liabilities of registered domestic partners in California. 3 The “United States Government Accountability Offi ce (formerly known as the General Accounting Offi ce) identifi ed a total of 1,138 federal statutory provisions … in which marital status is a factor in … receiving rights, benefi ts, and protections” (Pawelski et al., 2006). 63 IN DEFENSE OF SAME-SEX MARRIAGE The second part of DOMA carves out an exception to Article IV, Section 1 of the Constitution, which requires states to give full faith and credit to the “public acts, records, and judicial proceedings of every other state” (U.S. Constitution). Thus, DOMA declares that no state is required to respect any same-sex relationship sanc- tioned by another state (DOMA, 1996). Therefore, DOMA applies not only to gay marriages but also to domestic partnerships and civil unions (Cliff ord, Hertz, & Doskow, 2010, p. 31). Interestingly, DOMA was enacted before a single state allowed same-sex marriage; in essence, it served as a preemptive strike against what Congress feared would occur at the state level. Now that sev- eral states, including California, have granted full or partial domestic benefi ts to homosexual couples, the federal law has taken on greater signifi cance. Thankfully in February 2011, in an abrupt reversal of federal policy, President Obama concluded that DOMA is uncon- stitutional and instructed the Justice Department not to defend it in court (Savage & Stolberg, 2011). In a letter to Republican House Speaker James Boehner, Attorney General Eric Holder explained that DOMA’s classifi cation of individuals on the basis of sexual ori- entation violates the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution, which guarantees equal protection under the law (Holder, 2011). More re- cently, a federal bankruptcy court in California held that DOMA is unconstitutional for the same reason (U.S. Bankruptcy Court Mem- orandum, 2011, p. 19). In the case of Balas and Morales, a gay mar- ried couple who fi led for joint bankruptcy, the government asked the court to dismiss the case. However, the court found that DOMA was enacted on the basis of “precisely the kind of stereotype-based thinking and animus that the Equal Protection Clause is designed to guard against” (U.S. Bankruptcy Court Memorandum, p. 10). Nev- ertheless, unless DOMA is either repealed by Congress or declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court, it remains in eff ect and en- forceable in other federal jurisdictions. Consequently, although DO- MA’s powers have eroded, given the current conservative make-up of the House of Representatives and the Supreme Court, it is likely to remain on the books for the foreseeable future. 64 EVAN GIUSTO California Law In February 2004, San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom made history when he ordered the city to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples (Perry v. Schwarzenegger, 2010, p. 4). Fig. 2. Willie Albino and James Thompson on their wedding day in San Francisco in 2004. Four thousand licenses were issued in the two months (in- cluding Willie Albino and James Thompson, family friends, pictured above) before the California Supreme Court banned the practice and later declared the marriages void. Several of the couples who had had their marriages voided then sued to have the ban against same-sex marriage declared unconstitu- tional (Perry v. Schwarzenegger, 2010). In May 2008, the Califor- nia Supreme Court struck down its own ban on gay marriage, but a mere six months later Proposition 8, the California ver- sion of DOMA, was voted into law (Cliff ord et al., 2010, p. 34), once again outlawing same-sex marriage. In August 2010, federal district court judge Vaughn Walker upheld a constitutional challenge to Prop 8, stating that there is no basis in the law upon which to distinguish between same- 65 IN DEFENSE OF SAME-SEX MARRIAGE sex and opposite-sex unions4. In so doing, Judge Walker iden- tifi ed the government’s purpose in regulating marriage, which is to create stable households regardless of their composite genders. Therefore, Prop. 8 fails to advance a legitimate gov- ernment interest (Perry v. Schwarzenegger, 2010, p. 11). Further, Judge Walker held that Prop. 8 violates the civil rights of same- sex couples by denying them the fundamental right to marry (Perry v. Schwarzenegger, p. 16). Finally, Prop. 8 sends a mes- sage to gay couples that the state devalues their relationships compared to those of heterosexuals (Perry v. Schwarzenegger, p. 19). However, Judge Walker’s decision was stayed pending the California Supreme Court’s review of the issues. Advocates for same-sex marriage challenged the stay before the Ninth Cir- cuit Federal Court of Appeals on the grounds that there is no public harm in allowing same-sex couples to marry pending the California Supreme Court’s decision (Keen, 2011). Never- theless, in March 2011, the federal appeals court upheld the stay. The appellate ruling was a blow to marriage equality be- cause the California Supreme Court is not expected to weigh in for a year or more (Keen, 2011). Consequently, California remains in a state of legal limbo with respect to same-sex marriage. The only legal union cur- rently available to same-sex couples in California is domestic partnership, but the 18,000 gay and lesbian marriages that took place between May and November 2008 are still valid, creating two separate and unequal levels of legal status with respect to same-sex unions in California (Cliff ord et al., 2010, p. 34). Other States’ Laws To date, six states5 and the District of Columbia have recog- 4 On June 14, 2011, a federal court rejected the request of Prop. 8 supporters to vacate Judge Walker’s decision. Prop. 8 supporters had argued that Walker should have recused himself from the case because he is gay (Wood, 2011). 5 These states are (in chronological order) Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, Vermont, New Hampshire (Cliff ord et al., 2010, p. 17), and New York, where the legislature voted to legalize gay marriage on June 24, 2011 (Confessors & Barbaro, 2011, p. A1). 66 EVAN GIUSTO nized gay marriage. In addition to California, four other states6 have sanctioned legal commitments such as domestic partnerships or civil unions for same-sex couples (Cliff ord et al., 2010, p. 39). While these unions confer extensive legal rights, they all lack the full panoply of the benefi ts of marriage. Three other states have a sort of “marriage-lite” recognition of same-sex relationships that provide even fewer rights for gay couples7. This haphazard and in- consistent patchwork of laws is further complicated by the fact that in some states that have provided full marriage rights, prior domestic partnerships and civil unions are being phased out, while in others they retain their original legal status (Cliff ord et al., 2010, p. 43). The net result is a crazy quilt of regulations with which same-sex couples must comply because only two states, New York and Maryland, recognize gay marriages solemnized elsewhere (Re- ligious tolerance, 2011). For example, a gay married couple that moves to a state that doesn’t recognize same-sex marriage may not be able to divorce there. Likewise, while traveling from state to state, the legal status of a gay or lesbian couple continually changes. If, for example, one member of a same-sex couple should become ill, that person’s legal partner may not have the right to participate in his or her medical treatment decisions8. Moreover, conservative special interest groups such as the Na- tional Organization for Marriage (NOM) and the Family Research Council (FRC) are “poised to start taking back territory where [marriage equality] was … enacted in places like New Hampshire and Iowa” (Quimby, 2011, p. 19). NOM alone spent over $1 million in television campaign ads against the reelection of New Hamp- shire governor John Lynch, who signed an equal marriage bill in 2009 Quimby, 2011). Likewise, the FRC invested heavily in the campaigns of New Hampshire state legislators who declared their opposition to gay marriage rights (Quimby, 2011). 6 These states are Washington, Oregon, Nevada, and New Jersey (Cliff ord et al., 2010, p. 39). 7 These states are Hawaii, Colorado, and Maine (Cliff ord et al., 2010, p. 43). 8 Many same-sex couples address this issue by executing advance health directives, appointing their partners as agents. 67 IN DEFENSE OF SAME-SEX MARRIAGE Arguments Against Same-sex Marriage Arguments against gay marriage fall into two main categories: religious and social. Faith-based objections are more diffi cult to logically refute because they rely on long-standing tradition and belief systems about good and evil rather than on fact. Thus, one argument proff ered by socially conservative Christians is that the primary purpose of marriage is reproduction sanctifi ed by God and not the gratifi cation of the marital partners. In their view, if a heterosexual couple cannot or does not wish to procreate, their marriage is nonetheless a symbolic representation of the inherent- ly reproductive purpose of marriage (Somerville, 2003). In other words, heterosexual marriage, regardless of its actual purpose, is acceptable because it follows centuries of Judeo-Christian belief and tradition. The Catholic Church, however, has declared that homosexual acts are against Church doctrine—primarily because sex is intend- ed for procreation only (Catholic Church, 2003). (Homosexuals who have been baptized are asked to remain celibate.) Another contention by right-wing religious groups is that there is a vast homosexual plot afoot to “change the thinking of the main- stream of the entire world” (Religious tolerance, 2011). The gay mo- dus operandi is allegedly to indoctrinate children in order to “in- crease their backing and their future sexual prospects” (Religious tolerance, 2011). Sanctioning marriage would put an offi cial impri- matur on such abominable behavior. However, the problem with demonizing a natural variation in human sexuality in this particular manner is that there is no evidence to support it, thus precluding rational debate on the issue. Instead, with stereotypical irony, gay artists and writers have responded by transforming this accusation into art (see, for example, Fig. 3 on the next page). The primary social objections also seem to be centered around the procreative aspect of marriage. One argument is that because men and women parent diff erently, children need both infl uences in order to develop properly. To protect the potential off spring of same-sex couples, the Catholic Church has declared that “allowing children to be adopted by persons living in such unions would actu- 68 EVAN GIUSTO ally mean doing violence to these children” (Catholic Church, 2003). Without proff ering much evidence, opponents of gay mar- riage contend that “children from single-gender homes are much more likely to commit crimes, go to jail, have children out of wed- lock, drop out of school, abuse drugs, experience emotional trouble, commit suicide, and live in poverty” (Hicks, 2006). The trouble with these contentions is that they are based on studies of single parent, hence single gen- der, homes; thus the analogy with Fig. 3. Roberts, L-b. The International intact same-sex families is inap- Homosexual Conspiracy. San Francisco: posite (Perry v. Schwarzenegger, Manic D. Press, 2010. 2010, p. 17). In fact, in his 2010 opinion, Judge Walker found that “all available evidence shows that children raised by gay or lesbian parents are just as likely to be well-adjusted as children raised by heterosexual parents and that … gender … is immaterial to whether an adult is a good parent” (Perry v. Schwarzenegger, 2010, p. 19). In addition, studies show “conclusively that having parents of [the same gender] is irrelevant to child outcomes” (Perry v. Schwarzeneg- ger, 2010). Nevertheless, the fear persists that if same-sex marriage is legally sanctioned, there will arise three varieties of human be- ings: those raised by heterosexuals, those raised by lesbians, and those raised by gay males (Catholic Church, 2003), the latter two categories being fraught with danger. A related social argument against same-sex marriage is that ho- mosexual relationships are inherently unstable and thus off spring are more likely to be subjected not only to the toxic environment of same-sex parents, but also to the harms of a broken home, apro- pos of Dan Quayle’s faux pas about the fi ctional single mom Mur- 69 IN DEFENSE OF SAME-SEX MARRIAGE phy Brown in a popular sitcom of the 1990s9. However, this argu- ment begs the question of whether historical deprivation of legal marriage has negatively aff ected the longevity of gay relationships in the United States. Studies show that among heterosexuals, cou- ples who cohabit without the benefi t of marriage are more likely to separate than married people (Badgett, 2009, p. 70). Certainly, the stability of marriage has largely been denied to gay couples in this country. Consequently, to address this issue we must look beyond the borders of the United States to see how same-sex relationships have fared in European countries a decade or more after the formal legalization of gay marriage because their experience provides the most relevant social evidence currently available. Societal Implications of Same-sex Marriage There are two main questions when it comes to the social conse- quences of state recognition of gay unions. First, how has marriage aff ected the gay community? Second, how has gay marriage aff ected society at large? The fi rst question requires an examination of the reasons that couples marry. Studies and anecdotal evidence based on my interviews of gay couples show that same-sex couples who marry do so for the same reasons as heterosexuals: emotional and practical10. For both groups, marriage is a rite of passage that carries tremendous personal signifi cance, as well as a pledge of commit- ment to society at large. When people marry, they take on new social obligations and kinship networks, as well as a framework for under- standing their relationship in a diff erent way. They publicly declare their “willingness to cooperate and share family labor” (Badgett, 9 Blaming the 1992 Los Angeles riots on the breakdown of the American family, former Vice President Quayle famously complained, “It doesn’t help matters,” when a television “character who supposedly epitomizes today’s intelligent, highly paid professional woman … mock[s] the importance of fathers, by bearing a child alone, and calling it just another life-style choice” (Time, 1992). 10 A 2006 Dutch study showed that about sixty percent of both gay and heterosexual couples reported marrying for primarily emotional considerations, while forty percent of each group reported that practical considerations were important in their decision to wed (Badgett, 2009, p. 41). 70 EVAN GIUSTO 2009, p. 204). On the practical side, in countries such as the United States, where vital benefi ts such as employer-provided health insur- ance are tied to marital status, it can make the diff erence between life and death. Further, spousal benefi ts can enable one member of a couple to take time off for parenting or to continue his or her education, which may benefi t both the couple and society (Badgett, 2009, p. 127). Finally, an important emotional benefi t to a group that has traditionally been excluded from an embedded social in- stitution is the long-withheld acceptance by the society of which they are a part (Badgett, 2009, p. 122). Nevertheless, it is important to note that not all gay people support same-sex marriage. Gay op- ponents of same-sex marriage argue that wedlock, aptly named, is a backward-thinking, oppressive institution that will transform gay life in negative ways, including quashing individuality and autono- my (Badgett, 2009, p. 6, 119). With respect to society at large, the act of making a formal com- mitment and then experiencing marriage “from the inside,” when shared by both opposite and same-sex couples, creates common ground (Badgett, 2009, p. 119). And marriage equality, like other advances in civil rights such as gender and racial equality, does nar- row the experiential gap between disparate groups (Badgett, 2009, p. 131), which in turn impacts society in general. Nevertheless, in Northern European countries such as Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Iceland, and the Netherlands, all of which have long histories of legally recognized same-sex unions, neither the rates of marriage nor divorce among heterosexuals have signifi cantly altered in re- sponse to the legalization of gay marriage (Badgett, pp. 69-70). Although it is diffi cult to prove the signifi cance of a non-event, i.e., the lack of change, these statistics arguably refute the claim that providing access to marriage for gays undermines its validity for heterosexuals. In the fi nal analysis, aff ording same-sex couples access to the full benefi ts of marriage appears to change the gay community more than gay people have changed the institution of marriage. This conclusion is borne out locally in San Francisco’s Castro neighborhood. Nestled below Twin Peaks, the Castro district, formerly known 71 IN DEFENSE OF SAME-SEX MARRIAGE as Eureka Valley, was originally part of a large rancho owned by a Mexican land baron. He sold the land to affl uent European settlers, who built spacious Victorian homes there (Hall, n.d.). Beginning in the 1960s, members of the gay community began buying and renovating the old Victorians, and what we now know as the Castro district was launched (Hall, n.d.). Currently, it is one of the larg- est gay communities in the United States, spreading out for several blocks in all directions from its center at Castro and 18th Streets (Hall, n.d.). Despite adversity such as the assassination of openly gay city supervisor Harvey Milk, police and societal intolerance, and the AIDS epidemic, the Castro has continued to thrive and celebrate its gay culture, publicly rejoicing when the California Su- preme Court lifted its ban on gay marriage in 2008. Because many of the 18,000 gay married couples in California reside in the Cas- tro, there is a heady mix of domesticity and homoerotica in the busy streets. Same-sex couples, mostly male, stroll hand-in-hand, sometimes with their children, past walls emblazoned with layers of posters bearing titillating advertisements for upcoming events. Based upon my limited and entirely unscientifi c observations and personal interviews, it does appear as though gay marriage may be bringing the sometimes outrageous gay culture of the Castro a little closer to mainstream middle-class American life. Such changes may be minimal now, but in a generation or two, when children hope- fully will have grown up taking the notion of same-sex marriage for granted, the dissonance between gay and straight lifestyles will likely decrease, as it has in countries like the Netherlands (Badgett, 2009, p. 132). Just as immigrants are gradually assimilated into their new society, losing some characteristics that distinguish them from the mainstream, so might same-sex couples eventually become an unremarkable feature of the American social landscape. Conclusion Bestowing full marriage rights on same-sex couples not only makes sense from a sociological perspective, it is the morally correct thing to do. The fact that most states and the federal government still 72 EVAN GIUSTO oppose it is not reason enough to delay doing the right thing. If President Lyndon Johnson had waited until the majority of Ameri- cans were “ready” for the 1964 Civil Rights Act, we might not have the vital legislation which has protected the rights of stigmatized minority groups for nearly two generations. We are currently in the throes of a mighty legal battle that will defi ne our core values, and California, as a leader in social trends, will be followed by oth- er states. The issue is now in the hands of the California Supreme Court, which, under our three-branched system of government, is charged with protecting the interests of minorities who may not be represented by the majoritarian democratic process. We must hope that the court takes this duty seriously and legalizes full mar- riage rights for same-sex couples, thereby championing the ideals of tolerance and diversity. References Badgett, M. V. L. (2009). When gay people get married: What happens when societies legalize same-sex marriage. New York: New York University Press. Catholic Church. (2003). Considerations regarding proposals to give legal recognition to unions between homosexual persons. Retrieved from http:// www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/ rc_con_cfaith_doc_20030731_homosexual-unions_en.html. Cliff ord, D., Hertz, F., & Doskow, E. (2010). (15th ed.). A legal guide for lesbian and gay couples. Berkeley, CA: Nolo Press. Confessors, N. & Barbaro, M. (2011, June 25). Crowds erupt in joy as New York OKs gay marriage. San Jose Mercury News. Retrieved from http://www.mercurynews.com/ Dan Quayle v. Murphy Brown. (1992, June 1). Time Magazine. Retrieved from http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,975627,00. html Defense of Marriage Act, 1 U.S.C. § 7 (1997). Retrieved from http://www. 73 IN DEFENSE OF SAME-SEX MARRIAGE domawatch.org/about/federaldoma.html. Dolan, M. & Williams, C. J. (2010, August 5). Ban on gay marriage overturned. Los Angeles Times. Retrieved from http://articles.latimes. com/2010/aug/05/local/la-me-gay-marriage-california-20100805. Full faith and credit clause, U.S. Constitution, Art. IV, § 19, cl. 2. Re- trieved from http://topics.law.cornell.edu/constitution/articleiv Hall, E. (n.d.) The Castro: San Francisco neighborhood. Retrieved from http://www.inetours.com/Pages/SFNbrhds/Castro.html. Hicks, R. (2006, October). The cultural argument against gay marriage. By faith, the web magazine of the Presbyterian Church in America, 11. Retrieved from http://byfaithonline.com/page/in-the-world/the- cultural-argument-against-gay-marriage Holder, E. (2011, February 23) [Letter to John Boehner]. Retrieved from http://conservativedispatch.org/justice/2011/02/27/ag-eric-holders- letter-to-speaker-boehner-on-doma/. Keen, L. (2011, March 23). 9th circuit refuses to lift stay on ruling that Prop 8 is unconstitutional. Keen News Service. Retrieved from http:// www.keennewsservice.com/2011/03/23/9th-circuit-refuses-to-lift- stay-on-ruling-that-prop-8-is-unconstitutional/. Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1. (1967). Retrieved from http://www.law.cor- nell.edu/supct/html/historics/USSC_CR_0388_0001_ZO.html Meckler, L. (2010, June 5). Gay couples get equal tax treatment. The Wall Street Journal. Retrieved from http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001 424052748704080104575286931017169308.html. Pawelski, J. G., Perrin, E. C., Foy, J. M. … Vickers, D. L. (2006, July 1). The eff ects of marriage, civil union, and domestic partnership laws on the health and well-being of children. Pediatrics 118(1), 349-364. Retrieved from http://pediatrics.aappublications.org/cgi/content/ full/118/1/349. Perry v. Schwarzenegger, United States District Court for the Northern 74 EVAN GIUSTO District of California, No. C 09-2292 (2010). Retrieved from http:// www.ce9.uscourts.gov/prop8/FF_CL_Final.pdf. Quimby, K. (2011). Marriage on the rocks in the granite state? Equality: Human Rights Campaign. Religious tolerance. (2011, February 28). Same-sex marriages (SSM), civil unions, & domestic partnerships. Retrieved from http://www.religious- tolerance.org/hom_marr_menu.htm. Roberts, L-b. The International Homosexual Conspiracy. San Francisco: Manic D. Press, 2010. Retrieved from http://www.goodreads.com/ book/show/8014893-the-international-homosexual-conspiracy. Savage, C. & Stolberg, S. G. (2011, February 23). In shift, U.S. says mar- riage act blocks gay rights. New York Times. Retrieved from http:// www.nytimes.com/2011/02/24/us/24marriage.html?pagewanted=1&_ r=1. Somerville, M. (2003). The case against. Catholic Education Resource Center. Retrieved from http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/ homosexuality/ho0063.html. Tanner, L. (2011, April 18). Teen suicide tries linked to conservative regions. San Jose Mercury News, p. A4. United States Bankruptcy Court, Central District of California. Memo- randum of Decision. In re: Gene Douglas Balas and Carlos A. Morales, 2:11-bk-17831 TD (2011). Retrieved from http://www.scribd. com/doc/57864680/Do-Ma. Wood, D. B. (2011, June 14). Prop 8 ruling: judge didn’t need to recuse himself. Christian Science Monitor. Retrieved from http://www.cs- monitor.com/USA/Justice/2011/0614/Prop.-8-ruling-gay-judge-didn- t-need-to-recuse-himself. 75 PUBLIC SECTOR UNIONS, PENSIONS, AND COLLECTIVE BARGAINING RIGHTS WRITER’S COMMENTS Attending university in the city of San Francisco presents some of us with a unique challenge—how can we remain strongly true to our ideals, and thus to ourselves, while not falling into the stereotype presented about us on the political talk shows, that of the unrealistic, ultra-liberal urbanite? When Professor Holler, in our Rhetoric and Politics class, pre- sented us with the task of writing a Rogerian essay, one that would sincerely and without rancor present both sides of an argument about an important social issue, I thought that I would tackle a subject much in the news, the drama of Wisconsin’s Republican leadership vs. the State’s unionized workers and their collective-bargaining rights. I also enter- tained an inner conviction that, after I presented all of the facts, I would be able to strongly conclude that the unionized workers were victims of an unfair effort to harm their interests. What I found, instead, was a mountain of scholarly papers, more carefully researched than periodical articles, and devoid of the emotional baggage found in pundits’ debates, which led to some very surprising conclusions. While my fi rst reaction to writing a truly balanced Rogerian essay was somewhat skeptical, my personal experience now leads me to believe that all of us hold opinions that, while we are certain of their absolute rightness, might just possibly benefi t from a bit of research, because sometimes things really aren’t what they appear to be. —Michael Greenberg INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS Like Michael, I come to the argument on collective bargaining rights with considerable baggage. I remain—I admit—unreservedly against Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker’s approach to resolving the issue. Read- ing Michael’s essay, however, truly made me reconsider the long-term viability of pensions—which for me is a kind of agonizing reappraisal (to steal Delmore Schwartz’s phrase). Frankly, this paper is among the best Rogerian arguments I have ever seen; it succeeds largely on Michael’s unrelenting research, his ability to authentically represent the complexi- ties inherent in this controversy, and, of course, his gift for phrasing. —David Holler, Department of Rhetoric and Language 76 MICHAEL GREENBERG MICHAEL GREENBERG Public Sector Unions, Pensions, and Collective Bargaining Rights: Striving For a More Perfect Union? “ The miners lost, I told them, because they had only the constitution. The other side had bayonets. In the end, bayonets always win.” —“Mother” Mary Jones “I’ll be all around in the dark. I’ll be everywhere. Wherever you can look, wherever there’s a fi ght, so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there. Wherever there’s a cop beatin’ up a guy, I’ll be there. I’ll be in the way guys yell when they’re mad. I’ll be in the way kids laugh when they’re hungry and they know supper’s ready, and when the people are eatin’ the stuff they raise and livin’ in the houses they build, I’ll be there, too.” — Tom Joad in the 1939 fi lm version of John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath HE RECENT worldwide recession, now commonly called the T“Great Recession,” has thrust the fi nances of the federal gov- ernment and the individual states of the United States into a glaring spotlight, and what has been revealed has created widespread pan- ic among the electorate. The growth of the Tea Party movement, while easily derided for its extreme stance on such controversial topics as immigration and other social fl ashpoints, represents so many diff erent types of people saying the same thing that one fact is probably indisputable—much of our population believes that government is too large, that we are spending too much money on entitlements, and that we are being fi scally profl igate, failing to adequately fund government programs and instead building moun- tains of public debt. While the housing market crash, the reckless use of depositors’ funds by the banks, and the unfunded war eff orts 77 PUBLIC SECTOR UNIONS, PENSIONS, AND COLLECTIVE BARGAINING RIGHTS in Iraq and Afghanistan might have grabbed the early headlines, America, with her small appetite for details, is now belatedly facing the long-run issue—how are we to pay for entitlement programs and the indebtedness that past government defi cits have left in their wake? These questions have sparked a melee in Washington as fi ngers have been pointed and tempers have fl ared, and we are seeing hunches harden into opinion, and opinions harden into pro- posed policy. Projected against this backdrop is the issue of public sector unions (PSUs), their collective bargaining rights, and their pension cost’s enormous gravitational pull on taxpayer dollars. Pen- sion reform has become the plaintive keynote of conservatives in the battle to curb government’s cost. As a hint to how entrenched the opposition to public union benefi ts has grown, consider that a recent poll in California showed a shocking 71% of Democrats supported raising contributions for future hires and 66% backed a pension cap for both current and future employees (Goldmacher). “It’s one thing for Republican governors in Wisconsin and Indi- ana to support these types of changes,” Dan Shnur, director of the Jesse Unruh Institute of Politics at USC recently opined, “but seeing this type of support from California voters, even California Democrats, is really remarkable” (Goldmacher 1). What is the eq- uitable solution to this problem, and where is our leadership taking us? How will we, as Americans, fi nd common ground so that what is left behind is not scorched earth and ruined institutions? The growth of labor unions in the public sector is a recent development compared to the union movement in its entirety. To reach a fair conclusion we must start at the beginning, if only for a brief look at early unionism, its ideals, and its struggle for workers’ rights. Opinions of unions must be tempered by fi rst looking at why they were formed, and what they were supposed to accomplish. The United States of America began life as a divided house, al- ways comprised of a duality of purpose. While political statements that trumpet the protection of personal freedoms form the core of the American national myth, there is another American story, mentioned but not the object of patriotic fervor nor pride, which represents the larger economic raison d’être of our birth. Marching in similar lockstep with the two distinct causes for independence 78 MICHAEL GREENBERG was the reality of two diff erent Americas marching as one—what would become the industrial north and the agricultural south. The early settlements of America were largely agricultural, with cot- ton and tobacco representing enormous cash crops for the south- ern states. The warm climate of the southern states controlled the settlement patterns; the south grew fi guratively and literally, and labor was based largely on the shameful practice of forced service. It was not just African slavery that drove those early crops; the sys- tem of indentured servitude produced a large European-American population that was neither free nor slave. The early seeds of labor exploitation had sprouted, and were a crucial part of the economic underpinnings of the U.S. The regions of the north, not suited for growing cotton and tobacco, emerged as mercantile and industrial powerhouses, building factories and exploiting natural resources such as coal and iron ore. As the nineteenth century drew to a close, the growth of the organized labor movement began to weave a thread through the fabric of American life. People who spent their entire lives working for wages, a phenomenon that didn’t ex- ist a century prior, were now becoming the norm. The work was brutally hard, the hours long, with twelve to fourteen hour days common, and wages were pittances. An upper class that held a great concentration of wealth tacitly controlled the government. Under such conditions it is unsurprising that workers’ federations would arise, and the history of these organizations, and the resis- tance to them, is a bloody and sordid tale. Early trade unions were not themselves paragons of virtue. The early unions barred women members, were largely anti-Black, blatantly disdainful of imported Chinese labor, and promulgated elements of political radicalism. Because of the disparate views of the early movement, labor unions did not gain much traction in early American society. By the late 1800s labor unions had begun to engage city police forces and federal militia in protracted battles at the sites of marches and strikes—the formative stage of union- ism was nearly over and the sheer numbers of factory and railroad workers had climbed into the millions. In 1886 massive strikes and demonstrations occurred on May 4 (the fi rst May Day), agitating for an eight-hour workday. During pitched battles between union- 79 PUBLIC SECTOR UNIONS, PENSIONS, AND COLLECTIVE BARGAINING RIGHTS ists and police in Haymarket Square in Chicago, both police and demonstrators were killed. Radical union leadership was arrested and the “Chicago anarchists” were sent to the gallows in an unfair trial. Several years later, Illinois Governor Peter Altgeld rather be- latedly declared the Haymarket Martyrs as innocent of the crime with which they were charged (LeBlanc 49). These fi erce battles, between armed men on both sides of the picket lines, would play out frequently for the next half century and more. It is not necessary to draft an exhaustive history of trade unions to gain an appreciation for the ultimate sacrifi ce of scores of workers who fought for a dignifi ed workplace, decent wages, and safe conditions. The eff ort to protect the workers of America was not spearheaded by the owners of the factories and foundries, and was not the result of enlightened regulations passed by the government of the United States. If anything, historically, a strong case can be made that the United States government appeared to be complicit in much of the oppression of the labor movement. Unions earned their rights, wages, and benefi ts by the blood of those willing to sacrifi ce themselves for the workers that would follow. The industrialists fi ghting on the other side were brutal in their anti-labor methods, beating, bullying, and worse—the battle had political, racial, and class overtones that brought the entire af- fair to a fever pitch. No worker in America could disclaim the debt owed to those early unionists. For an understanding of this war between workers and employers, look no further than the words of railroad tycoon Jay Gould, who cynically claimed, “I can hire one half of the working class to kill the other half” (LeBlanc 48). The public sector was notably not the battlefi eld of the early union movement. The very idea of collective bargaining for pub- lic sector unions was largely abhorred by the United States govern- ment, regardless of political party. But fi rst, a brief defi nition of collective bargaining, as written by Neil Chamberlain in his paper “The Nature and Scope of Collective Bargaining.” He wrote, “Col- lective bargaining is the mutual participation of employer and or- ganized employees in the determination of their general terms of relationship.” Note that the employees are “organized,” there is a mutuality to the process, and what they are actually bargaining for 80 MICHAEL GREENBERG is broadly defi ned. And therein lies the problem. No less than Franklin Delano Roosevelt, a champion of worker’s rights and great friend of the working man, wrote in 1937 that “Meticulous attention should be paid to the special relations and obligations of public servants to the public itself and to the Government … The process of collective bargaining, as usually understood, cannot be transplanted into the public service” (qtd. in DiSal- vo). When FDR spoke of strikes by public workers, he heatedly insisted that “[s]uch action looking toward the paralysis of gov- ernment by those who have sworn to support it is unthinkable and intolerable” (qtd. in DiSalvo 2). Nonetheless, given the he- roic history, the nobility of purpose, and the hard-fought gains, as we look to the present day, how do we proceed from here? Supporters of PSUs and their collective bargaining rights make excellent points to support their views. It is not just the respected and critical work that unions have done through- out the last century and a half that bears mentioning. Politi- cally, many advocates for PSUs claim that Republican gover- nors’ eff orts to restrict collective bargaining and limit union infl uence is a blatant attempt to undermine the Democratic Party (Jost 315). The supporters of bargaining for government workers will say, and rightly so, that public workers face unique challenges, not least of which is that their employers—the tax- payers—vastly outnumber them. Collective bargaining evens the mismatch. It is hard to not aff ord them the same rights as private sector workers; we would not want to treat them as second-class citizens. Another important point is that workers have a trove of knowledge that is helpful in forming policy and reforming practices within agencies. Some maintain that the workers themselves know best what can be improved. Their participation is necessary, and their organized participation is certainly more effi cient. They will also point to the positive results obtained using mediators and arbitrators in private labor disputes; wouldn’t that work just as well during public disputes? And certainly the public will take greater interest as these bargaining sessions proceed, which surely is a good thing (Lieberman 24). Note that Walter Reuther, a well-known union leader (United Auto Workers) and vocal supporter of workers’ 81 PUBLIC SECTOR UNIONS, PENSIONS, AND COLLECTIVE BARGAINING RIGHTS rights, wrote about the superiority of a high wage economy. He insisted that those states that were high-wage states were far more prosperous than low-wage ones (Reuther, Riff e, Carey 29). Haven’t unions added necessary impetus to the trend? Modern labor supporters off er salient points regarding the current pension crisis facing most states. Andrea Orr of the Economic Policy Institute insists that public workers are being scapegoated, as if they are the cause of the current crisis. She claims that it is the severe economic downturn that has left millions of workers unemployed, as well as destroyed housing values, that are the underlying culprits. Orr further claims that public employees earn less than their private-sector counter- parts. And eff orts to strip public employees of collective bar- gaining rights does not alleviate current problems; instead, she contends that it is a ploy to “strip more workers of a basic right” (Orr). Then there is her claim that clamping the lid on public employees will add to unemployment and reduce demand at a time when the economy can least aff ord it. All of these argu- ments, of policy, and of labor’s hard-won and admirable strides towards decent working conditions and a living wage, appear to off er a wall of convincing evidence in support of PSUs. The answers to the hardest questions sometimes are elusive because the two sides are not speaking the same language. The unionists are speaking about emotional issues (with the very strong underlying necessity of self-preservation), while oppo- nents are speaking numbers, numbers, numbers. On one side of the issue of PSUs, their pensions, and their collective bar- gaining rights are well-meaning supporters who bristle at the attempt to curtail union activity and label it union-busting. On the other side are conservatives, economists, and taxpayers who have been shaken by the size of the cumulative debt. We have seen the supporters of labor demonize the politicians who wa- ver in their support, and unions’ heartfelt entreaties to preserve labor’s basic rights are hard to ignore. And yet, we must look to the statistics of the status quo to truly understand it. In 2009, 39% of state and local workers were union mem- bers, as opposed to the private sector’s 7%, a staggering 5-fold multiple (Edwards). If federal workers are included, half of 82 MICHAEL GREENBERG all union members in the United States are in the public sector. While private sector unionism has precipitously declined, public sector unionism is fl ourishing. In the mid-twentieth century, less than 15% of the public sec- tor was unionized. During the 1960s and 1970s, dozens of states granted collective bargaining rights and passed other pro-union laws. In 1955 one state in the U.S. allowed collective bargaining, in 1965, the number was ten. By 1970, half of all state workers had col- lective bargaining rights. Today 26 states are collective bargaining states; 12 more allow some collective bargaining rights but do not extend the rights to all (Edwards 1). The union movement represents an unfolding bifurcation of the organized American workforce. Consider that since the 1950s, union membership represented about one in three workers, now it is fewer than one in eight (Prah 711). The Bureau of Labor Sta- tistics published its 2010 union statistics in January of 2011. It re- vealed that public workers are now the majority of union workers in America—not just by percentage of the work force but by gross numbers as well. In 2010 there were 7.6 million unionized public sector workers and just 7.1 million union workers in the private sec- tor. Workers in education, training, and library occupations had the highest unionization rate at 37.1%. Black workers were more likely to be union members than were White, Asian, or Hispanic workers. Among states, New York had the highest union membership rate at 24.2% and North Carolina had the lowest at 3.2%. The highest numbers of union workers live in California (2.4 million). In 2010, among full time wage and salary workers, union members had me- dian usual weekly earnings of $917, while those not represented by unions had median weekly earnings of $717 (BLS 1-2). There is spir- ited debate around the issue of comparative compensation. Most economists agree that public employees lag behind their private counterparts when factors of education are considered (public sec- tor workers have a higher percentage of workers with college de- grees); public workers, however, generally enjoy better health and retirement benefi ts (Jost 317). Most union detractors claim that education factors should be discounted because it merely refl ects 83 PUBLIC SECTOR UNIONS, PENSIONS, AND COLLECTIVE BARGAINING RIGHTS the comparative advantage that college-educated workers have in grabbing desirable public sector jobs. Chris Edwards of the Cato In- stitute documented that, generally speaking, public sector workers earn more than their private sector counterparts on the lower end of the wage scale, and less on the higher end (DiSalvo 6). The trend towards the compression of pay scales in government is explained by Harvard scholar John Donahue in his recent book The Warping of Government Work, where he asserts that government work is increasingly desirable for those with limited skills, while the wage compression imposed by unions and civil-service rules makes gov- ernment employment less attractive to those whose skills are in high demand (DiSalvo 7). A recent report by the California Foundation for Fiscal Responsibility, a non-profi t involved in research on pen- sion reform, claimed that state and local workers in California now had comparable salaries to large company private-sector employees, but signifi cantly higher retirement benefi ts (Weintraub A8). There are strong reasons for the steady, unrelenting march up- ward of union membership in the public sector, even as private sec- tor membership has drastically fallen. First, consider what Former Labor Secretary Robert Reich had to say about private-sector union membership in August 2005, in an article written for CQ Researcher: First came global competition. Then technology, which automat- ed lots of jobs. Mega-retailers like Wal-mart forced thousands of suppliers to become even leaner and meaner. Meanwhile, priva- tization and deregulation allowed lots of new entrants into gov- ernment services. (Reich 725) Reich makes a strong case for why private union membership has been falling, but why is the result for public sector membership go- ing the opposite way? There are critical diff erences in the context that public and private sector unions operate. Private companies ebb and fl ow, with a natural rate of attrition caused by ageing prod- ucts, ideas, lack of fl exibility … the list is endless. The government, on the other hand, is a static entity—while its size may ebb and 84 MICHAEL GREENBERG fl ow (arguably the ebb side is infrequent), the government, regard- less of whether it is federal, state or local, is never replaced by a diff erent government. Thus, once unionized, resources need not be wasted on organizing. The union becomes entrenched and im- movable. State and local governments represent a vast monopoly of services that are self-perpetuating, and again, although they might grow larger and smaller, they never disappear. The natural weeding out of the weakest players simply does not occur at the government level. And the taxpayer cannot hire a competing fi re department or police force. Also, and most signifi cantly, government workers negotiate with, and their wages and benefi ts are determined by, politicians. It makes little diff erence whether the legislature or the governor’s offi ce directs the negotiation, enter re-election consid- erations and an unholy alliance exists. And it will surprise virtu- ally no one that the Center for Responsive Politics, a Washington group that monitors campaign fi nance, claims that 97% of union contributions go to Democrats. The following chart indicates the vast amount of money contributed by the public service union Fig. 1. Mullins, Brody and John D. McKinnon. “Campaign’s Big Spender.” The Wall Street Journal 22 Oct 2010. WSJ.com. 7 May 2011. Web. 85 PUBLIC SECTOR UNIONS, PENSIONS, AND COLLECTIVE BARGAINING RIGHTS AFSCME in the 2010 election cycle. The Wall Street Journal reported that AFSCME represented the largest outside spender in the past election cycle. “We’re the big dog,” said Larry Scanlon, the head of AFSCME’s political operations. The union borrowed $2 million in the fi nal push towards Election Day to augment their political con- tributions (Mullins and McKinnon 1). Their benefi ciaries are the same people who will be sitting at the bargaining table discussing wages and pensions. All of these arguments, for and against public sector unions, wages, pensions, and collective bargaining rights, could be endless- ly debated, and just might possibly be, but it matters little what points are made and who has the stronger argument—this is a zero sum game where everyone walks away with nothing. Consider that the Pew Center claimed that, in 2009, state pen- sion defi cits increased 26% to $1.26 trillion dollars. Other statistics from the report list a 19% loss in state pension plans in 2009. State retirement systems had 78% of what they needed to pay for prom- ised pensions. The largest gap in pensions was in Illinois, with just 51% funded, and West Virginia, with 56% funded. It matters little to the taxpayers that the shortfall can be alternately blamed on the stock market crash, underfunding by the states, or any of a myriad of explanations. The numbers are fl uid and some estimates are higher. Economists Robert Novy-Marx (University of Chica- go) and Joshua Rauh (Northwestern University) fi nd that pension funds are short more than $3 trillion (Barro 7). The pension question lies at the very root of the government’s fi scal problems, and must be rectifi ed for there to be any chance of a stable economic future. Left unchecked, the liabilities from the pension crisis will crowd out all of the salaried workers, whether they be teachers, fi remen, police … it makes no diff erence what- soever. Eventually, taken to its absurdist conclusion, there will be taxes and pensions … and no workers but the pension managers. The system is collapsing from within and will not survive. In a recent article, “Dodging The Pension Disaster,” National Aff airs analyst Josh Barro listed two key problems with current public pension plans. One is that they are excessively costly, off er- 86 MICHAEL GREENBERG ing higher benefi ts than is necessary to attract workers of similar capabilities. The second is critical: guaranteeing annuity-like in- come streams in retirement, regardless of whether the assets ex- ist to pay for them, exposes taxpayers to enormous risk. Unlike private workers with 401(k)s or similar plans, who must bear the loss of investment value in their pension funds, the public sector worker, holding a defi ned benefi t pension package, merely looks to the taxpayer to smooth over any discomfort they might feel. It is an astonishing breach of fi duciary duty to the taxpaying citizen to even consider such a plan. Union supporters can look to recent events to see the outcome of the pension disaster. In an article in the Wall Street Journal on April 29, 2011, Kimberley Strassel reported that a political party, in a certain state, met at 11:30 at night to vote on a bill that stripped public sector unions of their collective bargaining powers. A red state, you ask? The Republicans are at it again, unionists will claim. A conspiracy by the Koch brothers, others will claim. On Tuesday, April 26, 2011, the Democrats in the deep, rich, very blue state of Massachusetts met in the middle of the night to avoid a mass of protesting union workers, and passed a bill stripping munici- pal employees, including policemen, fi remen, teachers, and others, of the right to collectively bargain for most health-care benefi ts. If there is any doubt left that this is not an ideological fi ght, it will surely be laid to rest as this year unfolds. This is not a political fi ght. It is a fi ght for the solvency of our state and local governments. We are left, fi nally, with the necessity of a choice with no op- tions but for a few minor details, and how we accomplish what must be done will largely determine the future of public service unionism. The newspapers are fi lled with leaders of public unions decrying their members’ demonization; they claim that our children are be- ing shortchanged by the forces of union-busting; they cry victim and foul and eventually might try threats when these early tactics fail. The tea-partyers, the Republicans, Libertarians, and the like will coldly claim that the unions have plundered the public coff ers and deserve little more than a thank you, and please take care of yourselves in your old age. Both sides tilt towards hyperbole and undoubtedly there will be much more of it. 87 PUBLIC SECTOR UNIONS, PENSIONS, AND COLLECTIVE BARGAINING RIGHTS For those of us who yearn for a more constructive dialogue, let us hope for something better. It is apparent that collective bar- gaining’s shortcomings were foreseen in the early days of the labor movement, even by the most ardent supporters of workers’ rights. It is also apparent that defi ned benefi t pensions have been largely abandoned by the entirety of private industry … the risk is prohibi- tive and the actuarial tables are deeply fl awed no matter how conser- vative, thus the risk of bankrupting the enterprise is unacceptable. The labor union movement has been heroic in its courage and ardor, and has gained benefi ts not only for its members but for all working people. There was a time that those fi ghts, bloody and brutal, were for principles that protected the powerless, the poor, and the downtrodden. That America, because of their courage, no longer exists. I do not expect that we can let down our guard and expect the free market system to protect these workers and their rights. Unions must survive; defi ned benefi t pension plans and exorbitant election spending need not. The unions must now turn their energies away from protecting the rewards of their wildly successful eff orts—they must change the pension system and their bargaining rights in the public sec- tor or risk losing the support of the one part of the population that always largely supported them—the middle class of the Unit- ed States. It is the only step that will make them the solution to the problem, rather than the cause of it. It is unlikely that any temporary give-back of benefi ts at the bargaining table will yield a long-term solution; it is nearly certain that irresponsible but well- intentioned elected offi cials will repeat the mistakes of the past and lead government into the same miasma we currently fi nd our- selves in. Both sides must move past the distracting stereotypical imagery—one million marching Woody Guthries with guitars on the one hand or cigar-chomping brutal industrialists on the oth- er—and forge a constructive dialogue before we are all engulfed in the whirlpool of debt that will soon drown out essential public services and reasonable opportunities for future generations. 88 MICHAEL GREENBERG Works Cited Barro, Josh. “Dodging the Pension Disaster.” National Aff airs 7 (Spring 2011) 3-20. Nationalaff airs.com. 15 April 2011. Web. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Union Members 2010. 21 Jan. 2011. USDL-11- 0063. Chamberlain, Neil. “The Nature and Scope of Collective Bargaining.” Quarterly Journal of Economics 58.3 (1944): 359-387. Business Source Premier. EBSCO. 26 May 2011. Web. DiSalvo, Daniel. “The Trouble with Public Sector Unions” National Aff airs. 5 (Fall 2010). Nationalaff airs.com. 23 Apr 2011. Web. Edwards, Chris. “Public Sector Unions” Cato Institute Tax and Budget Bul- letin 61 (March 2010). www.cato.org. April 2011.Web. Goldmacher, Shane. “Times/USC Dornsife poll: California voters want public employees to help ease state’s fi nancial problems.” Los Angeles Times. 24 April 2011. 27 Apr 2011. Web. Jones, Mary. BrainyQuote.com. 5 May 2011. Web. Jost, Kenneth. “Public-Employee Unions” CQ Researcher. 8 Apr 2011. 21:14. 313-336. Los Angeles: Sage Press. CQResearcher.com Apr 2011. Web. Kiewiet, D. Roderick. “The Day after Tomorrow: The Politics of Public Employee Retirement Benefi ts.”The California Journal of Politics and Policy 2:3 (2010) 1-30. Bepress.com. 1 May 2011. Web. Le Blanc, Paul. A Short History of the Working Class. Amherst, MA: Hu- manity Books. 1999. Print. Lieberman, Myron. Public Sector Bargaining. Lexington, MA: Lexington Books, 1980. Print. Mullins, Brody and John D. McKinnon. “Campaign’s Big Spender.” The 89 PUBLIC SECTOR UNIONS, PENSIONS, AND COLLECTIVE BARGAINING RIGHTS Wall Street Journal 22 Oct 2010. WSJ.com. 7 May 2011. Web. Prah, Pamela M. “Labor Union’s Future: Can they survive in the age of globalization?” CQ Researcher 15:30. 2 Sept 2005: 709-732. Cqresearcher.com. April 2011. Web. Reich, Robert. “Will the Split in the AFL-CIO Revive the Labor Move- ment?” CQ Researcher 15:30. 2 Sept 2005: 709-732. Cqresearcher.com. April 2011. Web. Reuther, Walter, John V. Riff e, and James B. Carey. The Case Against ‘Right To Work’ Laws. Congress of Industrial Organizations. n.d., n.p. Print. Steinbeck, John. The Grapes of Wrath. Quoted from Wikipedia.com. Strassel, Kimberly. “Union Busting, Massachusetts Style” The Wall Street Journal Potomac Watch. 29 Apr 2011. Weintraub, Adam. “Public-Sector Benefi ts Better Than Private.” The Marin Independent Journal. 6 May 2011. A8. Associated Press. Print. 90 LAUREN HILL WRITER’S COMMENTS In Professor Moreno’s seminar on U.S. Business, Diplomacy, and Culture in Latin America, we were asked to write a research paper on our topic of choice within the boundaries of the class theme. I chose to focus on the U.S. involvement in Guatemala’s political violence and Civil War. Scholars who focus on U.S. involvement and infl uence in Latin America, particularly during the Cold War, differ in opinion. Some contend that the U.S. furthered its interests in Latin America through neo-imperialism, often creating atmospheres of violence, while others claim that Latin American nations acted autonomously, specifi cally vis-à-vis the United States. In my paper, I tried to focus on the nuances of the relationship between the United States and the Guatemalan government during the thirty-year confl ict to demonstrate that the United States was indeed an enabler of the Civil War violence. —Lauren Hill INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS In this paper, Lauren Hill centers an incredible amount of primary and secondary research on the question of who exactly bears responsibility for the brutal violence that characterized Guatemala’s Civil War in the late twentieth century. Giving agency to local actors in the civil confl ict that brought the Cold War to this country, she attributes much of the violence to the Guatemalan military but thoughtfully shows how and why various U.S. government administrations enabled such violence to exist. She argues America’s geopolitical interests during the Cold War enabled this violence—even under the pro-human rights Jimmy Carter Administration. Her research advances an interpretation of U.S.–Latin American relations and moves beyond old polarities that portrayed the United States as either a monster or a savior in Latin America, holding ardent anti-communist leaders in Guatemala and the United States re- sponsible for the devastating violence in the Central American country. —Julio Moreno, History Department 91 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR LAUREN HILL The Guatemalan Civil War: The Prevalence of and U.S. Involvement in State-Sponsored Violence ET THE HISTORY we lived be taught in the schools, so that it “Lis never forgotten, so our children may know it.”1 Such was the request from the Commission for Historical Clarifi cation (CEH) upon its search for answers pertaining to the violence that plagued Guatemala during its thirty-six year Civil War. From 1960 to 1996, Guatemala was engaged in an internal confl ict that left over 200,000 people killed or “disappeared,” many of whom were innocent civilians. The political violence that defi ned this period in Guatemala’s history was similar to that in other Latin American countries during the latter half of the 20th century—the use of vio- lence as a tool to silence opposition, particularly in Guatemala to suppress communist or far-left leaning ideologies. Like other Cen- tral American confl icts of the time, the United States was a player in the Guatemalan Civil War; however, it served as an enabler rather than an instigator of political violence. Various scholars have interpreted the involvement of the United States in Guatemala’s Civil War—in the broader context of the Cold War—in diff erent ways. In Latin America’s Cold War, Hal Brands breaks from many scholars with his claim that the United States had little eff ect on the Latin American confl icts during the Cold War. Instead he contends that in their struggle against com- munism, the governments of Latin America, including Guatemala, acted autonomously. Although he does concede that the United States had infl uence in Latin America throughout the Cold War, he 92 LAUREN HILL asserts that the anti-communist policies of the United States were not a driving factor in the confl icts of the region during the latter half of the 20th century. In other words, despite continuous eff orts, the United States served as a passive actor in Latin America during the Cold War. Conversely, Greg Grandin states in The Last Colonial Massacre: Latin America in the Cold War that the United States un- deniably contributed to the confl icts within Latin America during the Cold War. Grandin alleges that the United States did so in ex- ecuting, patronizing or excusing the actions of right-wing govern- ments in Latin America. This concept is refl ected in the title of his book, which implies that the confl icts of Latin America were not independent of the United States’ Cold War terror—they were simply a continuation of U.S. imperialism in the region. This essay analyzes the extent to which the United States was a contributor to the state-sponsored violence during the Guate- malan Civil War. In so doing, I will look at how the United States contributed to the political violence as well as why this violence was prevalent. During the Cold War, U.S. policy toward Latin America was characterized by a fear of Soviet takeover. As such the United States generally served as a supporter of anti-commu- nist regimes and factions—as evident in its support of the Contras in Nicaragua and the military government in El Salvador in the 1980s. Throughout the Guatemalan Civil War, the United States supported the Guatemalan government through training in coun- terinsurgent strategies and providing military funding while it was aware of the indiscriminate violence that was used throughout the confl ict. I will fi rst give a brief history of the events that led up to the Civil War, to include the political context that brought about the overthrow of Jacobo Arbenz Guzmán. Then, I will describe the administrations and political processes that fomented the violence of the confl ict, and analyze how and why the state and other na- tional actors shaped this violent environment. Finally, I will explore why and to what extent the United States was involved, thereby demonstrating that due to the Cold War atmosphere and aggres- sive anti-communist policy, the United States generally served as a willing enabler to state-sponsored, political violence during the Guatemalan Civil War through training and funding, aware of the 93 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR repressive violence the government of Guatemala was infl icting on its own people. ——————— Preceding the eruption of Guatemala’s Civil War, class tensions were already prevalent. The reforms of Juan José Arévalo and Ja- cobo Arbenz Guzmán, although benefi cial to lower classes, fur- ther aggravated the enmity between the ladino and indigenous and peasant populations. After the overthrow of Arbenz Guzmán, which brought an end to the October Revolution, the stage was set for the violence that would plague Guatemala from 1960–1996. As Jason M. Colby asserts in his essay “A Chasm of Values and Outlook,” a cultural clash between the indigenous majority and the ladino—the western minority—had been embedded in Gua- temala’s social consciousness prior to the overthrow of Jacobo Arbenz Guzmán and the subsequent Civil War.2 The dominance of ladinos over the indigenous population throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries caused a rift in Guatemalan society due to the inequality it precipitated. The cultural schism was still evident in the mid-20th century leading up to the October Revolution and was exemplifi ed in Archbishop Rossell y Arellano’s teachings, who wrote: “The disorganized tribes that inhabited our America would have disappeared had not the Spanish conquest arrived so provi- dentially to unite them and give them their triple gifts of religion, blood and language.”3 His preachings embodied the class confl ict in Guatemala as the ladinos continued to assert their dominance over the Mayan and peasant population through such things as un- equal land distribution. (This period, beginning in the 1930s, also saw the arrival of an anti-communist movement in Guatemala, heralded by the Catholic Church.) The October Revolution was marked by the overthrow of Jorge Ubico, and the liberal administrations of Juan José Arévalo and Jacobo Arbenz Guzmán. The period from 1944–1954 was de- fi ned by a move toward liberalism and social democracy, and was also characterized by free speech and political activity. The shift in power from the wealthy minority to the poor majority furthered 94 LAUREN HILL class tensions and anti-communist sentiments in Guatemala. As Grandin demonstrates in The Last Colonial Massacre, despite the gained rights of poor workers, the democratic and liberal policies of Arévalo and Arbenz spurred discontent among the middle and upper classes. The unrest was further fed by the belief that the so- cialist policies were a clear indicator of an imminent transition to communism. The reforms of Arévalo and Arbenz, specifi cally the agrarian reform1*, also clashed with economic interests of the Unit- ed States via the United Fruit Company. Both viewed the land re- form and the movement that supported it as communist in nature. Due to personal economic interests tied to the United Fruit Com- pany within the United States government, the CIA sponsored and instigated a coup d’etat that ousted Arbenz Guzmán in 1954. The year preceding the coup, the CIA strove to espouse fear in the Guatemalan population by creating propaganda designed to “(1) intensify anti-Communist, anti-government sentiment and create a disposition to act; and (2) create dissension, confusion, and FEAR in the enemy camp.”4 This was predominantly done through staged radio broadcasts, which were recorded in Miami and then beamed to Guatemala. This agitation of anti-communist sentiment—already existent within Guatemala—encouraged extreme right-wing convic- tions. It was in this that the United States aggravated class tensions within Guatemala between left- and right-wing ideologues. As a replacement for Arbenz Guzmán, a military junta led by Colonel Carlos Castillo Armas was installed, which was both anti- reform as well as stringently anti-communist—both of which served United States interests. In eff ect, an alliance was established between the United States and right-wing military governments in Guate- mala. The United States relied on the Guatemalan government to aggressively suppress communism in the country and roll back re- form, thereby ensuring the protection of the United States’ econom- ic interests. The Guatemalan government, specifi cally the military complex, relied on the United States for counterinsurgent training * The agrarian reform Arbenz Guzmán enacted in Guatemala involved expropriating land from large estates and reallocating it to individual families. (Prior to the land reform, a wealthy minority of the population had control over the majority of the land.) 95 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR and aid. Yet not only was right-wing dominance established after the coup, but also the creation of guerilla combatants—supporters of Arbenz Guzmán who became radicalized by the overthrow and would eventually lead the opposition.5 The overthrow of Jacobo Arbenz Guzmán in 1954 dismantled a series of social democratic processes that were taking place in Guatemala at the time. This, along with pre-existing social ten- sions and prejudice against the indigenous population, set the tone for the violent confl ict that would be waged in the latter half of the 20th century. ——————— As some scholars maintain, the Guatemalan governments of the Civil War can be characterized by military control and the use of violence as a form of oppression. Both Grandin and Colby note the militarization of the Guatemalan government in the early years of the Civil War, as well as the continuation of strong military in- volvement in the government throughout the confl ict. In addition, during the Civil War the various administrations that governed Guatemala used counterinsurgent tactics to suppress the threat of communism—a fear of which fermented in the years leading up to the confl ict during the October Revolution. As the war escalated and levels of violence rose, the targeted population increased from merely guerrilla combatants to the inclusion of communities af- fi liated with subversion. Ultimately, the administrations that ruled Guatemala during the Civil War followed similar policies, although under varying degrees of what constituted “subversion.” The several years leading up to the Civil War saw many chang- es to the administration of the Guatemalan government. Colonel Carlos Castillo Armas served as Guatemala’s president following the CIA-sponsored coup d’etat that ousted President Jacobo Ar- benz Guzmán in 1954. The administration of Colonel Carlos Cas- tillo Armas served to roll back the reform enacted during the Oc- tober Revolution and contain perceived communist threats. The U.S.-sponsored president served as the head of the Guatemalan government until his assassination on July 26, 1957. After several transitional governments over a series of months, General Miguel 96 LAUREN HILL Ydigoras Fuentes was elected president; it was during his term that the Civil War offi cially began. From 1958 to 1963, Ydigoras governed Guatemala while implementing counterinsurgent tactics against forces loyal to Arbenz, members of the Guatemalan Labor Party (PGT) and other opposition groups such as the Patriotic Youth Workers (JPT). These strategies included arrests, kidnappings, execu- tions and military tribunals.6 The methods used during Ydigo- ras’ term were justifi ed by the rise of opposition groups. During his term, several of these groups met under the auspices of the PGT and formed the Rebel Armed Forces (FAR)—a guerrilla organization that would operate until the peace agreement that ended the Civil War. As the 1963 presidential elections neared, opposition to the right-wing government became more apparent. Former re- formist president Juan José Arévalo announced his candidacy for the upcoming elections. However, before elections could take place, the military sponsored a coup d’etat, which replaced President Ydigoras with Colonel Enrique Peralta Azurdia— defense minister during Ydigoras’ term. It was this coup that set the stage for the rule of military sponsored governments in Guatemala2* throughout the Civil War. During Peralta’s term, the Guatemalan government, with the aid of the United States, established the intelligence apparatus that would be respon- sible for much of the political violence during the confl ict. It was also during his term, that the government of Guatemala adopted the National Security Doctrine3** as a justifi cation for * As Greg Grandin notes in The Last Colonial Massacre: “… The Peralta regime from 1963-1966 brought a new stage in militarization of Guatemala’s political and economic life. From this point forward the army would rule, either directly or indirectly, as an institution, taking over government bureaucracies, organizing large scale modernization projects, founding banks and other fi nancial enterprises, and building a counterinsurgent state.” (Pg. 95, The Last Colonial Massacre) ** In Latin America’s Cold War, Hal Brands defi nes National Security Doctrine as: “A collection of ideas based on the need for a centralized, integrated approach to fi ghting subversion.” He goes on to note that a facet of National Security Doctrine was the expansion of the defi nition of subversion—a subversive evolved from someone who actively fought 97 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR combating subversion, by any means necessary. Similar to Ydigoras, Peralta used counterinsurgent strategies in order to suppress sub- version and the perceived threat of communism. In 1966, Julio César Méndez Montenegro replaced Peralta as president of Guatemala. During his term an important pact was made between the government and the army, which solidifi ed military infl uence within the Guatemalan government. The agree- ment granted the army full autonomy and made any communist act or sentiment illegal.7 Mendez’s term also saw the proliferation of death-squads and the use of massacres to suppress the guerrilla insurgency and peasant population. Following the succession of Méndez Montenegro and the elec- tion of General Carlos Manuel Arana Osorio4*, the military estab- lished control of the electoral system. In Guatemala: Never Again!, the Recovery of Historical Memory Project (REMHI) noted: “Begin- ning […] in 1970, the same pattern of succession, in which the de- fense minister became the presidential candidate with a guarantee of victory, was repeated. All of this took place under a veneer of formal electoral proceedings as provided by the 1965 Constitution.”8 This occurred throughout the 1970s and early 1980s until General Efrain Ríos Montt overthrew General Romeo Lucas García in a coup in 1982 and abolished the 1965 Constitution. Over the course of the 1970s transitions, levels of political violence increased. They fi nally reached their zenith during the presidency of Ríos Montt in the ear- ly 1980s when indigenous peoples were targeted. The Ríos Montt government accused many of the indigenous population of support- ing the guerrilla insurgency and massacred them by the thousands. As levels of violence increased, so did the scope of targets. Rather than merely targeting guerilla forces, the government of Ríos Montt attacked entire communities suspected of subversive behavior. General Óscar Humberto Mejía Víctores replaced Ríos Montt as president in a coup in 1983. He governed Guatemala under a the beliefs of the government to someone who merely spoke out against Western ideals, whether or not posed a real and imminent threat to right-wing dogma. (Pg. 72-73) * Succeeding General Carlos Manuel Arana Osorio were General Kjell Eugenio Laugerud García (1974-1978) and General Romeo Lucas García (1978-1982). 98 LAUREN HILL new constitution, which continued to implement counterinsurgent strategies via Civil Defense Patrols (PACs) and selective repression of leaders, students and human rights groups.9 Although political violence still occurred following the ousting of Ríos Montt, it was in a much more selective fashion (as above) and occurred in far few- er instances..5* The Civil War fi nally ended in 1996 with the election of Alvaro Arzú Irigoyen and the signing of the Accord for Firm and Lasting Peace on December 29, 1996. Throughout the varied administrations that ruled Guatemala dur- ing the Civil War, there was a clear trend in the use of violence as a tool for repression. The fear of proliferating guerrilla insurgents spurred aggressive counterinsurgent tactics meant to wipe out threats, result- ing in hundreds of thousands of deaths over the course of the confl ict. ——————— Although both sides committed violence throughout the Civil War, the state of Guatemala was the predominant perpetrator. (The CEH estimated that the state committed 93% of the human rights violations, while the guerrillas committed 3%, and others unidentifi ed committed another 4%. Violations specifi cally noted by the CEH include arbitrary execution, forced disappearance and torture.)10 As such, this essay focuses on the state-sponsored politi- cal violence during the confl ict. In previous sections, I have noted that the state of Guatemala used violence as a tool of oppression to fi ght opposition. It did so to both get rid of guerilla insurgents and those who were against the government, and to instill fear of joining the opposition in the general population. As indicated in the CEH report, execution, disappearance and torture were commonly used against subversives during the Civil War. During the height of the confl ict, in the early 1980s, scorched- earth tactics were also widespread—with the military leading mas- sacres in rural Guatemala, killing thousands of Mayans. Diff erent branches of the military apparatus contributed to this violence, * Vinicio Cerezo Arévalo (1986-1991), Jorge Serrano Elías (1991-1993) and Ramiro de León Carpio (1993-1996) succeeded General Oscar Mejía Victores. Similarly they governed with counterinsurgent strategies that were more selective although political violence was still existent within Guatemala. 99 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR specifi cally the Army Intelligence Directorate and the Intelligence Division of the Presidential General Staff . The Army Intelligence Directorate (D-2), popularly known as La 2, was guilty of committing much of the political violence. As documented by REMHI, “[La 2’s] dossier [was] replete with dis- appearance, murders, abductions, and torture.”11 Such tactics were used as part of the counterinsurgent policy implemented in Guate- mala in the beginning of the confl ict in order to fi nd and dispose of subversives. This strategy was used throughout the Civil War with varying interpretations of what constituted a “subversive.” Particularly after the overthrow of Arbenz—preceding which cultural and political gaps were widened and agitated—a state of fear and aggression consumed Guatemalan society. When one looks at state methods in response to opposition, as noted by the CEH, there was a pattern where “a vicious circle was created in which social injustice led to protest and subsequently political instability […] Faced with movements proposing economic, political, social or cultural change, the State increasingly resorted to violence and ter- ror in order to maintain social control.”12 This concept is apparent when one looks at the history of violence during the Civil War. The increased levels of human rights abuses throughout the confl ict speak to the prevalence of political violence as a means of repression in response to protest and opposition. In June of 1971, Victor Perrera published an article in the New York Times entitled: “Guatemala: Always La Violencia.” Perrera had left Guatemala in 1959 during the Ydigoras administration, returning in a search to understand the nature of violence in Guatemalan society and why it was endemic. In his article, Perrera quoted Francisco Villagrán Kramer6* who discussed why the state used violence to silence dis- sent, after the assassination of Adolfo “Fito” Mijango López7**. He * Kramer would later serve as vice president during the term of General Romeo Lucas García. He resigned on September 1, 1980 due do frustrations with the administration and the high level of human rights abuses that were occurring. (IX.B.10, Inter-American Commission on Human Rights) ** Mijango was a professor and elected Deputy of the coalition Nation Front of the Democratic Left. He actively spoke out against violence, both state- and guerilla-sponsored, and called for honest democratic processes within the Guatemalan government. He was shot on January 13, 1971. (“Guatemala: 100 LAUREN HILL claimed that: “To them [the Guatemalan state], reasoned dialogue is time consuming and ineffi cient. […] The ultraright […] are more terrifi ed of a new idea—of change—than they are of a whole pla- toon of rival killers, who, after all, speak their own language.”13 After the polarization established in the beginning stages of the confl ict, the Guatemalan government, motivated by anti- communism, began a legacy of using political violence as a means of subjugation. As noted by the CEH, was there a reduction in tolerance for political expression, particularly after the 1963 coup (as demonstrated by the assassination of Mijango). Furthermore, the judicial system was rendered ineff ective by the violence and aggression of the government of Guatemala.14 Thus the military apparatus served as the judiciary, weeding out subversion and pun- ishing it accordingly—resulting in mass clandestine graves, disap- pearances, torture and arbitrary execution. The Intelligence Division of the Presidential General Staff (EMP), commonly known as Archivo, was involved in the organi- zation of paramilitary groups and death squads such as Jaguar Jus- ticiero (Avenging Jaguar) which led violent repression against the insurgency.15 Starting in the mid-1960s, these death squads served as the operational branch of intelligence with campaigns of “kid- nappings, torture and summary executions.”16 The army itself con- ducted many massacres intended to wipe out the guerrilla insur- gents and any support base—real, potential or alleged—existent in the rural communities, the majority of which occurred in the early 1980s. A third of these massacres involved military commissioners 17 and civil patrols8*. As part of the scorched-earth policy, the army Always La Violencia,” The New York Times) * In order to ensure the guerrillas were unable to infi ltrate rural communities, the military created Civil Defense Patrols (PACs), which were comprised of “volunteers.” Out of fear, men from the villages took part in the violence led by the military commissioners. Pertaining to involvement in the civil patrols, one testimonial collected by REMHI stated: “We did it out of fear. We cooperated because whoever didn’t cooperate would be punished. And besides that, they dug a huge ditch, there on the side of the road. We were afraid and had to do it, because where else [could we go]? And we were in their grasp in their hands.” (Pg. 121, Guatemala: Never Again!) 101 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR also “routed […] civilians out of their hiding places in the hills and forests; […] terrorized them; […] laid siege to them to starve them out, after having burned their homes and stored crops, destroyed their household utensils, and stolen their belongings.”18 Such vi- olence carried out by the Guatemalan military characterized the Guatemalan Civil War. Many scholars argue that such tactics were used in order to instill fear in the population—by terrorizing the public, the Guatemalan government and military hoped to actively deter the population from sympathizing with and joining the gue- rilla military. Another important facet of the political violence that plagued Guatemala was the number of civilian deaths that occurred—par- ticularly between 1980 and 1983. As evident in the creation of PACs and the massacres that were carried out during the Guatemalan Civil War, as stated by REMHI, the government of Guatemala op- erated with the belief that: “the sea is to the fi sh what the popula- tion is to the guerrillas.”19 This belief was furthered not only by the fact that the guerrilla insurgents were successful in recruiting some Indian (Mayan) collaborators, but also that there was a general judg- ment within the right-wing that the indigenous population was less civilized and developed than the rest of the population and there- fore more susceptible to guerrilla infl uence. Thus a certain logic oc- curred, as defi ned by a Guatemalan military offi cial: “The guerrillas won over many Indian collaborators. Therefore, the Indians were subversives. And how do you fi ght subversion? Clearly you had to kill the Indians because they were collaborating with subversion.”20 The Guatemalan military often destroyed entire communi- ties, which were perceived to be guerrilla support bases. As a re- sult, communities that had merely come into contact with guer- rilla insurgents were targeted.9* By creating an umbrella over the guerrilla insurgents and their supporters, as well as any opposition * Throughout the period of confl ict, and particularly during the peak of human rights abuses (1980-1983), guerrilla groups would enter communities, instigate violence to provoke the military and then fl ee upon the arrival of the military, leaving the communities defenseless. This practice resulted in the deaths of many innocent civilians and agitated fear and anger in the indigenous and peasant population who would then often agree to PACs in order to avoid death by the military. (Pg. 209, Latin America’s Cold War.) 102 LAUREN HILL to the state, the Guatemalan government broadened the scope of the enemy. Thus, the massacre of entire rural communities and those who spoke out against the government was justifi ed. This concept is further evidenced by statements President Ríos Montt made during his term. In addition to claiming the military oper- ated not under a scorched-earth policy but under one of scorched communists, he also stated: “Whoever is against the institutional government, whoever doesn’t surrender, I’m going to shoot.”21 This underscores the notion that the Guatemalan government was not only against communism, but would go to any lengths necessary to suppress any form of resistance—communist or not. The Guatemalan military apparatus—the Army Intelligence Directorate and the Intelligence Division of the Presidential Gen- eral Staff , and the branches led and created by them—carried out unconscionable violence during the Civil War to include execution, torture and scorched-earth tactics. This was to eliminate guerilla forces and any opposition to the government, as well as intimi- date Guatemalan civilians from joining the opposition by creating a state of fear. Yet what resulted from this violence, in addition to the elimination of insurgents and intimidation of the population, was the destruction of Guatemalan society and the genocide of the Mayan population. ——————— Throughout the Cold War, United States foreign policy was in part defi ned by anti-communism. During this period, the United States was engaged in many confl icts with the Soviet Union in proxy wars. United States policy, although varying from administration to administration, generally refl ected the tension with the Soviet Union: promoting democracy while combating communism. The Guatemalan Civil War was no exception—although not classi- fi ed as a proxy war due to lack of Soviet involvement, the United States treated the confl ict as a battle against communist forces. As such, many United States administrations and factions of the government, such as the CIA, justifi ed involvement in Guatemala 103 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR as part of the fi ght against communism. President Ronald Reagan was particularly supportive of continuing aid to the Guatema- lan government in its eff orts to suppress the guerilla insurgents. Comparatively, President Jimmy Carter offi cially banned aid to the Guatemalan government due to human rights violations. Despite diff erences in the policies of United States’ administrations during the confl ict, there was a pattern of aid to the Guatemalan govern- ment in its war with the guerilla movement. Amid the tensions with the Soviet Union, the United States maintained its ties to the government of Guatemala—extreme right-wing and aggressively anti-communist—for the duration of the Civil War in order to ensure suppression of communist senti- ments in the country. The United States intervention in the 1950s via the overthrow of Jacobo Arbenz Guzmán was in part spurred by anti-communist policies, setting the stage for the suppression of communism that would occur throughout the confl ict. As pre- viously discussed, economic interests also infl uenced the United States intervention in Guatemala in 1954. After the coup, however, and the virtually guaranteed economic security of the United Fruit Company, the United States became more involved in aiding the Guatemalan government—which it helped to establish—to com- bat the growing insurgency. Although at times public support for the Guatemalan government wavered, it is clear through declassi- fi ed government documents and newspaper articles from the time that the United States was at all times, in some way, supporting the government of Guatemala through counterinsurgent training and other forms of military aid or economic aid. Unfortunately, this was done while the United States government was aware of the political violence and human rights abuses infl icted on the Guate- malan population by the government. In the 1960s, specifi cally following the coup d’etat of 1963, the United States supported the Guatemalan military apparatus with counterinsurgent training and equipment. After the coup, the Unit- ed States sent military aid in the form of instructors and supplies to help the Guatemalan army in its counterinsurgency techniques. This process continued throughout the 1960s as United States Public Safety Advisor John Longan traveled to Guatemala in 1965 104 LAUREN HILL to help establish a counterinsurgent task force within the Gua- temalan military.22 During his stay in Guatemala, Longan trained the military in “techniques and methods for combating terrorists, kidnapping and extortion tactics.”23 A year later, in a secret cable to the State Department in 1966, Viron Vaky—the United States Embassy’s deputy chief of mission in Guatemala at the time—ex- pressed concerns regarding the eff ects of U.S.-sponsored counter- insurgent tactics on levels of violence within Guatemala.24 Simi- larly, in another secret cable earlier that year, the CIA reported the secret execution of several Guatemalans suspected of communist and terrorist acts—including the leader of the PGT, Victor Manu- el Gutiérrez—and noted that these deaths were a direct eff ect of counter-terror tactics implemented by the United States.25 Within the span of a couple years, the United States provided the Gua- temalan military apparatus with counterinsurgent training, and tracked the increasing levels of violence in Guatemala, which were a direct consequence of said counterinsurgent training. However, support for the Guatemalan government continued. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, various United States offi - cials continued to express concern over the accounts of political violence committed at the hands of Guatemalan military forces. In 1968, Viron Vaky sent a secret memorandum to the State De- partment summarizing reasons for United States involvement in Guatemala. He stated that the Guatemalan military was using the counterinsurgent tactics acquired in training with United States instructors indiscriminately. According to Vaky, the United States was turning a blind eye to the violence: “We suspected that maybe it is a good tactic, and that as long as Communists are being killed it is alright. Murder, torture and mutilation are alright if our side is doing it and the victims are Communists.”26 Not only was his cable commenting on the violence that was becoming prevalent, it also made an important comment concerning United States policy toward Guatemala: any form of anti-communist suppression was tolerated and supported. This is further evidenced in a subsequent cable in 1968, in which the CIA disclosed a discussion with a source regarding the cover-up of political violence. The source told the CIA that any 105 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR insurgents who died at the hands of Guatemalan security forces should appear to have been killed in an armed struggle, and that a judge should appear at the scene of the deaths to confi rm the falsi- fi cations.27 Additionally, in a secret cable to the State Department in 1970, U.S. Ambassador Nathaniel Davis reported his concern for public safety amidst increasingly violent activity of the death 28 squad Ojo por Ojo10*. The implication of these secret cables is that the United States was willing to support governments that took strong anti-communist stances, regardless of the consequences. This is further supported by the fact that during the 1960s and throughout the majority of the 1970s, there was no shortage of aid and general support for the Guatemalan government from the United States. Throughout the remainder of the Civil War, the United States began to distance itself from the Guatemala government, specifi - cally during President Jimmy Carter’s term during which he insist- ed on linking military aid to human rights. However, factions of the United States government continued to support the govern- ment of Guatemala. Even after President Carter offi cially ceased government aid to Guatemala in 1977 and as Congress refused to grant a resumption of military aid, funds continued to be sent to the Guatemalan government through the 1980s and 1990s. In 1982, a leftist guerrilla group found documents that indicated continuing United States aid to the Guatemalan military through the ship- ment of spare parts.29 In a newspaper article published in the New York Times, the president of Conex Inc.—the export broker used by the United States government to make shipments to Guate- mala—said that shipments had been made from the United States to Guatemala once or twice in the previous couple of years.30 In 1983, during the Reagan administration, Congress gave preliminary approval to military and economic aid totaling $230 million after continued attempts by President Reagan to convince Congress and the American public that human rights were improving in Guate- mala.31 Toward the close of the Civil War, it came to light that the * Ojo por Ojo was one of several infamous death squads during the Civil War. Like many other death squads, it had a primarily military membership and instigated violence against suspected subversives. 106 LAUREN HILL Guatemalan government had been receiving $5–7 million annually in aid through CIA “liaison” funds starting in 1990. The “liaison” funds had eff ectively replaced military aid, which had been halted by Congress.32 The continuation of aid to the Guatemalan government from the United States persisted amidst rising levels of political violence in the country, which the United States government was aware of. In a secret cable in 1983, the CIA noted the violence sponsored by the Ríos Montt government—while at the same time, the United States government, and President Reagan in particular, was con- veying to the American public that human rights were improving in the country. In a cable, the CIA reported that President Ríos Montt had given the Guatemalan military instructions to, after having dis- covered subversives, “apprehend, hold, interrogate and dispose of suspected guerrillas as they saw fi t.”33 Additionally, in 1991 while CIA “liaison” funds were being sent to the Guatemalan military, Ambassador Thomas Stroock, in a secret cable to the Department of State, described a recent spike in selective political violence car- ried out by death squads organized by the government.34 During the latter half of the Guatemalan Civil War, factions of the United States government maintained support of the gov- ernment of Guatemala due to continued tensions with the Soviet Union amidst the Cold War. President Reagan carried out a partic- ularly aggressive anti-communist campaign, believing the confl icts in Central America were a “bold attempt by the Soviet Union, Cuba, and Nicaragua to install communism by force throughout the hemisphere.”35 Dr. Jeane Kirkpatrick, who would become the United States ambassador to the United Nations during President Reagan’s fi rst term, published an article entitled “Dictatorship and Double Standards,” in which she argued the United States’ stance on communism and dictatorships. As summarized by Virginia Gar- rard-Burnet in Terror in the Land of the Holy Spirit, she noted: “that ‘authoritarian regimes,’ while unsavory, were eff ective in fending off threats from the Left; such regimes could also, in due time, be successfully persuaded to relinquish power through elections by other peaceful means. By contrast, ‘totalitarian’ regimes, even 107 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR more distasteful, were deaf to negotiation or compromise.”36 Similarly, amidst discussions of halting aid during President Carter’s term, Guatemalan President Romeo Lucas García publicly expressed outrage at the United States and threatened to purchase arms from the Soviet Union. As tensions increased, United States offi cials became worried about the consequences of halting aid to the Guatemalan government as “[the United States’] security as- sistance programs help[ed] foster cooperation with that country [Guatemala].”37 At this time, Ambassador Frank Ortiz was attempt- ing to realign United States policy with that of the right-wing Gua- temalan government, in order to prevent a communist takeover. Not only would he report predominantly on leftist violence and terrorism, but would diminish the political violence of the govern- ment, claiming that Guatemalan society was, in and of itself, vio- lent and that few, if any, murders had a political context.38 ——————— The Guatemalan Civil War was a confl ict rife with violence. The amount of state-sponsored violence during the confl ict begs the question: Why was violence so prevalent as a means to silence op- position? As a legacy of violence, in part infl uenced by the CIA- instigated overthrow of Jacobo Arbenz Guzmán and the social rifts that were existent within the Guatemalan society since the colonial period, the government of Guatemala adopted a policy of violent political subjugation that lasted throughout the confl ict. This oc- curred particularly amidst the rising fear of a communist takeover of the United States government and of the right-wing leaders of Guatemala. Thus, using communism as a justifi cation, the United States became a willing enabler to the political violence infl icted by the Guatemalan government by initially providing counterinsur- gent training and then later continuing military aid—all the while well aware of the increasing levels of violence and its role in it. 108 LAUREN HILL Notes 1. Guatemalan Commission for Historical Clarifi cation, “Guatemala: Memory of Silence,” (American Association for the Advancement of Science: Online) Prologue. 2. Jason M. Colby, “A Chasm of Values and Outlook,” (Peace & Change, 2010) 565. 3. Greg Grandin, The Last Colonial Massacre, (Chicago: University of Chicago, 2004) 80. 4. Greg Grandin, 85. 5. Jason M. Colby, 566. 6. Guatemalan Commission for Historical Clarifi cation, Annex. 7. Recovery of Historical Memory Project, Guatemala, Never Again!, (Maryknoll: Orbis, 1999) 197. 8. Recovery of Historical Memory Project, 210. 9. Guatemalan Commission for Historical Clarifi cation, Annex. 10. Guatemalan Commission for Historical Clarifi cation, Annex. 11. Recovery of Historical Memory Project, 106. 12. Guatemalan Commission for Historical Clarifi cation, Conclusions I.8. 13. Victor Perrera, “Guatemala: Always La Violencia,” (New York: The New York Times, 1971) SM12+. 14. Guatemalan Commission for Historical Clarifi cation, Conclusions. I.9-11. 15. Recovery of Historical Memory Project, 108. 16. Greg Grandin, 88. 17. Recovery of Historical Memory Project, 134. 18. Recovery of Historical Memory Project, 133. 19. Recovery of Historical Memory Project, 230. 20. Hal Brands, Latin America’s Cold War, (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 2010) 207. 21. Hal Brands, 206. 22. Agency for International Development secret cable, January 4, 1966, (Document 1 of “The Guatemalan Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal” by Kate Doyle.) 23. Greg Grandin, 96. 24. Secret cable from Viron Vaky to Department of State, November 1967, (Document 6 of “The Guatemalan Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal” by Kate Doyle.) 25. CIA secret cable, March 1966, (Document 3 of “The Guatemalan 109 U.S. INVOLVEMENT IN THE GUATEMALAN CIVIL WAR Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal” by Kate Doyle.) 26. Secret memorandum from Viron Vaky to the Department of State, March 29, 1968, (Document 8 of “The Guatemalan Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal” by Kate Doyle.) 27. CIA secret cable, July 1968, (Document 10 of “The Guatemalan Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal” by Kate Doyle.) 28. Secret cable from Nathaniel Davis to Department of State, May 19, 1970, (Document 12 of “The Guatemalan Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal” by Kate Doyle.) 29. Special to The New York Times, “Illegal U.S. Aid to Guatemala Charged,” (New York: New York Times, 1982) A3. 30. Special to The New York Times, A3. 31. Stephen Kinzer, “Guatemala Spurns Renewed Military Aid,” (New York: New York Times, 1984) 3. 32. Tim Weiner, “Tale of Evasion of Ban on Aid For Guatemala,” (New York: New York Times, 1995) A1+. 33. CIA secret cable, February 1983, (Document 23 of “The Guatemalan Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal” by Kate Doyle.) 34. Thomas Stroock secret cable to Department of State, May 10, 1991, (Document 37 of “The Guatemalan Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal” by Kate Doyle.) 35. Hal Brands, 198. 36. Virginia Garrard-Burnett, Terror in the Land of the Holy Spirit: Guatemala under General Efrain Rios Montt 1982-1983, (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2010) 146. 37. Jason M. Colby, 572. 38. Jason M. Colby, 574. 110 LAUREN HILL Bibliography American Association for the Advancement of Science. “AAAS - Sci- ence and Human Rights Program.” Accessed April 1, 2011. http:// shr.aaas.org/guatemala/ceh/report/english/toc.html. Hal, Brands. Latin America’s Cold War. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univer- sity Press, 2010. Colby, Jason M. A Chasm of Values and Outlook: The Carter Administration’s Human Rights Policy in Guatemala. N.p.: Peace & Change, 2010. Doyle, Kate. “The Guatemalan Military: What the U.S. Files Reveal.” George Washington University. Accessed April 1, 2011. http://www. gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/NSAEBB/NSAEBB32/index.html. Garrard-Burnett, Virginia. Terror in the Land of the Holy Spirit: Guatemala under General Efrain Rios Montt: 1982-1983. Oxford: Oxford Univer- sity Press, 2010. Grandin, Greg. The Last Colonial Massacre: Latin America and the Cold War. Chicago: University of Chicago, 2004. Guatemala: Memory of Silence. N.p.: Guatemalan Commission for His- torical Clarifi cation. “Illegal U.S. Aid to Guatemala Charged.” New York Times. Accessed April 1, 2011. Kinzer, Stephen. “Guatemala Spurns Renewed U.S. Military Aid.” New York Times. Accessed April 1, 2011. ProQuest Historical Papers. Perrera, Victor. “Guatemala: Always La Violencia.” New York Times. Ac- cessed August 23, 2011. ProQuest Historical Papers. Recovery of Historical Memory Project, The Offi cial Report of the Human Rights Offi ce, and Archdiocese of Guatemala. Guatemala, Never Again! Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1999. Weiner, Tim. “Tale of Evasion of Ban on Aid For Guatemala.” New York Times. Accessed April 1, 2011. ProQuest Historical Papers. 111 EXAMINING MARC ANTONY’S POETIC RHETORIC IN JULIUS CAESAR WRITER’S COMMENTS In our Rhetoric and Poetics course, we closely examined three of Shake- speare’s lesser read, ‘problem’ plays, plays that have various layers of rhetorical complexity and, well, inconsistencies. Having been asked to write on why these inconsistencies arose, I sought to discover how and why Julius Caesar’s Marc Antony prevails in his notorious speech. In my paper, I argue that rhetoric departs from persuasion and descends into manipulation when the desire for justice works to provoke fear in the audience. What this connection means, according to Aristotle’s Rhetoric, has implication in understanding how reason is used to persuade and how poetic language is used to manipulate. When poetics meets rheto- ric, what becomes of rhetoric in the hands of demagogues like Antony, in the hands of artists like Shakespeare? What becomes of truth? In the skilled hands of artists, has an honest form of persuasion been nullifi ed? —Melissa D. Lewis INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS In our First Year Seminar, Rhetoric and Poetics: Aristotle and Shakespeare, students read Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics as a basis for examining three Shakespearean plays—Troilus and Cressida, Coriolanus and Julius Cae- sar. For many, Shakespeare’s characters serve as models of rhetorical invention and literary ingenuity, for Shakespeare is admired for his dra- matic blending of political and artistic language. In our seminar, students examined the discourse of a few character-orators in order to uncover how and, perhaps, why Shakespeare uses fundamental elements of classi- cal rhetoric to invent his characters and shape his dialogue. In her paper, Melissa contemplates Shakespeare’s revenge tragedy and develops a nu- anced and compelling analysis of Marc Antony’s argumentative strategies for defeating the conspirators. Melissa’s work reminds us of the Platonic goal of contemplation because her aesthetic discoveries offer a rare look at how persuasive principles work within the schemes of literary language. —David Ryan, Department of Rhetoric and Language and The Leo T. McCarthy Center for Public Service and the Common Good 112 MELISSA D. LEWIS MELISSA D. LEWIS Examining Marc Antony’s Poetic Rhetoric in Julius Caesar “And for Marc Antony, think not of him, For he can do no more than Caesar’s arm, When Caesar’s head is off .” —Brutus, Julius Caesar, II.i.194-96 HAKESPEARE’S Julius Caesar is no simple story of characters taking Sdecisive, bold actions; rather, the play is a knot of complicated intentions. Within this twist of intrigue is an assembly of charac- ters who make life-and-death decisions based on questionable as- sumptions and fallacious reasoning. Then, as the characters voice their opinions, they further add in other fallacies when speaking to Roman citizens. For the modern reader as much as the Elizabethan viewer, the intrigue of Julius Caesar is enhanced by our ability to see the fl aws in each character’s logic while also understanding why certain characters overlook such fl aws for the sake of furthering their goals. This dichotomy can be seen in the speeches and ambi- tions of Brutus, Cassius, and Marc Antony; but it is Marc Antony who prevails against the fi rst two conspirators because his logic is more developed and his use of rhetoric draws on deeper emo- tions from his personal connection to both Caesar and the people. Antony’s persuasion is indeed rhetorical, especially when viewed through an Aristotelian frame. When Antony does use fallacy, however, he does so in a refl ex- ive manner that actually reveals his motives for speaking cunningly; in other words, the fallacy draws not from his own limited percep- tion but his ability to subtly question the logic of his adversaries. Marc Antony succeeds primarily because he directly invokes the 113 EXAMINING MARC ANTONY’S POETIC RHETORIC IN JULIUS CAESAR greatness of Caesar in speaking to the people while further draw- ing on all the prominent qualities of a persuasive rhetor, as articu- lated by Aristotle in his treatise on Rhetoric. In his central speech, Antony—with all eyes on him—off ers a carefully constructed push and pull in his manipulative rhetoric. His speech arouses the plebe- ians to feel their primal, emotional fears, and before he delves into his main rhetorical appeals, he craftily departs from the traditional ideas of Aristotle’s ethical rhetoric to a more sophistic kind. In this respect, Shakespeare constructs a complex but realistic situation; he suggests that lofty ideals of perfectly moral rhetoric are not en- tirely viable in the boiling cauldron of Roman politics. Once the great Julius Caesar is assassinated on the Ides of March by his most trusted supporters—the conspirators—Marc Antony must defend himself against the conspirators’ fallible as- sumptions and self-serving rationalizations. In this dramatic con- text, Shakespeare shows that all men are fl awed in their political motives: fear distorts human rationality by suspending sound rea- son, while anger often arouses a meticulous kind of machination. The conspirators succumb to the fi rst of these fl aws, Marc Antony more to the second. The simplifi ed syllogism that summarizes the conspirators’ rea- soning (articulated by the noble Brutus) is essentially as follows: ambition is a grievous fault that must by all means be stopped; Caesar is ambitious; thus, Caesar’s grievous fault must be ended by any means possible. They view the popular leader as a fl awed tyrant, and they fear for their aristocratic futures. Brutus off ers his reasons for Caesar’s assas- sination in Act III, scene ii, minutes before Marc Antony speaks: … if then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. 114 MELISSA D. LEWIS This sequencing is erroneous, for it is plagued by illogical leaps, or non-sequiturs (arguably the faultiest of logical errors). Though Brutus manages to persuade his frightened audience, Marc Antony subse- quently degrades the conspirator’s points to pathetic utterances. In his rhetorical counterpoint, Antony rejects Brutus’s spe- cious reasoning. Antony’s anguish (intermixed with admiration for Caesar) is clear in an earlier soliloquy when he hovers over Caesar’s corpse. He states passionately: Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times … A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fi erce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy … And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge … (III.i.282-96). Because the conspirators are immovable in their fear and relent- lessly violent (“So let high-sighted tyranny range on till each man drop by lottery … but do not stain the even virtue of our enter- prise,” says Brutus), Antony understands the pressing threat to his own life because he contextualizes this threat within the long-term logic of violence in the empire’s history (II.i.129-44). His concern for his own mortality is adroitly managed. Retaining a careful countenance, Antony internalizes his strong objection to Caesar’s murder as the agent of avoiding more tyranny. This caution marks the fi rst step he takes on the path toward suc- cess as the primary rhetorical speaker in this play—he does what he must to avoid his own possible assassination by the conspira- tors. Not only does Antony’s initial quietness establish his ethos as a respectable mourner, it also sets him apart from the rashness and irrationality of all his murderous adversaries, allowing him to evoke the strongest of emotions as part of his persuasion. Just as subtly as his character rises in prominence plot-wise 115 EXAMINING MARC ANTONY’S POETIC RHETORIC IN JULIUS CAESAR (as noted above), so does Marc Antony’s speech create a powerful, persuasive impression on his plebeian audience. As Antony begins, he maintains his cautious manner: “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him,” suc- cinctly introducing the ostensible purpose of his oration (III.ii.82- 83). Even in these fi rst few lines, Marc Antony’s eloquence shows sagacity—for example, “Friends, Romans, countrymen:” a pleasing one-two-three syllable arrangement of parallel endearments. From here forward, after having, in a way, obtained justifi cation and the audience’s permission to continue, Antony engages Brutus’s justi- fi cation, noting, The noble Brutus hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault, and grievously hath Caesar answered it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest— For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men, Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral … (III.ii.86-92) After disguising his polemic under the cloak of a ceremonial speech, Antony then turns to his true purpose, beginning a counter-argu- ment in a subtle, indirect way that unfolds throughout this entire speech. While Brutus defends murder by associating Caesar’s populari- ty with future tyranny (the non-sequitur), Antony focuses on Brutus’s fl awed motivation. In order to better understand why he succeeds with the fi ckle plebs, Antony’s mastery of the modes of persuasion, from Aristotle, must be examined. Consider Antony’s use of the enthymeme (an informally stated syllogism with an unstated assump- tion that must be true for the premises to lead to the conclusion) versus his use of examples (the careful marshaling of facts to induce reasoning) (Aristotle 133). Aristotle says, “If we can argue by Enthymeme, we should use our Examples as subsequent supplementary evidence. They should not precede the Enthymemes: that will give the argument an induc- 116 MELISSA D. LEWIS tive air” (135). Shakespeare’s Antony does exactly that: he employs the enthymeme fi rst, but does so in an evolved way that is not blunt in the typical structure of an enthymeme. Antony attacks Brutus’s premises as a way to nullify his syllogistic conclusion (am- bition is a grievous fault that must by all means be stopped; Caesar is ambi- tious; thus, Caesar’s grievous fault must be ended by any means possible). As Antony attacks, he simultaneously creates his own premises in the fi rst section of his speech: they mock the honorability of the con- spirators, causing the plebeians to mistrust them; with this stoke, he pulls up the roots of Brutus’s momentarily persuasive words. As Antony continues to thread his enthymeme, he uses evi- dence to demolish the assertion, or the minor premise of Brutus’s syllogism, that Caesar held ambition: [Caesar] hath brought many captives home to Rome, whose ransoms did the coff ers fi ll. Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept … I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? (III.ii.86-95) Repeatedly, Antony overturns Brutus’s logic earlier in the scene as to why the people should hear him, “… yet Brutus says he was am- bitious, and sure he is an honorable man” (III.ii.97-108). Once the blatant discrepancy between Brutus’s presumed honor and faulty motives are made clear, Antony turns away dramatically to “pause till it comes back to me” (III.ii.117). Then, as the stage directions indicate, Antony weeps. The eff ect is clear. The people, although portrayed as simple-minded, gradually see Antony’s sterling, refl ex- ive syllogism shining brightly: Defending murder without reason but being honorable is sinful and heinous; Brutus has defended Caesar’s murder only with his honor; thus, Brutus has been sinful and heinous. With this idea fi rmly planted in their minds, the plebs begin to boil, and as Antony turns away, his shift to the next portion of his speech shows the concrete traits of a master rhetorician as defi ned by Aristotle: eliciting credibility, possessing the truth (or 117 EXAMINING MARC ANTONY’S POETIC RHETORIC IN JULIUS CAESAR apparent truth), and the skilled use of emotional evocation. Antony’s success at defeating Brutus is due to his deep connec- tion to the values of the people, and he expresses these three components, with the strongest emphasis played on the emo- tional quality of his carefully constructed ethos. At this moment in Julius Caesar, one must keep in mind the important aesthetic components visible in the staging of this play. Antony’s argu- ments work to build his credibility. Unlike all the rest of the murderous conspirators who are literally bloodstained, Antony wears a plain tunic and is presented as more honorable than Brutus can claim through his words about himself. In terms of social status, Antony was also one of Caesar’s closest acquain- tances and he also had great power, “so well beloved of Cae- sar … a limb of Caesar” (II.i.169-78). Marc Antony speaks with calmness, humility, and caution. Further on in his oration, he gives rising expression to the emotion of hurt—his tone re- mains compassionate, openly connecting to the mournful state of the plebeians. This open nature, marked by free use of the rhetorical question (and the second-person “you”s), invites the plebeians literally to respond: their mental involvement with Brutus’s simple ideas erodes as they are drawn closer toward the portrait of Caesar that Antony creates in his oration. As Marc Antony’s credibility grows, he regenerates and re- inforces the rectitude of Caesar by reminding all the plebeians of Caesar’s past tendencies that worked for the betterment of the people. As critic Mildred E. Hartsock comments on Ant- ony’s words regarding Caesar: It seems clear that the Caesar-image is not “saved” by Ant- ony, nor the Brutus-image conclusively defi ned by him: he cannot perform these functions because we do not know the truth of him ... In what seems authentic grief, he moves us; he speaks the surest words for Caesar; he has the fi nal in- terpretative word in the play. Yet at other times, he is more than a “contriver”; he is an incarnation of Caesarism. (Hartsock 59) 118 MELISSA D. LEWIS This embodiment of Caesar’s modes of oration will come into question later, but what is clear here is that since Antony’s epideic- tic (truly, his polemic) funeral speech for Caesar not only builds up Antony’s ethos but also Caesar’s. Antony emphasizes the greatness of Caesar and the smallness of the conspirators, just as, according to Aristotle, “every orator must obtain the materials of amplifi ca- tion through these channels [utility, nobleness, or justice]” (132). Stirring emotion is a mode of persuasion Antony certainly mas- ters. In expressing his own pain and anger, he instigates the crowd to feel them, too. In this empathic context, the plebeians rise up and hunt the traitors in mob form, and this chaos begins because Antony rouses their anger. Note that Aristotle speaks about these non-essential emotions as simply accessory, irrelevant to the art of pure rhetoric: “They will often have allowed themselves to be so much infl uenced by feelings of friendship or hatred or self-interest that they lose any clear vision of the truth and have their judgment obscured by considerations of personal pleasure or pain” (21). But Antony does want this emotional takeover; it is obvious when his speech concludes and the people have left to hunt the conspira- tors. In an aside he famously declares: “Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot; take thou what course thou wilt … Belike they had some notice of the people how I had moved them” (III.ii.275-87). When he weeps, they say, “There’s not a nobler man in Rome than Antony” (III.ii.128). Antony’s pain from this “bloody treason” is intended to bring unease to the people, especially when he ap- proaches Caesar’s body, examining each of his wounds: If you have tears, prepare to shed them now… That day he overcame the Nervii. Look, in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through… Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved [Brutus]! This was the most unkindest cut of all. For when the noble Caesar saw him stab … then burst his mighty heart. (III.ii.181-198) 119 EXAMINING MARC ANTONY’S POETIC RHETORIC IN JULIUS CAESAR When Antony lifts up Caesar’s veil, this grotesque, bloody image fl oods the minds of the people—prey to his manipulations, they cry in a mixture of fear, disgust, and resentment: “O piteous spec- tacle! O noble Caesar! O woeful day! ... We will be revenged” (III. ii.210-212). Marc Antony also introduces example (the counterpart to the enthymeme), and in doing this, as Aristotle says, there is “subsequent supplementary evidence … [which has] the eff ect of witnesses giving evidence” (135). Antony uses Caesar’s will as his main evidence; he mentions fi rst: …honorable men. I will not do them wrong. I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honorable men. But here’s a parchment with the seal of Caesar. I found it in his closet. ’Tis his will. Let but the commons hear this testament (III.ii.136-42) Evident here is Antony’s tone of irony that persists through- out his speech at every point where the “honorable men” are men- tioned. This repetitive trope is persistent in its attempt to arouse frustration and realization that the truth is the polar opposite; for example, when Antony states that he fears he wrongs the honorable men “whose daggers have stabbed Caesar,” by reading Caesar’s will, the plebeians cry out, “They were traitors. Honorable men?” and “They were villains, murderers. The will!” (III.ii.163-69). Knowing that he has them in his hands, Antony still refuses to show them Caesar’s will; this artistic move further infl ames their emotions, and here frustration is consciously aroused to incite anger: “they would go and kiss dead Caesar’s wounds and dip their napkins in his sacred blood … hearing the will of Caesar, it will enfl ame you; it will make you mad. ’Tis good you know not that you are his heirs” (III.ii.144-57). Again, on the modes of persuasion furnished by the spoken word, specifi ed by Aristotle, there are three kinds: the fi rst kind depends on the personal character of the speaker; the second on putting the audience into a certain frame of mind; the third on 120 MELISSA D. LEWIS the proof, or apparent proof, provided by the words of the speech itself (Aristotle 120). And when some time later, after Antony has further emotionally stirred the people to greater sadness, he reads this will, in which Caesar grants to every Roman citizen: “seventy fi ve drachmas [silver coins] … all his walks. His private arbors, and newly planted orchards, on this side of the Tiber, he hath left them you, and to your heirs forever- common pleasures, to walk abroad and recreate yourselves,” then does Antony’s persuasion come full circle (III.ii.255-67). This apparent forensic proof or fact enfl ames the audience, for the plebeians become murderous instruments for Antony, as he tells the people, “there were an Antony would ruffl e up your spirits and put a tongue in every wound of Caesar that should move the stones of Rome to rise in mutiny” (III.ii.240-44). For next, the people declare and head off to “burn [Caesar’s] body in the holy place and with the brands fi re the traitors’ houses. Take up the body. Go fetch fi re. Pluck down benches” (III.ii.268-72). What is perhaps an altered truth tells a bigger truth, which in turn leads to justice: does it matter if the orator uses deceptive speech to dispense justice? Caesar’s real-life will, in fact, left all to his nephew Gaius Octavius. Clearly, Marc Antony understands and employs Aristotle’s three appeals: ethos, logos, pathos. But what has not really been touched upon is the issue of whether Antony’s oration was truthful or not, despite its success. What happens when rhetoric is used success- fully with such soundness and grace, but becomes the stimulus for the emotional crowd to rush off and instigate its own murderous violence? Can we call Marc Antony an off spring of the sophists, teachers who taught politicians to win at all costs? Does Antony’s work in the play contradict Aristotle’s approach to the ethics of persuasion? It is hard not to view Shakespeare’s position in creat- ing these scenes as one of ambivalence: there is a need for justice for Caesar, but when Antony’s rhetoric leads to mob violence, he also highlights how such skillful oration can lead to chaos. How can there be a civilization if the conspirators themselves are not dealt with justly through a trial? Aristotle’s main concept—that “the honest rhetorician has no separate name to distinguish him 121 EXAMINING MARC ANTONY’S POETIC RHETORIC IN JULIUS CAESAR from the dishonest”—still reigns (Aristotle 3). Some analysts argue that because Antony distorts the truth and plots the entire outcome in his self-interest, his rhetoric is more manipulation than persuasion. Who defi nes the most important truth? Hartsock applies a compelling interpretation: The truth seems to be that there is no one truth in the play: no possibility of a single unifying approach. We believe Brutus when we hear him speak; we like or dislike Caesar as his image shifts; we are torn between Cassius the schemer and Cassius the suff er- ing man and doughty Roman; we respond to Antony’s rhetoric and cringe before his opportunism and perhaps leave the theater “sure” that his fi nal estimate of the action must be the true one. We are fully committed at every point in the play to someone. Ironically, we have something in common with the Roman mob: we believe what we hear as we hear it, only to be involved in one emotional or intellectual partisanship after another. (61) Here, if rhetoric indeed is an ethical instrument that uses claims and proofs to present truths, as Aristotle argues, Shakespeare seems to be arguing that Rome has little room for such an ethical instru- ment. For instance, the two “true rhetoricians” in the play—Cicero and Artimidorus—are contextualized rather strangely. Artimidorus’s warning to Caesar is dismissed while the more famous Cicero’s wise counsel to a conspirator is ignored, too. They are, in essence, inef- fective. In this respect, the ethical rhetoricians are marginalized in Shakespeare’s play; it is the orators—and the people— who suff er the consequences of their combative words. Thus, a perfect Aristotelian scheme of rhetoric becomes obsolete in Julius Caesar. Antony’s scheme, however, is not obsolete: his actions and his intentions, which might be justifi ed in a purely sophistic way, certainly deserve analysis. One question a reader might ask, then, is this: Does Shake- speare’s Antony become a tyrant? What seems to recur in this play is the replacement of relationship roles: Brutus’s love for Caesar is later replaced by Antony’s love for Caesar; Caesar’s digression from peace led to his death, then Brutus’s/Cassius’s disloyalty to Caesar had the same fate; so further, will the tyrant that Caesar was possi- 122 MELISSA D. LEWIS bly to become reincarnate in Antony? The play off ers some support for this opinion of Antony. When Octavius protests to him that Lepidus is a valiant soldier, Antony replies that he is entirely ex- pendable: “So is my horse, Octavius, and for that I do appoint him store of provender. It is a creature that I teach to fi ght, to wind, to stop, to run directly on, his corporal motion govern’d by my spirit. And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so do not talk of him but as a property” (IV.i.29-34, 39-40). In this scene, Antony is prepared to murder relatives without compunction. Again, then, Shakespeare muddies the water on a clear reading of Antony’s mercurial char- acter when he has him show enormous generosity in his tribute to his fallen enemy at the end of the play, Brutus. Hartsock correctly inquires: “What is the true Antony? The one, it would appear, at whom we are looking at any given moment” (59). Shakespeare’s Antony, following Caesar’s example, is something of a populist. His faction seems to follow something similar to the modern idea of populism—espousing government by the people as a whole, using referendums to bypass the Roman Senate, and appealing to the people directly. Perhaps Marc Antony succeeded because, in his approach to this epideictic/polemic speech, he took on the Caesar-like populist role, connecting with greater strength, directly to the masses. In the end, it is hard to fi x anything in Shakespeare’s play but a view that life is ambiguous and truth diffi cult to discern: “Like the groundlings and like the Roman mob, we clap and hiss Brutus, then Caesar; Cassius, then Antony; then the mob itself. We sway with the oratory; we respond to the beauty and power of individual passages; we make some arbitrary empathic identifi cation. And we are brought to realize that the truth is what one decides it is,” ac- cording to Hartsock (62). History is a “construct,” and perhaps it is only the playwrights or poets who can be “believed.” If Julius Cae- sar is in fact a theatrical statement about the relative disposition of truth, it demands an “unusual honesty on the part of any director who aspires to a faithful production.” The play translates strongly to the stage, but what is most crucial is the director’s choice of a “view.” Directors can depict a heroic Brutus, a cruel Cassius, a noble or an ignoble Caesar (62). Though any version might suc- 123 EXAMINING MARC ANTONY’S POETIC RHETORIC IN JULIUS CAESAR ceed, the director has an obligation to present Shakespeare’s play with all its paradoxes and inconsistencies kept intact. Works Cited Aristotle. The Rhetoric and The Poetics. Ed. Edward P. J. Corbett. New York: Modern Library, 1984. Print. Hartsock, Mildred E. “The Complexity of Julius Caesar.” PMLA. 81.1:56-62. March 1966. JSTOR. 4 Dec. 2010. Shakespeare, William. Julius Caesar. Eds. Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine. NewYork: Washington Square, 2005. Print. 124 AN MAI AND JAMEY PADOJINO WRITERS’ COMMENTS The name “Stitch and Bitch” was what convinced us to do our eth- nography research on a knitting group for Professor Evelyn Ho’s Com- munication and Culture class. After several visits, hours of recordings, and dozens of pages of notes and transcriptions, we were able to distinguish certain patterns of communication specifi c to the group: reassurance, supportive messages, and the purpose of “bitching.” It was interesting to observe how people of different backgrounds were able to come together and disclose about themselves simply because they shared a common hobby. Professor Ho stressed the importance of looking past the dialogue and analyzing the value of the communica- tion patterns that were displayed. Instead of being passive observers, this project called for us to be attentive researchers. By understand- ing the ways members of a knitting group communicated with one another, we were able to make substantial conclusions that can be applicable to our everyday interactions. —An Mai and Jamey Padojino INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS This paper was written for an introductory-level Communication and Culture course. Students in this class work in pairs as participant ob- servers in a fi eldsite of their choice. While many students study friend- ship groups, An and Jamey bravely chose a group completely new to them. The purpose of ethnographic work is to immerse oneself in the everyday life of a community. By paying attention to communication patterns, the ethnographer of communication can say something im- portant about larger questions of identity, relationships, and social life. Jamey and An’s “Stitch and Bitch” group served as a useful site for ob- serving the communicative patterns of stitching talk and bitching talk. In this paper, they describe what purposes these patterns play in the orga- nization and show how group members support one another through both stitching and bitching. —Evelyn Ho, Department of Communication Studies 125 COMMUNICATION PATTERNS OF A “STITCH AND BITCH” CLUB AN MAI & JAMEY PADOJINO Yarn and Yarning: Communication Patterns of a “Stitch and Bitch” Club “Women like to sit down with trouble—as if it were knitting.” —Ellen Glasgow, Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Abstract Stitching is often portrayed as an outdated and age-specifi c activity. However, each Friday at 6:00 p.m., a stitch and bitch club (SBC) holds meetings where anyone of any experience or interest in knit- wear can join and learn a new skill, get advice or assistance on a project, or share their creations with others. People of varying back- grounds meet and form relationships on the foundation of a com- mon hobby; if they wish, it is also a time that can be spent venting about personal issues in a place where this is always a willing ear. The purpose of this paper is to show that people are able to segue into conversations that disclose more details about themselves and their personal lives through common interests. Research was conducted through ethnography, an inductive research method that entails the researchers immersing themselves in the group with the purpose to observe, record, and participate to discover meanings within that communication. Implications that our research will have on the study of communication and culture are also discussed. 126 AN MAI AND JAMEY PADOJINO Introduction ’VE GOT my knitting group” is not a typical response to a query “Iabout one’s Friday night plans in a large metropolitan city. How- ever, for a small number of people at the City Arts and Recreation Center1, this is exactly how they preface their weekends: approxi- mately two hours of knitting, crocheting, and chatting with fel- low yarn-craft enthusiasts. Each Friday at 6:00 p.m., the recreation center hosts a stitch and bitch club (SBC) where anyone of any experience or interest in knitwear can join and learn a new skill, get advice or assistance on a project, or share their creations with others. People of varying backgrounds meet and form relationships on the foundation of a common hobby; if they wish, it is also a time that can be spent venting about personal issues in a place where this is always a willing ear. Finding similarities amongst people of diverse backgrounds through a timeless activity such as stitching is a reason why this group deserves studying. As such, the following questions guided our study of this group: 1. What types of communication/meaning are present when people share a common hobby and what are their implications on the participants? 2. How do conversations move from being about “stitch- ing” to “bitching” or vice versa? In order to understand this particular group’s culture and methods of communication, we conducted an ethnography; this is an induc- tive research method that entails the researchers immersing them- selves in the group with the purpose to observe, record, and par- ticipate to discover meanings within that communication. Based on participant-observation, we found that while knitting or cro- cheting may seem like solitary activities, it is through these com- mon interests that people are able to segue into conversations that disclose more details about themselves and their personal lives. In this paper, we will present the methods used for our research, three 1 All names in this paper, except for the authors, have been changed for privacy. 127 COMMUNICATION PATTERNS OF A “STITCH AND BITCH” CLUB claims about SBC’s communicative patterns and ways of meaning, and fi nally conclude with the implications that our research will have on the study of communication and culture. Methods Fieldwork for this project took place from February 2011 to April 2011. The fi eld site was an arts and recreation center in a large city where multiple kinds of classes are off ered to the public at various rates. Many events take place at the center such as dances, stage productions, and youth-centric activities that are associated with those classes. However, SBC is open and free to the public; we found the listing for it online by searching for knitting groups in the city. We went to the fi eld site seven times overall; each time we spent approximately one to two hours there. We collected fi ve hours’ worth of recordings and transcriptions. Meetings were doc- umented through a Sony recorder checked out from the CIT Lab at USF. Meetings take place in a costume design room simply set up with a cement fl oor and cabinets fi lling up the walls. Multiple long tables are pushed together to form one large table that seat about ten people. Usually there are at least three people who regularly attend meetings and on average about six people during one meet- ing. Kristy, a Caucasian woman in her late 20s with an MFA in textiles and a teacher at the City Arts Recreation Center, is the head of SBC and determines when meetings take place. Some- times someone will bring snacks and a bottle of wine to share be- fore getting started on their projects. Kristy plays indie music in the background through an iPod connected to a stereo. Since the recreation center holds other functions as well, at times echoes of music or kids were heard in the costume design room. The mem- bers would sometimes take individual breaks by setting down their project and participating in the conversation at hand or snacking. The fi rst two visits gave us the opportunity to familiarize our- selves with the environment. We were both newcomers to SBC and had no prior relationship to the group. We approached SBC about the project on the second visit and received informed consent (as 128 AN MAI AND JAMEY PADOJINO new people came to the club meetings, we continually asked for consent prior to recording). Everyone who came to the meetings gave consent but in some cases we were asked to turn off the re- corder for certain private issues. The people in the group we stud- ied have multiple backgrounds. Some are native to the area while others moved to the area within the past few years. The group con- sisted mostly of women ages between late-20s to late-60s and one man in his late-30s to mid 40s. Being in our early 20s, we were the youngest participants in the group. We wrote our own sets of fi eld notes and memos. We loosely transcribed the audio that was recorded from the meetings and then analyzed the data through open coding to fi nd communica- tion patterns in our fi eld notes, short memos, and transcriptions. We discussed our initial impressions about the communication and noted instances of when conversations were about stitching, “bitching,” and praise. Using our research questions to guide our analysis, we reviewed our data again and marked any reoccurring and outstanding patterns from those categories. Once this was done, we transcribed signifi cant excerpts more fi nely in order for a more in-depth analysis. A listing of the transcription symbols used can be found in the Appendix. We discussed our observations and collaboratively developed theories on the talk/behavior demon- strated repeatedly by the group and made sure that there was no contradictory evidence to our claims. Results The next three sections describe the communicative patterns that substantiate our claim that having a common hobby leads to more self-disclosures. These patterns include providing reassurance to others when someone had made a mistake or was dissatisfi ed with their project, giving social support by acknowledging and applaud- ing one another’s accomplishments, and using repetition to empha- size, remind, and return to points in conversation. Conversations about stitching often led to those reassurance and social support- ive messages while repetition was eff ective in signifying and fram- ing “bitch sessions.” 129 COMMUNICATION PATTERNS OF A “STITCH AND BITCH” CLUB Reassurance Messages Within SBC, individuals worked on their own knitting or cro- chet projects; but when one person expressed distress about his or her abilities, someone was always ready to reassure the individual and keep him or her working towards the fi nal re- sult. Going into the fi eld site we knew that the members would have varying levels in their knitting or crocheting (i.e., beginner, immediate, or advanced). Sometimes they would express their frustrations through humor or by asking for help. Nonetheless many of the members attempted new knitting patterns that proved to be challenging and at times were successful in fi guring them out. The following is a transcript excerpt from our visit to City Arts and Recreation Center on March 4, 2011. Of the persons mentioned in the transcript, Stacey and Jessie are new knitters while Kristy, Claudia, and An are profi cient at stitching. (Please see the Appendix for the key to transcription symbols.) 204 Claudia: hhhhhhhhh It just doesn’t look ri:::::ight 205 Stacey: What are you making 206 Claudia: a mess hhhh um:::m (0.2) does it look a little bizzaro? 207 To you (0.1) 208 Kristy: No I think that’s how it always looks hhhh 209 Claudia: Well this looks ok (0.1) do you think- okay I’ll just keep going 210 with faith I have faith (0.4) faith (1.8) 211 An: Did your accordion work out? 212 Claudia: [Huh?] 213 Kristy: [That’s] what we’re dealing with 214 Claudia: What? 215 An: The accordion? 216 Claudia: Oh. It’s the same thing as last week. (1.0) We’re still on the 217 [accordion.] 218 Kristy: [Can I get] another one of those red ones please 219 Jessie: Yeah? Of course. ((pours cup of wine and passes it to Kristy)) 220 Claudia: What are you making 221 Jessie: Um::::m I don’t know. ( ) 222 Kristy: But yeah well you’re a closeted knitter and I had no idea 223 that you knit until (3.0) I was blabbering about work and 224 you were like 225 Oh? (2.0) 130 AN MAI AND JAMEY PADOJINO In this excerpt two diff erent people (Claudia in lines 204 and 209, and Jessie in line 221) show uncertainty about their projects. Claudia uses humor to say her project is not on the right track without seeking assistance from others. She uses the word “bizarro” for lack of a better word and asks Kristy for her opinion when seeking agreement that her project was not the way she wants it to be. Jessie explicitly states that she does not know what she is making but reassurance is implied by Kristy. In both situations, no technical advice was given on how to improve their respective projects. Instead admitting to everyone that something was not going right led to a vocal assurance through the self (in the case of Claudia’s laughter in line 206) or through the encouragement of others (in the case of Kristy calling Jessie a “closeted knitter” in line 222). This was one of many examples in which fl aws can become catalysts for emotional connection within the group and minimize the pres- sure of coming across problems in projects. Struggling in this culture is acceptable and allows the group to learn more about a project other than their own. Stitching is a complex skill but despite the varying levels in profi ciency and confi dence, rec- ognizing mistakes allows for reassuring messages that compel the members to continue working on their projects until they fi nally conquer a new stitch or are satisfi ed with the result of their project. These messages are cues for delving into conver- sation topics that are not just about stitching. They communi- cate personal interest in others’ achievements and lead to more in-depth conversation. Admiration and Social Support Another recurring pattern was showing admiration each time someone completed a project or mastered a new stitching technique. Since SBC consists of people of varying skill lev- els, some came to knit or crochet at leisure while others were there to hone their dexterity. Finishing a project or learning something new was considered an achievement that deserved recognition and praise. This fi eld note excerpt from March 25, 2011, in which An is crocheting, demonstrates this idea: 131 COMMUNICATION PATTERNS OF A “STITCH AND BITCH” CLUB As I’m working on a panel for the cardigan I am making, Kristy points it out to Mary Anne and says that she thinks the fabric is pretty. Someone asks me what I am working on and I show them the completed back panel I had made over spring break. Kristy gasps and asks to see it. I hand it to her and she, Mary Anne, Claudia, and Abby take closer looks at it. “See, this is what I was saying about making baubles,” Kristy says to them. “It’s so pretty!” she tells me. Abby looks at me and says, “I don’t even know you that well, but I’m so proud of you!” They then clap for me. Claudia asks me what I am trying to make and I show her the picture on the pattern I have. When Kristy gasps and tells An that the piece is pretty, she rec- ognizes the eff ort that An put into making it and admires the re- sult. Abby commends An when she says, “I’m so proud of you!” Afterwards they gave her a round of applause, a universal sign of appreciation and support. Actions like these encourage the people in SBC to develop their knitting and crocheting skills and are an incentive for others to commit to fi nishing their projects despite any setbacks. What’s more, these praises came about not because there was a previous relationship between the SBC members and the participating researchers, but because of the group setting that allowed everyone to the share their common interest in stitching. This pattern is shown again here in a transcription from March 11, 2011, in which Kristy talks to Jamey about the scarf she had started at her very fi rst meeting a few weeks before: 1347 Kristy: Look how much you got done. 1348 Jamey: I know. But it’s so skinny so I guess I’m going try to add more 1349 string. 1350 Kristy: That’s awesome. Do you need another ball of that yarn? 1351 [We’ve] got more of it. 1352 Jamey: [Um, ] Oh of this color? 1353 Kristy: Yeah [I think so.] Is (.) wasn’t that here? 1354 Jamey: [Oh really?] Yeah 1355 Kristy: Yeah 1356 Jamey: Oh, that’s great. 132 AN MAI AND JAMEY PADOJINO In this case, Kristy points out the progress that has been made (line 1347) and then congratulates Jamey in line 1350 by saying “that’s awesome.” She then off ers Jamey more yarn to add to the scarf, helping her improve the appearance of the scarf. This action is a supportive message because it allows Kristy to encourage Jamey to both continue and eventually fi nish her scarf. It is also a way to give practical advice that is constructive rather than condescend- ing; by ensuring Jamey that there is more yarn for her to use (line 1351), Kristy is able to convince her to continue crocheting until it is no longer “skinny” (line 1348) instead of not stopping where it is at. These instances of mutual appreciation are signifi cant because they allow the members to communicate, get to know each other, form relationships, and give suggestions without being insulting. The Role of Bitching and its Signals The spectrum of conversation in SBC was readily apparent. As the stitch and bitch group name implies, there was some talk about “stitching” (i.e., anything to do with a project such as yarn, materi- als, or patterns), and some devoted to “bitching” (i.e., talk that fo- cuses on expressing anger, frustrations, or complaints). In between was everyday chat that allowed the members to get to know one another and update each other on what was happening in their respective lives. However, one notable pattern that appeared was that most of the bitching was done by those who were the heads of their households (i.e., parents and breadwinners). This makes sense because these individuals are not only responsible for their own lives, but also for the well-beings of their spouses and children. As such, they have more stories to share and more to complain about. In the following transcription from March 11, 2011, one member of SBC shares her frustrations with the group about her family, after she returned from a stitching class that Kristy teaches at the City Arts and Recreation Center: 1362 Stacey: I don’t know what I’ve got. I don’t. Yeah. I’m afraid. 1363 Kristy: Did he end up having to go to the hospital this week? 1364 Stacey: Oh. Oh my god. I went [home on Tuesday] night. It was awful. 1365 Kristy: [After Tuesday?] 133 COMMUNICATION PATTERNS OF A “STITCH AND BITCH” CLUB 1366 Mary Anne: What was wrong? I didn’t hear. 1367 Stacey: So at the end of class on Tuesday, my son’s calling 1368 me, can you take me to the hospital? I hurt myself. Can you 1369 please take me to the hospital? I get home, it’s like between 8:30 1370 and 9, they’ve got a friend [over,] nobody has started their 1371 homework, I’m a little peeved. 1372 Mary Anne: [((Sighs))] 1373 Stacey: I ask the kid like, how are you getting home? And he then calls 1374 his mom— 1375 Kristy: hhhhh He’s like in an ambulance! hhhhh 1376 Stacey: It’s obvious that, it’s obviously we’re doing something bad just by 1377 the way they’re reacting when I get in there. He calls his mom, 1378 who comes and picks him up at 9, nobody’s started their 1379 homework= 1380 Kristy: Uh huh. 1381 Stacey: =I’m, I’m just in ( .) I’m incredibly mad at the whole group of 1382 them. So then they finally go and do their homework I went (1)I’m 1383 getting ready to go to bed and my son finally gets really mad at 1384 me, and he said you know mom, you make me sick. I wish just 1385 for one day you wouldn’t talk to me at all. 1386 Kristy: .hh 1387 Stacey: I close my bedroom door, and the next morning, I got up and he 1388 asked me if I would make him breakfast and I said you asked me 1389 not to talk to you, you get your wish, you can make your breakfast 1390 you can make your lunch and you can get to school all by 1391 yourself. You go figure it out. 1392 Mary Anne: Wait why did he want to go to the hospital? 1393 Stacey: Cuz he hurt his ankle and it wasn’t (1.2) I’m looking at it and 1384 thinking you’re a hypochondriac. 1395 Kristy: hhhhhhhh 1396 Stacey: Then his dad came home and I said now I’m really mad I can’t 1397 even take a class. I can’t even take a class and not come 1398 home to a catastrophe. And boy am I mad right now. 1399 Kristy: And where is he? He does things on Tuesday nights too. 1400 Stacey: He’s so, he took the boys and his friends took them all out for 1401 dinner— 1402 Mary Anne: That same night? 1403 Stacey: That night. They all, he walked back to his office which is two 1404 blocks away from our house. He realizes he made a mistake, he 1405 saw (.) all the other boys dispersed and went home. This one kid 1406 followed our kids. He realized he should’ve just made him go 134 AN MAI AND JAMEY PADOJINO 1407 home too. 1408 Kristy: Yeah. 1409 Stacey: He realized that he made a mistake. But it’s like this is not fair >for 1410 years and years and years< I’ve put up with you not being home 1411 Mondays and Tuesdays nights and I take a class and all hell breaks 1412 loose. 1413 Kristy: Right. 1414 Stacey: So my husband got it. My kid (1) was mad at me and they both 1415 went an entire day without food. 1416 Mary Anne: [hhhhhhhh]hhhhhh 1417 Kristy [hhhhhhhh] 1418 Stacey: I don’t care. 1419 Mary Anne: So they didn’t make their own breakfast? Or their own lunch? 1420 Stacey: I went out to walk the dog, I came home they were both very surly 1421 looking walking out the door. I asked the dad if they ate—I don’t 1422 know. My husband still doesn’t get that we have to take care of 1423 them cuz they’re not very smart. 1424 Mary Anne: hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 1425 Stacey: I was mad at the whole bunch of them. At the beginning, Kristy initiates a conversation by asking about something that had happened earlier in the week (line 1363). Stacey’s “bitching” is signifi ed by contextualization cues such as “It was aw- ful” (line 1364), “I’m a little peeved” (line 1371), and “I’m incredibly mad” (line 1381). She explicitly articulates her anger fi ve times (lines 1371, 1381, 1396, 1398, and 1425) to show the group members how she felt and to signal how the others should interpret what she is say- ing. In lines 1396 through 1398, Stacey expressed anger because she “can’t even take a class without coming home to a catastrophe.” She emphasizes her frustrations by repeating herself in lines 1411–1412: “I take a class and all hell breaks loose.” Stacey vocalized the power imbalance she felt between her and her husband when she said, “This is not fair for years and years and years I’ve put up with you not being home Mondays and Tuesday nights” (lines 1409–1411). By doing so, Stacey demonstrates how critical she believes her role as a wife and mother is; her brief absence on a Tuesday night threatened a family norm and emotionally (and physically) aff ected her, her son, and her husband. The function of the “bitch” part in “stitch 135 COMMUNICATION PATTERNS OF A “STITCH AND BITCH” CLUB and bitch” becomes crucial here because it allowed Stacey a rare op- portunity to get away from a stressful role. “Bitching” sessions were usually about familial relationships, a conversation topic that anyone could engage in. From sibling ri- valries to frustrations about their in-laws, being annoyed by fam- ily was something that everyone could relate to and participate in some way. However, even when the bitching was about something else, the above pattern was still apparent. The demographics of the group made this pattern plausible; as the researchers, we were the youngest two in the group by at least a decade and still dependent on our own parents. Everyone else was engaged, married, divorced, and/or had children, and were completely independent from their fi rst families. As a result, our life experiences diff ered on several planes. With the age gap, we were bound to conversation topics about school or perhaps current events—subjects that everyone else in the room knew about. If we were to start a new complaint thread, chances were that someone else in the group had already experienced something similar and could relate to it or even “one- up” us. So, while we could attempt to engage in bitching sessions started by someone else, it was not always possible for us to relate fi rst-hand, thus limiting our ability to participate. Conclusion Our fi rst research question asked what communication patterns oc- curred when people share a common hobby. Our second question regarding conversations transitions from “stitching” to “bitching” or the reverse was observed through social support via reassurance messages and praise. Despite not having previous relationships with one another, the members of SBC sustained conversations by asking follow-up questions which implied an interest in the individ- ual’s life. As seen in the last transcript, Stacey disclosed a detailed story about her family; this demonstrates that the environment of SBC is a safe place where she can express an opinion, one that may have been destructive if she had the same conversation with her loved ones. 136 AN MAI AND JAMEY PADOJINO While support regarding stitching problems makes sense with- in the context of SBC, bitching was useful because it was a way for members to relate to each other outside of their projects. The activity of stitching is relaxing for some people and in SBC gave the individuals an opportunity to refl ect, or bitch, about events they went through in their lives. Verbal communication was sig- nifi cant in this group because individuals were able to adapt to the environment and group dynamic with more disclosures. This study showed that within a shared activity, conversations are not strictly about projects; advice or compliments became a way to form con- nections with people whom we otherwise would not know. Draw- ing from the name “stitch and bitch,” we were able to look beyond the content of transcripts and focus on the larger meaning of the group members’ communication. While people are learning new skills, their challenges can prove to be strenuous. Social support is a major factor towards fi n- ishing a project. Although everyone worked at their own pace and faced their own challenges with their projects, the goal was not perfection but sharing the love for a common activity with other people. Being with a group of people who have a common hobby makes the activity more enjoyable and worthwhile because there is a greater incentive to keep trying in the face of setbacks. As a result, patterns of reassurance and support stemming from people having common interests are signifi cant because they can apply to any type of activity. From athletic team sports, to dance, to music, or any other kind of hobby, people who learn or have similar sets of skills specifi c to their respective interests can foster a sense of community and give each other support in order to succeed at a common goal. Limitations in this research include the presence of the re- searchers. The lack of a prior relationship with these women may have caused some tension thus causing the women to fi lter out some of their thoughts for the sake of the project. Limiting our recordings to only audio rather than audio/video impeded our abil- ity to notice nonverbal messages which may have revealed some- thing signifi cant within the group could not be observed. Being 137 COMMUNICATION PATTERNS OF A “STITCH AND BITCH” CLUB the youngest participants during the meetings, the age gap also proved to be a major limitation because we were often unable to off er reassurance that would be constructive towards the commu- nication at hand. Future researchers should spend more time at the fi eld site be- fore recording. This allows the researchers to establish who they are apart from their research and gives the focus group a chance to become situated with the researchers. Also, diverse sets of back- grounds will lead to certain types of bitching; when choosing a stitching group, researchers may also want to try to fi nd individu- als with whom they share similar demographic characteristics be- cause the bitching that will unfold may resonate more with the researcher, allowing for a deeper analysis. Through off ering words of guidance or appreciation in a stitch- ing group, communication between members leads to more per- sonal conversation topics and creates a supportive and helpful environment that is conducive to bitching. Whether they were ex- perienced knitters or new to the craft, the members of SBC were able to communicate about their projects; this became a gateway towards more interpersonal interactions. In constructing this form of communication with one another, the members of this stitch and bitch club not only connected with each other, but also enjoyed a common hobby that praised their eff orts and perseverance. 138 AN MAI AND JAMEY PADOJINO Appendix Used Transcription Symbols . (period) Falling intonation. ? (question mark) Rising intonation. , (comma) Continuous intonation. - (hyphen) Marks an abrupt cut-off. :: (colon(s)) Prolonging of sound. never (underlining) Stressed syllable or word. >word< (greater than & less than) Quicker speech. hhh (series of h’s) Aspiration or laughter. [ ] (brackets) Simultaneous or overlapping speech. (.) (period in parentheses) Micro-pause, 2/10 second or less. ((gazing at stars)) (double parentheses) Description of a non-speech activity. = (equals sign) Contiguous utterances. (2.4) (number in parentheses) Length of a silence. The up and down arrows indicate a rise or fall in pitch. 139 PEACE BETWEEN ISRAELIS AND PALESTINIANS WRITER’S COMMENTS In Professor McElwain’s class, The World Since 1945, we shaped a much deeper understanding of today’s world by studying the major events and issues that have spanned the post-World War II era. For this paper we were to answer, in 10 pages or less, one of three possible questions by developing our own arguments based off the textbook readings and sound reasoning. In studying the major global issues since 1945, to me there are few that remain as important, relevant, and unresolved today than that of the Israeli-Palestinian confl ict. Thus, I was pleased to learn I had the opportunity to respond to the following question: Why, after over 60 years, have the Israelis and Palestinians not been able to make peace? Attempting to explain this in 10 pages or less, because of the confl ict’s immense complexity and lengthy history, was an almost hu- morous task to undertake. However, in being limited in page number I was forced to get down to the fundamental roots of the issue, mean- while discovering that, despite the complexity, its simpler explanations are in many ways the most valid. —Derek Poppert INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS The World Since 1945 is a history of international politics following the Second World War. One of its principal objectives is to enable students to understand more clearly, current global issues and challenges by ex- ploring their origins and development in recent history. The specifi c course assignment Derek undertook was to choose from a short list, a contemporary question of global signifi cance and explore, using course materials, its relevant post-war history. Derek chose to focus on the confl ict between Israel and the Palestinians. His task was not to propose a solution to the confl ict, rather, to analyze the most important aspects of its historical evolution since the 1947 partition of Palestine by the United Nations. Derek performed the task very ably. Included in his pa- per is critical analysis of the very concept of partition as a viable means of dealing with rival territorial claims as well as the important roles played by specifi c political leaders in meeting complex regional chal- lenges. Acknowledging that some progress has been made since 1947 in settling the confl ict, Derek rightly points, nonetheless, to developments in recent years that have aggravated an already diffi cult situation. —M. Scott McElwain, Professor Emeritus of Politics 140 DEREK POPPERT DEREK POPPERT Why Peace Has Not Been Achieved Between Israelis and Palestinians HEN THE ISSUE of the Israeli-Palestinian confl ict gets brought Wup today, it is all too easy to get involved in the details of recent events while losing sight of important details of history. In- deed, one cannot fully understand the confl ict without fi rst un- derstanding important facts of history, especially with regards to those since the partition of Palestine in 1947. The confl ict is an is- sue of the utmost complexity and one in which history plays a vital role. After over 60 years, Israelis and Palestinians have not been able to make peace largely because the partition of Palestine was highly problematic from the very beginning, the characteristics of the respective leaderships have been far from complementary, and the two sides have both held a set of deep seated, diametrically opposed positions that have proven unwavering and highly resis- tant to change ever since the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948. One of the most fundamental aspects to understanding the Israeli-Palestinian confl ict is the very nature of the partition of Palestine and the subsequent creation of the state of Israel. The origins of why Israelis and Palestinians have not been able to reach a lasting peace deal can largely be traced back to the problematic nature of the Jewish state’s creation in the fi rst place. Indeed, the plan to create a Jewish state in the area of Palestine is something that was steeped in dispute from the very beginning. Because this plan was problematic to begin with, it would inevitably have equal- ly problematic after eff ects. In August of 1947, when the United Nations, after taking the issue of Palestine out of the hands of the British in February of the same year, came out in favor of the partition of Palestine and 141 PEACE BETWEEN ISRAELIS AND PALESTINIANS the creation of a Jewish state, the Israeli-Palestinian confl ict was already under way (Young and Kent 114). Palestinian Arab national- ism and revolt had sprung up in response to massive and ever in- creasing Jewish immigration into the region following the Balfour Declaration in 1917 and the British Mandate for a Jewish homeland in Palestine in 1922. By the early 1940s, underground Jewish forces began to emerge as a way to operate against Palestinian Arabs and establish a Jewish state on their own. Soon, Jewish terrorist groups even began to carry out attacks against British forces (Young and Kent 114). Yet despite the ongoing turbulence already taking place, the UN General Assembly went ahead with the creation of an Is- raeli state within Palestine and offi cially endorsed the plan in No- vember of 1947 (Young and Kent 114). This was, however, not a move that was well thought out. While the confl icts happening at the time suggested the potential for a further prolonged confl ict, and while this alone should have been enough to question the wisdom of the partition, the prob- lematic nature of the partition goes even deeper. At the core of the precariousness was a fundamental failure to understand the nature of the inhabitants of Palestine and fully consider what eff ects the partition of their land could have. Indeed, it would have taken little more than to simply think about it in principle—it was amazingly shortsighted to think that externally establishing a state comprised of people of a very distinct ethnicity, culture, and religion on top of land already inhabited by another people of a diff erent ethnicity, culture, and religion would not be problematic. And to assume the Palestinians would simply passively accept the partition of their land, which they, like the Jews, shared a deep religious and ancestral connection to, was disturbingly naïve—especially with colonialism being such a recent experience in the region. The partition, solely on principle, was clearly precarious by na- ture and, unsurprisingly, was met with a great deal of resistance. However, the Palestinians felt further resentment for the fact that they themselves never accepted the idea they should give up their land to the Jews. And meanwhile, large areas of Europe and North America were potentially available as an option too, yet were nev- er seriously considered (Young and Kent 114). Compounding the 142 DEREK POPPERT problem was the fact that the details of the settlement plan itself were highly disproportionate. Indeed, the plan gave the Jews 56 percent of the land when they constituted less than one-third of the population (Young and Kent 114). In May of 1948, the state of Israel was offi cially established. Jew- ish forces had eff ectively put down Palestinian forces and gained control of the areas allocated to them by the UN (Young and Kent 115). However, further testament to the fact that the creation of Is- rael was problematic from the beginning is that neighboring Arab states attacked the very next day following its offi cial establish- ment (Young and Kent 115). Perhaps only an attack the very next hour would have made that more clear. And while Israel held onto its state after the fi rst Arab-Israeli war, and even extended its ter- ritory further as a result, the seeds were fi rmly in place for a con- fl ict with Palestinians that would not see a lasting peace agreement through the rest of that century and well into the next. Young and Kent write, “With the UN acceptance of the partition of Palestine conditions there deteriorated rapidly … From November 1947 on- wards Palestine became the location for a civil war as Arabs and Jews battled for position and strategic advantage” (114). All things considered, the partition was a recipe for disaster. Confl ict was al- ready well in place at the time of its implementation, the planners failed to adequately assess what would be the eff ects of placing an Israeli state where and how they did, and the partition itself was highly unequal. Though the Jewish people were perhaps in need of a homeland, it is possible that the creation of one could have been carried out in a more thought out and responsible fashion. While the creation of Israel was clearly problematic from the start, from that point forward there have been yet further prin- ciple reasons why Israelis and Palestinians have not been able to make peace. One of such reasons has been the characteristics of the respective leaderships on both sides. On the one side, Palestin- ian leadership in the past sixty years has tended to be fragmented and divided, and thus has had an unclear sense of unifi ed direc- tion. To compound the issue has been, on the other side, an Israeli leadership with a legacy of right wing, hawkish agendas and a very clear direction of expanding Israel’s territory largely since 1977. 143 PEACE BETWEEN ISRAELIS AND PALESTINIANS Combined, these two tendencies within the respective leaderships of Israelis and Palestinians made an already volatile situation even more so. In sum, Palestinian leadership has not been cohesive nor has it had any truly unifi ed sense of direction ever since the partition of Palestine. Leading up to the attempt to create a united political body for the Palestinians during the fi rst Arab summit in 1964, Pal- estinians lacked any type of singular organizational entity. However, out of the Arab summit came forth an important step towards Pal- estinian integration with the creation of an umbrella organization called the Palestinian Liberation Organization (Young and Kent 373). Unfortunately, the PLO suff ered from division and fragmenta- tion almost immediately. While it shared a common aim in leading the Palestinian people, liberating the Palestinian homeland, and de- stroying the Jewish state that occupied it, the PLO, as an umbrella organization, was comprised of many disparate groups and thus was victim of continual internal confl ict (Young and Kent 373). By 1970, however, there was some further progress in Palestin- ian unity, as the group al-Fatah, who broke away from the PLO at the end of 1964 and was led by Yasser Arafat, won control of the PLO executive committee and completed a process of unifi cation under Fatah leadership (Young and Kent 378). In 1974, the PLO was confi rmed by the Arab League as the true representative of the Palestinian people (Young and Kent 429). In November of 1988 Arafat declared Palestinian independence, renounced terrorism, and established a government in exile which many countries gave diplomatic recognition to. The PLO was now increasingly seen as the only genuine representative of the Palestinian people (Young and Kent 547). However, even with these advances in Palestinian integration, there was a growing movement outside the PLO which further threatened the prospects of unifi ed Palestinian body. Included un- derneath the PLO umbrella upon its conception in 1964 were vari- ous radical and paramilitary groups who engaged in guerilla attacks and small-scale raids on Israel. After the 1967 war, in which Israel took Gaza, the West Bank, and Golan Heights, the radicalization of these groups increased tremendously. However, emerging groups 144 DEREK POPPERT like Islamic Jihad and Hamas began to operate outside PLO control and took a more hard line position against Israel by employing more militant and direct confrontational challeng- es in the latter part of the 1980s. Young and Kent explain that these groups “merged religious faith and Palestinian national- ism into a potent and violent cocktail. And it helped extend Intifada into a full-blown rebellion while rejecting any peace conferences because it claimed the only solution lay in Jihad or holy war” (547). Once again, the Palestinians were divided in leadership and direction. As one part worked towards a more diplomatic solution, the other rejected such methods and re- sorted to violence. In turn, this caused major problems in in- ternational talks and to this day continues to hamper progress. Continued terror attacks by extremist groups made it diffi cult for Israel to make concessions in the 1990s and up through the new millennium (Young and Kent 704). However, we must also keep in mind that Hamas and other similar groups did not ex- ist to the same degree prior to Israeli occupation of Gaza and the West Bank. While Palestinians have continued to struggle to fi nd uni- ty and collective direction ever since the partition of Pales- tine, Israel has essentially been in the opposite situation. Par- ticularly since 1977, the Israeli leadership has remained fairly constant in its tendency towards right wing, hawkish policies. As such, there has also been a very clear sense of direction— namely, expansion and little willingness to make concessions on it. Thanks to enormous aid from the United States, Israel’s military capabilities have increased tremendously throughout the decades, and thus the Israeli-Palestinian situation has seen a drastic discrepancy in not only the organizational cohesive- ness of the two sides, but the overall military capabilities. From Israel’s establishment in 1948 up through 1977, the country’s politics had been dominated by the Labour Party, a more moderate group compared to the one which began to dominate thereafter (Young and Kent 462). 1977 marked the beginning of a new trend within Israeli government that would have major impacts on the prospects of peace with Palestin- ians. It was in this year that the far right wing Likud party, 145 PEACE BETWEEN ISRAELIS AND PALESTINIANS led by former terrorist Menachem Begin, won its fi rst election (Young and Kent 462). From this point forward Israeli policy would take on a very diff erent tone, as the Likuds would go on to win several elections in the coming years and the tendency within Israeli leadership was an inclination towards expansion and confrontation rather than peace or negotiation. The Likuds were a hard-line coalition that maintained the land of Israel was their rightful sacred land, as according to the Old Testament of the Bible it was, and thus were commit- ted to retaining the territories of West Bank and Gaza taken in the 1967 war (Young and Kent 462). Speaking with regards to Prime Minister Begin, Young and Kent explain, “History and religion were at the heart of his claim to these territories, not just security. All of which was going to make a settlement extremely diffi cult” (Young and Kent 463). The Camp David agreements in 1979, while it included a withdrawal from Sinai, made no promises about Palestinian independence, the status of Jerusalem, or even on limiting Jewish settlements. Begin not only refused to move on the issue of Palestinian rights but also extended Jewish settlements on the West Bank (Young and Kent 464). In 1981, Begin and the Likuds won another election victory, paving the way for the continuation of more hard-line policies from Israel. Indeed, the following years saw addition- al expansion of borders and even further increases in settle- ments, as Israel made highly controversial sovereignty claims to Gaza, the West Bank, and even Golan Heights (Young and Kent 545). In 1984, a coalition government operated in Tel Aviv where Labour leader Shimon Peres, a supporter of steps toward peace, alternated as Prime Minister with Likud leader Yitzhak Shamir, another former terrorist who was unenthusiastic about such steps (Young and Kent 546). By 1988, though, Shamir was full Prime Minister of the Labour-Likud coalition government (Young and Kent 547, 705). And though Labour leader Yitzhak Rabin’s election in 1992 improved prospects of peace, the Li- kuds scored yet another election victory in 1996, with Ben- jamin Netanyahu taking the reigns as Prime Minister (Young and Kent 700, 703). Although the narrow vote margin of this 146 DEREK POPPERT election illustrated the wide division within Israeli society, Israeli government policy, as implemented by the Likuds, would continue to be carried out in a united manner. What we see from examining the general trend of the charac- teristics of Palestinian and Israeli leaderships is that the two sides have been far from complementary and thus an already unstable situation has become further irritated. The militant side of the Palestinians and the Likud side of the Israelis particularly played off each other, and as time went on the situation as a whole be- came a negative feedback loop. In terms of negotiations, it is obvi- ously diffi cult to get them off the ground when one side is divided amongst itself. Moreover, such negotiations are further doomed if both sides do not even recognize each other. While we can talk of the inherently problematic nature of the partition of Palestine, or the less than complementary character- istics of Palestinian and Israeli leaderships, when it boils down to it the most fundamental reason why Israelis and Palestinians have not been able to make peace is also in a way the most simple. Indeed, the crux of the confl ict is fairly straightforward in that both sides have held, and continue to hold, deeply entrenched and unwavering opposing positions on important issues. The Israeli- Palestinian confl ict is undoubtedly a subject of great complexity, but as Young and Kent write, “Yet at one level the issue was very simple: a dispute over land between two people who believe their claims are justifi ed” (112). The main problem is that both sides have remained deeply convicted of the justifi cation of their positions while simultaneously considering the other side’s view to be un- compromisingly wrong. Of the confl icting positions held by Israelis and Palestinians, the most elemental from the vey beginning was in regards to Is- rael’s existence. To Israelis, Israel is their rightful land and its ex- istence as a state justifi ed. Furthermore, because it is perceived to be the rightful land of Israelis, many in power have believed the settlements in the occupied territories are thus justifi ed as well because they, too, are rightfully Israeli land. Indeed, the territories gained in the 1967 war were still short of original Zionist ideas on 147 PEACE BETWEEN ISRAELIS AND PALESTINIANS the boundaries of a Jewish state (Young and Kent 377). However, for the vast majority of the Arab world, including the Palestinians, there had been an unwavering belief that Israel did not have a right to exist. As such, the PLO refused to recognize the existence of Israel, hindering the chances of substantial peace talks to even get underway. However, 1988 was a landmark year because it was then that Arafat made several crucial shifts. In addition to declaring Pal- estinian independence and creating a government in exile, Arafat restricted the boundaries of a Palestinian state to the West Bank and Gaza, while also acknowledging Israel’s right to exist (Young and Kent 547). Though it took forty years, this was a monumental step and off ered an immense potential to peace talks while open- ing the possibility for an entirely new phase in relations. While the PLO had long refused to recognize the right of Is- rael to exist, Israel had at the same time also refused to recognize the PLO as representing the Palestinian people, and thus peace talks were eff ectively stalemated during this time. Despite the fact that the PLO was confi rmed by the Arab league as the true rep- resentative of Palestinians in 1974, and despite the growing rec- ognition elsewhere in the following years that this was so—some countries had even given diplomatic recognition to Arafat’s gov- ernment in exile—the Israeli government still adamantly refused to speak with the PLO (Young and Kent 430). As such, there was never a legitimate body Israel was consistently willing to include in negotiations as acting on behalf of Palestinians. Even after Arafat’s remarkable statement in 1988, for fi ve more years Israel did not move on its stance, during which time Hamas had been able to grow in enough size and strength to threaten the peace process (Young and Kent 699). Israel’s continued rejection of the PLO dur- ing this time, while also refusing to budge on the issues of Gaza and the West Bank since 1967, exasperated many ordinary Pales- tinians and eff ectively forced some to turn towards more radical measures to have their voices heard. In 1993, Israel fi nally offi cially recognized the PLO (Young and Kent 702). But from then on as one part of the Palestinians talked, the other part undermined it through violence. If peace talks were on shaky ground prior to this, from this point forward they only became more challenging. 148 DEREK POPPERT After 1993, Palestinians and Israelis could begin a seemingly entirely new phase of peace talks. However, this new phase was marred from the beginning by further unwavering positions of each side, chiefl y towards issues of territory and political rights. Unfor- tunately, the steadfast positions have the potential to perhaps al- ways make a lasting and comprehensive settlement out of reach. While both Israelis and Palestinians continue to seek short-term cooperation for their own long-term interests, the long-term aims of each side continue to be in much confl ict (Young and Kent 703). Young and Kent summarize this disparity nicely: “Israelis hoped to end the Intifada and establish peace with their Arab neighbors, but to keep the Palestinians economically and politically subservient … Israel also hoped to maintain Jewish settlements in the West Bank and to retain all of Jerusalem. But Palestinians eventually hoped for a state in the whole of the West Bank and Gaza, free of Israeli domination” (703). From this we can see the fundamental sticking point between the two sides today. Unfortunately, this type of situ- ation in which both parties hold drastically diverging and steadily unwavering positions because of the deep conviction of their justi- fi cation has been the legacy of Israeli-Palestinian relationship since the very beginning. It has been the most fundamental cause of failed settlement talks from the start and has proven to be a lethal combination towards any chance of peace. While all of this can perhaps sound gloomy, peace is not neces- sarily a lost cause. True, the sovereignty and complete self-deter- mination desired by the Palestinians is not necessarily something the Israelis will easily grant. And true, the continued control over the West Bank and Gaza Strip the Israelis desire is not necessarily something the Palestinians will easily accept. But in the course of time perhaps the situation will evolve and a workable arrangement can emerge. It took many years for the Palestinians and Israelis to change their deeply convicted refusals to recognize the other side. But they did change. This too could be the case for their positions today on territory and political rights. While history cannot be changed, positions and beliefs of the present—as deep rooted and convicted as the may be—are something that can be worked with. The benefi t of fl exibility is often peace, while rigid conviction only 149 PEACE BETWEEN ISRAELIS AND PALESTINIANS tends to result in further violence. This peace is far more important than any rigid conviction itself. Let us hope the fl exibility which brings peace prevails over rigid conviction’s violence. Work Cited Young, John W., and John Kent. International Relations Since 1945. New York: Oxford UP, 2004. Print. 150 JILLIAN RAMOS WRITER’S COMMENTS It is a sad reality that only certain events in history ever make it to the general conscience of the masses. It is even more unfortunate that the untold stories of the past are often those that need to be remembered the most. This is certainly no exception for the Filipinos who served un- der the United States fl ag during World War II. In exploring their nearly seventy-year plight for justice and equity, I have discovered that these veterans not only deserve legislative action: they deserve to be a part of America’s conscious memory. I was able to effectively voice my opinion on this issue in Professor Holler’s Written and Oral Communication course—by challenging us to create a policy change on current legisla- tion, I was given an outlet to write on a social justice issue of which I am extremely passionate. It is my hope that this essay would, at the very least, make its readers realize what is missing in their history textbooks and daily headlines. Moreover, I hope that it would encourage others to advocate for the unheard—change is, after all, better late than never. — Jillian Ramos INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS Perhaps the most challenging aspect of writing a Rogerian argument is the control of tone. How, despite guarding a passionately held belief, can one engage with opposition meaningfully—without condescension or indeed anger (and anger is certainly warranted when considering the unjust treatment of Filipino veterans after the war). Jillian does here what she managed to do for me all year—she maintains her composure and opts instead to allow her detailed and even-handed research to emerge as her trump card. Pausing over Jillian’s research a bit more, note how it is not procrustean (i.e., it does not truncate complicat- ing evidence about the costs of repaying veterans’ families despite our nation’s present preoccupation with “austerity”). Indeed, she uses the fi nancial information provided by the VA and other government sources to make her case even stronger. I’d also like to note that Jillian presented the material printed here in USF’s Spring 2011 Speakers’ Showcase, and by all accounts, it was a masterful speech. I am proud to have had Jillian in my midst for a yearlong Written and Oral Communication class and I predict great things for her—both on pages and stages—here at USF and beyond. —David Holler, Department of Rhetoric and Language 151 EQUITY FOR FILIPINO-AMERICAN WORLD WAR II VETERANS JILLIAN RAMOS In Honor of the Forgotten: A Search for Equity for Filipino-American World War II Veterans Abstract Approximately 200,000 Filipinos served in the United States mili- tary during World War II. However, the 1946 Rescission Act re- tracted most of the benefi ts these soldiers were entitled to—the law stated that because they were not citizens at the time of the war, they were not eligible to receive them. It was not until Presi- dent Obama signed the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 that some Filipinos were fi nally able to receive lump-sums of either $15,000 as citizens or $9,000 as non-citizens. But there are still several fl aws within the legislation that must be taken into consideration. Therefore, I propose for these benefi ts to be paid back in the full value that was promised them (accounting for in- fl ation) and be made accessible to the veterans’ widows and family members; determining the eligibility of these soldiers should also be more effi cient and fair. I also advocate for a greater emphasis of past Filipino-American relations in history curricula throughout the United States in order to pay tribute to these veterans and to ensure that the injustices they had undergone do not go untold in the future. 152 JILLIAN RAMOS Introduction T HAS BEEN nearly seventy years since World War II has passed: Isince the grueling Bataan Death March; since Filipino soldiers suff ered inhuman concentration camps under brutal Japanese con- trol; since the Filipinos fought under the United States fl ag. But it took nearly seventy years before America fi nally granted these war veterans some of the rights were entitled to. “At the time of re- cruitment,” notes U.S. Representative and Chairman of the Asian Pacifi c American Caucus, Michael Honda, “the U.S. government promised that … Filipino soldiers would be treated as U.S. veter- ans and entitled to full benefi ts” (Honda 193). But the problem is far from over. Filipinos have become a forgotten part of American past; it is time that they are given what is due them. American Colonialism and Racism American involvement in the Philippines dates as far back as 1899 during the Philippine-American War, which was “a result of the Philippine Revolution [against their previous colonizer, Spain] and U.S. involvement with Spain’s other major colony, Cuba” (Dumin- din 1). The war left the Philippines with approximately 220,000 dead and a new era of colonial rule under the United States—the entire nation became radically Americanized, from education to cultural norms. And yet, this event is hardly considered common knowledge in American history. New York University adjunct pro- fessor of Asian Pacifi c American Studies, Luis Francia, notes: How convenient (and necessary) that it be forgotten for the sake of upholding the self-spun myth of a freedom-fi ghting giant! Here is a war that lasted for a decade, cost so much more money than the Spanish-American War, reduced in scale and intensity to a nonevent. Such has been the fervent aim of a nation of apolo- gists (including not a few scholars whose allegiance seems more to preserving America’s aw-shucks good-guy image rather than to the facts). (Francia and Shaw 23) 153 EQUITY FOR FILIPINO-AMERICAN WORLD WAR II VETERANS However, even they migrated to the United States, Filipinos faced racism similar to that which African Americans had undergone prior to the Civil Rights Era. For instance, “in California in the 1920s and 1930s, Filipinos faced de facto segregation”: several fa- cilities prohibited Filipinos from entering at all costs; they were reduced to working in agricultural fi elds for menial wages; Filipino men were forbidden to be seen anywhere near white women; and in the U.S. Navy, they were limited to serving only as busboys and musicians. But most of all, Filipinos were not granted citizenship “despite their ability as U.S. nationals to move freely” (Posadas 20- 24). Still, as with many aspects of Filipino-American history, these events remain unknown to the general American public. Filipino Involvement in World War II The role of the Filipino changed dramatically during World War II, however. Commissioner to the Federal Council on the Aging, Al- ice P. Bulos, notes that on July 26, 1941, “President Franklin Delano Roosevelt ordered the induction of the Philippine Army into the United States Armed Forces in the Far East (USAFFE) under the command of General Douglas MacArthur”—less than fi ve months before the Japanese bombing on Pearl Harbor (Bulos qtd. in Alabado 117). Because the Philippine Army was under American command, young Filipino men were automatically drafted into the Army to fi ght off the Japanese in the Pacifi c theater—notably, the Philippines. But on April 9, 1942, “90,000 to 100,000 American and Filipi- no prisoners of war captured by the Japanese” were “force-marched 55 miles (88 km) to San Fernando, then taken by rail to Capas, from where they walked the fi nal 8 miles (13 km) to Camp O’Donnell … only 54,000 reached the camp” (“Bataan Death March” 1). These soldiers suff ered from severe mistreatment by the Japanese—in- cluding, but not limited to, abuse, starvation, and disease caused by lack of proper sanitation—in what came to be known as the Bataan Death March. To those who were fortunate enough to sur- vive its terrors, this event marked just the beginning of the plight of the Filipino in service of the United States. 154 JILLIAN RAMOS According to Paul Daniel Rivera, J.D. Candidate of the Uni- versity of California, Hastings College of Law, “these veterans … [engaged] in some of the Pacifi c’s bloodiest combat and were cru- cial in helping America take the Pacifi c back from the Japanese” (Rivera 449). As a reward for their bravery and their willingness to fi ght under the American fl ag, the Filipino soldiers were promised equal benefi ts as any American soldier. However, not long after the end of the war, these Filipinos faced a most gruesome form of racism. In 1946, Congress passed the Rescission Act, which stated that “service in the organized forces of the Government of the Commonwealth of the Philippines … shall not be deemed to be or to have been active service in the military or naval forces of the United States for purposes … of conferring rights, privileges [and] benefi ts (Bulos qtd. in Alabado 118). The law basically denied Phil- ippine soldiers who fought for the Pacifi c theater “all non-service- connected U.S. veterans’ benefi ts”; the legislation also “reduced … payments [for benefi ts regarding service-connected disabilities] to the rate of fi fty cents for each dollar to account for the lower stan- dard of living in the Philippines” (Rivera 457). In an open letter to Congress, Atty. Corban K. Alabado, a retired 3rd Lieutenant of the USAFFE and member of Veterans of Foreign Wars, pled: Was it not in the active service that we went to Bataan … and fought side by side with our American brothers? Were we not in the uniform of the USAFFE when the United States Military High Command gave us orders to surrender on April 9, 1942? Were we not taken prisoners of war and made to walk the many kilometers of the brutal Death March? ... As soon as we had re- covered from malaria and dysentery, many of us joined the resis- tance underground movement [against the Japanese]. When the Americans returned to the Philippines, we returned to military control … what of the above services are not ‘active’ as described by the Rescission Act? (Alabado 114) The Philippine war veterans (or veteranos) thus found themselves 155 EQUITY FOR FILIPINO-AMERICAN WORLD WAR II VETERANS in a state of inequality that brought their status back to where they were prior to the war. Little did they know that they would still be fi ghting six decades later. The Rescission Act, Justifi ed The American government was hesitant to give such benefi ts to the Filipino soldiers because, according to Rivera, “so few of these veterans lived in the United States” (458). And because most of these Filipino soldiers were fi ghting only as U.S. na- tionals, Congress argued that they should not be entitled to the same benefi ts as every other U.S. citizen. In Harris v. Ro- sario (1980), the Supreme Court “relied upon Congress’ broad powers under the Territory Clause of the Constitution,” which gave Congress the right to “treat [Territories] diff erently from States so long as there is a rational basis” (460). Since the Philippines was still not independent at the time of the war, Congress was thus technically able to pass the Rescission Act while still staying within the confi nes of the Constitution. Fur- thermore, while the Philippines was a territory of the United States, it was never taxed—therefore, “that community … has never contributed to the funding of U.S. veterans’ benefi ts” (460). This notion further led Congress to believe that giving Filipino veterans equal benefi ts would be unjust for American taxpayers, particularly citizens who also served in the war. The American government also makes a valid claim when justifying why Filipinos are only entitled to half the payment amount than what American veterans receive. Because the stan- dard of living is much lower in the Philippines than it is in the United States, it would only make sense to adjust their benefi ts according to where they live—it would certainly create a sense of imbalance if one country receives more benefi ts relative to another country, in terms of the exchange rate. If Filipinos were to receive the same dollar amount in benefi ts as American veterans, they would technically be receiving more than their American counterparts, provided that they stay in the Philip- 156 JILLIAN RAMOS pines. Those in favor of the Rescission Act may argue that this would be an injustice towards American-born soldiers. Steps Toward Equity Initially, the 1946 legislation may have been well-justifi ed and easily supported; however, since 1993, activists have frequent- ly attempted to pass a bill that would give the veteranos the benefi ts they were promised before enlisting for the war. But according to attorneys Sara Fargnoli, Rebecca Feinberg, and Adriane Turnipseed of the Department of Veterans Aff airs, Board of Veterans’ Appeals, “every version of the bill died in committee until 2008.” And even when the Filipino Veterans Fairness Act passed through the House of Representatives in 2008, “no further action was taken thereon” (Fargnoli, Fein- berg, and Turnipseed 272). It was not until February 17, 2009, when President Obama signed the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act, which, according to the U.S. Department of Veterans Aff airs, appro- priated $198 million in order to pay “eligible World War II (WWII) Philippine Veterans” a “one-time, lump payment.” If eligible, veterans would be given $15,000 if they were U.S. citi- zens and $9,000 if not (“What’s New in Compensation & Pen- sion Benefi ts” 1). However, Rivera argues that this act passed because it was “buried amidst hundreds of pages and billions of dollars funded by the [stimulus] bill”—because eff orts to pass a bill solely addressing Filipino veterans’ rights have failed in the past, it was fi nally inserted into a much larger bill, one that the Obama administration fervently pushed to pass (Rivera 447). Still, even with this rather unfortunate truth, the fact that this act fi nally passed through was a major triumph for the Filipino community. The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 could literally not help every veterano who fought for the Unit- ed States during World War II, however: because it came into eff ect several decades after the war, the legislation unfortu- 157 EQUITY FOR FILIPINO-AMERICAN WORLD WAR II VETERANS nately came far too late for most of the veterans. According to an article by San Francisco Chronicle staff writer, Bob Egelko, out of the approximately 200,000 Filipinos who served the United States, only about 18,000 men are alive today (Egelko 1). But the untimely passing of this bill is not the only problem: the fi ght for the Filipi- nos is far from over. “Full Equity Now” Had the legislation been completely fair to the veteranos, it prob- ably would not have garnered nearly as much backlash from the Filipino community. However, because of its restrictive provisions, two lawsuits in the Bay Area “challenged the government’s treat- ment” of the Filipino veterans as of October 2010 (1). It is clear that the new law must be modifi ed in order to ensure full equity for the Filipinos who served under the United States during World War II. Therefore, I advocate for veterans’ benefi ts to be paid back in the full value that was promised these Filipinos, accounting for infl a- tion rates. These benefi ts must also be made available for the wid- ows and families of these veterans. In addition, I propose a fairer means of determining eligibility for the veterans rather than relying solely on one “federal registry of military personnel” (1). Finally, in order to educate future American generations of this lesser-known past, I suggest that the United States as a whole should implement greater emphasis on American relations with the Philippines in its elementary and secondary school U.S. history curriculum. In Honor of the Forgotten If taken at face value, the new legislation may seem like a huge step toward equity for the Filipino veterans. While this may be true to some degree, it must also be considered that the current stipend is nowhere near enough what the veterans truly deserve. According to Commissioner Alice P. Bulos, the Rescission Act “re- 158 JILLIAN RAMOS scinded the Filipino WWII veterans’ $3.2 billion claim for unpaid salaries during the duration of the war” (Alabado 118). Account- ing for the approximately 200,000 soldiers who fought during the war, each veterano was entitled to about $16,000 in salaries in 1946, which is still more than what current veterans get now, even after several decades of waiting. Therefore, I propose that the United States should pay back each veteran—citizen or non-citizen—the $16,000 they were promised, but adjusted for infl ation rates. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics Consumer Price Index reveals that $16,000 in 1946 equates to about $183,357.54 in 2011 (“CPI Infl a- tion Calculator 1”). This hefty jump from the $15,000/$9,000 cur- rently being given to the eligible veterans seems only fair: after all, this proposal only seeks to adjust nothing more than the origi- nal promised value. After over sixty years of waiting, the least the United States could do is pay these veterans back in full value. The current legislation also has several limitations that prevent it from being as equitable as it needs to be. For instance, during the 2010 Bay Area lawsuits, one of the most sought-after revisions was to “make the widows of Filipino soldiers who died before the benefi ts [be] approved eligible to receive their husbands’ share” (“RP war vets sue U.S. gov’t over benefi ts” 1). This argument only makes sense—the deaths of the veterans and the passing of this legislation are not in the hands of the widows. “To put it to the test,” argues Rivera, “this would mean that the spouses who were widowed just one day before the legislation passed cannot receive the lump-sum payment” (Rivera 481). Congress should not be able to put one widow over another simply because one’s husband died prior to February 2009—especially when Congress itself took so long to pass the bill in the fi rst place. Furthermore, there are benefi ts that are still withheld from these veterans, even if they are eligible. For instance, the legislation does not include education and home loan guarantees for these veterans (475-76). In terms of the veterans themselves, these two benefi ts are not very applicable in the fi rst place: after all, they are most likely not going to be concerned with higher education and buying homes at over eighty years of age (not to mention they lack suffi cient sources of income to begin with). Therefore, in agree- ment with Rivera, I propose that these benefi ts should instead be 159 EQUITY FOR FILIPINO-AMERICAN WORLD WAR II VETERANS extended to the families of these veterans, particularly the children and grandchildren. The “thirty-six months of education benefi ts,” as well as the home loans, that the VA provides would no doubt be useful for the younger members of the veteran’s family (476). If these benefi ts are impractical for the veterans now, the least the government can do is pass them over to the later generations who can make good use of them. In this way, the United States can still honor these veterans through their families. The method of determining which applicants are eligible for benefi ts is also rather fl awed in many ways. Some veterans whose applications were denied argued that their documentation was “burned in a 1973 fi re … at NPRC (National Personnel Records Center)”—the Department of Veterans Aff airs, however, claims that “in most instances the service department can verify New Philippine Scout service using alternative methods” (“News Flash – Center for Minority Veterans” 1). But the numbers suggest just how eff ective these “alternative methods” are: the VA reveals that, as of December 23, 2010, 23,442 claims were denied out of the total 41,234 claims completed (see Table 1). Felino Punsalan, a 92-year- old veterano, was one of the many who were denied because “his name is not on the [NPRC] database” despite having “forwarded a copy of his discharge papers” (Egelko 1). The solution to this prob- lem is simple: allow the denied applicants a chance to fi le their claim again with any sort of proof they may have of their service— even something as simple as their uniforms should be able to verify their claims. If this law were truly equitable, the amount of denials should not have exceeded the amount of granted claims: these vet- erans have the right to use anything that may prove their service, especially if their fi les were destroyed by a fi re that was beyond their control. Approving more veterans’ claims, as well as allowing more widows to fi le for their late husbands’ benefi ts, would greatly reduce the gap between denials and grants. But these Filipinos deserve more than monetary gains and short-lived public acknowledgements. Perhaps the greatest way to pay tribute to the veteranos is by letting their legacy live on in future generations. As a nation, the United States must not only recognize, but remember, the sacrifi ces that these Filipino veterans 160 JILLIAN RAMOS have made both on and off the battlefi eld. Therefore, I urge for all states to extend their history curriculum to include greater details of U.S.-Philippine relations, with a particular emphasis on World War II and the veterans’ fi ght for equity. These additions should be made starting at the elementary level. But in order to truly un- derstand the depths of their tragic history, more emphasis must be made in secondary school. While this last suggestion may not directly benefi t the veteranos, it is still crucial in preserving their dignity within the United States. According to Rep. Honda, for decades, “many members of Congress, unaware of the history of Filipino contributions and sacrifi ces during World War II, seemed unmoved by appeals to make good our country’s broken promise to these veterans” (Honda 195). Had these congressional representa- tives been given adequate education on the true struggles of these veterans, the fi ght for equity could have been drastically reduced or even avoided altogether. And while it is impossible to turn back the clock and fi x this error, the least the United States could do is to make sure similar tragedies would not happen again in the future— for Filipinos, or for any minority group. Conclusion It is a shame that the American government has neglected the ac- tive service of these Filipino veterans during World War II; it would be an even greater shame if we let these aging heroes settle for less than what they deserve. While the United States has taken some steps to further their cause, it is imperative that we continue to fi ght for their sake, just as they fought for us. In closing his letter to Congress, Ret. Lt. Alabado writes, “our thoughts are happiest when we think we had done our duty, but sad, that we have been discarded like an old useless rag … we still look forward though to the day when through your help and support the injustices brought about the Rescission Act are corrected … restore our dignity and respect” (Alabado 116). It has been nearly seventy years since World War II has passed—it is about time that the United States listens to the veteranos. 161 EQUITY FOR FILIPINO-AMERICAN WORLD WAR II VETERANS Appendix Status Number Pending Claims 1,366 Claims Granted ($9.000) 8,878 Claims Granted ($15,000) 8,914 Claims Denied 23,442 Claims Completed 41,234 Table 1. Out of the 41,234 claims completed for the Filipino veterans benefi ts (as of December 23, 2010), the VA reveals that many more claims were actu- ally denied than were granted. Source: “As of 12/23/2010.” Table. News Flash. U.S. Department of Veterans Aff airs. 30 Dec. 2010.Web. 21 Apr. 2011. Works Cited Alabado, Corbin K. Bataan Death March, Capas. San Francisco: Sulu Books, 1995. Print. “Bataan Death March.” Encyclopædia Britannica Online. Encyclopædia Britannica, 2011. Web. 24 Apr. 2011. “CPI Infl ation Calculator.” U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. 2011. Web. 23 April 2011. Dumindin, Arnaldo. “Background: The Philippine Revolution and the Spanish-American War.” Philippine American War. 2006. Web. 15 Apr. 2011. Egelko, Bob. “Filipino WWII veterans sue over benefi ts.” SFGate. 09 Oct. 2010. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. 162 JILLIAN RAMOS Fargnoli, Sara, Rebecca Feinberg, and Adriane Turnipseed. “Trend toward Equality? Noncitizen Veterans in the Administration of Post- Service Benefi ts.” Veterans Law Review 2 (2010). Web. 14 Apr. 2011. “Filipino American World War II Vets Seek Equal Benefi ts.” Pacifi c Citi- zen. 04 March 2011. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. Francia, Luis and Angel Velasco Shaw. Vestiges of War: The Philippine-Amer- ican War and the Aftermath of an Imperial Dream, 1899-1999. New York: New York University Press, 2002. Print. Honda, Michael. “Justice for Filipino Veterans, at Long Last.” Asian American Law Journal 16.1 (2009): 193-196. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. “News Flash – Center for Minority Veterans.” United States Dept. of Veteran Aff airs. 30 Dec. 2010. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. Posadas, Barbara Mercedes. The Filipino Americans. Westport, CT: Green- wood Press, 1999. Print. Rice, Mark. “His Name was Don Francisco Muro: Reconstructing an Image of American Imperialism.” American Quarterly 62.1 (2010): 49- 76. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. Rivera, Paul Daniel. “We’ve Been Waiting a Long Time.” Hastings Race and Poverty Law Journal 7.2 (2010): 447-482. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. “RP war vets sue U.S. gov’t over benefi ts.” The Philippine Inquirer. 11 Oct. 2010. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. Vestiges of War: The Philippine-American War and the Aftermath of an Imperial Dream. Eds. Angel Velasco Shaw and Luis H. Francia. New York: New York UP, 2003. Print. “What’s New in Compensation & Pension Benefi ts.” United States Dept. of Veteran Aff airs. 03 Mar. 2010. Web. 24 Mar. 2011. 163 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME WRITER’S COMMENTS This essay came out of a long-standing interest in the graphic novel form and its relationship with and place amongst visual and literary arts. I wished to examine how this unique genre uses the tropes and traditions of the literary and visual to create something new and exciting. In this es- say, rather than analyze the genre as a whole, I examine one graphic mem- oir—Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home—as a sort of micro-study of the form. This essay began as a short assignment for Dr. Crawford’s Critical Analysis course and grew into a senior thesis for Dr. Fung’s Senior Seminar course. With the help of Dr. Fung, Dr. Crawford, and my T.A. Jeff Gibson, I spent the last semester researching, writing, and editing this project. — Samuel Weiss INSTRUCTOR’S COMMENTS Sam’s essay began as a short “problem paper” for my Critical Analysis course. Rather than take the advised path of transforming a seminar- length paper into his Senior Capstone essay, Sam challenged himself by seriously enlarging this piece into an outstanding long-form essay. (This piece also won the English Department’s “Best Essay” contest, an award determined by judges external to USF.) Sam’s essay is a traditional close reading of a text, which grows out of an argument that takes a position on his subject, and which he supports through research in secondary texts and a patient, insightful reading of the primary text. The essay exposes the multi-faceted aspects of these paradoxes, and must do so in a curious way, since Bechdel’s novel is graphic rather than traditional, a bildungsro- man written like a comic book but with the assertion that it constitutes genuine Literature. Sam therefore had to learn how to read Bechdel’s graphics profi tably and experiment with how to use them in his essay; he had to explain how a graphic novel works so that he could persuade the reader that graphic novels can indeed form a body of Literature. He anticipated the opposition by discussing this position, a practice that all good essayists must learn; he never assumed that his audience would be won over without the argument that Bechdel’s graphic novel was indeed Literature. He did what all good writers have to do: he began with the basics, and he did a terrifi c job of mastering a traditional model of writing, but he also freed himself to experiment with the traditional essay when the occasion demands it. —Rachel Crawford, English Department 164 SAMUEL WEISS SAMUEL WEISS Aesthetic Obsession in Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home N HER GRAPHIC MEMOIR Fun Home, Alison Bechdel discovers a Iphotograph of her father, Bruce, dressed in women’s clothing. Bruce (Fig. 1), hand on hip in a woman’s bathing suit with his swim cap emulating a fl apper haircut, looks exactly like a little girl and appears almost inseparable from the garden landscape behind him. The borders of his bright arms parallel the curved tree in the back- ground; his body, shaded with hatchings and cross-hatchings, ex- tends the lines of the garden, which Bechdel shades using the same system of hatches. Bruce’s expression appears simultaneously se- rene and wooden, with dark and sunken eyes like notches; his nose, only implied by shading, like a light leaf or fl ower against a dark background; his mouth, no more than a slightly darker hatch of shading, like the edge of a piece of bark. With these eff ects, Bruce camoufl ages into the background, as much a part of the garden as the trees and fl owers around him.1 Bruce’s visual union with the garden recalls a passage from one of Bruce’s favorite authors, Marcel Proust, which Bechdel discusses a few pages prior. Bechdel juxtaposes the text of Remembrance of Things Past with a visual scene of Bruce and his children planting a tree in the side-yard, stating in caption: “Through the hedge, Proust’s nar- rator could see even deeper into Swann’s garden. / There, surrounded by jasmine, verbena, and pansies, sat a little girl. / The young narra- tor, failing to distinguish this girl, Gilberte, from the general fl oral fecundity, instantly fell in love with her” (Bechdel 17). The young Bruce of the photograph achieves this same fusion with natural beauty described by Proust, becoming similarly indistinguishable from the “fl oral fecundity” behind him. Young Bruce momentarily joins with the garden, contacting the unique beauty of nature that inspires Proust’s narrator to fall instantaneously in love. 165 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME As an adult, Bruce’s belief in the transcendence of fecund beauty and his desire to surround himself with such beauty reaches the point of obsession. This obsession drives and explains Bruce’s behavior with regard to his home, family, extramarital aff airs and suicide. Whenever at home, Bruce fanatically fi xes his home and cultivates his garden to create the most pristine environment pos- sible. In doing so, he neglects his wife and children and alienates himself, both of which lead to his depression and violent behav- ior. He pressures Alison in particular to fi nd the same pleasure— and escape—in aesthetics, recalling the relationship between the mythological father and child Daedalus and Icarus through behav- ior and visual cues. With his early death, Bruce mirrors two more iconic fi gures, Sisyphus and Christ, underscoring the inescapable fl aws in his way of life and setting Alison free from his obligations. Through beauty, Bruce seeks transcendence but only distances himself from the real world; he seeks self-expression but achieves only self-suppression; he seeks to free his daughter but, in doing so, restrains her. In this way, Bruce’s aesthetic pursuits create a series of paradoxes, simultaneously repressing, alienating and liberating himself, as well as Alison. Of Bruce’s paradoxes, the most prominent throughout Fun Home is the idea that his desire to perfect his home and garden both frees and imprisons him. In most aspects of his life, Bruce has abandoned his true desires: rather than choosing to be an openly gay man living in the city and leading a rewarding academic or artis- tic life, he lives in Beech Creek, Pennsylvania, with a wife and chil- dren, running the family funeral home (hence the title Fun Home), teaching uninterested high school students, and sleeping with young men. However, Bruce fi nds one creative outlet, or distrac- tion, in decorating and cultivating his home and garden. Fanatically he trims, fi xes, straightens, plants and decorates, always shirtless in cut-off jean-shorts. As Bechdel explains in caption, the family “home was an effl orescence of bulbs, buds, and blooms, fl owers wild and cultivated, native and imported, fl owering vines and trees / silk fl owers, glass fl owers, needlepoint fl owers, fl ower paintings and, where any of these failed to materialize, fl oral patterns” (Bech- del 90). Bruce fi lls his home and garden with these objects of natu- 166 SAMUEL WEISS ral beauty and tirelessly cultivates and maintains them. All of this cultivation and upkeep serves to elevate and liberate Bruce from the dreariness of his life. In one panel (Fig. 2), Bechdel shows Bruce decorating while embalming a body in the funeral home. The corpse lying in a casket takes up most of the frame, with a few fl owers to the upper left and bottom right and Bruce standing in front of the casket in his embalmer’s uniform, adjust- ing the fl oral display. In the panel’s caption, Bechdel writes, “At the Fun Home, Dad would take a break from his grisly chores to tweak the stiff arrangements delivered by the fl orist. / Ugly as these were, their quick, damp scent masked the odor of formaldehyde” (Bech- del 91). Bruce uses the smell of the fl owers to cover up the smell of formaldehyde, just as he uses plants to mask the unpleasantness of his everyday life. Rather than prepare the body, Bruce fi xes his fl oral displays, escaping the dreariness of his work by focusing on these objects of natural beauty. Likewise, throughout the novel, Bruce spends his time decorating and gardening instead of focus- ing on his family, his jobs, and the rest of his life. In this way, Bruce obsessively cultivates beauty as a way of transcending his familial obligations and conservative surroundings. Bruce’s obsession with beauty and botany, with particular re- gard toward their connection to his sexuality, further liberates Bruce while simultaneously alienating him from his family. As a young girl, Alison helps Bruce garden in the backyard; the caption reads, “Of all his domestic inclinations, my father’s decided bent for gardening was the most redolent to me of that other, more deeply disturbing bent. / What kind of man but a sissy could pos- sibly love fl owers this ardently?” (Bechdel 90). Bechdel links her father’s gardening to his sexuality at the most basic level: society generally stereotypes gardening as something feminine and sees men interested in gardening as sexually askew. Bechdel acknowl- edges this image of gardening and the love of plants as qualities associated with male homosexuality. Bruce’s sexuality and obsession with botany are, however, in- timately connected at a much deeper level. His desires act as an extension of his aesthetic, botanical pursuits. As Bechdel points out in caption, “of course, as Proust himself so lavishly illustrates, 167 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME Eros and botany are pretty much the same thing” (Bechdel 109). For her father, Bechdel intrinsically links fl owers to love and sexu- ality, as she notes in a caption above an image of the family with Bruce’s teenage lover, Roy: “[Bruce] would cultivate these young men like orchids” (Bechdel 95). Bruce appreciates the beauty of young men like Roy in much the same way he appreciates fl owers. Bruce chooses to sleep with these men rather than young boys or men his own age because they have just reached the end of pu- berty; they are in the spring of their lives, blooming sexually. Bechdel, as she describes a photograph of Roy, highlights this connection between Bruce’s interests in fl owers and young men, and, therefore, his simultaneous repression and transcendence. This photograph (Fig. 3), which Alison fi nds in a box from 1969, shows Roy lying on his back in a hotel bed on a family vacation, in his briefs. The seductive picture underscores Bruce’s desire for Roy as an extension of his love of beauty. As Bechdel writes in caption, “The blurriness of the photo gives it an ethereal, painterly quality. Roy is gilded with morning seaside light. His hair is an aureole. / In fact, the picture is beautiful […] my father’s illicit awe […] seems caught in the photo, just as a trace of Roy has been caught on the light-sensitive paper” (Bechdel 100-101). As Bechdel points out, a particular quality of the light, Roy’s body and Bruce’s admira- tion brings an artistic beauty to the image. In this way, it captures Bruce’s obsession with Roy’s aesthetic qualities, signifying that their relationship does not stem from a statutory desire, but rather an artistic admiration of an object of beauty. Beyond Bruce’s aes- thetic interest in him, something in Roy’s pose—lying down with legs curved but extended and arms stretched to his head of glow- ing, curly hair—refl ects Bruce’s botanical obsession. In some ways, Roy appears strong and aggressive with his manly bulge, chest stuck out, arms raised triumphantly and head crowned with his glowing, curled hair like a halo or crown. He also seems passive, though, with his genitals covered and turned down, legs somewhat curled, upper arms reaching back to the head as in a stretch, and eyes closed. His simultaneously aggressive and passive pose highlights his liminal stage; he is a person just reaching from manhood from boyhood, a fl ower just blooming. Bruce’s attraction 168 SAMUEL WEISS to Roy and other young men spawns from the sexual beauty embodied in this photograph. Bruce’s relationships with young men, however, are only a part of the tension and distance in the Bechdel household caused by his desire to possess and cultivate beauty. While he uses his aesthetic pursuits to transcend the tedium and nega- tivity of his Beech Creek life, these hobbies ultimately detract from any familial happiness he might experience and create an insurmountable distance between himself, his children, and his wife. Jennifer Lemberg points out that “the order of the house belies the chaos of the life lived within it, not just her father’s shame but also the messiness of everyday interactions” (Lem- berg 132). Bruce’s household pursuits only beautify things on the surface; behind the delicate fl oral layer, they tear the fam- ily apart. In one such moment of tension (Fig. 4), Bruce pays attention to his home and garden instead of his three children as the four of them play in the garden. After depicting the fam- ily’s Easter tradition—in which Bruce decorates eggs and hides them around the garden for the children to fi nd—Bechdel, as the four play baseball in the following cell, states in caption: “Our games of baseball—already lethargic aff airs—would grind to a halt as soon as the ball rolled near a perennial border. / There my father would become lost to us in a revery of weed- ing” (Bechdel 91). Below, Alison and one of her brothers ob- serve Bruce as he bends over, digging through the weeds; her brother says “Dad, come on!” to which Alison responds, “For- get it” (Bechdel 91). Bechdel gives the impression that games with Bruce never last long, that at any moment he may forget his children and begin obsessing over a plant, ending the fam- ily fun. Bechdel shows the preceding Easter scene as a pleas- ant activity, with Bruce standing, watching on the side and the children searching around the garden, one of Alison’s brothers ducking next to a tree, digging through foliage. In the base- ball scene, Alison and her brother wait on the side as Bruce stoops over in the same position as Alison’s brother at Easter, digging next to a similar tree. As he peers through the garden, family roles are bizarrely reversed, the children now standing 169 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME and waiting as Bruce takes his son’s place as the one crouched next to the tree. The reminiscence of his young son in his pose, as well as the childlike icons of baseball and glove to his side, underscores the idea that his obsession with his garden takes away Bruce’s abilities as a father. Bruce again experiences a paternal failure when his chil- dren seek fatherly aff ection, only to fi nd a man too repressed and distanced from his family to feel comfortable expressing love. In one such scene, Alison kisses her father, who reacts awkwardly, causing her embarrassment. Bechdel notes in cap- tion: “We were not a physically expressive family, to say the least. But once I was unaccountably moved to kiss my father good night. / Having little practice with the gesture, all I man- aged was to grab his hand and buss the knuckles lightly … / … As if he were a bishop or an elegant lady, before rushing from the room in embarrassment” (Bechdel 19). Alison reaches out to her father seeking aff ection, but feels too distanced from the man whose work never stops and can only treat him with respect, not love. Throughout the awkward event, Bruce does not appear upset, as young Alison perhaps conceives him, but rather bewildered. As she kisses his hand, he stares at her with a blank expression; when she walks away, he glances up from his book and raises an eyebrow in confusion. Bruce does not spurn Alison’s aff ection, but simply does not know how to deal with it. As Alison leaves in embarrassment (Fig. 5), she appears half obscured from view. Framed by symmetrical drapes, and at the intersection of every perspective line in the room, a large fern becomes the focal point of the image. The caption above the image reads, “His shame inhabited our house as pervasively and invisibly as the aromatic musk of aging mahogany” (Bech- del 20). Bechdel juxtaposes the focus of the caption, Bruce’s shame, with the focus of the image, the houseplant. After spending his parental career in his home and garden, Bruce has no idea how to return his daughter’s aff ection. Appropri- ately, as Alison steps off into obscurity, a plant, a clear symbol of Bruce’s obsession with beauty and botany, literally takes her place from the previous panel as the focal point of the image and metaphorically takes her natural place at the center of 170 SAMUEL WEISS Bruce’s attention. Bruce’s obsession and repression not only alienate him from his family, but also frequently cause him to behave violently to- wards them. In one such moment, as one of the Bechdel sons helps his father by holding up the Christmas tree, Bruce yells at him and his son drops it, cowering in fear, yelling, “Don’t hit me!” (Bech- del 11). Similarly, when Bruce fi nds a fl ower vase too close to the edge of a table, he hits Alison. In the panel (Fig. 6), Helen holds back Christian as Bruce holds up one arm to hit his daughter, hold- ing her by the shirt with the other hand while she yells out “But I didn’t do anything!” (Bechdel 18). Bruce’s raised arm blocks his face almost entirely, implying that his obsession with the home’s perfection dehumanizes him in some way and takes control of his body. Bechdel draws the four family members in the background, all shaded in blue while the plant vase sits alone in the foreground, drawn entirely in white, looming over the family. By placing it in the foreground in this way, Bechdel makes the vase the most im- portant object in the room, the object that dictates the scene. As this moment illustrates, Bruce puts his hobby before his family, causing him to act distantly and violently towards them and, ulti- mately, to lose the pleasure of, and his place in, his family. Bruce, in these moments of alienation and repression in pur- suit of aesthetic transcendence, mirrors, as Bechdel accentuates through visual cues, the Greek mythological fi gure Daedalus. In a caption above a montage of Bruce fi xing up the interior and exte- rior of his home, Bechdel writes, “over the next eighteen years, my father would restore the house to its original condition, and then some. / He would perform, as Daedalus did, dazzling displays of artfulness” (Bechdel 9). Just as Daedalus spends his life at a work- bench creating inventions, Bruce spends his life renovating his home and cultivating his garden. Bruce, by surrounding himself with unblemished beauty, reconfi gures Daedalus’ construction of the wax wings; both men attempt to create something transcen- dent, to rise above the strains of earthly life into the glorious un- known. Daedalus also parallels Bruce as an embodiment of the per- sonal and familial costs of these transcendent pursuits. When 171 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME Bechdel fi rst directly relates Bruce to Daedalus, she suggests in caption that Bruce “was also Daedalus—that skillful artifi cer, that mad scientist who built the wings for his son and designed the fa- mous labyrinth … / … and who answered not to the laws of society, but to those of his craft” (Bechdel 7). Below, Bruce gets ready to hang up drapes on a window while an upset young Alison holds a roll of fl oral wallpaper; she asks, “This is the wallpaper for my room?” and continues in the next panel after no response, “But I hate pink! I hate fl owers!” to which Bruce responds simply and without expression, “Tough titty” (Bechdel 7). The juxtaposition of caption—comparing Bruce to Daedalus—and scene—of Bruce forcing the fl oral drapes on Alison—implies that the fi rst directly relates to, and perhaps causes, the second: Bruce privileges his Daedalian pursuit of home and garden over his daughter’s pref- erences. Bruce, who only concerns himself with beautifying his home, never considers Alison’s feelings and opinions with regard to her own room. Bruce’s similarity to Daedalus, then, creates ten- sion between father and daughter and leads to the alienation Bruce experiences from his family. Later, when Bruce almost strikes his son for dropping the Christmas tree, the caption reads, “It could have been a romantic story [Bruce’s home restoration], like in It’s a Wonderful Life, when Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed fi x up that big old house and raise their family there. / But in the movie when Jimmy Stewart comes home one night and starts yelling at every- one … / … it’s out of the ordinary. / Daedalus, too, was indiff erent to the human cost of his projects” (Bechdel 10-11). Bruce, like Dae- dalus, concerns himself so fully with his work that the well-being of others, even his family, comes second. Bruce’s alienation from, and violence toward, his family, then, comes in part from his Dae- dalian focus on his home and garden. Beyond alienating him from, and creating tension with, his children, Bruce’s Daedalian behavior underscores the resemblance between Alison and Daedalus’ son Icarus. Bechdel begins Fun Home with a scene of paternal tenderness (Fig. 7); Alison approaches her father lying on the fl oor and he picks her up, letting her stomach rest on his feet with her arms extended like wings. Bechdel states in caption above this scene, 172 SAMUEL WEISS Like many fathers, mine could occasionally be prevailed on for a spot of ‘airplane.’ / As he launched me, my full weight would fall on the pivot point between his feet and my stomach. / It was a discomfort well worth the rare physical contact, and certainly worth the moment of perfect balance when I soared above him. / In the circus, acrobatics where one person lies on the fl oor bal- ancing another are called ‘Icarian games.’ / Considering the fate of Icarus after he fl outed his father’s advice and fl ew so close to the sun his wings melted, perhaps some dark humor is intended. (Bechdel 3-4) Bechdel’s references to Icarus, and Alison’s pose as she lies suspended above Bruce, highlight the resemblance between Ali- son and Icarus; both children have fathers who try to grant them the power of “fl ight.” Literally, Bruce holds young Alison above the ground; symbolically, he attempts to pass on the pursuit of beauty that he believes to be transcendent. As Douglas Wolk notes, this scene kicks off a series of Icarus-and-Daedalus metaphors […] the chapter is called ‘Old Father, Old Artifi cer’—a phrase from James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, whose protagonist is Stephen Dedalus. (When he learned Bechdel was reading ‘Por- trait’ for college, her father told her, “Good. You damn well better identify with every page.”) (Wolk 361) Bruce sees himself and his transcendent passions in Portrait and expects Alison to fi nd the same personal resonance. Treating Alison as Icarus, Bruce attempts to bridge a familial distance by sparking in her this same transcendent fascination with aesthetics. In one such moment, Bechdel presents a silent scene (Bechdel 22-23) in which Alison and Bruce garden together. Bruce sits on motorized lawnmower in cutoff s and sunglasses behind, and with his legs around, a very young Alison, who holds the steering wheel as he shows her how to use this gardening tool. Eventually, Bruce dismounts and begins digging a hole while Alison rides alone; 173 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME she stares back at him, only to fi nd his back turned as he holds an arm across his face. Finally, in an aerial panel (Fig. 8), Bruce contin- ues digging in the corner while Alison drives the mower out of the frame. In this scene, Bruce teaches Alison to use a lawnmower—a signifi cant action because it encapsulates his home and garden fi xa- tion—in an attempt to pass his obsession onto his daughter. Where Alison glances back for paternal aff ection or praise, she fi nds a man only interested in his art, so she drives off , like Icarus toward the sun. Alison ultimately does not die like Icarus, however. Instead she spurns her father’s pursuits altogether and refuses to wear his wings, simultaneously alienating herself from her father and fi nding her own liberation. When Alison, her brothers, Bruce and Bruce’s lover, Bill, take a trip to the woods, Alison experiences a symbolic run-in with nature. The three kids hike to a spring (Fig. 9) and Alison sud- denly stops dead in her tracks as she spots “a black rat snake, which, I have learned, can grow up to seven feet long” (Bechdel 114). The snake lies mid-frame, drinking out of the spring, surrounded by a few pieces of trash and various foliage including ferns like the ones in the Bechdel home. In its natural home, the snake refl ects Bruce’s desire to blend seamlessly into the natural landscape, alike in color and shape to its surroundings. Were she to follow in Bruce’s path, Alison might have a deep moment as the beauty of the snake and its surroundings sweep her up. The snake, though, resembles Bruce too much in another way: its potential to cause the children pain. Just as Bruce proves that with one wrong move, he might physi- cally and emotionally abuse his children, Alison feels that the snake could easily bite and poison them if provoked. Alison loses her opportunity to follow Bruce’s method of lib- eration as she fl ees from, and almost causes the destruction of, the naturally serene moment. In doing so, however, Alison actually frees herself and opens up many more of life’s possibilities. After seeing the snake, the kids run for help and fi nd Bill, who runs back to the spring; Bechdel feels “shocked when Bill grabbed the gun. / Then relieved and somewhat embarrassed that the snake was gone. / On the drive home, a postlapsarian melancholy crept over me. I had failed some unspoken initiation rite” (Bechdel 115). Alison 174 SAMUEL WEISS becomes gloomy after the snake incident because she realizes, at some level, that by running from, and almost destroying, the pic- turesque scene, she proves that she will never share her father’s love for nature. She understands that she does not have the ap- preciation for the natural aesthetic, which holds some transcen- dent power for her father; her “life’s possibilities were no longer infi nite” (Bechdel 115). As Hilary Chute argues, “Fun Home is itself a map of the network of transversals for the ‘two directions’ embod- ied by Alison and Bruce Bechdel; it tracks both their divergence and convergence (lesbian-child-artist, gay man-father-dilettante)” (Chute 182). Instead of acting as her father’s Icarus and living a similarly repressed life, she leads a life which both diverges from Bruce’s public life and converges with his private life: following through with their shared dream of becoming openly gay writers. Rather than fi nd solace from a repressed life through decoration or gardening as the Icarus to Bruce’s Daedalus, Alison decides to abandon the mythology and live openly. When Alison removes the proverbial wings, Bruce puts them on and paradoxically behaves as both Icarus and Daedalus, fl ying too close to the sun with the same wings that he constructs and, ultimately, dying. Chute notes that Bruce’s death “presents the devastating sadness at the heart of the book: Bechdel, in outliving her father and becoming the artist he always wanted to be, fi nally surpasses her father; he is Icarus” (Chute 208). Without a proper Icarus, Bruce tries out the wings himself and fl ies too close to the sun. Bechdel writes in caption over an image of the truck that kills Bruce and a scene in which Alison jumps into her father’s arms, “He did hurtle into the sea, of course. / But in the tricky reverse narration that impels our entwined stories, he was there to catch me when I leapt” (Bechdel 232). Bruce, in his relationship with Alison, resembles both Daedalus and Icarus; he invents the wings, tries to force them on Alison, and then uses them himself, saving her from the deathly fall. In images of Icarus and Daedalus, Daed- alus usually fl ies on the left, arms extended along the wings, while Icarus falls on the right, his head back, arms reaching down, legs bent. Bechdel frequently draws Bruce as the falling Icarus rather 175 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME than the surviving Daedalus. As Bruce lifts young Alison up with his feet, he resembles the son; his arms stretched, his knees bent and above him Alison, arms extended (Fig. 7). Under this scene, Bechdel states in caption: “in our particular reenactment of this mythic relationship, it was not me but my father who was to plum- met from the sky. / But before he did so, he managed to get quite a lot done” (Bechdel 4). Mirroring the image of Icarus, and em- phasized by Bechdel’s caption, Bruce’s place in the myth changes from inventor to casualty. At the end of the book, Bruce fl oats in a swimming pool into which Alison dives; in the fi rst panel (Fig. 10) Alison’s legs stand a bit off center as Bruce fl oats on the side, arms extended and knees again bent; two panels later, Alison—mirroring Daedalus with arms out, suspended in air—jumps down to Bruce below. Bruce resembles Icarus as he takes his passion too far and loses sight of everything else. As Icarus, Bruce loses his life to his transcendent pursuit, falling to his death after forgetting how to live on Earth. Bechdel also frequently highlights the connection between Bruce’s death and his repressed and alienating gardening and housework. She fi rst does so with her fi rst mention of Bruce’s death in caption above a silent scene of Bruce and Alison garden- ing together, writing, It’s true that he didn’t kill himself until I was nearly twenty. / But his absence resonated retroactively, echoing back through all the time I knew him […] He really was there all those years, a fl esh-and-blood presence steaming off the wallpaper, digging up the dogwoods, polishing the fi nials […] But I ached as if he were already gone. (Bechdel 23) Placing the discussion of Bruce’s suicide above an image of father and daughter gardening implies a deep connection between the two. With this juxtaposition, Bechdel foreshadows the idea that Bruce’s attempts to cultivate beauty distract him from his family and ultimately cause his death. Bruce’s emotional absence, Jennifer Lemberg argues, never becomes “more apparent than in his con- tinuing struggle to perfect the house, which therefore becomes the 176 SAMUEL WEISS most visible feature of his presence […] the physical space over- powers our perception of the people inside” (Lemberg 131). Even though Bruce does not die until Alison reaches adulthood, chores so consume his life that symbolically he dies early in, if not before, her childhood. At the most basic and direct level, Bruce’s gardening, and thereby his repression and alienation, causes his death because it is gardening that distracts him from his surroundings as the truck that kills him approaches. As Bechdel states, I have suggested that my father killed himself, but it’s just as ac- curate to say that he died gardening. / He’d been clearing brush from the yard of an old farmhouse he was planning to restore … / … and had just crossed route 150 to toss an armload over the bank. / The truck driver described my father as jumping back- ward into the road ‘as if he saw a snake.’ / And who knows. Per- haps he did. (Bechdel 89) As he crosses the road (Fig. 11), Bruce does not appear depressed and panic-stricken like a man deciding to kill himself. Instead, he seems distracted: eyes down, casual stroll, and typical contempla- tive mouth. If Bruce does not commit suicide, then the truck hits him because his gardening distracts him as he crosses the road. While Bechdel sometimes refers to Bruce’s death as a suicide, she draws it as a clear accident in this cell. In this scenario, Bruce’s obsession with gardening directly causes his death. The paradoxical link between the transcendence of Bruce’s botanical pursuits and the oppressive and tragic nature of his ob- session becomes more apparent as Bechdel likens Bruce to his fa- vorite fl ower: the lilac. The lilac, Bechdel writes in caption, is “a tragic botanical specimen, invariably beginning to fade even before reaching its peak” (Bechdel 92). Below an image of Bruce holding a vase full of blossoming lilacs (Fig. 12), Bechdel fi lls a panel with a quote from Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past: “Lilac-time was nearly over; some of the trees still thrust aloft, in tall purple chan- deliers, their tiny balls of blossom, but in many places among their 177 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME foliage where, only a week before, they had still been breaking in waves of fragrant foam, these were now spent and shriveled and discoloured, a hollow scum, dry and scentless” (Bechdel 92). The next panel (Fig. 13) shows a vase full of dying lilacs in the same part of the house as above—along the wall in the Bechdel’s home next to a door with the same adjacent chair and window—except that whereas Bruce holds the fl owers in the fi rst panel, in the second panel they sit on a table without Bruce in the frame. By showing Bruce as the lilacs bloom and then not showing him when they die, and by noting that they are his favorite fl owers, Bechdel illustrates the relationship between the man and the fl ower: like the lilac, Bruce dies young, after only a brief moment of beauty. While Bruce resembles a fl ower in life, an absence of such aes- thetic plant-life marks his death, proving futile his pursuit of beauty as a source of transcendence. Bechdel suggests such a connection when she describes Bruce’s near-death experience as a young boy on his mother’s farm. Alison’s grandmother tells her grandchildren the story: “Wunst upon a time, when your daddy was a little boy, he wandered off . / He was littler than you, John, no more than three. It was springtime. / The fi elds was just plowed, and Bruce lit out across one. It was that wet, pretty soon he couldn’t lift his little legs out of the mud!” (Bechdel 40-41). Stuck in the mud, a passing mailman whom Bechdel “always pictured […] as a milkman, all in white—a reverse Grim Reaper” (Bechdel 41) saves Bruce. Alison’s brothers ask, mid-story, “What if the mailman didn’t see him? / Would he of died?” [sic] to which their grandmother responds, “Well, I don’t know, dears” (Bechdel 41). Thus, young Bruce, in the middle of his family’s cornfi eld, almost dies in a bizarre way: be- ing absorbed by the earth. Contrary to a sprouting plant, he sinks into a plot of land, until this “reverse Grim Reaper,” the man who pulls people from the world of the dead into the world of the liv- ing (Fig. 14), saves him. This episode relates directly to his lifelong desire to make plants, and perhaps himself, grow from the ground. Furthermore, while Alison’s grandmother says that scene this takes place in the spring; Bechdel’s illustrations suggest winter weather. She draws the sky in the background, and most of the fi eld, as completely white, while young Bruce wears a cap, gloves and sev- 178 SAMUEL WEISS eral layers of clothing. These signs of cold weather and the freshly plowed fi eld create a feeling of total barrenness in the scene. This landscape appears to be the utter opposite of the world of cul- tivated, vibrant, fertile beauty, which adult Bruce tries to create. After Bruce does die, his grave lies at the end of the cemetery, next to a fi eld not unlike the one where he almost dies as a boy. Bechdel notes in caption above an image of herself standing next to her father’s phallic grave, that he “really was down there, I told myself. / Stuck in the mud for good this time” (Bechdel 54). With this expression, Bechdel suggests that her father’s burial ends a death that began in that childhood incident. He escaped becoming stuck in the mud initially, but in his death, he succumbs and sinks into the earth. At another level, though, Bruce pursues liberation through death long before the car accident. As a repressed gay man lead- ing the life of a straight man in a small town, Bruce has reason to feel depressed, but as a husband and father of three, he also has a familial obligation to keep himself together. Bechdel high- lights these ambivalences by showing Bruce in poses reminiscent of two more iconic and opposing fi gures: Christ and Sisyphus. At the scene of the car accident (Fig. 11), Bruce, hunched over, carries a heap of brush, a burdensome symbol of his fanaticism for home and garden, as he steps across the frame. Holding the bulky mass over his right shoulder and staring down pensively, Bruce’s pose recalls the Greek mythological Sisyphus, who must lift a boulder up a hill for eternity. The resemblance highlights the idea that like Sisyphus, Bruce lives a tragic life, working endlessly in his garden just as Sisyphus carries his rock without any sense of fulfi llment. For Sisyphus, and for Bruce, the unpleasantness of his life never ends and death brings a welcomed release. In another gardening scene, a hunched Bruce again steps across the frame in cutoff shorts, staring down with an object over his right shoulder, but this time he carries a column, looking less like Sisyphus with the boulder and more like Christ hauling the cross to his crucifi xion. Bechdel writes in caption divided over and under the panel, “Historical restoration wasn’t his job. / It was his 179 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME passion. And I mean passion in every sense of the word. / Libidinal. Manic. Martyred” (Bechdel 7). Below the fi rst half of this caption, Bruce sits at the front of his English class, off to the right corner of the frame in a suit with one foot on his desk; students all stare down at their desks, possibly taking a test, while Bruce reads Ar- chitectural Digest. Bruce, in this moment of free time, fi nds a small escape from his unsatisfying life by reading about and admiring pictures of houses. In the next panel (Fig. 15), however, Bruce ap- pears quite diff erent as he walks into the center of the frame before his shadowed home, inside a frame of trees, holding a long col- umn over his shoulder. This time he wears the same expression— eyes down, mouth contemplative—but his glasses are gone and he wears only his short cutoff jeans. With the column over his shoul- der almost unclothed and underscored by Bechdel’s “passion” and “martyred,” Bruce resembles Jesus Christ carrying the cross to his crucifi xion. But instead of a wooden cross, Bruce holds a column; this architectural object iconically encapsulates Bruce’s home and garden obsession as a whole. By showing Bruce carrying a column as Jesus does a cross, Bechdel suggests that in his obsession with home beautifi cation, Bruce lives and dies like Christ. Bruce, as he carries the cross-like column, becomes “martyred”— like Jesus, Bruce suff ers so that future generations can live free. While Bruce does not literally return from the dead, his repressed spirit lives on in an adult Alison. Bruce lives a repressed life, forc- ing back his artistic and sexual urges, but Alison, after watching her father disintegrate in his repression, lives life as an openly gay artist and writer. As a martyr, Bruce lives a closeted life so that Alison does not have to. While Alison comes out before Bruce’s death, the event sets her off on the artistic expedition of writing and drawing Fun Home. Bruce’s death, then, is a hopeful one as it puts his daugh- ter on the path to achieve her full potential, without feeling the need to lead the “normal,” Beech Creek sort of life. In one light, Bruce’s death ends a lifetime of misery; in another it marks a heroic martyrdom. Yet Bechdel feels ambivalent about the light of Bruce’s death and so the appropriate character for comparison remains un- clear; he may die as Christ to save his daughter, as Sisyphus to free himself, or, most likely, as both. 180 SAMUEL WEISS Whatever the case, in death, Bruce not only frees his daugh- ter, but also gives back to the universe in a purely unaesthetic and nurturing way, a way which he never pursues in life. While Bruce’s near-death boyhood experience takes place in a completely barren cornfi eld, the fi eld behind Bruce’s grave yields plentiful amounts of large cornstalks. These plants, not yet sown when he unwit- tingly faces death as a child, now grow next to his fi nal resting place, closing a gap opened years before. Stalks of corn replace fl owers, Bruce’s botanical object of fanaticism in life, as the sym- bol of his death. Bechdel also draws the corn behind Bruce’s grave (Fig. 16) almost identically to the brush that he carries at his death. She thrice connects these long stalks with Bruce’s death: fi rst by the absence of corn from the fi eld of his youth (Fig. 14), second by showing him carrying brush at his time of death (Fig. 11) and third by showing him laid to rest along side a full fi eld of corn (Fig. 16). Unlike fl owers, the plants of his life—which provide aesthetic benefi ts—corn, the plant of his death, provides the world with sus- tenance. In essence, Bruce tries to live in Proustian beauty, but he ultimately dies a Whitman-like death: his body joins the soil be- neath a cornfi eld, his spirit reborn as a part of something practical and important for the lives of others. In death, Bruce again resembles the little boy in women’s cloth- ing standing in the Proustian garden: inseparable from his natural surroundings. The desire to reach this state in life, to transcend reality, consumes Bruce and permeates his every action. This desire causes him to seek extramarital aff airs with blossoming boys, and to ignore and abuse his family. In this fi rst paradox, Bruce’s aes- thetic pursuits simultaneously create a transcendent freedom from his unfulfi lling life as well as a repressed alienation as he becomes separated entirely from it. Bruce attempts to overcome this tension by reaching out to Alison, making her the Icarus to his Daedalus, but he only ends up pushing her away as she fails to fi nd the same love for botanical beauty. In this second paradox, Bruce’s desire for Alison to follow his pursuits causes her both pain at her failure to live up to her father’s pressures, and, concurrently, liberation, as she notices and learns from her father’s collapse. Bruce’s obsession 181 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME causes his collapse, dying young, like a lilac, either distracting him at a crucial moment, or depressing him to the point of suicide, and making him into a martyr for beauty or for his daughter’s freedom. In this fi nal paradox, Bruce, in death, is both a repressed suicide victim and a liberated, liberating martyr. His life’s aesthetic garden of personal transcendence is replaced by a pragmatic cornfi eld of re- birth, benefi ting others and, in particular, setting his daughter free. Note 1 Fun Home, as a work of graphic literature requires an analysis of both the words and the images and the way the two interact. Will Eisner writes that, “The regimens of art (e.g., Perspective, symmetry, brush stroke) and the regimens of literature (e.g., Grammar, plot, syntax) become superimposed upon each other in graphic narratives. The reading of the comic book is an act of both aesthetic perception and intellectual pursuit” (Eisner 8). To analyze a graphic work, one must look not only to metaphor, foreshadowing, sentence structure, etc., but also to certain concepts unique to art criticism, such as shading, scale, lettering, symmetry, brush stroke, perspective, focal point, horizon line, color and gesture. Graphic works also have unique powers of juxtaposition between dialogue and images, caption and images, caption and dialogue, images and other images within the same panel, one panel and another, and so on. By captioning a scene with a seemingly unrelated caption, the author asks the reader to consider the two side by side in ways unique to the genre. Iconography, too, has a special place in graphic literature, creating and referencing visual cues throughout a work and beyond. As Scott McCloud writes, “words, pictures and other icons are the vocabulary of the language called comics” (McCloud 47). These aesthetic analytical tools allow for an analysis of graphic literature completely unique to, and making full use of, the form. 182 SAMUEL WEISS Works Cited Bechdel, Alison. Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic. New York: Houghton Miffl in, 2006. Print. Chute, Hilary L. “Animating an Archive: Repetition and Regeneration in Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home.” Graphic Women: Life Narrative & Con- temporary Comics. New York: Columbia University Press, 2010. 175- 217. Print. Cvetkovich, Ann. “Drawing the Archive in Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home.” Women’s Studies Quarterly 36.1 (2008): 111-128. Web. Eisner, Will. Comics and Sequential Art. Paramus, NJ: Poorhouse Press, 1985. Print. Lemberg, Jennifer. “Closing the Gap in Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home.” Women’s Studies Quarterly 36.1 (2008): 129-140. Web. McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics. New York: Kitchen Sink Press, 1993. Print. Rohy, Valerie. “In the Queer Archive: Fun Home.” GLQ: A Journal of Les- bian and GayStudies 16.3 (2010): 341-361. Web. Rosen, Elizabeth. “The Narrative Intersection of Image and Text: Teach- ing Panel Frames in Comics.” Teaching the Graphic Novel. Ed. Ste- phen Tabachnick. New York: The Modern Language Association of America, 2009. Print. Wolk, Douglas. Reading Comics. Cambridge, MA: Da Capo Press, 2007. Print. 183 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME Images Referenced All images from FUN HOME: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel.© 2006. Used by permission of Houghton Miffl in Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved. Fig. 1. Bechdel 87. Fig. 2. Bechdel 91. 184 SAMUEL WEISS Fig. 3. Bechdel 100-101. 185 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME Fig. 4. Bechdel 91. Fig. 5. Bechdel 20. 186 SAMUEL WEISS Fig. 6. Bechdel 18. Fig. 7. Bechdel 4. 187 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME Fig. 8. Bechdel 23. Fig. 9. Bechdel 114. 188 SAMUEL WEISS Fig. 10. Bechdel 232. Fig. 11. Bechdel 116. 189 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME Fig. 12. Bechdel 92. Fig. 13. Bechdel 92. 190 SAMUEL WEISS Fig. 14. Bechdel 41. Fig. 15. Bechdel 7. 191 AESTHETIC OBSESSION IN ALISON BECHDEL’S FUN HOME Fig. 16. Bechdel 53. 192 SAMUEL WEISS 193 WRITING FOR A REAL WORLD Call for Submissions Writing for a Real World 2011–2012 We announce with pleasure our call for submissions for our tenth annual Writing for a Real World anthology, which will be published in Fall 2012. Undergraduate writing completed during the 2011–2012 academic year is welcome. WRW reviews not only essays and research papers but also scientifi c, business, and technical reports. Each published writer will receive a copy of the journal and an individual award; winners and their guests will be invited to an awards reception in Fall 2012. Deadline for submitting work written for Fall 2011 classes is Friday, December 16, 2011. Deadline for submitting work written for Spring 2012 classes is Friday, May 18, 2012. Complete back issues of Writing for a Real World can now be found on USF’s Digital Collections at http://www.usfca.edu/library/dc/wrw Entry forms are available at: www.usfca.edu/wrw 194