Thursday, February 18, 2021
OK, let’s talk about Ted Cruz’s trip to Cancun, not because it’s an easy target for social media outrage, but because I think it offers helpful insight into why we have become so frustrated with our political leaders. I fully understand a father’s desire to give his daughters a vacation in the midst of a challenging year, and I agree that Senator Cruz could have worked from Mexico via phone and Zoom. The vacation wasn’t a failure of logistics, and it wasn’t just a case of bad optics – it was a disregard of a core element of leadership: affirming through word and deed that, no matter the challenge, we are all in this together. Living out this affirmation as a leader has several dimensions:
First, leaders must be willing to share in the risk. If you are leading an organization that requires some employees to be on site during COVID, and you are working remotely from the safety of your home office, that sends a strong message to your employees who are on site. If your state is suffering through widespread power outages during frigid weather, and you remove yourself from those risks for sunnier climes, you’re not leading effectively. Ted Cruz needed to tell his daughters that the vacation would have to wait until the crisis was over.
Second, leaders must be willing to share in the sacrifice. Knowing that sacrifice is shared is a remarkably powerful motivator and encouragement for a community in crisis. When a leader doesn’t share in the sacrifice, there is no faster path to cynicism. When California Governor Gavin Newsom was photographed at a fancy dinner party, and it appeared that his group was not following the COVID protocols imposed on everyone else, that was a crushing blow to his ability to lead his state through the pandemic.
Third, leaders must be subject to the same accountability. When members of the public screw up, they usually have to make amends. Especially when they have influence over the tools of accountability, leaders have to make sure that they are transparent about their mistakes. When New York Governor Andrew Cuomo made misjudgments about placing people suffering from COVID in long-term care facilities early in the pandemic, that was bad, but given what little we knew about the disease at the time, it was arguably an understandable mistake. Working to conceal that mistake in the months since – for a leader – is inexcusable.
Fourth, leaders must show that we possess the same dignity. Leaders will invariably disagree about ideas with those whom they are called to lead. Disagreement should be open, direct, and respectful. Disagreement never justifies leaders characterizing those they are called to lead in ways that are demeaning or characterize a person as “the other.” That is why Hilary Clinton’s “deplorables” comment was so inappropriate, and it’s why so many of President Trump’s comments were inappropriate.
Looking for a good counter-example? While she was far from the most memorable leader in Chicago's colorful history, something Mayor Jane Byrne did has stuck with me ever since I learned about it as a kid. She moved into the Cabrini Green housing project. Like other mayors before her, she pledged to improve public safety, but then she backed it up by actually living in a spot that was perceived as being among the most dangerous in the city. That’s a powerful example of how to say, “we’re all in this together,” and leave no uncertainty that you mean it.
The tendency to extend preferential treatment to ourselves over others is not a partisan problem - it's a human problem. It's one I struggle with as well, and when it's left unacknowledged and unaddressed, it's an obstacle to effective leadership.
Wednesday, February 17, 2021
Rick Garnett, a professor at Notre Dame Law School, discusses a divided U.S. Supreme Court ordering California to let indoor church services resume. Jimmy Gurule, a professor at Notre Dame Law School, discusses the case for the second impeachment of former President Donald Trump. June Grasso hosts.
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/audio/2021-02-13/will-supreme-court-expand-religious-rights-podcast
The Common Good Project was launched yesterday by Professor Ryan Meade of Oxford Law. It begins with a series of conversations with legal theorists, law-makers, philosophers, economists, and others. Honored to be on the Advisory Board.
Here's the description:
The Common Good Project seeks to foster a discussion of the relationship between law and the common good. The Project will begin its efforts by exploring the common good from an array of perspectives.
Many legal theorists assert that law must be directed to the common good, but few agree on what the common good is. Even those who might agree on the same formulation for the common good have nuanced differences in how the common good plays out in practical relationship with specific law.
Of course, not everyone holds to the notion that law must be directed to the common good, and some legal theorists find the term 'common good' dubious in itself. The Common Good Project will also explore theories of law and society that deny there is a discernible common good or dismiss the common good as impractical or an imperfect anchor for law.
In relating law to the common good, the Project takes as its framing point a key criterion in Thomas Aquinas' definition of law as 'an ordinance of reason for the common good, promulgated by the one who is in charge of the community.' For Aquinas, a 'law' must be directed to the common good to have the character of law.
The Project will address questions such as whether the common good is focused on material well-being of individuals or ideals of justice, whether material conditions and ideals are one in the same, to what extent imperfect but well-meaning laws might be considered sufficiently directed to the common good in the context of constraints in culture and politics, and how the classical and contemporary notions of equity interact with the common good. The Project will examine the common good in drafting legislation, crafting regulations, judicial decision-making, the growth of administrative law, and foundational constitutional questions, among many others.
The first conversation will be on February 22nd, 7:30pm Oxford time (2:30pm EST) with Adrian Vermeule. You can register here.
Today we observe Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent, the time in the Christian calendar that commemorates the 40 days Jesus spent being tempted by Satan in the desert. The ashes sprinkled on our foreheads remind us that we are mortal: we are dust, and to dust we shall return. As Pope Francis explained last year, though, “we are dust loved by God,” and the ashes are:
a reminder of the direction of our existence: a passage from dust to life. We are dust, earth, clay, but if we allow ourselves to be shaped by the hands of God, we become something wondrous. More often than not, though, especially at times of difficulty and loneliness, we only see our dust! But the Lord encourages us: in his eyes, our littleness is of infinite value. So let us take heart: we were born to be loved; we were born to be children of God. [Lent is thus] a time of grace, a time for letting God gaze upon us with love and in this way change our lives. We were put in this world to go from ashes to life. So let us not turn our hopes and God’s dream for us into powder and ashes. . . . Ashes are sprinkled on our heads so that the fire of love can be kindled in our hearts. . . . Our earthly possessions will prove useless, dust that scatters, but the love we share – in our families, at work, in the Church and in the world – will save us, for it will endure forever.
This year, it may seem like the last thing we need is a reminder of our mortality. Life’s fragility has probably not been far from any of our thoughts since the pandemic upended our world one year ago. The temptation to feign blissful ignorance of our mortality may sound pretty refreshing right about now. And it’s a temptation that may be within sight as vaccines roll out and something closer to "normalcy" looms over the horizon.
But, as Ash Wednesday reminds us, disregard of our mortality is not so blissful, and it is not without cost. As vaccinations become more widespread, I hope I don’t trade anxiety about my at-risk loved ones for complacency about each day’s significance. Pre-pandemic, I was adept at distracting myself from big questions with a never-ending blur of activities. While Ash Wednesday is not intended as an impetus to wallow in the stark fact of life’s brevity, it is an invitation to reflect: in light of my mortality, how shall I then live?
We do not achieve significance through impressive accomplishments; we honor our significance by living as though we truly believe that the “littleness” of each person we encounter is “of infinite value.” As we enter Lent, what would it look like for “the fire of love” to “be kindled in our hearts?” And what is the “something wondrous” we were called – indeed created – to become?
