House Speaker Nancy Pelosi is now holding up a $53 billion appropriations bill because of an attached rider that would
give immunity to the Salvation Army and other charities from discrimination suits based on English-only policies, according
to John Fund in today's
WSJ.
That new immigrants to the U.S. be required to speak, read and write ordinary English has been a requirement of U.S.
law for more than 100 years and is supported by a vast majority of the population, including among groups whose second language
is English.
So why is the Speaker tempting fate by catering to the very small minority who oppose English-only policies in the workplace?
The group most likely to benefit from defeating the immunity rider is the trial lawyer lobby, whose members will be able
to continue to sue deep-pocket defendants with English-only policies. Those same trial lawyers have contributed
$10,000 to Pelosi so far in this election cycle.
Meanwhile our enemy is fighting all out to achieve a new balance of power. As we anguish over the possibility of collateral
damage, this enemy practices collateral damage as a tactic of war. In Iraq, al Qaeda blows up women and children simply
to keep alive the chaos of war that gives it cover. This enemy's sense of moral authority--as misguided as it may be--is so
strong that it compensates for its lack of sophisticated military hardware.
On the other hand, our great military might is not enough to compensate for our weak sense of moral authority, our ambivalence.
If we have the greatest military in history, it is also true that we lack our enemy's talent for true belief. Our rationale
for war is difficult to articulate, always arguable, and distinctly removed from immediate necessity. Our society is deeply
divided and there is a vigorous antiwar movement ready to capitalize on our every military setback.
This is the pattern of disciplinary wars: Their execution is always undermined by their inbuilt lack of moral authority.
In the end, our might neutralizes our might. Our vast power makes all such wars come off as bullying, even when we fight selflessly
for the freedom of others.
Steele begins this piece by writing about Barack Obama's claim that, if elected President, he would meet with
our enemies in an act of "diplomacy". I'm not sure Obama meant it this way, but there is something to Steele's analysis.
Certainly every conflict the U.S. has fought since Viet Nam (and arguably including Viet Nam) has involved a
significant anti-war counter-argument that has contended that the U.S. lacks the moral authority to fight that conflict.
At the same time, each of those conflicts (Grenada, Panama, Gulf War I, Afghanistan, Gulf War II) have involved a U.S. claim
to be fighting for the rights of others.
One of the classic arguments against the extension of U.S. Presidential diplomacy to rogue regimes is that it
cloaks the rogue regime with an aura of legitimacy that it does not deserve.
This is certainly true in the traditional sense of U.S. diplomacy where Presidential involvement is limited to
the signing ceremonies, Under-Secretaries of State do the heavy lifting and the SecState takes on the missions too risky for
the President to risk his credibility.
But what if Presidential diplomacy were different? What if the President met more opening and more broadly
with a larger group of international leaders and influencers? Would it be easier for such a President to make his case
for moral authority in that context, while also undercutting the "inadvertent legitimacy" argument because of the wide availability
of Presidential face time?
How would the world react if a U.S. President met with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and gave him a public upbraiding on
a par with that meted out by Columbia President Lee Bollinger?
