Abortion and Punishment

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DONALD TRUMP: Are you Catholic?

CHRIS MATTHEWS: Yes, I think ...

TRUMP: And how do you feel about the Catholic Church's position?

MATTHEWS: Well, I accept the teaching authority of my church on moral issues.

TRUMP: I know, but do you know their position on abortion?

MATTHEWS: Yes, I do.

TRUMP: And do you concur with the position?

MATTHEWS: I concur with their moral position but legally, I get to the question — here's my problem with it ...

TRUMP: No, no, but let me ask you: But what do you say about your church?

MATTHEWS: It's not funny.

TRUMP: Yes, it's really not funny. What do you say about your church? They're very, very strong.

MATTHEWS: They're allowed to — but the churches make their moral judgments, but you running for president of the United States will be chief executive of the United States. Do you believe ...

TRUMP: No, but ...

MATTHEWS: Do you believe in punishment for abortion, yes or no, as a principle?

TRUMP: The answer is that there has to be some form of punishment.

MATTHEWS: For the woman?

TRUMP: Yes, there has to be some form.

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I am always uncomfortable when the subject of abortion is brought into the political arena.

That is mostly because I have always considered myself totally neutral on the issue. It's like Mark Twain said about heaven and hell. He said he had friends in both places, and I have friends on both sides. What's more, whenever my friends explain their positions, I find it hard to dispute what any of them say.

I agree that it is terrible that people end the lives of unborn children before they have begun. Children are the most innocent of creatures, and it is hard to justify denying them the opportunity to live and to love, to experience all the things, good and bad, that there are to experience in this world.

But I have known a few women who had abortions — I may know others as well, but those are the three who I know for sure have had abortions — and it was a painful experience for them. I'm not talking about physical pain — although I'm sure there was some of that as well. I'm talking about emotional pain, inner turmoil.

Without exception they experienced fear — of what, I couldn't tell you. Society? The legal system? God? All three? All three and more? I don't think even they knew for sure. But they were afraid, and they lived with that fear long after the abortion.

They were sad, too — again, not well defined, but it would be safe to say that they felt sadness over having to do what they did — and that, too, can be for many reasons. Obviously, I could never know what maternal instincts feel like, but my best guess would be that a significant part of that sadness was because the act of abortion is totally contradictory to one's protective maternal instincts. It's a law of nature, really, and I am certain that there is an emotional price to be paid by those who believe they have violated natural law.

They were confused, swept along by a series of events over which they had no control.

If the subject is going to be punishment, I think those women — and most of the others who have had abortions since the Supreme Court's decision 43 years ago — endured plenty of punishment, mostly self–inflicted. It was a mandatory byproduct of the procedure.

I'm sure that isn't the kind of punishment Trump meant when he spoke with Chris Matthews at a town hall meeting that was televised on MSNBC earlier this week ahead of next week's primary in Wisconsin. And there may well be some people in this country who agreed with Trump when he said there had to be a form of punishment for women who had abortions if abortion was made illegal. There probably are some people who agreed with him, but it would have to be a tiny sliver of a minority.

In fact, of all the pro–life people I know and have known — and bear in mind that I live in what is arguably the most conservative part of the country — I can't think of one who would support the idea of punishing the woman. The doctor who performed the abortion and profited by it is another matter entirely, but I cannot imagine any of my pro–life friends saying that the woman should be punished.

They would probably advocate counseling of some kind, but I'm quite sure they would be sympathetic with the woman and see her as more of a victim than a perp.

Trump backtracked shortly after making the statement — presumably when his aides pointed out to him that he had enough problems with women without saying they should be punished for having an abortion — but the damage had been done. Trump's negatives took a hit, not just with women but with young voters, independents, the list of groups keeps on growing. I'm sure his answer didn't help him with Hispanics, most of whom were already angry at him over his immigration remarks.

(Perhaps my favorite line about Trump's standing with women came in a column written by former Reagan speechwriter Peggy Noonan for the Wall Street Journal. "Already his numbers in next week's Wisconsin primary have fallen," Noonan wrote, "and as for women — well, with women nationally Mr. Trump is currently more popular than cholera — but not by much.")

I haven't really been surprised by the backlash. I've always thought Trump was something of a loose cannon; I'm just surprised it took so long to become clear to everyone else. Like most people, I guess I figured he would fizzle out long before his campaign reached the point where trying to stop him from winning the nomination appeared as hopeless as trying to stop a runaway train.

But now he may have handed his opponents the ammunition they need to bring him down. My take on this, though, is that it's not just the interview that is responsible. I truly believe it is the cumulative effect of several months of Trumpisms that leave a bitter taste in the mouths of those who hear them. Some — not all but some — of the Trump supporters I know are mortified by the things he has been saying. Texas' Republican primary was held on March 1 so the Trump supporters around here who are suffering from buyer's remorse have few options, but it isn't too late for people who vote in primaries this month and in May and early June.

I've heard the Wisconsin primary described as the Republicans' Alamo — their very last opportunity to stop Trump. Based on the polls I have been reading, Trump may well lose in Wisconsin, a state in which he was leading not long ago — and victories have a way of ending one candidate's momentum and giving it to someone else. We will see if that is what happens this time.

Nor am I really surprised that Matthews pressed Trump into delivering one of his shoot–from–the–hip responses. Matthews long ago made clear which side he favored in political contests, and he was doing his usual job as the lackey journalist. Mission accomplished. He drew Trump out into a minefield of his own making.

It's part of the give–and–take of politics. There hasn't been a president in my lifetime who hasn't felt mistreated by the press. If you aspire to be president, you have to be prepared for that. You have to be nimble, light on your feet in your answers, not lead–footed.

Trump gives the impression that he speaks without having given much, if any, thought to the subject. I have been critical for months of his failure to provide any solutions for the problems facing this country except to repeatedly tell us that the United States is "going to win again" when he becomes president. That sounds like Charlie Sheen (who also has problems with women).

It is simply inexcusable for a Republican not to anticipate questions about abortion. The public is going to assume, rightly or wrongly, that a Republican is going to be pro–life, and that is probably what Matthews assumed. Now, it's OK to be pro–life if you're going to give thoughtful reasons for your position — but it isn't OK, even with most other pro–lifers, to be Draconian about it.

Trump wasn't the only one who needed instruction in how to conduct himself, though. Matthews, too, could have used some pointers.

I have taught many journalism students, and I would chastise any of them for allowing an interviewee to become the interviewer, as Matthews allowed Trump to do. In this case, it ended up working out for Matthews, but that can so easily backfire on a journalist.

A journalist has no control over how the subject of an interview responds to questions. I understand that. Each situation is different and must be handled differently, but, in this case, I would have advised Matthews to say this when Trump started to interview him: "This is not about what I think. I am not a candidate for president. You are a candidate for president, and it is in that capacity that I am asking you what you think."

(By the way, that is essentially the same question I would ask of Hillary Clinton on the subject of her emails — in the context of her Nixonian assertion that her predecessors at State did the same things she did: "This is not about what they did. This is about what you did.")

When I was studying journalism in college, one of my professors delivered the lecture that every journalism student has heard at one time or another. "You should be like a fly on the wall" when you report on an event, the professor said. "The reader shouldn't even know you're there." If there was one thing that was driven home repeatedly in my journalism classes, it was the idea that a journalist should never be part of the story.

The readers — or, in this case, the viewers — knew Matthews was there, that he was part of the story. He managed to turn the tables on Trump and goad him into giving what could be, in hindsight, the remarks that proved to be the tipping point for his campaign. Perhaps, in Matthews' mind, all's well that ends well.

But he ran a huge risk of being the elephant in the room rather than a fly on the wall.

Hindsight Is 20/20

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Hindsight is a wonderful thing. It really is. I believe it is an extremely good quality for a person to possess, to be able to look back at a decision that turned out to be the wrong one and learn from it.

The decision to invade Iraq in 2003 was the wrong decision. I believed it was the wrong decision at the time, but that was not a popular position to take. It took a certain amount of courage, back in those post–September 11 days, to tell one's friends and co–workers, many of whom supported the decision to invade Iraq, that it was a bad decision, and I did not always have the strength of will to argue with people about it, especially as confident as supporters of the invasion were that weapons of mass destruction would be found.

After a certain amount of time had passed and it became clear that the pretext for the invasion — the alleged existence of those weapons of mass destruction — was based on faulty information, public opinion began to sour on the war. But I think it is important to remember that a lot of people supported the invasion initially — including Hillary Clinton, the presumptive Democratic nominee for president in 2016 — no matter how much they may pretend otherwise today.

Mrs. Clinton wasn't the only Democrat who voted to authorize George W. Bush to use force against Iraq. When the Senate voted on Oct. 11, 2002, 29 of 50 Democrats joined 48 Republicans in a 77–23 vote giving Bush the authority he sought. Her colleague from New York, Chuck Schumer, voted to authorize the use of force. So did Joe Biden and Dianne Feinstein and Harry Reid.

In my lifetime, I have had the opportunity to vote for national tickets with a Bush on them half a dozen times. I have never voted for one and, if Jeb is nominated next year, it will make seven times I have refused to lend my support to a Bush in a national campaign.

But I find myself sympathizing — to an extent — with his recent stumble on the question of invading Iraq.

Fox News' Megyn Kelly asked him, "Knowing what we know now, would you have authorized the invasion?"

Bush tried to answer a different question. "I would've, and so would've Hillary Clinton, just to remind everybody, and so would have almost everybody that was confronted with the intelligence they got."

He kind of got back to what Kelly was getting at when he elaborated: "In retrospect, the intelligence that everybody saw, that the world saw, not just the United States, was faulty. And in retrospect, once we … invaded and took out Saddam Hussein, we didn't focus on security first. And the Iraqis, in this incredibly insecure environment, turned on the United States military because there was no security for themselves and their families."

Kelly was dealing in hypotheticals, and what Bush should have said — but, obviously, did not — was that he won't answer hypothetical questions. I'm an amateur historian, and what–if is the kind of game historians love to play. But it is a game that really cannot be won because the past is what it is. It's no trick to look back on a bad decision and know it was a mistake, but human beings are not blessed with the ability to see the future. If they were, I guess many would not marry the people they married or invest in companies that go belly up.

Or bet on the wrong horse at the racetrack.

There seems to be an impression among many Americans these days that a president must be infallible, that he must be capable of all things — including superhuman stuff like seeing the future. But anyone who looks for an infallible leader, someone around whom everyone can rally, is just asking to be disappointed. In the life of every presidency, there will be those who think the president does everything right and those who think the president does everything wrong — and everyone else who falls in between those two extremes. To misquote Abraham Lincoln, you can please some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can't please all the people all the time.

A president can only act within the reality of his times — and hope, at the end of the day, that he made the right decision. Seems to me that the best presidents have been the ones who second–guessed themselves and tried to learn from each decision they made — and the worst presidents were the ones who would not admit to having made a mistake.

If one is going to answer Kelly's question, though, it would have to be something like this: "In hindsight, it was a mistake to invade Iraq." That's it. Bush's inclination to defend his brother is admirable, but it does not have to be part of his answer to that question.

It can be the answer to another question if it is asked. He is right when he observes that a president must act on the information he has. But that is not the question that was asked. So don't answer it.

Better still, though, not to answer hypothetical questions at all. Politicians can't win hypotheticals, and politicians always want to play games they can win. Hypotheticals require proving a negative, and that cannot be done.

One time, I saw illusionist Penn Jillette talking about Nostradamus' prophecies that supposedly predicted Napoleon and Hitler and many other events that occurred long after his death. Jillette complained that the prophecies, which were apparently written in a deliberately obscure way, never named names, places or dates. What good is that, he wanted to know, if we want to prevent or avoid a certain event?

It's a fair point.

Let me ask you something. If time travel was possible, and you could go back in time, would you kill an infant Adolf Hitler sleeping in his crib? It is safe to say, I believe, that nazism would not have seized control of Germany without a charismatic leader at the helm. Snuffing out an infant who, knowing what we know now, grew up to plunge the world into a war that claimed millions of lives could be seen as heroic.

But could you take the life of a baby? You might say now that you could, but, when the chips were down, you might find it incredibly difficult to kill a small child, even knowing that, by doing so, you could save millions of others.

In the two decades between his resignation and his death, Richard Nixon might have said that, in hindsight, having the taping system installed in the Oval Office was a mistake — but that would have been with the benefit of knowing how it eventually played out, producing the evidence that brought his presidency to an end. But when the system was installed, his motivation (ostensibly) was the preservation of the historical record.

As Dr. Phil would say, how did that work out for ya?

Why Do You Want to Be President?

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It was a very simple question, the kind of thing that is the very least that voters should know about anyone who seeks to lead the United States. Any voter can ask that question, and every voter deserves an answer to it. But Ted Kennedy, when asked that question on this day in 1979, stumbled through an obviously off–the–cuff response to the one question for which he should have had a definitive answer.

"Why do you want to be president?"

If there is such a thing as a softball question in presidential politics, that is it. After all, it didn't suggest that Kennedy should not have run — although I think the results from the 1980 Democrat primaries indicate that quite clearly (Carter received 51.13% of the vote in the primaries while Kennedy carried 37.58%). It was an uphill battle from the start. Incumbent presidents are seldom challenged for their party's renomination, and they usually prevail whether the challenge is serious or not. To succeed, Kennedy needed to be able to articulate a vision the way many Americans remembered his brother doing 20 years earlier.

Kennedy swung wildly when CBS' Roger Mudd asked him that question in an interview that was broadcast on this night in 1979 — and he missed with a rambling recitation of loosely linked talking points.

It inspired one of my favorite Doonesbury comic strips — in which an exchange between Kennedy and reporters was depicted. I don't remember now if the Kennedy of the comic strip was asked why he wanted to be president, or if he was asked about a more specific topic, but the answer was another rambling recitation. By the fourth frame of the strip, one of the reporters impatiently blurted out, "A verb, senator! We need a verb!"

There was more to it than the rambling answer, though. Kennedy had that kind of deer–caught–in–the–headlights look when Mudd asked him that question. How could he possibly have failed to prepare an answer for it? After all, he hadn't been asked to defend a bad, possibly embarrassing vote he cast in the Senate or some poor or reckless decision he had made, either professionally or personally. He hadn't even been asked about Chappaquiddick. He was merely asked why he wanted to be president. What did he want to accomplish? What was his vision for the nation?

If that isn't a softball pitch, what is?

It was an invitation to summon forth the Kennedy charisma, the soaring eloquence of "Ask not what your country can do for you." In hindsight, I believe that was the kind of thing Americans yearned for in 1979 and 1980. The country sought inspiration in 1980. Mudd's question tried to coax it from Kennedy.

It didn't even summon forth a grammatically correct sentence.

Palin's Pronouncement

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As hesitant as I am to give Sarah Palin credit for, well, anything, I actually do feel compelled to give her some credit for her observation that a brokered convention would not necessarily be a bad thing.

Folks who perpetuate the idea that it would be bad for the Republican Party, she said, have "an agenda" — which, admittedly, sounds a lot like her usual conspiracy theory talk defaming everyone in the media or the party establishment — but suspend your disbelief and/or skepticism for a few minutes, OK?

While I won't rule out the possibility that Palin is playing the rest of us for a bunch of suckers and laying the groundwork for a "Draft Palin" movement in Tampa later this year, I will concede that she makes a valid point or two, especially when you consider recent electoral history.

Four years ago, the Democrats' nominating process dragged into the summer, and the pundits said it would mortally wound the nominee.

And, I suppose, it could have if 2008 had been an ordinary political year. But it wasn't.

You couldn't tell that right after the conventions. In the first half of September, the Democrats were struggling in the polls, and there was talk that Barack Obama had made a tactical error in choosing Joe Biden to be his running mate. Some Democrats openly fretted that Hillary Clinton should have been the running mate.

Seemed like business as usual — perhaps all those months of infighting really had taken their toll.

But then the economy imploded, and voters became determined to change directions. In the last six weeks of that campaign, the tide turned irreversibly to the Democrats. If Obama had needed two ballots or more to win the nomination in August, it probably wouldn't have mattered by Election Day 2008.

From the vantage point of 2012 (and in the eventual long–term context of history), the outcome of the 2008 election might look inevitable, but it was hardly certain at the time.

Anyway, Palin's assertion challenged the (pardon the pun) conventional wisdom that conventions do not serve the same purpose in the TV age that they did in the first 150 years of the republic's existence.

In the last half century, conventions have been about making the best possible use of the free air time the parties received. Organizers of modern conventions want things to be decided outside the view of the cameras. They want their primetime coverage to present a picture of a united, harmonious party to the national audience, enthusiastic about its nominees and its platform and ready to do battle in the general election campaign.

They don't want their conventions to be discussions about important issues that engage the viewers instead of entertaining them, and they don't want prolonged battles for the nomination. They want bands and balloons and cheering delegates. Perhaps they are fearful that if a convention goes past the first ballot — and previously committed delegates are free to vote in any way that they please — that is an invitation to chaos.

But that is not necessarily so.

Democrats have been holding presidential nominating conventions since 1832. Republicans have been holding such conventions since 1856. Originally, parties made important decisions at their conventions. They nominated their candidates for president and vice president, that's true, but they also defined who they were and what they stood for in their platforms.

In a nation that was still growing, still emerging and constantly facing new challenges, that was important. It helped Americans decide which directions they wanted to take, what kind of country they wanted to have. It was the essence of democracy.

The platform–building process is still important today, but the debates (such as they are) take place weeks before the convention — under the watchful eyes of the presumptive nominee's staff.

And their overwhelming concern is how it will look on television.

Before television came along, few Americans saw what went on at a party's convention, and most read about it through the media filter. It didn't matter to them if the acceptance speeches were delivered before 10 p.m. or at 3 in the morning — or if it took several ballots to decide on a presidential nominee.

The modern assumption is that a multi–ballot convention will be a negative. But Palin says it doesn't have to be, and I agree with her on that.

A convention in which viewers do not know the outcome could generate a lot of interest, and I think that would tend to attract viewers, kind of like an athletic contest between evenly matched teams.

No organizer wants to see something like what unfolded in the streets of Chicago in 1968, but that doesn't necessarily have to be the image the country sees. Instead, it could see a group of Americans calmly and rationally discussing the pros and cons of issues that affect their countrymen and the candidates who propose to lead them.

In the past, multi–ballot conventions have sometimes produced compromise nominees, and that is one possible scenario. No one really knows what to expect, in no small part because neither party has had a multi–ballot convention since 1952, when TV was still in its infancy.

The Republicans' most recent experiences with multi–ballot conventions — in 1948, when the GOP needed three ballots to settle on Tom Dewey for the second straight election, and in 1940, when the Republicans picked Wendell Willkie after six ballots — weren't especially good.

Dewey was defeated by Harry Truman (Mitt Romney has been compared to Dewey), and Willkie lost to FDR (Newt Gingrich has suggested that this year's convention might resemble the one in 1940).

But in the pre–television days, open conventions were known to produce Republican nominees who won sometimes — Abraham Lincoln in 1860, Rutherford B. Hayes in 1876, James Garfield in 1880, Benjamin Harrison in 1888 and Warren Harding in 1920 — so it is not unprecedented.

Likewise, multi–ballot conventions produced some winners on the Democratic side — James Polk in 1844, Franklin Pierce in 1852, James Buchanan in 1856, Grover Cleveland in 1884, Woodrow Wilson in 1912 and FDR in 1932.

Don't misunderstand. There is no guarantee that an open convention will produce a winner. Nine multi–ballot Democratic conventions produced losers as did three other Republican ones (in addition to the two previously mentioned).

And you can add political scientist and historian to the lengthy (and still growing) list of things that Palin is not.

But this much is certain. Both the winners and the losers of the last 14 presidential elections were nominated in one ballot

Could a multi–ballot nominee fare any worse?

Please Pardon My Absence

In the last few years, I've gotten into the habit of writing in my blogs almost every day.

But, lately, as some of you have pointed out in e–mails to me, I have been AWOL. Apparently, people do notice when I'm not writing. Who knew?

So I figured I should offer a brief explanation.

I have an interview for adjunct journalism instructor at the local community college tomorrow morning. I did a phone interview with the top guy in the journalism department last week, and he wants me to come in for an in–person interview, which will include a 15–minute demo lecture on a topic of my choosing.

Anyway, I have been spending the last several days preparing for this. (And, just between you and me, I'm a bit concerned about the lecture. I hope he isn't too strict about the timing, because I keep running about five minutes longer. I've been cutting it and cutting it, but it still runs over!)

But don't you worry. I haven't given up writing. It's just that blog writing has had to take a back seat.

I expect to be writing in my blogs regularly before long so thanks for reading and check back soon!

Mission Accomplished?

Former Vice President Dick Cheney told CNN's John King today that the Bush administration achieved "nearly everything we set out to do" in Iraq.

I'm tempted to let the statement speak for itself.

But I have to wonder a few things — well, actually, more than a few things, but I'll try to contain myself:

• Does "nearly everything" mean a war that continues, almost six years after it began, and has cost American taxpayers more than $600 billion?


• "We have succeeded in creating in the heart of the Middle East a democratically governed Iraq," Cheney said, "and it is in fact what we set out to do."
  
  I think Seth Meyers should devote one of his "Really!?!" segments on "Saturday Night Live" to that statement.
  
  Whatever happened to the "weapons of mass destruction," which, as you may recall, was the original — indeed, the only — justification given for invading Iraq?


• Did the Bush administration really plan to lose nearly 5,000 American lives, not to mention tens of thousands of Iraqi lives?
  
  And that doesn't include the thousands of lives that were permanently changed when bodies were maimed by roadside bombs.

If Dick Cheney made any sacrifice for the war effort, I am unaware of it.

Let's poll the families of the Americans who have died in Iraq — or the Americans who came back to this country without a limb or two — and see if they feel the mission was accomplished.

And then let's ask the Americans who continue to foot the bill for the war if they feel the investment was worth it.

Or could we have found better uses for more than $600 billion here at home?