Is Justice Impartial or is Trump Right about Power Run Amok?

Fresno Bee, April 21, 2024

Skepticism about the Trump trials extends to cynicism about the entire political system

Can justice be impartial? This is an ancient question raised anew by the trials of Donald Trump, who has denigrated his indictments as politically motivated “witch hunts.” In Trump’s telling, this is all the work of biased prosecutors and “crooked” or “corrupt” judges.

Trump does not say that he will be vindicated in court by showing evidence and making arguments before the jury. Rather, our leading candidate for president casts doubt on the impartiality of the judicial system itself.

For Trump, justice is primarily a matter of power. He has said he will go after “the Biden crime family” if elected. He used to say he wanted to lock up Hilary Clinton. The Trumpian theory is that whoever is in power gets to punish those who are not in power.

This is an ancient idea. In Plato’s Republic, it is articulated by a character named Thrasymachus, a Greek name that means something like “fierce fighter.” Thrasymachus says justice is whatever the stronger party says it is. Plato rejects this as a tyrannical idea.

As I discuss in my book on Trump and tyranny, a tyrant desires the godlike power to create the law in his own image. This way of conceiving justice is based on bad theology and a pernicious view of political life. God is not a tyrant who arbitrarily makes up the law, but human tyrants and tyrannical regimes do behave in this capricious way.

The antidote to the tyrannical idea of justice is natural law and natural rights. Natural law holds that actions are objectively right or wrong, and that the legal system ought to administer justice impartially. On this theory, there is an objective truth of the matter, and punishments are meant to fit the crime.

A related idea focuses on producing good social consequences by using punishment to deter crime. This approach depends upon a general commitment to the rule of law as a good thing for individuals and society. But there are limits to what can be done in pursuit of “domestic tranquility.” Terrifying and arbitrary punishments may work to “scare people straight,” as the saying goes, but the Eighth Amendment of the Constitution prohibits the sorts of cruel and unusual punishments used by tyrannical regimes.

Further, a stable political and legal system depends upon basic standards of evidence and proof. Such a system assumes (for the most part) an objective account of knowledge and truth. This assumption holds that facts exist and that reasonable people — a jury of your peers — will tend to agree about evidence and argument.

But when people do not agree about the status of the evidence, the arguments or the value of the law itself, there is the risk of chaos and violence. Cynics will claim that since the whole thing is a farce and there is no such thing as objective justice, then there is nothing left but struggles for power.

This seems to be the point of the Trumpian effort to muddy the water with regard to proof, evidence, facts and institutions. Trumpians suggest that there are “alternative facts” and “fake news.” They claim that the system is a “swamp” that needs to be drained. In this environment, skepticism about the Trump trials extends to cynicism about the entire political system, including the electoral process. Thus, those jailed for their criminal acts on January 6 become “hostages” captured by those in power, whom Trump has pledged to pardon.

With all of this on the table, it is clear that the Trump trials are of the utmost importance for the body politic. These are public performances of the law in which impartiality, objectivity and justice are themselves on trial. The audience for this trial is “we, the people.” As these trials unfold, we must ask ourselves about our faith in the system: Is the criminal justice system a travesty of power run amok? Or is it possible for justice to be neutral, objective and truthful?

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article287736320.html#storylink=cpy

April 18, 2021April 24, 2021

“Tighten Up!” Self-Control and the Covid Finish Line

Fresno Bee, April 18, 2021

As more people get vaccinated and coronavirus restrictions ease up, public health officials are worried that we will ditch our masks and let down our guard. It is not yet time to celebrate. When you see the finish line, breathe deep and bear down.

Virtues such as patience, fortitude, and endurance are often ignored in a culture of instant gratification. Consumerism feeds the frenzy of appetite. Despite COVID-19 restrictions, we have not generally adopted a Spartan lifestyle. Instead, we have embraced DoorDash, Netflix, and the drive-thru window. Pornography consumption increased under COVID, as did alcoholism and obesity.

A recent survey reports that more than 60% of Americans gained weight while living under lockdown. The average weight gain was 29 pounds. This is worrying since obesity is an important factor in COVID-19 mortality.

Our obesity problem indicates the role that social systems play in supporting good (or bad) habits. Self-control is important. But social circumstances matter. The American Academy of Pediatrics cautions that COVID-related disruptions in school can increase obesity in children, as kids spend more time on screens, exercise less, and eat more unhealthy foods.

Social support helps develop the crucial ability to delay gratification. Delayed gratification is a sign of moral maturity and a key to living well.

The famous Stanford “marshmallow experiment” showed that children who could resist the temptation of immediate gratification ended up with better life outcomes. That experiment forms the basis of a book by Walter Mischel who claims that self-control is “the engine of success.” Critics have pointed out that self-control is linked to class, race, and other social determinants. The children of well-educated families are better at delaying gratification. And affluence may mitigate the negative outcomes of a lack of impulse control.

The question of self-control is as old as the Greeks. Aristotle connected self-regulation with happiness. Pleasure seduces us into making bad choices. Virtue helps us resist the siren-song of unbridled appetite.

Aristotle was puzzled by weakness of will. Why do some people have the ability to control their appetites while others do not? And how come we lose this ability when asleep, drunk, or overcome by strong emotions?

Aristotle compared weak-willed people to beasts. But unlike the beasts, we ought to know better. And we can train ourselves in self-control. Education and social support networks provide the solution. Good education and good friends support good habits.

The ancient Stoics developed this idea into an elaborate system of training in virtue and self-mastery. One important technique is to develop critical thinking. If you really understand what’s good for you, you will do the right thing. And if you really understood what was bad for you, you would avoid it.

But knowledge must be supplemented by habit. Stoic spiritual training also included physical austerities designed to accustom the self to hardship. The Greek root of our word “austerity” also means “bitterness.” The Stoics systematically embraced bitterness. They exposed themselves to cold and to heat. They fasted and abstained from sex. They exercised in the gymnasium and slept on hard beds. And they constantly reminded themselves of illness, grief and death.

Patience, fortitude, and endurance were key virtues for the Stoics. These are important values for living well. But these are not the only values that matter. Sometimes, it is wise to loosen up and enjoy life. Austerity can indeed be bitter. Asceticism needs to be balanced with sweetness and joy.

The Stoics also enjoyed pleasure, but in moderation. The founder of Stoicism, Zeno, was known as a sour-faced and reserved man. But like Socrates, he drank wine occasionally — although he did not get drunk.

There is a time and place for everything. At some point, our masks will come off and we’ll raise a glass at the local watering hole. But Stoic endurance is especially important as the finish line comes into view.

When the philosopher Diogenes was an old man, his friends invited him to rest and take it easy. He thought that was terrible advice. He said that the end of the race is no time to go slack. Rather, as the finish line approaches, we ought to tighten up and put on speed.

March 21, 2021March 21, 2021

Guarding the Guardians through Vigilance, Leadership, and Professional Ethics

Fresno Bee, March 21, 2021

Who guards the guardians? This age-old question points to a fundamental problem in social life. Powerful institutions can be corrupted by bad actors. Oversight depends upon the virtue and vigilance of those who guard the guardians.

Oversight systems should clarify shared values, shed light on misdeeds, and take action to remove bad actors. Of course, this can become problematic, when partisans and cronies engage in cover-ups or refuse to remove the bad apples. Sycophants create elaborate defensive maneuvers. Bureaucratic procedures impede investigations. And sometimes the bad guys skate away.

This happens in the halls of justice, beneath the academic ivy, and behind the stained-glass curtain. Bad cops get away with murder. Perverted priests are shuffled about. Terrible teachers receive tenure. Lawyers and doctors do dumb and dangerous things. And corrupt politicians get pardoned.

Stories of failed oversight can produce deep cynicism. We are rightly appalled by moral failures in churches, schools and governments. It is frightening when the sheepdogs go bad and start preying upon the sheep.

Some cynics choose to trust no one in authority. But radical suspicion is dangerous and dysfunctional. If you suspect that every doctor is a lying cheat, you’ll ignore legitimate medical advice. If you think that all politicians are corrupt, you’ll stop voting. If you are wary of cops and teachers and other authorities, you’ll end up living in an outlaw limbo.

The cynics remind us that trust has to be earned. But trust is rational, much of the time. We make a leap of faith about the sanity and skill of other drivers, every time we get behind the wheel. Usually this works out well enough.

And despite cover-ups, failures, and delays, oversight systems can work. But they only work when leaders lead with integrity and when the rest of us demand accountability.

There are reassuring stories. This week in Fresno, the chief of police and the mayor (who is the former chief) spoke out against racist cops in the police department. The chief, Paco Balderrama, said, “Fair and impartial policing are extremely important in our society. There is no place in our police ranks for any biased, racist, or anti-Semitic views.”

Or consider the growing outrage about the governor of New York. Instead of circling the wagons to defend Andrew Cuomo against charges he sexually harassed multiple women, leading New York Democrats called for him to resign.

This is how oversight ought to work. Allegations of wrongdoing must be taken seriously. Leaders must articulate fundamental values. They must demonstrate their concern for ethics and the truth — in words and action.

This seems simple and obvious. But problems remain. Those who best guard the guardians are also those who possess the requisite expertise and experience to do that job. This often makes them part of a small, tight-knit fraternity. It is easy to give friends and colleagues the benefit of the doubt. And in politics especially, there are self-interested reasons for covering-up wrongdoing.

Plato proposed an ideal solution. He wanted only the wisest and most virtuous people to serve as guardians. But this solution requires another leap of faith. Philosopher-kings will be tempted to abuse their power. And who will hold them accountable or remove them when they become tyrannical? Plato left that unexplained.

The modern American solution points in a different direction. Instead of concentrating power in the hands of a small group of guardians, we spread the oversight power in a more democratic fashion. This is our celebrated system of checks and balances, intended to prevent bad actors from consolidating power.

This clunky system prevents tyranny. But it does not necessarily work to regulate doctors, teachers, and other non-elected authorities.

This is where professional ethics comes in, along with external oversight and legal liability. Professions are mostly self-regulating. Doctors supervise other doctors. Professors certify other professors. And so on. Much depends on the virtue and wisdom of the professionals themselves. But external auditors and lawsuits also shed light.

At the end of the day, in a democratic country, oversight depends upon what “we, the people” demand. Who guards the guardians? Well, we do — in our professional lives and in the voting booth. Cynicism won’t improve the world. Only virtue and vigilance can do that.

October 1, 2016October 16, 2016

Schadenfreude, Civility, and the Presidential Debates

Presidential debate reminds us we need less spite and more pity

Fresno Bee, October 1, 2016

We ought to cooperate to build each other up, rather than seeking to tear each other down.

The National Institute for Civil Discourse has issued a set of civility standards for the presidential debates. These standards ask us all to be respectful, responsive and responsible.

After this week’s debate, the group conducted a civility survey. Most respondents thought Hillary Clinton was more civil than Donald Trump. But civility is often in the eye of the beholder.

There were strong remarks from both sides. Clinton accused Trump of saying crazy things. She laughed at him. She accused him of being a racist. And she warned about his temperament.

Trump accused Clinton of being “totally out of control” and lacking stamina. At one point, Trump said he could have said something “very rough” about Clinton and her family, but that he refrained from doing so because it is “inappropriate” and “not nice.”

Trump went on to complain about Clinton’s negative attack ads. Trump said, “It’s not nice. And I don’t deserve that.” Soon enough Trump was attacking Clinton out on the campaign trail.

Watching wrecks

I leave it to you to draw your own partisan conclusion about who is naughty or nice here. I’m interested in a larger problem. I worry that we secretly hope for outrage and scandal. And it seems we often get what we ask for.

The debate drew a huge TV audience. Some people probably tuned in for the same reason they occasionally watch auto racing. We like to watch people get smashed up. Hypocrisy is fascinating. Buffoonery is entertaining. Offensive remarks give us something to preach about.

I have to admit that I watched the debate secretly hoping to witness a train wreck. As I watched, I felt for a moment like a kid egging on a fight. I’m not proud of that. A presidential debate has profound implications for the future of the world. But I watched it hoping for scandal.

What’s wrong with us? Why do kids yell “fight, fight, fight” with such glee? Perhaps they, and we, are bored, secretly hoping for mischief.

Civil discourse and serious deliberation is often boring. Reality television, the 24/7 news cycle, and the rest of pop culture keep us addicted to bizarre behavior. It is not edifying but it is entertaining.

Schadenfreude

Another concern is that we are often motivated by schadenfreude. That’s the feeling of joy that is experienced when witnessing someone else’s misfortune.

The philosopher Immanuel Kant called schadenfreude a devilish vice. It is connected to selfishness, envy, cruelty and bloodthirstiness.

We laugh when other people fail. We enjoy seeing the powerful fall from grace. We are fascinated by humiliation. We gawk at other people’s shame. And sometimes we egg on cruelty.

Of course, this is all morally corrupt. Cynicism and schadenfreude do nothing to make the world better. Cruel laughter is hateful. Sarcasm breeds contempt. And cynicism causes us to disengage from the world.

Another way

The solution is a moral one. Other people’s failing should inspire compassion, not cruelty. It may sound naïve, but it is true: We need less spite and more pity, less hate and more love.

We ought to cooperate to build each other up, rather than seeking to tear each other down. Rather than honing in on other people’s defects, we ought to strive to see their beauty. It is wrong to put someone else down in order to boost yourself. Our words and deeds should contribute to the common good.

This is all part of a humane and civil morality. It’s what we ought to teach our children at home and in the classroom. This is how businesses ought to be run. And it is essential for a functioning democracy.

We are all responsible for growing incivility. Insults, taunts and bullying only work when there is a receptive audience. At the Trump-Clinton debate, the audience was instructed to remain silent. But the audience could not restrain itself. They laughed and applauded, despite themselves. And soon enough, back out on the campaign trail, partisan audiences egged on incivility.

Incivility in the presidential campaign is a symptom of a larger disease. If the candidates are more uncivil than they used to be, that’s because we allow them to get away with it – and also because we get a thrill from watching train wrecks.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/living/liv-columns-blogs/andrew-fiala/article105137046.html#storylink=cpy

March 9, 2015March 11, 2015

Lying in the Media: Cynicism, and Hope

Truth is complicated in today’s fast-paced world

Fresno Bee March 9, 2015

The truth is often stretched in the name of a good story. But that rarely bothers us. Some nitpicking quibblers demand accuracy in every story. But the truth is often boring or complicated. So we embellish or simplify.

Journalism and nonfiction writing are, however, held to a different standard. The fibs of Brian Williams, Bill O’Reilly and Rolling Stone’s Sabrina Rubin Ederly are worrisome. So are other scandals involving authorial confabulation. Greg Mortenson, author of “Three Cups of Tea,” embellished much of his story.

One of the challenges of truth-telling is that gullible audiences rarely question heroic and inspiring stories. We like tales that fit our preconceived notions. Liars often tell us what we want to hear. Through repetition, untrue stories come to be accepted as true — perhaps even by the liar himself. The best liar is, after all, the one who believes his own lies. Lying and self-deception go hand in hand. Audiences deceive themselves, too. Once trust is given, it is difficult to admit you’ve been duped.

This points toward troubling questions about the foundational stories of culture and tradition. The same social and psychological forces that explain lying and exaggeration today were also at work in the past. The witnesses of history most likely embellished in the name of a compelling narrative. Those with vested interests bent the truth to their own purposes. The victors told heroic stories at the expense of their victims. Meanwhile, credulous and captive audiences repeated what they were told.

George Orwell warned that when lies pass into history, they become truth. Cynics will conclude from this that history is mostly hogwash. The cynic sees power, propaganda and self-promotion at work in politics, religion and culture. Given our recent experience of liars, phonies and frauds, it’s possible that much of what passes for true history has been warped in Orwellian ways.

On the other hand, perhaps P.T. Barnum was correct when he said, “You can’t fool all the people all the time.” We hope that the truth eventually comes out. But of course, even that quote from Barnum is in dispute — some attribute it to Abraham Lincoln. And so it goes.

Truth is complicated. Knowledge takes diligence. And perfect certainty is rare. In important cases, we set up elaborate procedures for finding the truth. The courts use an adversarial system and assumptions about the burden of proof. Scientists engage in methodical experimentation, while subjecting their conclusions to peer review.

Philosophers advise us to doubt everything. We know that our senses can deceive us. Eyewitnesses and experts exaggerate, misremember, ignore evidence and misinterpret data. Occasionally the experts deliberately lie. Truth only arrives at the end of the long, deliberate process of sifting and winnowing, which includes a substantial dose of self-examination.

But gossip, public opinion and the media work differently. In the world of tweets and pompous posts, there is little time for fact-checking or deliberation. Self-examination and expressions of doubt are rare in the public sphere.

The speeding flow of contemporary information leaves little time for study, reflection and inquiry. Each scandal, crisis and event seems to require an immediate response. But truth is a tender flower. It dies in the hot house of instant opinion and incessant self-promotion.

Truth-seeking requires nurturing attention, quiet reflection and open-minded inquiry. Truth results from attentive listening and careful observation. Truth-seeking is not glamorous. It looks like a scholar in her study, the scientist in the lab, and the jury in the jury room. This is quite different from the breezy certainty of the celebrity blowhards and vain pundits who stand to profit from the tales they tell.

We know that people stretch the truth. Healthy skepticism is always in order. But we should resist cynicism. The fact that we know that there are so many disgraced liars gives us a reason to hope. These scandals may be viewed as an encouraging sign that, in the long-run, most liars will be caught with their pants on fire.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/2015/03/09/4417448_ethics-truth-is-complicated-in.html?rh=1#storylink=cpy