A Citizen's Guide to Indiana

Masson's Blog

Friday Night Lights

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Friday Night in West Lafayette

My growing disinterest in politics as an on-line game is spilling over into the real world. Last night, Bernie Sanders came to town. He was speaking less than two miles away from where I live. On the other hand, my kids were playing in the marching band at the high school football game less than one mile away. I don’t have any particularly negative feelings about Sanders himself and, politically, he very accurately identifies some of our problems, and I’m on board with many of his solutions. That said, I’m still pretty raw about the comportment of a number of his followers. During the 2020 primaries, I was mostly supportive of Pete Buttigieg. Too many of Sanders supporters — not Sanders himself — would’ve had me believe that Mayor Pete was a racist corporate stooge who controlled the price of bread and wasn’t that smart, actually. I didn’t see much of this from other candidates’ supporters, so it wasn’t just a generic primary fight issue. It was a strategic, scorched-earth choice on someone’s part — probably more prevalent online than on the ground.

But, truth be told, my lack of interest in the Sanders event didn’t have much to do with the scars of the primary. I actively wanted to be at the football game. I like football, and I love the community. Schools are the heart beat of a community, and this is part of why that is. There’s just something I love about gathering in the stands with people I know, cheering the good guys and booing the bad guys (and eating slightly stale, over salted popcorn from the concession stand). These are people I mostly don’t know well, but who I know well enough. Many of us have been bumping into each other at school events for a decade now. When Twitter and Facebook got going a dozen or so years ago, one of the things they promoted was referred to as “ambient intimacy.” You don’t see that so much any more once the algorithms took hold and the chronological timelines were obliterated. But, it used to be, you’d get a lightweight look into the lives of friends and acquaintances. These people would never call you up to tell you that their six year old did a cool tumble at gymnastics, but you’d see it in passing online and, if you ever did bump into them, you’d know that they had an elementary school kid who was into gymnastics. You get some of that in real life with the crowd you see at the football games. (Yeah, I know, there are people laughing at my framing real life as a spin-off of online life here when the reality should be the opposite.)

Also, let me take a moment to gush about my kids & the marching band. My son is a senior in high school and my daughter is a junior. The band community has become central to their adolescence. When they’re not studying, their primary extracurricular activities revolve around the band. They march, they play at games, their band mates make up their social circle. It’s pretty common for a crew of 10-12 of them to gather in our back yard after football games. (The fun went on past midnight last night). The band parents are a pretty fantastic group — almost all nice people, friendly and dedicated to their kids; they tend to be joiners and volunteers, happy to pitch in for a cause. The whole thing – seeing them wail on their instruments, shouting support to the team, goofing around with their friends – it’s all a source of joy and community. These are the things that bring us together and help make a place good to live in. I’m just thankful to have the opportunity to participate.

Oh, and you’ll all be happy to know that West Side beat McCutcheon 30-7.

Pretextual Arguments are Cultural Proxy Wars

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I had this thought when I was reading a thread about whether masks work to reduce transmission. I fully believe they do. More importantly, smarter people who study such things believe they do. But the reality of the situation is beside the point. When I read the back and forth in this thread, it occurred to me that, while the anti-maskers in that particular thread were arguing about the various statistics, it wouldn’t matter what the numbers were. The truth of the matter was beside the point. The point was mainly for conservatives* to disagree with liberals.** (*Conservatives are those who are not liberals. **Liberals are those who are not conservatives. They need one another to maintain their respective identities.)

This is not a one sided affair. I’ve seen discussions of, for example, alleged police brutality cases where, as more facts came out, the context showed the use of force was reasonable. That didn’t change anyone’s minds about who the good guys and the bad guys were.

In these situations, people aren’t really arguing about what they’re arguing about. They’re not necessarily worried about the specific case. Rather, they chose the specific case as ammunition (or found themselves on the receiving end of that ammunition) in a larger argument. When that’s the case, getting into the weeds about the details of the specific case isn’t likely to be productive because the bigger issue is simply reflexive antagonism toward the other side.

If someone is arguing in good faith, by all means engage with them. But if they’re just entertaining themselves and will move the goal posts if the argument doesn’t go in their favor, then why bother? (Other than to entertain yourself if you’re into such things.)

The Desperate Desire for a Post-Illness Treatment

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One of the patterns I’ve noticed in the ongoing COVID-19 debates is a resistance to preventative measures and a desperate desire for post-illness treatments. (I have no professional background, but I think this would be a “therapeutic” — something that treats the disease in a remedial way.) You see this in the folks who don’t want to wear a mask or take a vaccine but would rather glom on to hydroxychloroquine or ivermectin or whatever the snake oil of the day comes along. They much prefer a pound of cure to an ounce of prevention. The psychology behind this is interesting to me. I guess it has something to do with humans being generally poor at risk assessment. The masks and social distancing are inconvenient — they impose a cost that you can feel and see. The vaccine has a risk that you are choosing to submit to. Voluntarily submitting to risk, cost, and inconvenience is psychologically uncomfortable. These are probably limbic system reactions. Meanwhile, it’s up to the less visceral, rational part of your brain to understand that there exists in the world a risk of catching COVID and that the impact of having the disease is likely to be greater than the risks of the vaccine or the costs of the other mitigation strategies. That rational understanding of risk is even more attenuated when you’re talking about the idea that you might be a vector of COVID that harms other people.

And so the limbic system conjures up all kinds of reasons not to listen to the neocortex. Masks make you breathe poison. The vaccine isn’t FDA approved. Etc. But when it’s demonstrated that masks don’t cause you to breathe poison and the FDA does give full, final approval for the vaccine, you’ll see these folks shift their reasons. The limbic system doesn’t really care. It’ll come up with new reasons to ignore the neocortex. And these folks will continue to be vectors of COVID and incubators for further mutations.

The Rhetoric of “Personal Choice” in a Pandemic

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Needle

You don’t have to take a bullet for America. Just take a needle for your neighbor.

I’ve long slagged on libertarians for not having a good drainage plan. My attitude toward “personal choice” rhetoric in a pandemic is an offshoot of that. A neighbor’s bad decisions about drainage can hurt my property because water doesn’t respect property lines. Similarly, your bad decisions about spreading plague affect those whose air you breathe. There’s a tension between liberty and community.

Locally, we’ve got people talking about “family choice” and whether their kids should be required to wear masks at school. Presumably we’ll get the same kind of rhetoric about “choice” once the COVID vaccine is approved for kids. In these conversations, one of the disingenuous talking points they like to raise is “have your kid wear a mask.” They deeply want individual decisions about risk to impact only the individual making the decision. But, that’s not how things work in a community. Your mask isn’t to protect you from the community. You should wear a mask so that the community is protected from you (you filthy anti-vaxxed plague vector.) The vaccine does have more direct benefits in protecting you from the rest of the community. However, it also helps protect the community from you — you are less likely to pick up viruses and spread them and, importantly, you are less likely to be an incubator for mutation. Another disingenuous talking point is that none of us who are vaccinated should be concerned about their disease status if we “trust” the vaccine. Of course, the vaccine isn’t 100% effective, there are those too young to be vaccinated, and there are those who are immuno-compromised for whom the vaccine is not as effective and/or not recommended.

I’m not breaking any new ground with these thoughts. These counterarguments have been advanced ad nauseum. Anti-vaxxers and anti-maskers mostly ignore them or pretend not to understand them. I suppose it’s related to Upton Sinclair’s quip that “it is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it.” For the most part, (a few grifters and political strivers notwithstanding) there is no financial incentive to the anti-vaxxers and anti-maskers. I think there’s a lot of tribal identity at play. They certainly don’t see themselves as vectors of disease, harming their neighbors. They don’t see themselves as the asshole unvaccinated who will be the reason our community events have to be shut down. Rather they fancy themselves bold defenders of freedom. Independent thinkers who see more clearly than the rest of us sheep. But, at the end of the day, it’s tough to take seriously the big talk about how they’d take a bullet for their country when they won’t take a needle for their neighbors.

My buddy who is a doctor in southern Indiana and has been living with the harsh realities of treating COVID patients has, from time to time, been chastised about his severe language in relation to people who don’t take the pandemic seriously, who refuse to get vaccinated, and who stand in the way of public health measures to mitigate the spread of the disease. He appreciated my observation that William Lloyd Garrison had a relevant quote:

“I am aware that many object to the severity of my language; but is there not cause for severity? I will be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice. On this subject, I do not wish to think, or to speak, or write, with moderation. No! no! Tell a man whose house is on fire to give a moderate alarm; tell him to moderately rescue his wife from the hands of the ravisher; tell the mother to gradually extricate her babe from the fire into which it has fallen; — but urge me not to use moderation in a cause like the present. I am in earnest — I will not equivocate — I will not excuse — I will not retreat a single inch — AND I WILL BE HEARD.”

7th Circuit Makes Short Work of Anti-Vax Challenge to IU vaccination requirements

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The 7th Circuit, in an opinion written by Judge Easterbrook, made short work of a challenge by anti-vaccination students challenging IU’s requirement that students get vaccinated. Specifically, the policy requires students to be vaccinated as a condition of attending the university unless they qualify for a religious or medical exemption. Six of the eight plaintiffs claimed to have some sort of religious reason for not getting vaccinated. The seventh qualified for the religious exemption but wasn’t claiming it. And the eighth wasn’t eligible for any of the exemptions. Those who claim exemptions have to wear masks and get tested twice a week.  The students were asking for injunctive relief (meaning that they wanted the courts to prohibit the university from enforcing the policy.) At the district court level, the judge issued a long (101 page) opinion denying their motion. On appeal, the 7th Circuit was more efficient (4 pages). (Seriously – go read the opinion, it’s one of the better crafted opinions I’ve seen.)

The legal bedrock for these kind of cases is the 1905 Supreme Court opinion in Jacobson v. Massachusetts. In that case, the Supreme Court affirmed the criminal conviction against a man who refused to get a compulsory smallpox vaccination. Citing Jacobson, the 7th Circuit in this case says there can’t be a Constitutional problem with requiring a COVID vaccination. There is no substantive due process right being violated because vaccination requirements, like other public-health measures, have been common in this nation for a long time. In fact, the 7th Circuit says, this case is easier than Jacobson.

First, Jacobson had no exception for adults. IU allows exemptions. Those who claim exemptions have to get tested twice a week and wear masks which, the 7th Circuit observes, are not Constitutionally problematic requirements. Second, where the Jacobson case involved everyone in the community, IU isn’t the only place to get an education. Students can go elsewhere if vaccines and testing are simply intolerable to them. The Court recognized that a University has the right to determine what’s necessary to keep students safe in a congregate setting. Vaccinations protect not just vaccinated persons but also those who come in contact with them. The Court also makes analogy to other rights which are not violated by a University imposing conditions of attendance. A student has a right to property, but it’s not a violation of that right for the University to require the student fork over $11,000 worth of that property as a condition of enrollment. A student has First Amendment rights to expression, but that right is not violated where a University requires students to read something they prefer not to read or write something they prefer not to read “even if the student deems the books heretical.” And, at this point, Judge Easterbrook just seems to be having fun. “A student told to analyze the role of nihilism in Dostoyevsky’s The Possessed but who submits an essay about Iago’s motivations in Othello will flunk.”

If conditions of higher education may include surrendering property and following instructions about what to read and write, it is hard to see a greater problem with medical conditions that help all students remain safe when learning. A university will have trouble operating when each student fears that everyone else may be spreading disease.

 

 

The Free Market Begins with a Fence

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This was part of an even longer post I wrote a few years back. I stumbled across it again recently and thought it was worth a re-post.

The free market begins with a fence

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.”
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

Part of the resistance to making different choices about the free market and the various priorities given to property rights is a denial that choices have been made in the first place. “Property isn’t a choice. It’s a ‘natural’ right.” With all due respect to John Locke and the Founding Fathers, property does not exist in a state of nature. Without human-made laws and a government to back them up, you don’t have property. You have an opinion. Where there is a difference of opinion, in the state of nature with no government, the person who can bring the most force to bear is going to win the argument. (And, I might mention, that it really grinds people’s gears when I point out that there is no property without government. They think they hate government, and they love the idea of property rights. The idea that property rights are dependent on government seems to create a cognitive dissonance that must be really uncomfortable.)

In a state of nature, land belongs to everyone and no one. That changes when you can separate your land with a fence provided that you can also have government employees with guns convince the rest of the world to respect your fence as something more than a flimsy barrier. Having established ownership to the land, you can claim rights to the crops grown there and the minerals underneath the land. You can demand compensation for these things. You can withhold them from others altogether. Where once people could theoretically live off the land without your say-so, now they are forced to go elsewhere, pay you, or do work for you in order to use that land. And then we’re off to the races – a system of property laws, contract laws, courts, and police enforcing those laws form a structure without which markets would not work.

And none of this is inherently bad. Let me repeat for the benefit of those who might think my intent is to savage property rights: I like property rights. Property rights and the markets that they allow have done a great deal of good. Why bother working, creating, or taking risks if you cannot lay claim to the fruits of those endeavors? But, striking the appropriate balance can be tricky. When people work collaboratively to create value, how do you allocate the profits from that effort? The Panglossian view is that “the market” will magically allocate profits to people according to their worth. We can rest assured that, if the market is allowed to work without government interference, money acquired is money earned. But the existence of markets is a product of government interference. No government means no property and, therefore, no market. So, as the joke goes, we’ve already established what you are, now we’re haggling over the price. The market doesn’t reward value, it rewards leverage. Bringing more value to the common endeavor is a form of leverage. But so are property rights. Being able to keep your labor or machines or product on the sidelines until prices rise — without worrying about how you’re going to feed your family — is another form of leverage.

We can adopt policies that alter the leverage various people have in a transaction and alter the allocation of profits from economic activity. Some options could definitely lead us to a worse place – the Soviet Union and Venezuela are flamboyant examples (although, I guess I’ve seen some stats that suggest the lot of your average Russian peasant actually improved under Soviet policies, so your starting point matters). What do I have in mind? An increased minimum wage, stronger rights for unions, single-payer health care, better public transportation, more walkable neighborhoods, and increased spending on schools and particularly paying teachers more and giving them more control over teaching, incentives or laws for fewer hours worked and improved benefits, better unemployment benefits and family leave benefits, maybe even a Universal Basic Income. How are we going to pay for this? Taxes obviously.

And, I guess there are three basic reasons why I’m o.k. with this: first, there are some instances where we get more bang for our buck spending through the government than we do going through the private market; second, I’m o.k. having less money if I end up happier; and third, there’s wealth disparity that could stand to be redistributed. (See above, wealth acquired isn’t necessarily wealth earned).

Contrary to conservative dogma, sometimes the government is more efficient than the private market. The big example I have in mind is healthcare. Other countries with significant government regulation of healthcare markets get the same or better healthcare results for their people than the U.S. does. There isn’t an example in the world of a less regulated healthcare system that delivers better results for less. My tiny example is in-house printing at the Legislative Services Agency. LSA used to hire out printing of the General Assembly’s bills. When they attempted to bring it in-house, they met stiff resistance from a conservative Senator who took it as a matter of faith that having government employees do the work would raise the price. It saved millions with a two-thirds reduction in printing appropriations. I’m not, by any means, suggesting that the government is always more efficient than private spending; but sometimes it is. So, we should dismiss it out of hand. If I’m paying money out in taxes rather than paying it out in insurance premiums, I don’t mind the higher taxes. It’s all the same to me if I’m getting health care. I’m delighted if I’m getting more and better health care services.

Second, I also don’t mind higher taxes if I end up poorer but happier. I might be an outlier here, but if I have less spending money, but my community is healthier, happier, better educated, and generally more functional, I think I’m going to be happier. Not because of any excessive altruism on my part, but because living in such a place ultimately brings me more joy than I’d get from having those extra tax dollars in my pocket.

Third, the wealthy are just hoarding a lot of the wealth. I don’t think having that extra money to flow to them has a lot of social utility. If everyone gets paid the same regardless of effort or output, then the economy is going to flounder. Why bother working, investing, or creating? But there has to be a point of diminishing returns. Is a guy really going to work harder for a billion than he does for a hundred million? If not, then you’ve wasted $900 million which could probably be put to better use elsewhere. There’s some fat we can trim here.

I could be wrong, of course. But there is a fair amount of evidence, both historically and internationally, that what we have now is not inevitable and is not the best of all possible worlds. We need to look at what’s working elsewhere and cultivate our garden.

Memetic Frontiers

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A friend of mine on the WELL made a comment that prompted a thought.

I recall from my history classes some discussion about the American frontier and its effect on the development of the country. How it was often attracted people who, for one reason or another, couldn’t function very well in established society. I wonder if there is a sort of memetic frontier dynamic. People who, for whatever reason, don’t thrive under mainstream ideologies, religions, common wisdom, or other narrative structures (not sure if that’s the right phrase) are attracted to worldviews where they have more mental freedom of motion. Where they have a better chance of rising in whatever power structure is involved.

The Internet kind of opened up a new memetic frontier into which people are rushing in great numbers away from the received wisdom and existing narrative structures. Just an idle thought on a Saturday morning.

 

R.I.P. Ollie

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The force is strong in this one.

We had to put our dog Ollie to sleep last night. I started this blog with a remembrance of my dog, Shady, when she passed away more than 16 years ago. In July of 2010, we had to put our dog Keesha to sleep. And, in February of 2011, we lost Brooksey. We’ve had a good long stretch of healthy dogs since then. But, this is the hard part of dog ownership. They bring such joy, but the sadness at the end of life is part of the deal.

It was not long after Brooksey’s death that my wife was looking for puppies. She visited a lot of dog sites on Facebook and whatnot and would periodically send me pictures of puppies that she thought we really needed to have. It took me longer to get over the sadness of losing Brooksey and Keesha so close together and, frankly, the exhaustion that came with tending two dogs who grew very old at the same time. Eventually I acquiesced. She showed me the picture of a good looking puppy from the Peru animal shelter site. As I recall the story, he’d gotten loose from a place near Peru, and the owner didn’t want him back. So, I like to think he lucked out of a life of neglect to living with us — which, truth be told, his a pretty cushy posting for a dog. The folks from Peru met Amy halfway at the McDonalds in Delphi. I don’t think the paws had ever been visible in the pictures we’d seen. They were enormous. Amy brought him into my office on the way home, and my law partner commented on his tiger paws. Taking him for a walk his first time out, we heard this enormous bark coming out of the puppy with — getting gross for a moment — some poos to be reckoned with! This was going to be a bigger dog than we’d anticipated.

Life is good.

What had been billed as a “black lab mix” may or may not have had some lab in him. But he definitely had some Great Dane. And, we think, border collie. When another dog would be coming the other way, he’d crouch down like a border collie — as if hiding in the tall grass to pounce. The idea of stealth from a Great Dane mix on a suburban lawn was pretty funny. He was a challenging puppy — the size and energy was a daunting combination. We got in the habit of giving him kongs filled with frozen meat and cheese and rawhide first thing in the morning, just so we could have some time to wake up before he was on top of us. This became a life long entitlement. I’m happy to report that on the morning of his last day, he got to enjoy his kong and rawhide treats.

Ollie liked to lean on you. A “mighty lean” I called the good ones! It was his way of giving you a hug and saying good morning. He loved a good game of tug. As he grew large — 90 pounds or so — this became a real test of strength. When he was playing with you, sometimes he’d actually bend his front paw around your ankle to “hook” you. He loved his rawhide and he loved his walks. But, truth be told, he was something of a mess when another dog came around. He so desperately wanted to get at the other dog. And he must’ve looked like a menace to someone who didn’t know him. 90 pounds of urgent enthusiasm, struggling against his harness and his walker (almost always me) to get at the other dog. Once he got there, he was friendly, but we usually didn’t let him approach out of respect for the other dog owners. I feel like this habit intensified when we got Milo.

Pals.

We got our other dog, Milo, in 2015, when Ollie would have been about 4 years old. Milo is a schnauzer/poodle mix (“schnoodle”) and when we got him, he was *tiny.* Ollie simply did not know what to make of Milo at first. He was interested when Milo came home, but so anxious about the whole thing that he was drooling buckets. It never occurred to Milo that he was smaller than Ollie. They’d play, making horrible noises at each other, and tiny Milo would give as good as he got. Giant Ollie and tiny Milo were such opposites and such good friends. They reminded me of the Spike and Chester cartoons where Spike was a big burly oaf and Chester was a yappy, peppy, and perky smaller dog talking trash because he had the big dog as muscle. As I said, Ollie’s bad habits with other dogs seemed to get worse when Milo came along. Milo would get loud as other dogs approached — not so much, I don’t think, because he was so interested in the other dog, but because it was fun for him to wind up Ollie.

Good boy, Ollie

On hot days, after our walks, if we didn’t close the dog door, Ollie had a tendency to slip out into the back yard and go for a dip in the pool to cool down. That wouldn’t be so bad except that he had a tendency to come back in and dry off on the couch — which apparently makes for a magnificent towel. His enjoyment of our pool earned him an occasional stint as the local Crystal Clear Pools mascot. (They had a picture of him floating on a raft in our pool which they have repaired and maintained over the years.) Other than getting hot after walks, Ollie was remarkably indifferent to weather. Rain, shine, hot, cold, he was happy to be outside. I don’t know that this description will mean anything to readers, but he was the “doggiest” dog we’ve had. He loved his people, but he was just kind of motivated by food and walks and other dogs. (Random detail – before walks, he’d go up to the door and stand close to it, but when he had to move because of some excited energy, he’d turn in a quick circle.)

The decline came fast. We anticipated that he wouldn’t be the type to grow old gracefully, but even so, this was unexpected. At 10 years old, which is somewhat old for a large dog, he was still energetic and fairly spry. On March 15, Amy and the kids had left for Spring Break. I got a text at work from a neighbor who’d found Ollie and let him back into our house. I came back home because I suspected the back gate had blown open in the windy weather from the previous night. Sure enough, when I got home, he’d made his way (with Milo, his partner in crime) out the dog door into the back yard, out the gate, and into the front yard. I was in a rush, so I’m not sure if he was limping then, but when I got home from work, he was limping very badly. I took him to the vet the next day, and he had what amounts to an ACL tear in dogs. I don’t know for sure that it was related to his adventure, but it seems likely. On April 1, he got surgery for the tear. It’s a fairly long recovery, but he seemed to be progressing fairly well for the first few weeks. Initially, he had to be helped down the deck stairs to the back yard and we had to keep him on a leash back there so he didn’t run too fast and undo the surgical repair. But after 4 or 5 weeks, he was navigating the stairs easily, and we were giving him some unleashed time to lay around in the back yard on nice days. On one of those afternoons, he went tearing after a squirrel and, sure enough, started favoring that leg again. His progress was definitely set back. But, it felt like he was mending again after that.

Earlier this week, he was lethargic, not eating, and at one point seemed to have a dizzy/drunk spell. We had a dog with diabetes, and it looked a little like how she’d get when her blood sugar was off. We took him into the vet, and they kept him overnight and much of the next day. He had a fever and they thought it was an infection but they weren’t sure where. They had him on IV antibiotics and he perked up. He wouldn’t eat at the vets, but they thought that might be environmental, so they sent him home on Wednesday night. He ate well that night and on Thursday and seemed much better. Friday morning, he was positively perky – demanding his morning treats, pulling on the leash in the back yard when I took him out. He was still limping from the leg surgery, but other than that, all seemed well again. He was a little lethargic when Amy took him out around noon, but that could be attributable to the pain medication he was on for the leg. When I came home in the afternoon, he was in his crate. He didn’t come out to greet me which was a little unusual, but I didn’t push him to get up.

However, when it was medicine time, he wouldn’t even sniff the roast beef that it was wrapped in. We forced him out of his crate, and tried supporting him with a towel under his belly as a sling. Not only couldn’t he walk, his legs were criss crossing underneath him. We put him in a comforter as a make-shift stretcher and got him to the Purdue veterinary ER. The results were not at all the things we had been concerned about. He had blood in his stomach and a mass on his spleen. Invasive surgery was the only real option, but the vet gave us about a 30% chance we’d find anything operable and, even with that, there’d be a tough recovery on top of the potential neurological issues with his legs and his knee recovery. We made the tough call, which was made worse by how rapidly the situation had developed. He went peacefully with his family all around him.

I’ve been a dog owner for a long time and have been through a number of these decisions now. It’s never easy. But, what was especially challenging was watching my kids say goodbye to their dog. They have not been through so many of these, and they feel the pain much more keenly. Ollie came into their lives when they were 7 and 5 years old. All their lives, in a sense. That part was especially heart-wrenching. I’m confident we made the right decision, but – not to put too fine a point on it – this part sucks.

Good boy Ollie. We love you.

 

 

Hicks on the General Assembly’s Efforts to Control Indianapolis

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Michael Hicks, writing for Howey Politics, has an excellent column responding to efforts in the General Assembly to micromanage Indianapolis government. Some of the legislation applies to local government generally, but the real focus seems to be Indianapolis and the Indy metro area. The upshot is that the General Assembly wants to do this because state government is controlled by Republicans whereas the Republican Party, by and large, can’t win elections in Marion County anymore. Local control goes out the window when the wrong people are in control locally and/or those people are making the wrong policy decisions.

With respect to the impact of those policy decisions, Hicks points out a lot of metrics showing that Indianapolis and its metro area are doing much better than the rest of the state. The big city has created more and better jobs, resulting in more economic output. Among other things, “each year residents of Marion County send, on net, a bit more than $500 per person in tax revenues to residents of the rest of the state.” And people are voting with their feet — in the last twenty years, “a full 85% of the state’s population growth happened within the Indianapolis metro area.”

Obviously, I recommend that you go read the column.

The Second Impeachment

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“President Trump may not know a lot about the framers, but they certainly knew a lot about him.”

— Rep. Jamie Raskin, House Impeachment Manager.

That’s probably the quote that sticks with me the most through this second impeachment of Donald Trump. We don’t live in unprecedented times. History abounds with precedent. The Framers of our Constitution were smart guys who knew a lot of history. A would-be ruler riling up the mob to attack his opponents is Despot 101. The issue here is not whether Donald Trump committed high crimes and misdemeanors or whether he intended to negate an election. He did. His place in history is secure. He’ll occupy a position of disgrace with the likes of Andrew Johnson and James Buchanan.

The question is how the Senate will be remembered — and, let’s be candid — how the Republicans in the Senate will be remembered. Will they, at long last, have a sense of honor? Or do they, like so many of Trump’s followers, hate liberals more than they love America? Trump hates everyone, not just liberals. And he clearly doesn’t give a shit about America. But, he’s more than willing to take advantage of a reflexive hatred of liberals to hold on to power. Hell, he didn’t think twice about putting Mike Pence’s life in danger. We saw today just how close Mitt Romney came to Trump’s howling mob. At least one Capitol Police officer died and many others were injured defending these Senators.

How will the Senators respond — will they grovel before the wannabe strongman and ask for seconds? Or will they remember their pride, maybe show some respect for themselves, for the Senate, for the Framers and for the country? I mean, I suspect I know. There will probably be something like 56 votes for conviction with most of the Republican Senators finding a way to tell themselves that this was o.k. In our state, Sen. Braun is obviously a lost cause. His obsequious subservience to Trump knows no limits. I don’t hold out much hope for Sen. Young, but I think he does have a somewhat stronger sense of honor than does Sen. Braun. In the likely event that he votes to acquit, his conscience might at least bother him a bit.

This fealty by a major political party to a man who embodies malice, ignorance, and self-aggrandizement is unsustainable. Our country depends on having two healthy, viable political parties, divided by policy differences, but united by a love of our country and its people. What we have now is not the way.