How Community Explains Genocide

by Zack Beauchamp

Daniel Solomon gleans lessons about mass atrocities from the show's most recent episode, a Ken Burns documentary parody:

At its core, the Pillowtown/Blanketsburg civil war is a localized land conflict, characterized by short, brutal squabbles over small classrooms, former common areas, and stretches of hallway. Its root causes lay in the contested, yet transient identity conflicts between politicized Pillow advocates and Blanket enthusiasts.

At the same time, Greendale’s ethnicized conflict is reliant on an international structure of political, economic, and social incentives. The Dean’s obsession with the Guinness record appears to be a sideshow, a system of political objectives imposed by meddling, predatory third parties. However, as the episode’s conclusion indicates, the international element of civil conflict was relevant to individual and collective motives for violence. Elites–Troy and Abed–continue to squabble, but their ability to mobilize civilian communities was highly dependent on the international political economy of warfare.

Make Going To War Harder

by Patrick Appel

Maddow's new book focuses on war powers. Kevin Drum summarizes her argument:

When we go to war, we should raise taxes to pay for it. We should get rid of the secret military. The reserves should go back to being reserves. We should cut way back on the contractors and let troops peel their own potatoes. And above all, Congress should start throwing its weight around again. It's fine to criticize presidents for accreting ever more power to themselves, but what do you expect when Congress just sits back and allows it happen? Our real problem is congressional cowardice: they don't want the responsibility of declaring war, but they also don't want the responsibility of stopping it. So they punt, and war becomes ever more a purely executive function. 

Jonathan Bernstein agrees that Congress is the main culprit.

Fake Controversy Of The Day

by Patrick Appel

Yesterday, Hilary Rosen said that Ann Romney, a stay-at-home mother,"never worked a day in her life." The Romney campaign, and conservative media outlets, pounced. Ann Romney's direct response:

Rosen has since apologized. Liz Marlantes labels this a "fake fight":

It's clear from the context that Rosen wasn't criticizing Ann Romney for staying home. She was criticizing the Romney campaign for presenting Ann Romney as an expert on the economic concerns of women, when Romney's own economic circumstances (including the fact that she was able to stay home with all five of her sons) are not those that most women have. 

Scott Galupo, a stay-at-home father, differs:

Rosen's insinuation that you must have a job outside of the home to truly understand what's happening in the economy is patent nonsense. In a material sense, families have always been economic units. 

Paul Waldman rolls his eyes at the spin war:

I suppose this counts as the first inane manufactured controversy over somebody's extemporaneous comments of the general election, if we date the general to when Rick Santorum pulled out of the race. And there will only be about 80 or 90 more before we get to November. But it's going to be tough to match this one for sheer absurdity.

Josh Marshall's quick take:

I think the Romney camp’s response is more a sign of desperation to find some way to peal back terrible numbers with female voters.

Weigel calls out Republicans for falsely claiming that Rosen is an Obama and/or DNC advisor.

Dating With Disabilities, Ctd

by Chris Bodenner

A reader writes:

Putting lonely people's lives up for amusement and possible mocking is a valid critique, but I have a feeling that what is really going on for many critics of "The Undateables" is that it reminds them (and us) of their own (and our own) shallowness compared to the ideal narrative they're pushing on the romantically less fortunate. It reminds us that we probably wouldn't date most of the people featured in the show either, despite all the noise we make about inner beauty. Confidence can help the merely average, but when you're the single person being asked out by the confident guy with a severe physical deformity and a wheelchair, let's see what you notice most about him and whether you say yes.

Another writes:

I think it's important to make a sharp distinction between physical and mental disabilities. I dated a girl who had one leg for a while, and it was great!

She was awesome, and she was also smoking hot besides the missing leg. And, because she knew real, abiding pain, she wasn't stuck up or entitled the way so many hot girls are. (I was really young, in case you're wondering why I'm not still dating her.)

I don't really think I deserve any kudos, though. I dated her because I really, really wanted to, and I was far from the only one. She had a limited, non-gross physical disability, and was physically and mentally blessed besides that one thing. I have often wondered if I could have felt the same about her if she has a mental disability instead of a physical one, and I'm pretty sure the answer is no, I couldn't have felt the same. That bothers me, because I don't discriminate in any other way. I've dated White girls, Spanish girls, Asian girls, and Black girls, I've dated rich girls and poor girls, I've dated smart girls and dumb girls. I even made out with a guy once in a drunken haze.

And yet. Honestly, I don't think I could date a girl with a noticeable mental disability. I'm not proud of that fact, but there it is.

Another:

I had my right arm amputated at the age of eight due to a run-in with a rattlesnake.  Adolescence and adult dating were more frightening, I think, than they would have been otherwise.  But it's hard to say because I think they're frightening for everyone. 

The confidence issue is legitimate because at times I would make a big deal of not having an arm and how that looked and the impression I felt it left. At other times I was far less self-conscious – when girls, then women, acted as if they didn't notice, I didn't notice.  I developed a pattern, an approach, which shied away from asking out women who I didn't already know well.  Instead, I sought to be friends with women I was interested in.  My theory was that being friends with a woman allowed the arm issue to fade into the background, that she and I would establish (if it worked out as a friendship) a foundation for sexual attraction beyond the immediate physical impression at which I felt I was at a disadvantage. Most of my friends are women, and I don't know how much of that is due to this strategy of dealing with sexual attraction and how much it has to do with my nature.  But it is, in the end, about being confident that you are attractive sexually. 

When I was in college, I became friends with a graduate TA who is gay, and he remains the best male friend I have, and as a result of hanging out with him and meeting his gay friends I was hit on by men a lot.  This did wonders for my confidence as far as being sexually attractive.  I think it's a fair generalization that gay men are a bit more forthright with being attracted to you than straight women, so where my interactions with women often left me uncertain and confused, my interactions with gay men gave me confidence – which I then carried into my interactions with straight women.

My current Netflix obsession is the first season of "Friday Night Lights", and there's a relevant scene where the paraplegic Jason Street is on a date with a hot girl he contacted on a dating site for the disabled.  The two are really hitting it off until she confides, "Can I tell you what gets me going? Pee." Then she, well, excuses herself to go to the restroom and Street literally flees the scene, repelled by her kink. So being a "freak" is pretty relative, and most of us are in some way. But that's easy to say for someone who doesn't have a disability, so keep the emails coming.

The Eisenhower Approach

by Maisie Allison

Thomas Powers describes it as "watchful and slow": 

To deal with the challenges he faced, Eisenhower offered a measured response—refusal to give away the store, readiness to resort to force if pushed beyond a certain point, and openness to a negotiated solution when both sides were ready to accept something short of victory. Once he had decided that the point at issue was not worth a war—a matter on which he trusted his judgment—Eisenhower counted on opponents, properly invited, to reach the same conclusion. 

Recent discussion of the Eisenhower presidency here, here, and here

Asexual Isn’t Anti-Intimacy, Ctd

by Chris Bodenner

A reader writes:

Your exploration into asexuality has struck a chord with me. This is something about me that I have only recently been coming to terms (aided your other reader's story). As a young man identifying as gay, it hadn’t occurred to me until late that I could be homosexual and asexual. I had been led to believe asexuality to be something more like an orientation, and as such an asexual person would not be attracted to either sex. I really was just unfamiliar with the concept. Led by what many others seemed to believe, I assumed my sexual disinterest was due to a bad personal experience or just my lack of experience. Losing my virginity was disappointingly lame (and slightly miserable). I figured, having never had a boyfriend, that having a great connection with the right person would be needed in order for me to have a worthwhile sexual experience.

That hope dissolved just this year when my high standards were exceeded by a boy I met last fall.

Despite being entirely enamored with him, I still lacked the inclination to get involved with him sexually, even in the midst of drunken passion in the bedroom. A couple of times I forced myself to let things get further, only to become completely turned off. It felt like a chore just to do oral activities. He was taking it personally. He told me my body language was indicative of a disinterest in him, which hurt him. He later told me that it almost felt as though he was attempting to rape me, which would make him feel awful the next day (though I was always consensual, trying my best to enjoy the acts). We were both suffering, so we mutually decided to end our relationship.

Yet we enjoyed each other’s company far too much to break up. We attempted to keep in touch as friends but that proved difficult; the pull towards intimacy was strong between us. So we had a very personal, open talk. He is a very sexual person, so for him having a boyfriend without the sexual activity was impossible to live with. We came to understand that we could never be boyfriends but we agreed to continue to be close – something like friends with cuddles and kissing benefits, for as long as we both continued to benefit from each other’s company.

He understood my limits and no longer expected to have sex with me. I even encouraged him to have sex with other boys. I would often feel guilty that he couldn't get from me a fully intimate experience. I believed what we were doing was mutually beneficial; I was getting what I wanted from a relationship while he still had someone to be close to in a time he otherwise didn't (he’s bad at hookups). But I couldn't help but feel emotionally invested in him despite our more casual relationship and he clearly wasn’t feeling the same way. I was building stronger feelings for him because of the affection I was getting, perhaps in the same way some people are drawn to another through sex.

With insight from reading your other readers’ asexual experiences, I’ve come to realize that intimacy and a deep connection with another is for me what others may get out of sex. So I have come to hold back on being intimate with him (though we’re still good friends). As I come to terms with my asexuality, I’m discovering what I want out of someone I want to be close with. I’m definitely learning how important it is to be open and honest with others … and to myself. Understanding my asexuality is opening the opportunity to have a more fulfilling relationship with someone else.

Forgive my long diary-esqe confession to the Dish, but the timing on this subject was a helpful spark in my personal life.

Connecticut Kills The Death Penalty

 

by Zack Beauchamp

Connecticut's House passed a bill banning the death penalty yesterday. Ari Kohen celebrates:

I watched a couple of hours of the discussion in the House yesterday and one thing was made very clear: Opponents of this bill had no argument whatsoever to back up their opposition. They told horror stories about murders in their districts; they said they believed the death penalty was a deterrent; they claimed that the death penalty was less expensive than life imprisonment; they claimed that there was no bias in capital sentencing; and they worried that life imprisonment wouldn’t actually mean life imprisonment. Most of this is just false.

Jacob Williamson compares capital punishment to solitary confinement:

[W]hilst [death] is deemed to be too ‘inhumane’ and ‘degrading’ to be an excusable punishment for any human in any circumstance, they deny the same applies to the prospect of life imprisonment alone in a windowless room for 23 hours a day with no opportunities for any form of expression or real human contact. Or, in other words, rendering your existence entirely meaningless and forcing it to extend well into the future is fine, and definitely not torture. But executing such people? That would be vile.

Do Political Labels Make You Stupid? Ctd

by Patrick Appel

Matt Glassman complicates the debate:

[W]hile the political labels may dumb down your average DC chattering class political writer who used to work at a think tank, the labels and identities are essential shortcuts for the average citizen participating in electoral politics. You can bemoan the partisan hearts and minds of the electorate, but no one has yet devised a better system of signals that allow low-information voters to make election choices that reflect their political beliefs and interest priorities.