[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 147 (2001), Part 9]
[Senate]
[Pages 12669-12671]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



                            MORNING BUSINESS

  Mr. BYRD. Mr. President, subject to change by the leadership, I ask 
unanimous consent that there now be a period for the transaction of 
morning business, not to extend beyond the hour of 6:30 p.m., and that 
Senators may be permitted to speak for not to exceed 10 minutes each.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Without objection, it is so ordered.
  The Senator from North Carolina.
  Mr. HELMS. I ask it be in order for me to deliver my remarks seated 
at my desk.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. Without objection, it is so ordered.

                           RES IPSA LOQUITUR

  Mr. HELMS. Mr. President, the July edition of the American Legion 
magazine features a remarkable statement of obvious truth by a much 
maligned American who deserves far better than the petty sniping he 
endures at the hands of cunning politicians and the media, neither of 
whom would acknowledge the truth if they fell over it in the middle of 
the street.
  U.S. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas pulled no punches in this 
article. His piece in the American Legion magazine was headed, 
appropriately, ``Courage v. Civility.'' Mr. Justice Thomas knows a good 
bit about both. He is, himself, a civil gentleman who possesses great 
courage.
  The subhead on his piece pinpoints a great deal about how a good many 
American freedoms are being lost. One of the things he says is, those 
who censor themselves put fear ahead of freedom. I will quote briefly 
from two or three statements made by the distinguished Justice of the 
Supreme Court.
  He said:

       I do not believe that one should fight over things that 
     don't really matter. But what about things that do matter? It 
     is not comforting to think that the natural tendency inside 
     us is to settle for the bottom, or even the middle of the 
     stream.
       This tendency, in large part, results from an overemphasis 
     on civility. None of us should be uncivil in our manner as we 
     debate issues of consequence. No matter how difficult it is, 
     good manners should be routine. However, in the effort to be 
     civil in conduct, many who know better actually dilute firmly 
     held views to avoid appearing ``judgmental.'' They curb their 
     tongues not

[[Page 12670]]

     only in form but also in substance. The insistence on 
     civility in the form of our debates has the perverse effect 
     of cannibalizing our principles, the very essence of a civil 
     society. That is why civility cannot be the governing 
     principle of citizenship or leadership.
       By yielding to a false form of civility, we sometimes allow 
     our critics to intimidate us. As I have said, active citizens 
     are often subjected to truly vile attacks; they are branded 
     as mean-spirited, racist, Uncle Tom, homophobic, sexist, etc. 
     To this we often respond (if not succumb), so as not to be 
     constantly fighting, by trying to be tolerant and 
     nonjudgmental--i.e., we censor ourselves. This is not 
     civility. It is cowardice, or well-intentioned self-deception 
     at best.

  I shall not quote further from this super article written by Mr. 
Justice Clarence Thomas, but I do ask unanimous consent the article by 
him be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the article was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

             [From the American Legion Magazine, July 2001]

                          Courage v. Civility


         those who censor themselves put fear ahead of freedom

                          (By Clarence Thomas)

       My beliefs about personal fortitude and the importance of 
     defending timeless principles of justice grew out of the 
     wonderful years I spent with my grandparents, the years I 
     have spent in Washington and my interest in world history--
     especially the history of countries in which the rule of law 
     was surrendered to the rule of fear, such as during the rise 
     of Nazism in what was then one of the most educated and 
     cultured countries in Europe.
       I have now been in Washington, D.C., for more than two 
     decades. When I first arrived here in 1979, I thought there 
     would be great debates about principles and policies in this 
     city.
       I expected citizens to feel passionately about what was 
     happening in our country, to candidly and passionately debate 
     the policies that had been implemented and suggest new ones.
       I was disabused of this heretical notion in December 1980, 
     when I was unwittingly candid with a young Washington Post 
     reporter. He fairly and thoroughly displayed my naive 
     openness in his op-ed about our discussion, in which I had 
     raised what I thought were legitimate objections to a number 
     of sacred policies, such as affirmative action, welfare, 
     school busing--policies I felt were not well serving their 
     intended beneficiaries. In my innocence, I was shocked at the 
     public reaction. I had never been called such names in my 
     entire life.
       Why were these policies beyond question? What or who placed 
     them off limits? Would it not be useful for those who felt 
     strongly about these matters, and who wanted to solve the 
     same problems, to have a point of view and to be heard? 
     Sadly, in most forums of public dialogue in this country, the 
     answer is no.
       It became clear in rather short order that on very 
     difficult issues, such as race, there was no real debate or 
     honest discussion. Those who raised questions that suggested 
     doubt about popular policies were subjected to intimidation. 
     Debate was not permitted. Orthodoxy was enforced.
       Today, no one can honestly claim surprise at the venomous 
     attacks against those who take positions that are contrary to 
     the canon laid down by those who claim to shape opinions. 
     Such attacks have been standard fare for some time.
       If you trim your sails, you appease those who lack the 
     honesty and decency to disagree on the merits but prefer to 
     engage in personal attacks. A good argument diluted to avoid 
     criticism is not nearly as good as the undiluted argument, 
     because we best arrive at truth through a process of honest 
     and vigorous debate. Arguments should not sneak around in 
     disguise, as if dissent were somehow sinister. One should not 
     be cowed by criticism.
       In my humble opinion, those who come to engage in debates 
     of consequence, and who challenge accepted wisdom, should 
     expect to be treated badly. Nonetheless, they must stand 
     undaunted. That is required. And that should be expected, for 
     it is bravery that is required to secure freedom. * * * For 
     brutes, the most effective tactic is to intimidate an 
     opponent into the silence of self-censorship.
       In September 1975, The Wall Street Journal published a book 
     review by Michael Novak of Thomas Sowell's book, ``Race and 
     Economics.'' The opening paragraph changed my life. It reads:
       ``Honesty on questions of race is rare in the United 
     States. So many and unrecognized have been the injustices 
     committed against blacks that no one wishes to be unkind, or 
     subject himself to intimidating charges. Hence, even simple 
     truths are commonly evaded.''
       This insight applies with equal force to very many 
     conversations of consequence today. Who wants to be denounced 
     as a heartless monster? On important matters, crucial 
     matters, silence is enforced.
       Even if one has a valid position, and is intellectually 
     honest, he has to anticipate nasty responses aimed at the 
     messenger rather than the argument. The objective is to limit 
     the range of the debate, the number of messengers and the 
     size of the audience. The aim is to pressure dissenters to 
     sanitize their message, so as to avoid being subjected to 
     hurtful ad hominem criticism. Who wants to be caluminated? 
     It's not worth the trouble.
       But is it worth it? Just what is worth it, and what is not? 
     If one wants to be popular, it is counterproductive to 
     disagree with the majority. If one just wants to tread water 
     until the next vacation, it isn't worth the agony. If one 
     just wants to muddle through, it is not worth it. In my 
     office, a little sign reads: ``To avoid criticism, say 
     nothing, do nothing, be nothing.''
       None of us really believes that the things we fear 
     discussing honestly these days are really trivial--and the 
     reaction of our critics shows that we are right. If our 
     dissents are so trivial, why are their reactions so intense? 
     If our ideas are trivial, why the headhunting? Like you, I do 
     not want to waste my time on the trivial. I certainly have no 
     desire to be browbeaten and intimidated for the trivial.
       What makes it all worthwhile? What makes it worthwhile is 
     something greater than all of us. There are those things that 
     at one time we all accepted as more important than our 
     comfort or discomfort--if not our very lives: Duty, honor, 
     country! There was a time when all was to be set aside for 
     these. The plow was left idle, the hearth without fire, the 
     homestead abandoned.
       To enter public life is to step outside our more confined, 
     comfortable sphere, and to face the broader, national sphere 
     of citizenship. What makes it all worthwhile is to devote 
     ourselves to the common good.
       It goes without saying that we must participate in the 
     affairs of our country if we think they are important and 
     have an impact on our lives. But how are we to do that? In 
     what manner should we participate?
       I do not believe that one should fight over things that 
     don't really matter. But what about things that do matter? It 
     is not comforting to think that the natural tendency inside 
     us is to settle for the bottom, or even the middle of the 
     stream.
       This tendency, in large part, results from an overemphasis 
     on civility. None of us should be uncivil in our manner as we 
     debate issues of consequence. No matter how difficult it is, 
     good manners should be routine. However, in the effort to be 
     civil in conduct, many who know better actually dilute firmly 
     held views to avoid appearing ``judgmental.'' They curb their 
     tongues not only in form but also in substance. The 
     insistence on civility in the form of our debates has the 
     perverse effect of cannibalizing our principles, the very 
     essence of a civil society. That is why civility cannot be 
     the governing principle of citizenship or leadership.
       By yielding to a false form of civility, we sometimes allow 
     our critics to intimidate us. As I have said, active citizens 
     are often subjected to truly vile attacks; they are branded 
     as mean-spirited, racist, Uncle Tom, homophobic, sexist, etc. 
     To this we often respond (if not succumb), so as not to be 
     constantly fighting, by trying to be tolerant and 
     nonjudgmental--i.e., we censor ourselves. This is not 
     civility. It is cowardice, or well-intentioned self-deception 
     at best.
       The little-known story of Dimitar Peshev shows both the 
     power of self-deception and the explosive effect of telling 
     the truth and the dangers inherent in allowing the rule of 
     law and the truth to succumb to political movements of the 
     moment.
       Peshev was the vice president of the Bulgarian Parliament 
     during World War II. He was a man like many--simple and 
     straightforward, not a great intellectual, not a military 
     hero--just a civil servant doing his job as best he could, 
     raising his family, struggling through a terrible moment in 
     European history.
       Bulgaria was pretty lucky because it managed to stay out of 
     the fighting, even though the Nazis had placed the Bulgarian 
     government--and the king--under enormous pressure to enter 
     the war on the side of the Axis, or at a minimum to permit 
     the destruction of the Bulgarian Jews. Bulgaria had no 
     tradition of widespread anti-semitism, and the leaders of the 
     country were generally unwilling to turn over their own 
     citizens to certain death. But like all the other European 
     countries, Bulgaria moved toward the Holocaust in small 
     steps.
       Peshev was one of many Bulgarian officials who heard rumors 
     of the new policy and constantly queried his ministers. They 
     lied to him, and for a time he believed their lies. Perhaps 
     the ministers somehow believed the lies themselves. But in 
     the final hours, a handful of citizens from Peshev's hometown 
     raced to Sofia to tell him the truth: that Jews were being 
     rounded up, that the trains were waiting.
       According to the law, such actions were illegal. So Peshev 
     forced his way into the office of the interior minister, 
     demanding to know the truth. The minister repeated the 
     official line, but Peshev didn't believe him. He demanded 
     that the minister place a telephone call to the local 
     authorities and remind them of their legal obligations. This 
     brave act saved the lives of the Bulgarian Jews. Peshev then 
     circulated a letter to

[[Page 12671]]

     members of Parliament, condemning the violation of the law 
     and demanding that the government ensure that no such thing 
     take place.
       According to his biographer, Peshev's words moved all those 
     ``who until that moment had not imagined what could happen 
     but who now could not accept what they had discovered.'' He 
     had broken through the wall of self-deception and forced his 
     colleagues to face the truth.
       There is no monument to this brave man. Quite the contrary, 
     the ministers were embarrassed and made him pay the price of 
     their wickedness. He was removed from the position of vice 
     president, publicly chastised for breaking ranks and 
     politically isolated.
       But he had won nonetheless: The king henceforth found ways 
     to stall the Nazis; the leader of the Bulgarian Orthodox 
     Church publicly defended the country's Jews; and even the 
     most convinced anti-Semites in the Bulgarian government dared 
     not advocate active cooperation with the Third Reich.
       After the war, when the communists took over Bulgaria, they 
     rewrote the wartime history to give the Communist Party 
     credit for saving the Jews. Peshev was sent to the Gulag, and 
     his story was only rediscovered after the collapse of the 
     Soviet Union.
       Pope John Paul II has traveled the entire world challenging 
     tyrants and murderers of all sorts, speaking to millions of 
     people, bringing them a single, simple message: ``Be not 
     afraid.''
       He preached this message to people living under communist 
     tyranny in Poland, in Czechoslovakia, in Nicaragua and in 
     China: ``Be not afraid.'' He preached it to Africans facing 
     death from marauding tribes and murderous disease: ``Be not 
     afraid.'' And he preached it to us, warning us how easy it is 
     to be trapped in a ``culture of death'' even in our 
     comfortable and luxurious country: ``Be not afraid.''
       Those three little words hold the power to transform 
     individuals and change the world. They can supply the quiet 
     resolve and unvoiced courage necessary to endure the 
     inevitable intimidation.
       Today we are not called upon to risk our lives against some 
     monstrous tyranny. America is not a barbarous country. Our 
     people are not oppressed, and we face no pressing 
     international threat to our way of life, such as the Soviet 
     Union once posed.
       Though the war in which we are engaged is cultural, not 
     civil, it tests whether this ``nation: conceived in liberty . 
     . . can long endure.'' President Lincoln's words do endure: 
     ``It is . . . for us [the living] to be here dedicated to the 
     great task remaining before us . . . that from these honored 
     dead we take increased devotion to the cause for which they 
     gave the last full measure of devotion . . . that we here 
     highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain . 
     . . that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of 
     freedom . . . and that government of the people . . . by the 
     people . . . for the people . . . shall not perish from the 
     earth.
       The founders warned us that freedom requires constant 
     vigilance and repeated action. It is said that, when asked 
     what sort of government the founders had created. Benjamin 
     Franklin replied that they had given us ``a republic, if you 
     can keep it.'' Today, as in the past, we need a brave civic 
     virtue, not a timid civility, to keep our republic. Be not 
     afraid.

                          ____________________