Sean Duffy’s flip-flop and the essence of constitutional government

ProPublica’s Jake Pearson has uncovered a contradiction involving Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy. Duffy has “been one of the most vociferous defenders of President Donald Trump’s expansive use of executive authority, withholding billions of dollars in federal funding to states.” However, “in an assertive, thoroughly researched 2015 legal brief, Duffy, then a Republican representative from Wisconsin,” argued that the power of the purse belonged exclusively to Congress, which may not even choose to delegate its power to the Executive.

I am deeply critical of the actual policy choices of the Trump Administration, in transportation and in other areas. Also, Duffy’s 180-degree turn on the Constitution makes me suspicious. Pearson quotes me:

Peter Levine, a civics expert at Tufts University, said that while it could be that Duffy’s views on presidential power have evolved over time, his apparent flip-flopping on something as fundamental as the meaning of the Constitution raises the prospect that Duffy may “just be playing a game for power.”

“The Constitution is a promise to continue to apply the same rules and norms over time to everybody,” he added. “When political actors completely ignore that, and just go after their own thing, I don’t think the Constitution can actually function.”

On one hand, we should tolerate changes in opinion. When a political leader adopts a new position, I don’t generally complain about “flip-flopping.” We want leaders to listen, deliberate, and learn. One of many ways in which our culture works against deliberation is by denouncing individuals for being inconsistent over time. Stubborn consistency is the hobgoblin of closed minds.

In fact, it can be an ad hominem fallacy to say, “You must be wrong because you previously held the opposite view.” In general, we should debate a position and the reasons for it, not the consistency of the speaker over time.

On the other hand, a constitution–in the broadest sense–is a pact to apply the same rules to everyone. Although constitutions vary, constitutionalism itself is the principle of limiting everyone’s power in the same way. To make a constitutional argument (as Duffy did explicitly in his 2015 amicus brief) is to say, “This rule should apply to me as well as my opponents.” When a person who wields power suddenly changes his mind about constitutional principles in ways that benefit himself, it certainly looks like a betrayal of constitutionalism. And any constitution is just a piece of paper unless most of the key players respect the principle of consistency–and unless voters demand that of them.

See also: the Constitution is crumbling; are we seeing the fatal flaw of a presidential constitution?; constitutional piety etc.

demystifying graduate education in the USA

On Sunday, I met with about 65 students at An-Najah National University in Nablus, the West Bank. For about two hours (until our time ran out), they asked me questions about how to pursue graduate education in North America or Europe. Our conversation helped me see that our system must seem mysterious and may be misleading. Here are some points that I found myself making which might be worth sharing with others. …

Generally, you should apply to a graduate program and seek financial aid, which can mean free tuition plus a stipend for a teaching or research assistantship. You should aim not to pay for a graduate degree in the social sciences, humanities, or natural sciences. An admission offer without a financial package is probably not desirable.

You could apply for scholarships in your field that can be used at any institution, but those are extremely competitive. You are much more likely to get support from the university where you enroll, and you should apply for admission even if you know that you couldn’t afford the tuition. You should expect a conversation/negotiation about financial aid.

If you aspire to a PhD, you should apply to a PhD program and receive an MA along the way. In general, you should not seek an MA in your field before applying for a PhD.

You should view MA programs with some skepticism unless they offer substantial financial aid. Professional masters degrees, such as MBAs and MPHs, may make more sense economically, since they can make you more competitive for desirable jobs. But even those require a careful cost/benefit analysis.

Yes, you can wait until after you have graduated with a BA to apply for graduate school. In fact, many programs prefer candidates who have several years of work experience. (This may be less true in the liberal arts than in fields like public policy and law.)

A lengthy graduate program is not worth the years of your life unless you think that you would enjoy those years. But graduate school can be a good experience if the topic interests you, the financial package is manageable, and you would like to live in the community where the university is located. If you pursue a graduate degree just for the outcome, the program should be brief and/or clearly profitable, which may be the case for an MD or a PhD in engineering.

Speaking of “where the university is located,” the USA is a big and diverse country. For anyone, pursuing graduate school will be a different experience if that means living in New York City versus a small Southern college town. For a Palestinian, the difference may be even more important (which is not to say that NYC would obviously be better).

To differentiate yourself from other applicants with equally good grades and scores, you need some depth of knowledge and experience on a particular topic. Your experience may be academic (for instance, a research project), or applied, or both. If you’re at an early stage and you don’t have this kind of depth, a first step is to find a mentor in your own university or community. By the way, you will need references, and mentors can provide letters.

Your application essay should reflect your personality and the admissions criteria of the specific program to which you are applying. That said, if you need a generic template for an essay, consider addressing these three questions: 1) What have you done so far in this field? 2) What do you want to learn in graduate school? 3) What do you want to do with what you’ve learned?

If you want to collaborate remotely with an American academic, don’t email and say you want to do research. Send an email that demonstrates specific understanding of the recipient’s own research and propose new research that would contribute to that person’s agenda.

We also talked a bit about visas and the climate for Palestinians in the USA, but I have focused this blog post on admissions and financial aid because I feel better informed about those issues, and my thoughts might apply to people from other countries.

notes from the West Bank

I spent the Thanksgiving break in the West Bank (via Israel). I visited two Palestinian universities, Bethlehem and An-Najah. I presented at both institutions and met students, faculty, administrators, and alumni, hoping to create or strengthen relationships and perhaps contribute just a bit to Palestinian higher education. Collaborative relationships with outside colleagues represent “social capital” that can benefit an institution, and that’s what I wanted to offer.

In all, I met more than 100 Palestinians as well as two Israelis whom I admire. Thanks to kind and well-informed hosts in the West Bank, I also had the chance to observe significant aspects of the current situation there. My visit was brief; my observations are superficial. Nevertheless, my packed three and a half days in the West Bank left vivid memories that will take me a long time to process.

For instance, I recall the contrast between two scenes.

In the Balata refugee camp—a zone of intensely concentrated poverty—I watch children literally playing with fire in the darkness, carrying burning garbage to make a pretend lethal trap for Israeli soldiers who frequently raid the camp later at night. Many of the walls are plastered with the photographs and names of armed young men (five to ten years older than the kids on the street) who have been killed.

On the other hand, in a classroom at An-Najah, I meet with about 65 earnest and impressive students of disciplines from computer science and medicine to English literature who aspire to study abroad. For two hours (until a driver arrives to take me to Tel Aviv), they ask me questions about admissions, financial aid, different kinds of degrees, and how to prepare to be competitive.

I also vividly recall walking around the partly excavated archaeological site of Sebastia, formerly a palace and city where many Christians and Muslims believe that John the Baptist is buried. You step on scattered tesserae as you explore the hill, set in a classic West Bank landscape of olive orchards, scattered Palestinian villages and visible Israeli settlements, and military installations on the mountaintops.

Finally, I hear a sophisticated and nuanced conversation about strategies for improving gender equity in Palestine, addressing the importance of women leaders in civil society and government, the pros and cons of treating feminism as a distinct agenda, the relevance and limitation of legal rights, and—as one woman said—the pattern that men start wars and women pay the steepest price of war. I sense that this is a debate among colleagues who already know and respect one another’s views but who cannot quite agree—which is just how things should be in a university.

See also: Teaching Civics in Kyiv