When her grandmother attempts to watch the U.S. Senate Supreme Court confirmation hearings for Judge Samuel J. Alito, the 19-month-old points her finger at the television screen and firmly says, "Off." Perhaps not interested in a drawn-out discussion of stare decisis (the legal term that in Latin literally means "to stand on the decisions" and expresses the common law doctrine that court decisions should be guided by precedent), she reaches for her grandma's hand and patiently waits.
Truth be told, her grandmother isn't all that interested in the hearings either. The softball questions of toadies on one side, the lapses into pomposity on the other, but mostly the adept bobbing and weaving of the nominee - claiming memory loss and slipping into mind-numbing legalese when hinting at real answers - make it clear that Alito, today's judge, and Alito, the record, are one and the same.
He neither affirms, nor backs away from his pronouncements and rulings, saying such revealing things as, "That was in 1985." Judging by his record, his clear vision seems to be of the 1950s, but there are no smoking guns to give moderate Republicans a strong reason to vote against him.
The grandma hits the off button, and the 19-month-old responds by applauding, clapping, smiling, and yelling, "Yay!" (Her parents would be proud.) Then with equal gusto - and without missing a beat - she yells, "Juice." They head for the kitchen and the refrigerator where the magic bottle of apple juice awaits.
While enjoying the simplicity of the child's asking and the ease of satisfying the request, the grandmother pours the juice. The 19-month-old lives in the moment, and most moments are good ones. At grandma's house, the only thought for the future is an occasional question about when mommy and daddy will get home.
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That won't last. Soon enough complications real or perceived will filter in: the child won't want to share or a little friend won't share with her; another child will get the spot she wants in the orchestra or on the soccer team; and then, there's all that sorting out of right and wrong. None of it demands "stare decisis," of course, but justice - at least fairness in the give and take of life - becomes important quickly.
The grandma lifts her granddaughter into her arms along with a cup of juice, and they sit together while the toddler drinks it. The 19-month-old will not remember the day, but the grandma thinks she will. Certainly, she won't forget the definite command, "Off," from a child who looks like "Cindy Lou Who who was no more than two" in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
She might also remember the general disinterest of the American public, out of proportion to the historical nature of Judge Alito's confirmation. Alito, who probably is a nice man, has a record that shows little regard for the rights of the rank and file and of women and minorities, a particular problem as the middle class hollows out and health care remains an unsolved issue. (He stood for corporations or the government eight out of 10 times.) The only minorities treated consistently well in his court are religious minorities.
At a time when we desperately lack congressional checks and balances on a presidential administration that ignores the laws it doesn't like and spies without even after-the-fact warrants, not to mention how badly the country needs a real airing of congressional scandals, Alito's record suggests that the judiciary is a step closer to being an arm of the administration. And of course, on Roe v. Wade, we can expect it to be overruled, setting up ongoing state fights.
Forget "stare decisis" or what Alito really thinks of it; the truth is that moderate Republicans have plenty of reasons to vote against the nominee, but there's no reason for them to because they aren't being pushed by the public.
Later in the day when the 19-month-old accidentally turns the TV on, tuning into a station showing a photo of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie with a breathless announcer in the background gushing about Angelina's pregnancy, it's the grandmother's turn firmly to say, "Off." The toddler giggles as her grandma pushes the button, and then together they clap and yell, "Yay."
Ahlin teaches English as an adjunct faculty member at Minnesota State University Moorhead and is a regular contributor to The Forum's commentary pages. E-mail ajane@qwest.net
