"If a man does not stand for something,
he will fall for anything."
I don't remember where I came across this
proverb, but I remember having liked it from the first hearing
of it. Ask any student at this University for an opinion
on "controversy number one," and you may be lucky
to receive one. Some will have thought the issue over in
their minds and tell you their conclusion plainly. Some
will offer you a neutral opinion, believing that a non-opinion
is itself an opinion. Many will dismiss the effort of serious
reflection and default to popular opinion, handing over
the sovereignty of their minds to the higher end of a bar
graph.
There is no end to the number of injustices,
social ills and moral dilemmas. The indiscriminate opinionist
will find himself short of breath and thought. I myself
am passionate about just a few things, the most visible
being abortion. In truth, I don't even know how it is that
I came to be so involved in the pro-life movement. I did
not experience a defining moment or personal experience
to make me decide to take up the cause. I may have been
motivated in part by the seeming lack of advocacy for it.
The word "activist" is to some an
object of derision, to some a source of pride. It usually
denotes a small group of dedicated leaders aligned toward
change. It often connotes loud, charismatic rabble-rousers.
Historically I see that the activists have most often been
few in number though not small in influence. The reason
that their numbers remain so small is simple: Activism is
defined by action. With only a minimum of mental effort
and perhaps some soul searching, the opinionist can satisfy
himself with having digested an issue. He may even readily
share and argue his conclusions with others. Only by taking
the next step and acting in accordance with these conclusions
can a person become an activist. Through the offering of
his time, energies, and social reputation, the activist
demonstrates a truer belief in his convictions, activating
opinion beyond mental exercise and increasing the value
of his belief.
I am not pro-life because I believe that a
child in the womb has value. I am pro-life because I know
I can change the system that devalues that life, and I try.
I wish I could stop meeting those who are pro-choice by
default-those who were born post Roe v. Wade-where abortion
is the ultimate measure of gender equality. I wish I could
stop meeting those who are pro-life only by default-those
who are just born into or adopt conservativism. What would
happen if people actually believed the opinions they kept?
I once had the phenomenon of a "rogue
wave" explained to me, and it held my mind in fascination.
In the sea, there are many individual waves with individual
wavelengths and frequencies; they are generally just as
small as the other waves. They exist for a time, and then
their energy dissipates back into the sea, perhaps creating
another wave. But a remarkable phenomenon occurs when, at
an unknown time, the individual wavelengths of the individual
waves manage to attain the same wavelength and align their
frequencies. If this happens with many waves at precisely
the right moment, a hundred-foot colossus arises out of
the water as each wave joins the others, combining wavelengths,
and creating a force so powerful that it can sink a mighty
ship in an instant. It is at once frightening and awe-inspiring.
I hope to see one someday.
[BACK to the top]
Moral Leadership
In recent weeks, the nation has scrutinized
its leaders. Americans have participated in thousands
of opinion polls asking them to rate the candidates and
to evaluate the role of a president. Among these questions
has been one asking about the value of character.
Even as President Bill Clinton was being
impeached for his moral impropriety, popular opinion seemed
to approve of his job performance. Still, his vice president
seemed to downplay their relationship in his own efforts
to rise to the coveted position. This makes me wonder
how much Americans value character in their leaders.
Is it acceptable for our president to be
a moral failure though a political success? Is there really
a distinction between private and public conscience? I
believe that a person acts according to the good or evil
stored up within him. To believe that a person should
do otherwise is to sanction duplicity in our leaders.
Can we expect a president to put on a mask of strength
when he is meeting foreign leaders and commanding our
military, only to take off that mask when he is making
lewd racial jokes with his closest inner circle? Can we
expect him to defend the preservation of families in his
public office when he is secretly cheating on his wife?
Can we expect him to behave rationally and speak clearly
when, during moments of depression, he turns to a bottle
to numb his senses?
Asking a leader to act against his conscience
is asking him to play a game that he cannot win. Sooner
or later, his character will shine through. When he makes
that mistake, the things he does in private will be made
known, and it will be shown that his incontinence has
also affected his judgment in his leadership role. Shouldn't
we adopt a better model of leadership? It would be far
better to have a president who could act out the qualities
of his character in his public life just as easily as
he would in his private life. One of the presidential
hopefuls campaigned under the mantra of restoring "honor
and dignity to the White House." I hope and pray
that he meant every word.
This nation is one of the most powerful
nations in the world politico-socio-culturo-(insert adjective
here) economic scene, and it needs a president of character,
a man of stature. There is not one reason why Americans
should be consigned to accepting a leader without the
discipline to master himself and to live a principled
life.
Should we hold our leaders to a higher standard?
I believe that we can and that we must. Leaders are extraordinary
people who, at the very least, possess some special knowledge
or skill and often charisma. Knowledge can be learned,
skills can be developed and charisma can be circumvented,
but strong character requires a constant vigilance. This
kind of unceasing attention leads to right decisions.
Being responsible not only for himself, but also for those
he has been called to lead, a leader cannot afford to
let his personal weaknesses affect his judgment. Personal
weakness can very quickly become collective shame.
During four years at Duke University I will
probably encounter more leaders and potential leaders
than I ever will again at any other time in my life. We
were gathered here from all over the nation and the world
because someone saw leadership qualities within us. Will
we be harbingers of private incontinence and public shame
or will we be disciplined leaders who bring glory and
fame to our causes, also providing a model for leadership
to be reproduced?
The results are still coming in.
Steve Hong is a Trinity junior.
[printed in the Chronicle on 11/10/00]
Self-Worth
The Born-Alive Infants Protection Act of
2000 states that the words person, human being, child
and individual shall include every infant member of the
species homo sapiens who is born alive (as defined in
this act) at any stage of development. After passing the
House, the bill is currently in the Senate. Designed to
keep doctors from withholding medical treatment from premature
babies, it is representative of the disconnect between
truth and law. Few reasonable people would dispute that
a baby born alive is a person, but by our muddled legal
definitions, doctors must often leave these most vulnerable
people to die, simply because the mother's choice labels
the child as non-human. Realize that you are reading these
words now because someone chose to define you as a human
being under the law. You have no inherent self-worth.
At Duke Hospital, there are doctors and
nurses who work every day to save the lives of premature
infants, even when the chances of survival are slim. These
babies are wanted. Now read this:
On April 10, 1999, The Sydney Morning Herald
reported that an aborted baby at Darwin Private Hospital
had survived. Not only did she survive the abortion, but
she suffered for 80 minutes before her heart ceased to
beat and her breath ceased to come. After having grown
in her mother's womb for four months, she was deliberately
delivered prematurely with the intent to abort her. She
was unwanted. Unnamed, she was called "Baby J."
The abortionist left Baby J to die, and
the enormous burden of the baby's short life was thrown
into the compassionate but helpless hands of a nurse.
She was never instructed on what to do in the event of
a failed abortion. When she frantically called the director
of the obstetrics and gynecology department to relate
the situation, the director asked, "So what?"
The nurse was left there with a tiny baby girl who desperately
needed help. All the nurse could do was cover Baby J to
keep her warm. Returning every few minutes to check on
her condition, the nurse watched as Baby J crept closer
to death. Surely those 80 minutes must have been the longest
and hardest of their entire lives.
If this were just a synopsis of a script
from ER, I might be able to walk away from the commons
room TV set just a little teary-eyed, but comforted in
knowing that the story was a writer's fiction. But this
story relates the actual events at that hospital in July
1998. The coroner described the situation as a "responsibility
vacuum." No one wanted the child, and as far as they
were concerned... well, they were not concerned. The only
one who cared about that baby girl in her time of need
was a nurse without means to help. Only she recognized
Baby J as a person. Only she saw Baby J struggle for breath
and life in the frigid hospital room. Baby J's mother
wanted her child aborted. She did not value her baby's
life enough to give birth to her and raise her up as her
daughter.
Considered an aborted fetus, premature and
non-viable, Baby J was labeled non-human. But she is not
alone in her rejection. According to reports from the
Centers for Disease Control, 8,862 babies the same age
as or older than Baby J were aborted in the United States
in 1995. Most of them did not die as long a death as Baby
J did. Some felt the coldness of a blade in their final
moments.
Is this a story about a rare abortion that
went wrong? No, they all are; they all do.
Steve Hong is a Trinity junior.
[printed in the Chronicle on 12/01/00]
