Drugs and money and bricks and mortar in Bolivia

AFP has this article out in several newspapers today. The title is "Drug money shows in Bolivia housing boom." But the article clearly states: "There are no studies conclusively linking the real-estate expansion to drug smuggling, but the last major surge in construction, in the 1980s, also coincided with a peak in drug activity."  Perhaps the headline should read "Seems like drug money prolly has sumthin' to do with Bolivian housing boom." I think it's more complicated than that.

This construction boom started soon after a boom in emigration - there has been an unprecedented exodus of Bolivians to Spain and elsewhere over the last 10 years or so. If you asked anyone on the street here 5 years ago, they would tell you the construction money was 100% remittances from Spain (and Italy, and the U.S., and Argentina, and Brazil, and Japan, and Sweden, etc., but Spain was the main source and has become the generic way of referring to the Bolivian population abroad). Now that Evo's failures on the drug front are news, the same people will tell you it's 100% drug money. Remittances are down and drug production is up, but the fact is the boom started before that change.

And the article says "Cement sales grew 12 per cent in 2008 and 13 per cent in 2009, according to industry figures, while construction has increased 10 per cent per year on average, double the country's growth rate." But I wonder if cement sales are being measured in money or volume, because cement prices went way up in 2008/9. I'm not sure why, but most people assume it was speculative, fueled by a construction boom that had already begun.

Admittedly, my own assertion that the boom started earlier than 2008 is based simply on looking around. The number of new buildings since the early aughts is astounding. But I would like to know where the author is getting construction growth figures -- given, as the article also notes, that most construction is unauthorized and therefore a part of the slippery "informal economy" -- and what they were in the 10 years prior to those cited. I'm assuming they were already steadily rising before 2008.

Most interesting to me is that the poorest country in South America is also the world's 3rd largest cocaine producer, yet here the estimate is that drugs account for only 1 out of 9 export dollars. The estimate that 3% - 5% of Bolivia's economy is drug money seems low compared, say, to Colombia and Mexico - countries whose overall economies are much larger. But that's still a good chunk of cash, and the article suggests that it would be disproportionately manifest in construction because of the need to launder the money.

What it fails to mention is that Bolivians all think real estate is the soundest investment there is, so money laundering is hardly the only incentive to build. That's just what you do with money in Bolivia. I could literally throw a rock from my front yard in our formerly agricultural neighborhood and hit any of three or four large houses built in the last few years with money from Spain. An interesting figure would be what percentage of household income in Bolivia goes toward construction. I would guess it would dwarf most countries.

I wish the authors gave more than a passing mention to the possibility of a bubble, because I have little doubt there is a real estate bubble growing here right now. Despite its small and suffering economy, Bolivia actually saw growth during the last several years, even as wealthier nations around the globe sank into a recession. That was partly due to natural gas sales. But also, in 2008 there was no housing bubble to burst here: Bolivians had always built with cash. A house may take years to build, because people will get a hundred bucks and build a wall, and then the project will sit until they get more money. But that's changing. My wife and I inquired at a cooperative bank about loans in September, and they were at about 8.5% annual interest. We went back a few weeks later, and they'd gone up to ~9.5%. About a month after that, we went back and were told the rate had jumped to 14%, but that all loans had been suspended until January, all due to the high and increasing demand for credit.

Whatever the cause of the construction boom, it's gone hand-in-hand with an astounding increase in property prices in recent years. And those prices affect all Bolivians, regardless of whether they have money coming in from abroad (be it drug money or remittances).  So, people have begun to borrow. They do so with a confidence that is eerily reminiscent of people in the U.S. in the lead-up to the housing crash there. Buy land, build on it, and either hold on to it or sell it to buy more real estate: it's all just going to keep appreciating! You can't fail! I can't count how many times I've heard this - from investors, architects, academics, homeowners, and fellow ex-pats.  Meanwhile, natural gas sales have slumped. Remittances have decreased as Bolivians abroad feel the pinch of the recession in Spain and elsewhere. And un- and underemployment is high.

So, the way I see it, either drug sales fill the void and we become a true narco-economy, or we build a bubble that is sure to burst. So far, as the AFP article illustrates, attempts to determine which is happening are based largely on conjecture. But it's probably a little of both, and either way, ordinary, non-narcotrafficking Bolivians seem likely to suffer.

But if you're in for the quick flip - or you've got some cash that needs cleaning - I've got some nice land just outside of Cochabamba. Call me. We'll talk.

From Woodstock to Wall Street, via Bolivia: Some thoughts on the 99%

There’s a moment in the movie “Woodstock” that always bugged me: at one point, counter-culture jester Wavy Gravy appeals to the crowd from the stage, explaining that a “hamburger guy” had his hamburger stand burned down the night before, and says, “for those people who still believe that, you know, capitalism isn’t that weird, you might help him out and buy a couple hamburgers.”  It bothered me because A) if they burned down his hamburger stand last night, then buying hamburgers from the guy now, while charitable, sounds like a recipe for food poisoning; but more bothersome yet, B) it’s a prime example of the kinds of common definitions of capitalism that are so broad as to be meaningless. I mean, if the guy owns the stand and cooks and sells the burgers himself, then the only thing capitalist about the venture is that it’s privately owned. But capitalism is more than private property: it implies a system in which those with the capital call the shots, and exploit the labor of those who do not own the capital. And, damn it, Wavy Gravy ought to know that.

Private property and the buying and selling of goods existed long before there was modern capitalism. And most people who complain about capitalism – everyone from popes to anarchist street protesters – are prepared neither to share everything in common nor to let the state control all property. Some, it is true, will point to private property itself as the root of economic injustice. And I do believe we need to temper our concept of the right to property to include concepts such as stewardship and the common good.  Everything we think we own is ultimately borrowed (you can’t take it with you), and the right to own things comes with the responsibility to utilize our belongings with due regard for our neighbors, our descendants, our planet, etc.  But the idea that individual persons have rights, that work has dignity, and that people ought to enjoy the fruits of their own labor is one I think most people could agree to. So, if the hippies at Woodstock couldn’t see the difference between a guy making and selling food from a cart at a music festival and, say, the owners of McDonald’s, then their revolution seemed helplessly unrealistic. Altamont, disco, Ronald Reagan, and Gordon Gekko were sure to follow. 

Now, in the age of the internet I’ve been able to read up, and apparently the burger guy was taking advantage of his captive audience and quadrupling prices, so that’s pretty capitalistic and was probably bound to provoke the ire of a herd of hungry hippies. But each of the forty or so times I watched the movie in high school, Mr. Gravy’s quip, inasmuch as I found it indicative of a general lack of proper Marxian formation, presented me with what could only be called a bummer, man.

I bring all this up because, in addition to Woostock, I’ve had two other historic gatherings of groovy people on my mind lately. First, the Water War that took place in Cochabamba, Bolivia in 2000, and second, the Occupy Wall Street (OWS) protest and burgeoning “99%” movement currently making waves in lower Manhattan and elsewhere around the United States.

The people of Cochabamba rose up against the privatization of their public waterworks, and successfully forced their government to overturn a new, market-based water law, and to nullify the contract that had granted the city’s water concession to a private international consortium led by the California-based Bechtel Corporation. It was a great victory of people power, but in the 11 years that followed, the once-again publicly owned water company has accomplished close to zilch. The infrastructure is crumbling, water service is intermittent at best, supposedly potable water is plagued with contamination, and most of the southern half of the city, where the poorest communities reside, is without city water, leaving residents to buy from privately (but locally) -owned cistern trucks at exorbitant prices.

At the time of the Water War protests, the most visible leader of the people’s movement was a union leader named Oscar Olivera. Many expected him to seek a leadership position in the water company once it was returned to public control. But he declined, saying he knew how to make shoes, and to organize people to make their demands heard – he knew nothing about managing a water company. Apparently, nobody else in Cochabamba did, either. Or else they were kept from doing so by the corrupt politicians and politically connected technocrats whose failures had led international financial institutions to push Bolivia to privatize the system in the first place. Still, though, the protests themselves represented a significant victory for people power and an important strike against corporate-led, market-driven global economic reforms imposed by wealthy, capitalist nations on their impoverished neighbors.

I took part in the Water War protests, and I feel strongly that water is the kind of thing that ought to remain basically in the public domain – especially in Bolivia, where the commodification of water runs completely contrary to cultural understandings of the relationship between human beings and the natural resources that make up their surroundings. But I also recognize why a lot of waterworks in the United States are controlled by public-private hybrids, and that this often works well. The important thing is that they must be managed A) by technically competent professional experts, B) for the good of the community, and C) with due consideration for both conservation and the fact that water is a basic human necessity.   

I think about all of this as I watch the 99% movement blossom in the U.S., because I think it speaks to an aspect of OWS that is simultaneously most encouraging and most misunderstood by critics. OWS is not a single protest for a single list of demands. Rather than lobby to tweak pre-chosen details of a system that has thoroughly failed society, the activists in Liberty Park and elsewhere are witnessing to another way of living and working together, and allowing any demands or proposals to grow out of that experiment.

The protesters are starting by denouncing what is wrong. Many have criticized them for simply whining when they have no concrete proposals for what an alternative should look like. People made similar criticisms of the Water War protesters – and myriad other “anti-globalization” activists (“anti-globalization” is a bit of a misnomer – the problem is the corporate-capitalist control of the process). But the idea that nobody ought to denounce an economic system unless they have a clear alternative plan mapped out is a little like telling a victim of domestic violence that she shouldn’t complain about her husband’s abuse until she’s written a self-help book on how to have a successful marriage. People know when they’re getting stepped on, and they have a right to resist without having to first explain where they’ll go once they’re allowed to stand up and brush themselves off.

The Water War, significant as it was, did ultimately amount to little more than a cry of “No!” There was nobody in the movement capable of following through and making public control viable for Cochabamba’s waterworks. The 99% movement seems determined not to make that mistake. By “occupying” rather than simply marching on Wall Street and other places, they are expressing righteous anger in a way that is long-term and bold, refusing to placate themselves with a fleeting single day’s headlines. But they are also building something new by the very ways they are managing to sustain the occupation. They are doing the arduous work of consensus-based decision-making in a community of diverse strangers. They are debating issues of how to be pluralistic and hold onto their founding principles and shared values simultaneously. They are taking care of one another’s material needs. They are creative. They are really a model of deep democracy.

If you actually listen to the interviews with protesters, they are – surprisingly, to some – remarkably articulate about the myriad specific ways in which the current system has failed us. They know they think capitalism is pretty weird, but they also know they’re dependent on toilets at a nearby McDonald’s, and supporters around the country are helping to feed them by ordering them pizzas at a local, privately owned pizzeria – one that nobody has attempted to burn down. They are both radical and practical, and don’t see either as detrimental to the other.

When asked by Keith Olbermann whether OWS would be making concrete demands, a spokesman for the protesters, Ryan Hoffman, said, “the major thing that we have to focus on is getting people away from the apathy and towards action, and I think once more people are involved solutions will present themselves. And this is the opportunity for everyone to get involved in this conversation, and that's what we want. And we're not going to make demands on behalf of the 99 percent when the 99 percent aren't involved yet. You know, this is not a liberal issue. This is not a conservative issue. This is a person issue, and we want all people involved.”

There are two kinds of reporters I see reporting on the protests: those who focus on the lack of a concrete list of demands, and those who visit and report on the remarkable communities evolving among the protesters in Lower Manhattan and elsewhere. The first group displays its bias by expecting the protesters to appeal and ultimately defer to the powers that be. The latter group understands that, while the 99% may currently be represented by a fraction of a percent, and that fraction of a percent may be starting slowly (ploddingly, even), it is what they are starting that matters. They are saying and showing that another way is possible. In the tradition of the great prophets, they are both denouncing and announcing. This is true revolution. This is faith like a mustard seed. This is cause for hope.

So as they move forward, my hope is that the protesters will find a way to maintain the prophetic voice of the vanguard, while integrating the rest of the 99% into the movement. It’s a tall order. It’s got to include hippies and hamburger guys, union organizers and water systems managers. The goal is no less than reinventing the United States as a more democratic, less (non-?) capitalistic society. But with good old American ingenuity and hard work – two traits that have traditionally been tightly bound to corporate capitalism in our national mythology, but which are actually entirely extricable from that rather brutish economic system – I believe there’s nothing we, the 99%, can’t do.

To paraphrase stage banter from another great concert: “Yes We Can” is a slogan Barack Obama stole from Caesar Chavez… we’re stealing it back.

Wal Mart, the Supreme Court, and the Catholic vote

I may be in Bolivia, but I read enough online news to know that the U.S. presidential elections - still 17 months away - are already getting plenty of buzz. In the coming months, Catholic organizations like the Maryknoll Office of Global Concerns and the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, as well as other faith-based groups like Sojourners will start putting out voting guides helping Christian voters to consider the moral and ethical implications of a wide array of issues. Inevitably, we'll also see Catholics - at church, on TV, etc. - arguing the importance of abortion relative to all other issues, and we'll be told by a number of them that, while everything from poverty to war to the death penalty is negotiable, abortion is not and Catholics mustn't ever vote for a pro-choice candidate.

I hate the abortion issue. I definitely don't intend to address it with any regularity on this blog. I realize people do occasionally change their minds about aspects of it, and I haven't completely given up on the idea that it can be discussed in a mutually respectful way. But it rarely is, and opining on it usually serves mainly to turn off half of one's audience. Besides, I think my own opinions on abortion, particularly as a political issue, are too nuanced for me ever to become an activist for either of the major camps. People often portray the debate as if everyone were lined up firmly on one side or the other of a clearly demarcated fault line. But I know I'm not the only one who lives in the gray and mushy middle between the black and white poles of pro-life/anti-choice and pro-choice/pro-abortion. 

All of that said, there was a story in the news this week that I think is worth mentioning in the context of abortion. And I'd just as soon write about it now, before the heat of next year's election season, and then let it be. The story itself wasn't actually about abortion. It was about the Supreme Court's decisions to block a class-action sexual discrimination lawsuit against Wal Mart. I won't analyze it except to say this: the Supreme Court has, for over a century, made decisions empowering corporations over and against human citizens. And the current, conservative Court has been particularly radical in this regard, the most obvious example being the Citizens United case last year. This week's Wal Mart decision is another damaging blow, as Peter Goodman explains here.

What does this have to do with abortion? The bulk of the pro-life movement is not just rooted in principle. It's supposedly also rooted in strategy. Pro-life activists often support pro-criminalization candidates even while recognizing that there is little lawmakers or executives can do to change the legal status of abortion as currently established in Roe v. Wade. What they hope for is an overturning of Roe v. Wade, which they aim to achieve by electing presidents - virtually always Republican/conservative* - who will appoint conservative judges.  And we've had several terms with such presidents since Roe v. Wade, and particularly in recent years, we've seen the Court stacked with conservative justices. They've done nothing to change the legality of abortion. Meanwhile, Citizens United and this week's Wal Mart decisions reflect the kind of activism we can expect from conservative justices.

It is plain to me: conservative political elites use abortion as a wedge issue to morally intimidate Christian voters into supporting politicians who give mere lip service to their pro-life positions, while taking concrete steps to advance all of the most un-Christian and immoral planks in their respective platforms. In abortion, they've found their ace-in-the-hole: an issue that not only distracts from others with its inherent emotional appeal, but actually trumps all other issues in the eyes of millions of otherwise thoughtful voters. And while individual politicians may be sincere in their opposition to abortion, they are doing nothing about it. They are, however, doing plenty to start wars, demonize immigrants and poor people, keep our criminal justice system purely punitive, and prop up their corporate and wealthy backers. The Roberts Court is not interested in defending the unborn. It is interested in defending Wal Mart and Wall Street. Adding more Republicans to the bench will only serve to advance this trend.

I've been told for years that I'm copping out by arguing that the best way to protect life is to support policies that put fewer women in the position of feeling they have no choice but to get abortions. The state must defend the unborn, I'm told, and it must do so by outlawing abortion, period. But the more I watch, the more I'm convinced that such arguments, whatever their (questionable) hypothetical merits, are simply not rooted in reality. They only lead people to vote for politicians who never actually do a thing to make abortion illegal, and meanwhile, create a much more hostile environment for mothers and children, born and unborn. I am convinced that voting for "pro-life" candidates whose only pro-life position is a theoretical opposition to legalized abortion is the true cop-out. 

Next year, there will likely be no prominent pro-choice candidates running against Barack Obama. But there will be pro-choice Catholics pursuing seats in Congress. And so soon, we will no doubt see bishops refusing those politicians communion. Catholics around the country will be told by individual Church leaders that there is only one issue that matters, and that they must not vote for anyone who does not claim to want to make abortion illegal, and even that doing so is tantamount to excommunicating oneself.

Many of these same bishops accept Just War doctrine, an ethical argument that states that, in order to be morally acceptable, a war must be just not only in its cause, but in its execution. One measure of this is that the war effort must have a reasonable probability of victory. Another measure is that the damage done in carrying out the war must not be disproportionate to the damage it seeks to avoid. I try to apply the same kind of ethical thinking to the abortion issue. I understand that the damage the pro-life movement seeks to avoid is enormous when understood in terms of millions of human lives lost.  But even if one holds that the best way to reduce abortions is to outlaw them (a debatable issue, to be sure, but in many church circles such debate itself is seen as anti-life), the last 38 years of U.S. history suggest to me that the probability of achieving criminalization is very low, while the damage done in pursuit of criminalization is real, and devastating.

I don't expect to have a lot of very satisfying choices on the ballot next year. The two major parties seem to have a lock on things, and corporations and Wall Street gamblers have a lock on them. Neither represents me well.  I wouldn't venture to bet on who will win, but I would bet money it won't mean a thing in terms of legalized abortion. As primary debates and the accompanying culture wars begin to ramp up, though, I imagine the executives at Wal Mart are feeling well-represented indeed.

* I recognize that the word 'conservative' has become almost meaningless. Here, I don't believe that 'conservative' justices represent traditional conservative values, but they do represent the current conservative political movement in the U.S., which, above all else, stands for corporate-driven market capitalism and holds the rights of corporations above the rights of individual human beings, non-corporate communities, the environment, etc.   

On terrorists, gangsters, and the state: the ethics of killing and justice

We’ve had a few days now to reflect on the killing of Osama bin Laden.  I’ve seen debates about whether it matters, whether celebrating is appropriate, what a Christian response might look like, etc.  I state here with some frequency that I am a pacifist, but I should be clear that being committed to a cause does not mean one can’t understand other positions, or even doubt in one’s own.  

I am staunchly anti-war. But in the case of terrorism, while I think the long-term answer does involve all those puffy peacenik things like dialog and better foreign policy, I think the short-term answer involves treating Al Qaeda and other terrorist organizations as organized crime groups, not war adversaries, and policing the problem.  And with international terrorism as with domestic policing, while I would propose less prisons, more restorative justice programs, beefier social programs and prevention, etc., I, the self-proclaimed pacifist, am also loath to take guns out of the hands of the police.

I think the British model should be looked at. I think police in the U.S. are often far too quick to use their weapons. But as a practical proposal, even I can see that immediately and completely disarming all police would be like throwing so many sheep to the wolves. Violence has to be addressed organically: in general, the police are not the problem, and until we can figure out how to reduce violent crime, I supose we’re stuck with depending on a police force which we sanction to commit acts of defensive violence in our names.

I have advocated negotiations with Al Qaeda. It’s hard to say where such negotiations might have led.  At any rate, it seems unlikely at this stage that such a position would ever have become policy.  It is therefore difficult for me to imagine what other course of action the U.S. might have taken here. Even if we had not gone to war in Afghanistan, I think U.S. authorities had to pursue bin Laden in some way.  I don’t know exactly what happened in that compound in Pakistan, or whether they could have captured him alive. I don’t believe in the death penalty.  I don’t think the many inconveniences of holding a man like bin Laden prisoner and giving him a trial justify summary execution.  They say he resisted without arms, and I don’t know what that means.  So, perhaps as more details come out, there will be more arguments about whether he should have been killed. But it did seem a fairly likely outcome, and as it is, the U.S. does employ the death penalty, so it may all be a matter of timing in the end.

I’ve already made the point here that I think these events are sad, however inevitable they may be. I have also noted that it is doubtful whether they make us safer. But however inevitable the killing of bin Laden may appear to have been, I draw parallels to domestic policing because they remind me of an important contradiction in society’s ethical approach to issues of violence, vengeance, and justice.

In the fall of 2001, I was taking a group of Seattle University students to visit a group of “lifers” at the Washington State Reformatory, a maximum security prison in Monroe, WA.  After September 11^th, we discussed the impact the terrorist attacks had had on all of us.  The inmates – most of them serving life sentences for murder – had a similar mix of responses to that of the students.  Several weeks later, we discussed the planned invasion of Afghanistan. Again, opinions were mixed, but one inmate’s response will always stay with me.

He was a young man – in his late 20s – with a gang background, serving life for a gang-related killing. We all knew him mainly by a gang nickname – I’ll call him Ghost.  I’ve worked with a lot of prison inmates and I’m familiar with the lines they feed visitors and the myriad forms of manipulation that rule prison life. I’m not naive:  Ghost struck me as one of the most sincerely repentant and reformed members of our group. He had done “hard time” and was old by gang standards, so younger inmates looked up to him, and he did his best to share his wisdom with them and help them to put their gang-banging days behind them.  He was smart, and wise, and his contributions to our group discussions were always greatly appreciated by our students.

When the topic of Afghanistan came up, several inmates said that the U.S. absolutely had to attack. “They” had hit us, gone after our “family,” and we had to hit them back hard and fast to send a message that nobody would get away with hurting us.  A few others were more skeptical, and opposed the war.  Ghost had been quiet, thinking hard. Then he took the floor. He said that when he committed the murder that landed him in prison, he hadn’t thought twice about it. He knew, with complete certitude, that it was the right and necessary thing to do. A member of another gang, from another city, had come into his neighborhood and killed one of his brother gang members.  When something like that happened, he had no doubt that the only appropriate response was to hit back hard and fast – to take the killer out. He went to the rival gang’s territory, found the killer, and shot him.  “I was seventeen when I did that. And now I will never leave this prison. I know now that what I did was wrong. I know that violence just brings more violence. And I will have to live with what I did for the rest of my life. But society says that what I did cannot be forgiven, that I can never leave here.  Now I’m watching TV and I see the president and politicians talking about this war and these terrorist attacks.” Ghost paused to consider what he was about to say, looking around the room at the students and his fellow inmates.  “I’m a very intelligent man. I read a lot. I’ve thought about this, and if there was a better word for it, I would have found it. I see what our country is doing, and all it is is a higher level of gang-banging.”

What do we think about gangsters who kill? Why do we think they do it? What do we think happens in gangland when members of one aggrieved group kill the leader of a rival group?  How do we think we’re different?

One definition of the state is that it is that institution in society that is granted a monopoly on legitimized violence.  Is that what it boils down to? Is the gang killing a crime only because it’s carried out by a gang? Is vengeance acceptable, is killing a form of justice, only because it is carried out by men in uniform? Was Ghost wrong when he killed? Was he right in his appraisal of the Afghanistan invasion? He is in his late 30s now. He is sitting in a prison cell in Washington State, watching the news, listening to elected officials describe the raid in Abottabad, listening to them describe this  “good day for America” in terms of justice and peace and even joy, watching the crowds dancing in the streets of Washington, D.C. and New York.  Streets that Ghost will never walk.  Fellow Americans he will never meet.

It is difficult for many to imagine that the U.S. had alternatives to killing Osama bin Laden.  But it seems to me that anyone who would celebrate his death, who would justify this killing, who would speak today of justice should be prepared to explain that position to Ghost.   

William James, SEAL Team 6, and me: The pacifist considers the troops.

Reading about the raid on Osama bin Laden's compound today, one of the things I had mixed emotions about was the Navy SEALs who carried out the operation. They are killers, and that saddens and angers me. They are also amazing. 

I'm a pacifist. I'm far from overjoyed at what's been done. Whenever people demand that, whatever one's position on war in general or on a given war (Iraq and Afghanistan in particular), we all have to support the troops, I find myself thinking lonely thoughts: I don't support the troops. At least, not exactly. I love the troops. I think there is an important difference. What do we mean by supporting them? I know soldiers, and I respect them, and I care deeply about them. But it seems to me that "supporting" them ultimately always means supporting their mission. I don't. I certainly don't want them to fail in it. I just don't want them to carry it out at all. 

I'm also anti-nationalist. When people get excited rooting for their favorite sports team, and chant and beat their chests with pride because some other guys who wouldn't give them the time of day just won a game, I can let that slide because it's fun and it's trivial. But when people who have not themselves enlisted express pride in our troops, the same kind of misplaced pride we express in sports teams suddenly becomes more significant. I think it points to the idea that the armed forces ultimately represent an abstract construct and a need we have to feel a part of something by identifying with one abstraction - our nation - over and against another.  Those seem like rather squishy reasons to kill and die.

I do, though, have enormous respect for many aspects of military life and the achievements of many men and women in uniform. Reading about Navy SEAL Team 6 today, I could not help but be awed by just how brave, disciplined, and prepared they were, and how heroically - in the Ancient Greek, if not Christian, sense of the word - they carried out their mission. For lack of a better descriptor, these guys are totally badass.

I think I can say that and still be a good pacifist. I remember going to a national conference of the Catholic Peace Fellowship early in the Iraq war. We were training to be conscientious objection counselors. We had just learned that, by law, being a C.O. requires opposition to "war in all forms," but not necessarily to violence in all forms or absolute pacifism. During a break, some of us were watching the Yankees play the Red Sox in the American League Championship Series when suddenly 72-year-old Yankees bench coach Don Zimmer charged the mound, and Boston pitcher Pedro Martinez grabbed him by his huge, bald head and effortlessly threw him to the ground. The room - like rooms all over the country - erupted into shouting and raucous laughter. It was the funniest baseball fight since Nolan Ryan vs. Robin Ventura. But our hoots and hollers soon gave way to awkward silence as we realized we were all at a pacifist gathering laughing at seeing an old man get knocked in the dirt. One of the conference organizers quickly recovered, though, saying, "Didn't we just learn that conscientious objectors only have to oppose war, specifically? That means we can still think this is funny, right?" Nervous glances were exchanged, a silent consensus was reached, and the laughing continued as the replays rolled. Even pacifists know funny - or badass - when we see it.

One of the several things that struck me in ABC's story about the SEALs was this quote:

"We are not looking for cocky kids," said Senior Chief Hans Garcia, a SEAL recruiter. "The perfect person would be a candidate who is remarkably physically fit, but is pretty humble, an analytical thinker, a problem solver -- someone who is very value-oriented, patriotic, puts service above self."

Aside from the patriotic part, this could be a missionary recruiter talking (the physical fitness part might be less necessary now, but certainly would have been important in past centuries -- see the film The Mission). Service. Selflessness. Analytical thinking. Humility. Simplicity of lifestyle (aka. poverty). Discipline. Bravery. Esprit de corps (aka. community). These are some of the things I value most. They are things the Christian disciple strives for. They are all also important characteristics of a good soldier.

So I was reminded today of one of my favorite works from the canon of great American pacifist writing: "The Moral Equivalent of War," by William James. Over 100 years ago, James looked at the weakness of the pacifist movement, and the robustness of the war machine, and called upon his fellow peace-wagers to step off their high horse and recognize what was admirable and good in those who would wage war. He did so not just out of a sense of intellectual honesty, but out of recognition that pacifism must appeal to similar values in order to capture the imagination of the majority of the people.

Some pacifists - people like the Christian Peacemaker Teams - have done this. But for most of us, we have a long way to go. So, as I lament all that is lamentable in the news about Osama bin Laden's assassination, I hope I can also remain capable of holding contradiction, embracing complexity, and admiring the commitment and the valor of the young men who carried out this sad task. And I hope that those of us who believe in peace by means of peace will be inspired to step up and make our vision a reality the way the plans of SEAL Team 6 were carried out in Pakistan this weekend.