A Lesson From Ginsburg, Mandela and Scalia

Because it’s unlikely that the United States will elect a Jewish president in the foreseeable future, the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg on Sept. 18 will mark the most impactful death of an American political figure to this community that many of us will experience in our lifetimes. Because of an unusual combination of demography, ideology and cultural iconography, Ginsburg had taken on, in the minds of her admirers, a status well beyond those of most Supreme Court justices and most elected officials. The result has been an outpouring of grief among most American Jews.

That doesn’t mean to suggest that every Jewish American supports the aggressive liberal agenda for which Ginsburg fought throughout her career. A sizable minority of Jewish voters will cast a ballot for Donald Trump this fall, and most of them are rooting heavily for Trump’s nominee to the high court to be quickly confirmed. But it should be possible to disagree with Ginsburg’s judicial philosophy while still admiring her accomplishments, and shivah should be a time to share fond memories rather than revisit old disagreements.

The stakes involved in selecting her successor are colossal. In a less polarized and less angry political climate, it would have been considerate to Ginsburg’s loved ones and respectful to her memory if political combatants allowed a decent amount of time for mourning before moving into a high-stakes bloodletting over the court’s future. But in a bitterly divided country, only weeks from a bruising election, that is simply not conceivable.

And so, the battle has been joined. The debate will infiltrate almost every corner and crevice of the nation’s politics, governance and culture, and will dominate the remainder of the presidential campaign and beyond. No matter which man wins the election, and which woman is sworn in to fill Ginsburg’s seat, this fight will scar our nation even more deeply than the past several years of partisan warfare.

The stakes involved in selecting her successor are colossal.

When the dust settles, almost exactly half the country’s population will be dreadfully disappointed, not just at the final outcome but with a process they will believe has swindled them out of what they know they deserved. Almost exactly half of our fellow Americans will believe that their country has been stolen out from under them, and will immediately began plotting resistance and revenge. The only questions are whether that aggrieved faction will occupy the political right or left, and whether the equally angry victors will be progressive or conservative. Either way, the chasm that separates Americans will grow wider and the acrimony and anger will worsen.

At that point, we will have two choices. Either our society can continue to turn on itself, with ever-increasing consequences as a downward cycle of fear, rancor and retaliation accelerates. Alternatively, whichever side prevails could decide that absolute subjugation and humiliation of the defeated is unlikely to lead to any productive accomplishments and forward progress, let alone any actual healing.

When Nelson Mandela was sworn in as South Africa’s first Black president, many of his allies were eager to seek retribution against the leaders of the apartheid state they replaced. Mandela instead called for conciliation, and argued to his colleagues that their country could not reunite if their primary goal was to subjugate those they had defeated. “If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy,” Mandela said. “Then he becomes your partner.”

Such magnanimity seems unlikely in these troubled times. But it will be necessary.

In the weeks ahead, I will do my best to provide analysis on how this critically important nomination might play out. But for today at least, let us think about our obligation after the battle is done. During their time together on the bench, Ginsburg and her conservative compatriot Antonin Scalia forged a close friendship across deep ideological divisions. Now that both are gone, perhaps this is one lesson that those on both sides can take from our respective heroes.

Dan Schnur teaches political communications at UC Berkeley, USC and Pepperdine. He hosts the weekly webinar “Politics in the Time of Coronavirus” for the Los Angeles World Affairs Council & Town Hall (lawac.org).