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November 6, 2019

Is Impeachment Ahead for Donald Trump?

As written by Finley Peter Dunne in 1895, fictional philosopher Mr. Dooley once asserted “politics ain’t beanbag.” This means the lives of politicians on and off the campaign trail will be rough — but it’s to be expected.

Modern U.S. elections feature gerrymandered districts, dark money campaign donations, vote harvesting and “deep fake” videos. Supreme Court judicial nominations are occasions to defeat (Reagan nominee Robert Bork), deny (Obama nominee Merrick Garland) or destroy (Trump nominee Brett Kavanaugh) federal judges.

Now, the permanent partisan war rooms in Washington, D.C., have simply shifted to a new battleground.

So will President Donald Trump be impeached? 

Of course, he will.

Trump’s upset victory over Hillary Clinton in 2016 was likely to result in his impeachment after the Democrats gained the majority in the House. Acquittal in the Republican-controlled Senate is virtually assured, as well.

Trump, an outsider businessman seeking to “drain the swamp” and take on “the deep state” has infuriated his opposition with his tone and style, even more than his policy agenda. The Washington Post reported the first calls to impeach on Inauguration Day, Jan. 20, 2017, based on conflict-of-interest claims. Reps. Al Green and Brad Sherman launched a formal House resolution seeking articles of impeachment that same year.

FBI and congressional investigations into alleged Russian collusion progressed for the next two years. Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s final report found no underlying criminal conspiracy, but raised serious issues of obstruction of justice.

Trump’s July 25, 2019, phone call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky sparked whistleblower concerns of self-dealing. The whistleblower was accused, in unconfirmed reports, to be a longtime partisan staffer associated with former Vice President Joe Biden, CIA Director John Brennan, and the Democrat National Committee (DNC).

Zelensky claims he wasn’t directly asked, as a condition of receiving U.S. military aid, to investigate potential corruption by Biden’s son Hunter (who once was on the board of a Ukrainian energy company).

The Obama administration had held up approximately $1 billion in aid because of corruption in Ukraine and Trump claimed Biden had bragged about deterring Ukrainian prosecutors from examining his son’s activities.  

After continuing to withhold monetary aid and complaining that Europeans were not contributing to Ukraine’s defense against Russia, the administration did release $391 million in aid in September 2019.

Rep. Adam Schiff has been holding witness hearings to investigate alleged abuse of power by Trump in seeking personal or political advantage by asking Zelensky “for a favor.” There also are concerns the original Ukraine tapes were “doctored.”

Trump’s upset in 2016 was likely to result in his impeachment after the Democrats gained the majority in the House. 

The GOP has vociferously complained these to-date “secret hearings” lack due process and fair play, and deny presidential counsel, cross-examination of witnesses or GOP subpoenas.

Trump’s supporters accused Democrats of selective leaks to partisan media organizations as part of a strategy to create a narrative of impeachable offenses rising to “treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors.”   

On Oct. 31, 2019, Democrats passed a party-line vote absent of any GOP support to move forward with a formal impeachment inquiry. Impeachment purposefully is difficult, requiring a majority vote in the House and a two-thirds vote of conviction in the Senate.

The case against Trump ultimately is a political claim of abuse of power, untrustworthiness and unfitness for office.

Once impeached and acquitted, Trump’s ultimate political fortunes and historical reputation will rise or fall when the American public asserts its voice and vote in 2020. n


Larry Greenfield is a fellow of the Claremont Institute for the Study of Statesmanship and Political Philosophy. 

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The Year I Wanted Out of Religion

If you view the religious practices of Orthodox Jews as over the top, you might want to skip to another column.

Come to think of it, if you’re on the fence about whether to have children, you, too, might want to read something else.

Let me say what many observant mothers were thinking over the past few weeks, beginning with Rosh Hashanah and ending with Simchat Torah:
It’s too much.

Before I had kids, I imagined that caring for children during the High Holy Days was a time of fun and learning at home — like a short summer break. I was an idiot.

Summer break? You don’t spend hours shopping in crowded kosher markets, cooking and hosting every few days during summer break — all while trying to be in synagogue with little ones and adhering to strict religious laws.

On Rosh Hashanah, I was tired but cheerful. On Yom Kippur, I was bitter and exhausted. And by Shemini Atzeret, I was done.

In fact, I feel bad for Shemini Atzeret, because unless you attended Jewish school, which I didn’t, no one seems to know what it is. We’re supposed to ask God to tarry for another day of connection and joy. Because it was 92 degrees that day, I grumbled bitterly.

I’m not proud of this, but I would dislike Shemini Atzeret because it adds another day of observance to an overwhelmed month, if not for the fact that deeper Jewish sources allege our judgment is sealed on this day. Now I’m just scared
of it.

Can we give observant Jews license to say they sometimes struggle with  the demands of religious life?

I struggled with connecting to God and community this year perhaps because attending synagogue services was the benchmark of the High Holy Days for me before I had kids. Our oldest son didn’t want us to leave him in the kids’ playroom, which meant that my husband and I spent most of our time in synagogue sitting on the floor and watching toddlers play, argue and wipe their noses with anything but tissues — sometimes for hours.

And then, the head colds arrived. Two sick toddler boys and two tired, starving parents on Yom Kippur. Not to mention the fact that school was closed for what seemed like an eternity.

Depleted and depressed, I uttered something terrible to my husband — something I never thought I’d say because as someone who didn’t grow up religious, I’d worked so hard to achieve:

“I think I want out.”

Out of religious life.

Out of not being able to hop in a car to take the kids out for the day because it was a holy Yom Tov and driving is forbidden.

Out of not being able to turn to my saviors — the prophets Bert and Ernie — on such days, because electronic devices are also forbidden.

At one point, I wondered bitterly, Didn’t God have anything better to do than to be appalled if I turned on a kids’ TV show just so I could get seven minutes of time to myself?

I’m not usually like this. I love Judaism madly. Deeply. Insatiably.

Can we give observant Jews license to say they sometimes struggle with the demands of religious life?

The day that school restarted was better than a trip to Disneyland. But as I looked around an empty home, I realized that I’d never get this year’s High Holy Days season back in terms of how our children were right in those moments: little, totally needy and begging to stay in our arms.

Yes, they were sick, and no, I didn’t get to hear the shofar this year. But one afternoon, after days of listlessness from being sick, our oldest son picked up his toy shofar and began to blow away. Though it sounded like a broken kazoo, it signaled that he was finally better. I was so grateful although that little sound made my heart yearn for the real thing.

I was still overwhelmed and struggling with disconnection, but I yearned for the discordant, redemptive sound of the shofar. Maybe I didn’t want out. Maybe I really, really wanted in.


Tabby Refael is a Los Angeles-based writer and speaker.

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Fighting Anti-Semitism Without Fear

There’s a crazy disconnect happening right now in the Jewish world. On the one hand, we’re supposed to be in a state of fear, if not outright panic, because our leaders and the media keep telling us that anti-Semitic hell is upon us. On the other hand, the great majority of Jews feel safe and strong in America.

Which one is it? Are things good or bad for the Jews?

There are an estimated 6 million Jews in the United States. In the first six months of 2019, according to the Anti-Defamation League, about 780 anti-Semitic incidents were reported, a slight decrease from the 785 reported during the same period in 2018.

Even one incident is too many, but is 780 incidents in a country of 330 million cause for panic?

In the recent American Jewish Committee survey that has caused so much alarm, only 5% of respondents avoided “visiting Jewish institutions or participating in Jewish events because [they] would not feel safe there.”

Should we be shocked if, in the same survey, 88% of respondents believe that anti-Semitism is “a problem”? Not if you consider that we’re all being bombarded daily with that message. We’re pretty much repeating what we hear.

Of course anti-Semitism is a problem. It always was and always will be. That’s not the point. The point is: What is the most effective way to deal with it?

Here is what I think is the wrong way: Looking weak. Looking afraid. Looking like victims.

In other words, we must fight Jew-hatred without giving the haters the power to frighten us.

Imagine being a Jew-hater who has spray-painted a swastika late one night on a synagogue wall. The next morning, you discover that your “creation” is now all over the airwaves and social media. You’ve triggered a media storm! Jewish leaders are freaking out! You’ve got the bastards running scared! That’s power.

We pay a price when our body language is more about fear than about strength.

Let me make a professional confession — in the Jewish world, anti-Semitism is like money in the bank. Whether we like to admit it or not, when we make a big deal of Jew-hatred, it boosts readership and fundraising. That’s because fear sells, and the haters know it. They expect us to advertise our fear, and every time we do, they win.

But there’s a silver lining we rarely hear about. A key reason people hate Jews is because we’re seen as being successful. Said another way, the silver lining to anti-Semitism is that it is a measure of Jewish success, a sign of our strength, especially here in America.

In a 2018 essay in The New York Times, social psychologist Amy Cuddy explained this phenomenon.

“In our research,” she wrote, “a widespread stereotype of Jewish people … falls in the competent-but-cold quadrant. Groups in this quadrant elicit respect but also resentment for their success. We call this ‘envious prejudice.’ ”

I know it’s not polite to talk about “Jewish success.” As Jews, we’ve learned through our long history of persecution that it’s much safer to just keep quiet about things like “Jewish success” or, even more so, “Jewish power.”

As a result, we embrace any opportunity to tell the world: “See, things are not that good for us! We’re not that powerful!” Maybe we figure that if we’re quiet about our success and loud about our victimhood, we’ll gain some sympathy to balance the envy.

Well, maybe. But let’s not kid ourselves. We pay a price when our body language is more about fear than about strength.

The smartest way to fight the haters is to show them that their hatred is a useless act that will neither frighten us nor make them famous.

For one thing, freaking out after each anti-Semitic incident only encourages the Jew-haters to do more of it — so they can feast on our fear.

But on a deeper level, when so much of the Jewish conversation revolves around fighting Jew-haters, we must ask: Is that the Jewish identity we want to pass on to the next generation? Do we want them to “light up” only when Jew-hatred shows its face?

Yes, Jews should light up, because they’re blessed with an ancient tradition that nourishes the soul and enriches our lives; because they’re part of one of the greatest stories ever told; because they’re committed to repairing the world. Jews, in other words, should be inspired by what we are for, not what we are against.

By all means, let’s defend ourselves. Let’s work closely with law enforcement, let’s call out hateful rhetoric, let’s use the courts to punish offenders. 

But let’s not show fear. In the end, the smartest way to fight the haters is to show them that their hatred is a useless act that will neither frighten us nor make them famous. 

Replacing alarmism with the language of strength and pride may not boost ratings or fundraising, but it’s good for the Jews and it’s terrible for the haters.

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Ripple Effect: Spa

I have decided that I am going to plan a monthly spa date for myself.

I love the Korean spa. In the name of self-care, I thought that if I put it on my calendar and make my friend put it on her calendar too, it will happen.

My friend was in. We scheduled three months of spa meetings.

The first day was approaching. 

Alas, the whole day we had planned turned into 5 hours and then to 3 hours. My friend bailed, but I couldn’t cancel the treatment I had booked, so annoyed with myself, stressed that I was wasting precious time I made myself go.

Oh, how I love the Korean spa.

You leave the world, and Zen out.

Women of all shapes and sizes walking around naked, happy, and free. 

You get scrubbed and washed and pampered. I know it’s not for everyone, but I think it is amazing. 

There is quiet and relaxation. 

In this place, the 50 thousand thoughts in my head start to unfold, make sense, and almost organize themselves.  Oh, how I needed this, I think to myself.

Typically, in my anger management class I ask,

“What makes you angry and what can we do to control that anger?”

On this particular day, I could tell lots of people were on edge. Sometimes there’s energy in the room. It could be one person who’s having a particularly bad day that affects everybody. It is the same way when the opposite happens. There can be an aura of serenity when someone is in a good place.

I decide to turn it around and I ask “How about today, instead of talking about what makes us angry, we can talk about what we do to stay calm?”

 People pipe up.

“Music.”

“Writing.”

“Running.”

“Sex.”  

Lots of laughter.

One person says, “Really, Ms. That’s why I did drugs, so I could feel goooood.”

More laughter.  The mood swings.

Everyone is present and I’ve succeeded in clearing the air a bit.

 One guy looks at me and asks, 

“Ms., what do you do to calm down?”

 I tell them about the spa. They are intrigued.

 “You actually pay people to scrub your body? That’s a little fucked up,” she says.

Someone chimes in “Hey, Ms., I’ll do that for free!”

“Ha, ha,” I say. “Very funny!”

I don’t tell them about the tea pool you sit and dunk in, because out of context even, to me, that sounds a little kooky.

“Everybody has his or her own thing that helps to clam down. 

You need to find it and do it,” I tell them. 

I think how hard it was for me to take those three hours and how I had to force myself to go. It seems so silly.

“You need to treat yourself, and you need to take care of yourself. Only that way can you take care of others—your children, your lovers, your parents, your people,” I say.

“Damn, Ms., I never thought about it that way. I got me a whole army of people I need to take care of. You know, it kind of sucks. Can I come to that spa with you?”

“Ms., you know what?  I do program (by program she means Narcotics Anonymous). Program calms me down and my sponsor is the best and is always there for me.”

Many of my students are in 12-step programs. 

Many of them are in recovery for severe drug abuse. These programs that they go to are a lifeline for them. I listen to her talk about the group she is in and I realize that her group, her program, is a spa for the soul, her soul.

“Ms., program gives me a place to breathe.

My soul can come out and be, and everyone is good, no matter what I say. I always end up feeling good when I leave.”

“That is perfect,” I tell her.

In a different group there is a student who is 16 and pregnant with her second child.  She is heavy, burdened and out of breath.

My heart is anguished looking at her and I feel sad and helpless, but, as the serenity prayer says, there are things I can’t change. 

I can’t change her situation. But maybe, just maybe, I can help her find space to exhale. She is cranky and annoyed.

Hell, I would be too, if I were her.

I look at her face. This girl is so young, so lost.

I can tell you that my team and I are desperately trying to figure out how to teach birth control and how to tackle (culturally) this huge issue of young girls having babies.  But that is the big picture and a different conversation.

Right now, in front of me is this young woman.

My job is to be her spa, make her feel good about herself, and give her the space to breathe.

“I can’t stand for this exercise,” she says.

“Then don’t,” I say.

She looks at me a little shocked.

I come close to her 

“Can I touch your belly?”

She thinks it is insanely funny that I ask permission to do that.

I smile at her and tell her about my three pregnancies, and what I craved eating.

She shared with me what she is craving. 

And there was that Spa moment, a second to stop, to be, to breathe.

“I got you,” I tell her.  

I leave the spa and I text my friend. “You know, we don’t need a whole day at the spa. Three hours was fine. We can do pocket spa days,” I say. My friend laughs.

“You know,” I tell my girl.

“You have to give yourself a moment for you. Because that is the only way you will be able to do this.”

“What do you mean?” she asks me.

I tell her about the spa and I decide to tell her about the Mugwort tea pool.

“It’s no bigger than a Jacuzzi,” I say.

“And it’s filled with herbal tea that is supposed to regulate hormones, promotes beautiful skin and benefit wellness in numerous ways.”

She looked at me like I fell from the sky.

“You sit in a teacup??”

I laugh out loud.

“No,” and I let it go.

I knew it would not go over well.

“Try and take a few minutes a day. Close your eyes and simply take a breath,” I tell her.

“Create a space for you, a little spa where it is all about you. 

Period, full stop.”

“I like that,” she says. “I’ll do it.”

“Gonna create me some teacup moments, Miss”

“I gotta say, Ms. You are kind of weird sitting in tea and all that, but that’s okay. Do your thing!”

Our days are busy.
Our lives are hectic.
Take a moment to close your eyes and bring the spa to you.
Take a breath and imagine yourself in that cup of tea.
It is worth it.
You are worth it.
Period, full stop.


Naomi Ackerman is a Mom, activist, writer, performer, and the founder and executive Director of The Advot (ripple) Project a registered 501(c)3 that uses theatre and the arts to empower youth at risk to live their best life.

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