US Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia died yesterday. The news travels quickly, these days. Wikipedia was the first to break the story to me. “…Scalia was described as the intellectual anchor for the originalist and textualist position in the Court’s conservative wing” was the sitting terminus to his introductory paragraph. “Then he died”, appended a terse editor for a fleeting moment, before someone more eloquent–and perchance more tactful–smoothed it out. The vandals poured through the gates as well. Cause of death was listed “attempt[ed] auto-fellatio” for very brief time. The Romans were apparently better prepared for the onslaught this time and put things back in order with equal rapidity. The meme-generating world was impressively fast in creating topical content. A mere 10 minutes after I heard the news, I saw an irreverent image macro featuring the man fulfill the artistic duty of existing for the sake of existing–“This is a thing that happened. He’s dead now. It doesn’t matter.”
His passing, although noted as quickly as any popular figure in the internet age, was not met with the reverence with which we tend to shower our artists. David Bowie and Alan Rickman all got fond, heartfelt farewells and mourning in their recent departures. A sitting political figure is offered a less obsequious public eulogy. And this is only natural. Artists bring art into the world, and good art should be celebrated, and it is right to celebrate the bearers of good art. Politics is by its essence a different beast, a contentious beast. It’s safe to say his most recent book, for example, will not be flying off the shelves in a post mortem fit of pique. There were a number of “I’m not saying ‘I’m glad he’s dead’, but I’m glad he’s not around to be active in politics anymore” from people who disagreed with his positions and personal statements of belief. Accusations of tactlessness flew back from many supporters. Both sides of the partisan aisle, as well as non-partisans fairly noted that his time of death was inopportune and would have serious political implications.
Those political implications quickly became the topic du jour, the corpse of the Judge inevitably being heaved around on both sides, on occasion. Cries for time to mourn have been issued. “The body is still warm and already we’re arguing over his legacy and his politics?” Yes. Judges are in a relatively unique position. They are appointed politicians who serve for life. Many retire before they expire, but with apparently no conspicuous signs of decrepitness, Scalia was still in power when he died–albeit on vacation. The delusion that the judicial branch was an independent branch of government should have died back in 1803 with Marbury v. Madison. Judges are very much political actors, and it’s fair that we view them as politicians. Scalia’s death has immediate political ramifications, compounded by the fact that we are in election-2016 mode. There is no Vice Justice to take his place in an orderly fashion. An outgoing executive will appoint his successor, and he has the opportunity to alter the political scale of the Court in the process. That is not a political situation to treat as insignificant, and the fact that people are reacting to it so quickly at least shows an engaged democracy, as insipid as the comments tend to be. Should he have retired instead, and lived another decade, I’m confident his eulogies would be more tepid on the side of the his opposition. People need time to forget the bad, to let someone succeed his place. “He did somethings I didn’t like, but there’s been a new guy for years now, so…” People need time to cool their anxiety. What will the Supreme Court look like politically? What does this mean for the election? For politics in the coming year? These are fresh anxieties we now have to deal with. Scalia’s death left us with these emotions at their peak. Our society isn’t necessarily any more callous than we used to be; this is just an abnormal situation as far as public grieving goes.
A man is dead, yes. But the public isn’t in a position to grieve for a man. A politician is dead with no clear line of succession, and with a finite amount of libido (that is, psych[olog]ic[al] energy), we have given deference to worrying about our political situation. Life must go on. At least the man isn’t around to hear the scorn.