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(Ok, admittedly, that's still unsubstantiated. Sorry, couldn't resist.) In any event, a sturdy and plodding workhorse of a biopic, Clint Eastwood's J. Edgar attempts to humanize the man who fanned forty years of fears about Communism to become architect of the F.B.I. and one of the most powerful figures in Washington. It's...not bad, and I would say I was engaged for most of the movie's run. But, even despite all the Brokeback Mountain-style kabuki restraint that Eastwood must've felt he had to employ to do justice to the are-they-or-aren't-they relationship of Hoover and longtime partner Clyde Tolson, a film about a figure as polarizing as J. Edgar Hoover should take stronger stands about its subject. Despite some very good (and, in di Caprio's case, very bizarre) performances, this is mostly biopic mush.
It doesn't help that Eastwood has yet again opted for the tinkly piano and gray palette that seems to characterize all of his historical pictures. This worked wonders for Letters of Iwo Jima, not so much for Flags of our Fathers and this film. Here, Eastwood has set a story beginning in 1919 -- perhaps the most lurid and tumultuous single year for America in the 20th century (I'm only ever-so-slightly biased on this) -- and made it look like a drab, washed-out daguerrotype. In that fateful summer, after an anarchist's bomb blows up the front porch of Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer's house in the ritzy West End of Washington (his neighbors, Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, had just parked down the street), Hoover is hand-picked to run the new "General Intelligence Division" of the Justice Department that will bring the perpetrators to justice.
With previous experience at the Library of Congress in organizing information, Hoover soon takes on two key assistants in Tolson (Armie Hammer, once again exuding Ivy League entitlement) and personal secretary Helen Gandy (Naomi Watts, who gets the best of the age make-up), and quickly attempts to make a CSI of the GID. Cut to forty years later, and Hoover -- now balding, paunchy, and covered in latex -- is obsessively snooping on Martin Luther King and making veiled threats to Attorney General Bobby Kennedy about his brother's sleeping habits. With our two historical poles established, the rest of J. Edgar flits back and forth in time, telling the story of its protagonist as both a young and old man - Other than these two moments, the film spends most of its time, strangely enough, dealing with the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby. (In 2004, when discussing The Alamo, I noted how fun it is to cast the story of American history with actors. Let me say that Josh Lucas totally works as Charles Lindbergh.)
For the most part, J. Edgar is an innocuous edutainment. But it also has some serious problems, and not just the standard-issue groanworthy biopic tropes like Freudian parent issues overdetermining the subject's entire life story. (Here, Mom (Judi Dench) is a stern and overbearing sort who forces Hoover to bury his secrets within, even as he's trying to pry up everyone else's.) Y'see, it comes out rather late in the third act that Eastwood and screenwriter Dustin Lance Black have attempted to add a Fight Club-ish "unreliable narrator" schtick to the film: The whole time, we've been watching Hoover's sanitized retelling of his own history. But this should-be-huge reveal is underplayed, and thus becomes somewhat buried. And, as a result, people who don't know anything about the times are going to leave a theater with a very wrongheaded sense of the story.
For example, it's never mentioned or adequately explained that the 1919 anarchist bombings which open the film only killed two people -- one of them the bomber on Palmer's porch, who either tripped or mis-timed the blast -- and that, not unlike recent times, pretty much everything Palmer and Hoover did subsequently in 1919 was a massive overreaction. (Hence, the "Red Scare.") They show Hoover and a team of G-men knocking down an anarchist printing press in Paterson, New Jersey linked to the bombs, but, with the arguable exception of Emma Goldman's deportation proceedings at Ellis Island, they don't show any of the many, many raids that were just glorified fishing expeditions and/or excuses to remove foreign-born potential Communists from American shores.
Similarly, when the film briefly depicts the Centralia Massacre that same year, it shows events in a way that Hoover, and many other Americans, probably saw them -- I.W.W. radicals killing patriotic veterans in a turkey shoot. But that depiction does violence to the much more complicated truth of the event, which involved American Legion members deciding first to go march on some radical Wobblies. And you'd never know that the culmination of that day was an I.W.W. member and veteran grabbed from jail by soldiers, beaten, castrated, hung, hung, hung, shot, and shot. Again, Eastwood and Black have written themselves a pass for this, because they hint Hoover is an unreliable narrator at the end of the film. But that lede is buried.So the history has definite issues, and this same tendency towards whitewashing detracts from the whole film. Granted, given how little we know, the Tolson-Hoover relationship should perhaps be treated with this discretion -- although my understanding is they were more conceived of as a couple than this film lets on. (FWIW, Hammer is quite good here despite some unfortunate age-makeup, and a Supporting Actor nod is likely.) But, that aside, and to be blunt about it, sometimes an asshole is just an asshole. One can argue that Hoover had all the reasons in the world to be the way he was -- an overbearing mom, a traumatic secret, whathaveyou. But this film spends more time trying to make us feel charitable towards its protagonist than it does putting his behavior in any kind of appropriate context. (For example, why is Hoover obsessed with MLK? Should he be wiretapping him? It's never really addressed.) Should we feel for J. Edgar, after hearing his story? Perhaps, yes. But we should also leave the theater with a clearer sense of how illegal and often reprehensible his rise to power really was.
"At the Lincoln Center talk, the Coens compared their movie to "Margot at the Wedding" (Noah Baumbach was on stage with them) suggesting that, like that film, their new work will offer natural dialogue and a feeling of being dropped into the middle of a world. They also said they expected the film to contain musical performances."
As breaking over the weekend, the Coens' next project may well be a look at the sixties folk scene in Greenwich Village, based on the life of Dave Von Ronk -- above, with Dylan and Suze Rotolo -- and his memoirs, The Mayor of McDougal Street. He shouldn't overpower the story, but I do hope Jack Rollins get his due.
"[S]he read modern poetry, studied art and drawing, and immersed herself in Bertolt Brecht and other avant-garde playwrights. When they became a couple, Rotolo introduced Dylan to these worlds. Close friends noticed the change: 'You could see the influence she had on him,' said Sylvia Tyson of Ian & Sylvia. 'This is a girl who was marching to integrate local schools when she was 15.'"
Suze Rotolo, author, activist, and Dylan muse, 1943-2011. "'A Freewheelin' Time' is one of the first histories of the folk music years written from a woman's perspective...it goes beyond gossip to ask a pointed question: How did it feel? Rotolo writes the era mattered because 'we all had something to say, not something to sell.'"
"'I always felt that I was a character actor,' York told the Scotsman newspaper in 2008. 'It bothered me that people would think of me as blonde and blue-eyed and that was it.'" Actress (and mother of Superman) Susannah York, 1939-2011.
"Nearly everybody in their life needs someone to help them. I don't care whether you're the greatest self-made man; the fact is, someone has helped you along the way." Politician and Peace Corps founder Sargent Shriver, 1915-2011.
"Here was the Delta Republicans' historic task: negotiating terms of surrender to the Constitution, then reframing that Lost Cause as honorable, the better to preserve their insular plutocracy -- perhaps their gravest sin in the first place -- in order to integrate themselves more snugly into national and international circuits of corrupt wealth. Haley Barbour, who received his first Republican patronage job in 1970, is a true son of this confederacy."
In the wake of Haley Barbour's highly dubious misremembering of civil-rights era Mississippi, historian Rick Perlstein skewers the GOP poobah and presidential hopeful to the wall. "At every important turn in the story, Barbour emphasizes how little he remembers of this most intense period imaginable in his beloved home town -- it really was no big deal, he insists...He's a middle-aged Southern conservative. That is what his job is: to opportunistically 'forget.'"
"Fate has ordained that the men who went to the moon to explore in peace will stay on the moon to rest in peace.These brave men, Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin, know that there is no hope for their recovery. But they also know that there is hope for mankind in their sacrifice. These two men are laying down their lives in mankind's most noble goal: the search for truth and understanding."
In a fascinating remnant of alternate history, Letters of Note unearths Nixon's Safire-penned speech on the (possible) failure of Apollo 11. "Others will follow, and surely find their way home. Man's search will not be denied. But these men were the first, and they will remain the foremost in our hearts."
"Responding to the newspaper's requests, the government instead released 369 pages related to a 1970s public corruption probe that targeted Withers -- by then a state employee who was taking payoffs -- carefully redacting references to informants -- with one notable exception. Censors overlooked a single reference to Withers' informant number."
Thanks to one small clerical error, the Memphis Commerical Appeal uncovers the hidden life of famed civil rights photographer Ernest Withers, who apparently doubled as an FBI informant. [Reaction.] "'He was the perfect source for them. He could go everywhere with a perfect, obvious professional purpose,' said Pulitzer Prize-winning historian David Garrow, who, along with retired Marquette University professor Athan Theoharis, reviewed the newspaper's findings." Shady.
"[W]hen I told Dr. King I was leaving the show, I never got to tell him why, because he said, 'You can't.' He explained to me just what I've just said. 'Here you are on the command crew in the 23rd century, fourth in command, while we're marching in the streets for equality.'" Nichelle Nichols, a.k.a. Lt. Uhura, relates the story of Dr. Martin Luther King, Trekkie.
"Now if I were a gambling woman, I'd wager that most Americans today are not seething with unspoken rage at Thurgood Marshall. And I might wonder at the wisdom of blaming him for what ails this country in the summer of 2010." Slate's Dahlia Lithwick reports in from Day 1 of the Kagan confirmation hearings, where the Senate GOP are now earnestly trying to rewrite the history books on Justice Marshall. (Apparently, Orrin Hatch is even hemming and hawing about whether he'd even confirm Marshall now. You stay classy, GOP.)
"I will tell you the more I just stayed awake last night thinking about this thing, the more I think of it, I don't know what in the hell it looks to me like we're getting into another Korea [...] I don't think it's worth fighting for and I don't think we can get out. And it's just the biggest damned mess that I ever saw." Also via Greenwald today and in light of Obama's upcoming decision on Afghanistan, former LBJ aide Bill Moyers painstakingly pieces together how his old boss made the decision to escalate in Vietnam. "We will never know what would have happened if Lyndon Johnson had said no to more war. We know what happened because he said yes."
"So the birthers, the anti-tax tea-partiers, the town hall hecklers -- these are 'either' the genuine grass roots or evil conspirators staging scenes for YouTube?...They are both. If you don't understand that any moment of genuine political change always produces both, you can't understand America, where the crazy tree blooms in every moment of liberal ascendancy, and where elites exploit the crazy for their own narrow interests."
In the WP, historian Rick Perlstein puts the latest incarnation of the stark raving right-wing in historical perspective. The difference this time? The media is completely failing at its job. "The tree of crazy is an ever-present aspect of America's flora. Only now, it's being watered by misguided he-said-she-said reporting and taking over the forest. Latest word is that the enlightened and mild provision in the draft legislation to help elderly people who want living wills -- the one hysterics turned into the 'death panel' canard -- is losing favor, according to the Wall Street Journal, because of 'complaints over the provision.' Good thing our leaders weren't so cowardly in 1964, or we would never have passed a civil rights bill -- because of complaints over the provisions in it that would enslave whites."
"We all make mistakes. We know we make mistakes. I don't know any military commander, who is honest, who would say he has not made a mistake. There's a wonderful phrase: 'the fog of war.' What "the fog of war" means is: war is so complex it's beyond the ability of the human mind to comprehend all the variables. Our judgment, our understanding, are not adequate. And we kill people unnecessarily." -- Robert McNamara, 1916-2009
"What do I regret? Well, I regret that in our attempt to establish some standards, we didn't make them stick. We couldn't find a way to pass them on to another generation." -- Walter Cronkite, 1916-2009.
"In the summer of 1959, Allen Ginsberg, the generation's visionary poet of exuberance and doom, wrote in the Village Voice: 'No one in America can know what will happen. No one is in real control. America is having a nervous breakdown...Therefore there has been great exaltation, despair, prophecy, strain, suicide, secrecy, and public gaiety among the poets of the city.' He might as well have written that today."
In Slate and per his recent book, Fred Kaplan makes the case for 1959 as a Very Important Year, and uses the groundbreaking flight of Luna 1 as that moment's muse. "[I]t, and the race to space that it triggered, helped create the climate in which all those other breakthroughs were possible or, at least, appealing to a broad population. The breakdown of barriers in space, speed, and time made other barriers ripe for transgressing." And folks argue space exploration isn't important...
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I was there that day when Dr. King delivered his historic speech before an audience of more than 250,000. I am the last remaining speaker from the March on Washington, and I was there when Dr. King urged this nation to lay down the burden of discrimination and segregation and move toward the creation of a more perfect union... [W]ith the nomination of Senator Barack Obama tonight, the man who will lead the Democratic Party in its march toward the White House, we are making a major down payment on the fulfillment of that dream. We prove that a dream still burns in the hearts of every American, that this dream was too right, too necessary, too noble to ever die. But this night is not an ending. It is not even a beginning. It is the continuation of a struggle that began centuries ago in Lexington and Concord, in Gettysburg and Appomattox, in Farmville, Virginia, and Topeka, Kansas, in Philadelphia, Mississippi, and Selma, Alabama. Democracy is not a state. It is an act. It is a series of actions we must take to build what Martin Luther King Jr. called the beloved community - a society based on simple justice that values the dignity and the worth of every human being. We've come a long way, but we still have a distance to go. We've come a long way, but we must march again. On November 4th, we must march in every state, in every city, in every village, in every hamlet; we must march to the ballot box. We must march like we have never marched before to elect the next President of the United States, Senator Barack Obama. For those of us who stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, or who in the years that followed may have lost hope, this moment is a testament to the power and vision of Martin Luther King Jr. It is a testament to the ability of a committed and determined people to make a difference in our society. It is a testament to the promise of America. |
I'm not sure if it made it to the networks, but Rep. John Lewis' introduction to the MLK tribute was easily the most spine-tingling and moving moment of the day outside of Obama's nomination speech. When Lewis spoke, it was still a bright, sunny afternoon in Denver, and it was easy to imagine -- and even almost feel the tangible presence of -- that August day in Washington forty-five years ago.
I'm fully aware that this is just an illusion, that the two events were quite different in feel and tone, and that the former will always remain unknowable to me, outside of book-learning. But, as Lewis spoke with such emotion and conviction Thursday afternoon, it was a very powerful feeling, as if the space-time of American history was folding around us to fashion bookends, forty-five years apart. I felt extraordinarily lucky to be there to witness and experience it. "'We’ve had disappointments since then, but if someone told me I would be here' Mr. Lewis said, shaking [his] head. 'When people say nothing has changed, I feel like saying, "Come walk in my shoes."'"
"It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope." -- Sen. Robert F. Kennedy, 1925-1968, taken from us 40 years ago today. [See also "The Ballad of Bobby."]
"'The world is a tough place,' he said with a chuckle. 'You're never going to get out of it alive.'" A damn dirty ape no longer, Charlton Heston, 1923-2008. (Between this and Buckley, it's been a bad year so far for the patriarchs of conservatism.)
Update: Hmmm. After reading up on him further, it seems Heston (nee John Carter!) was a late-comer to the conservative movement, and even to the NRA philosophy: "In his earlier years, Heston was a liberal Democrat, campaigning for Presidential candidates Adlai Stevenson in 1956 and John F. Kennedy in 1960. A civil rights activist, he accompanied Martin Luther King Jr. during the civil rights march held in Washington, D.C. in 1963...In 1968, following the assassination of Senator Robert F. Kennedy, Heston...called for public support for President Johnson's Gun Control Act of 1968...He was also an opponent of McCarthyism and racial segregation, which he saw as only helping the cause of Communism worldwide. He opposed the Vietnam War and considered Richard Nixon a disaster for America. He turned down John Wayne's offer of a role in The Alamo, because the film was a right-wing allegory for the Cold War."
"[T]oday I see across the generational divide the spirit, excitement, energy and creativity of a new generation bidding to displace the old ways. Obama's moment is their moment, and I pray that they succeed without the sufferings and betrayals my generation went through. There really is no comparison between the Obama generation and those who would come to power with Hillary Clinton, and I suspect she knows it. The people she would take into her administration may have been reformers and idealists in their youth, but they seem to seek now a return to their establishment positions of power. They are the sorts of people young Hillary Clinton herself would have scorned at Wellesley. If history is any guide, the new 'best and brightest' of the Obama generation will unleash a new cycle of activism, reform and fresh thinking before they follow pragmatism to its dead end."
In The Nation, SDS co-founder, author of the Port Huron Statement, and longtime progressive Tom Hayden endorses Barack Obama for president. "Barack Obama is giving voice and space to an awakening beyond his wildest expectations, a social force that may lead him far beyond his modest policy agenda. Such movements in the past led the Kennedys and Franklin Roosevelt to achievements they never contemplated. [As Gandhi once said of India's liberation movement, 'There go my people. I must follow them, for I am their leader.'] We are in a precious moment where caution must yield to courage. It is better to fail at the quest for greatness than to accept our planet's future as only a reliving of the past. "
"'What does that mean, false hopes?' he said at Claremont, the start of a 720-word summation about 'false hope' he repeated almost word for word during the day. 'How have we made progress in this country? Look, did John F. Kennedy look at the moon and say, 'Ah, it's too far?' We can't do that. We need a reality check. Dr. King standing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. 'You know, this dream thing, it's a false hope. We can't expect equality.' 'False hopes. Let me tell you something about hope. I do talk about hope quite a bit. Out of necessity. There is no oddsmaker who would have said that I would be standing here when I was born in 1961.'" Invoking JFK and MLK, Obama turns Clinton's dismaying "false hopes" barb into campaign music. (And, hey, Al Smith is in there too: "We are happy warriors for change," Obama cried at a rally in Lebanon.")
For her part, Senator Clinton also went to the historical analogy well of late and came back with...Lyndon Johnson? "'Dr. King's dream began to be realized when President Johnson passed the Civil Rights Act,' Clinton said. 'It took a president to get it done.'" (One of her introducers took it all a bit far and brought up Kennedy's murder: "'Some people compare one of the other candidates to John F. Kennedy. But he was assassinated. And Lyndon Baines Johnson was the one who actually' passed the civil rights legislation." As my sister-in-law Lotta also noted recently, Not Cool.) At any rate, Clinton's factual grasp of history is basically sound, if dismayingly top-heavy. In the inspiration department, however, LBJ probably isn't going to get it done.
"The Berliner Morgenpost over the weekend ran with the headline, 'The New Kennedy.' The tabloid Bild went with, "This Black American Has Become the New Kennedy!'" Speaking of JFK, it seems Iowa and (hopefully) New Hampshire are not alone. Obama-mania is sweeping Germany. "An editorial in the Frankfurter Rundschau went one historic president better with a headline that read simply: 'Lincoln, Kennedy, Obama,' adding that 'hope and optimism' are 'the source of the nation's strength.'" (I was going to say something along the lines of "But is Obama a jelly donut?" As I just discovered, though, that oft-told "Berliner" gaffe may not be true.)
(Obama silhouette pic via a friend/colleague at Peasants Under Glass, where we talked about some of the following in the comments.)
Something is happening here, but you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones? Let's go back a few days to Friday, just after Iowa, at the 100 Club Dinner in Milford, NH: "What you need to understand about the dinner and the venue is this: it was supposed to be a Clinton room." The Clinton advance people had secured the best tables at the front, so all the formidable Granite State luminaries who've backed Hillary could show their strength, and show the Iowa upstart how things work in "independent" New Hampshire. Meanwhile, the Obama voters had been shunted to the back of the room, far away from the podium, the cameras, and the action. All well and good...except it didn't work out that way. The legions of Obama voters surged to the front just before his speech and, by most accounts, blew the Clinton operation out of the room. "'I'm really worried about him,' said [Beverly] Hollingworth, a member of the state's Executive Council and a former state senator, as she headed for the door. 'Other people have been working their whole life for change, and have made good progress. This is just rhetoric.'" And you know something is happening here, but you don't know what it is. Do you, Mrs. Hollingworth?
Fast forward to this morning, where George Stephanopoulos held his usual This Week roundtable at the site of last night's Manchester debate: Sam Donaldson, Cokie Roberts, George Will, and Donna Brazile. For his part, Will seems to be among the "national greatness," "Morning in America" civic conservatives -- such as Peggy Noonan and particularly Andrew Sullivan -- who've responded to Obama's candidacy, and see elements of their beloved Reagan in his crossover appeal. (No doubt anti-Hillary schadenfreude is playing a considerable part too.) Brazile, who worked the comment desks at CNN on Iowa night, had already said her piece last Thursday, and didn't add much this Sunday morning.
But those venerable dinosaurs of the Beltway punditariat, Cokie Roberts and Sam Donaldson, were virtually beside themselves that the Insider candidate seemed to be going down in flames, and soon proved themselves absurdly in the tank for Clinton. Cokie sneered at the constancy of Obama's youth appeal: "Young people, as much as we'd like to see them active in politics, are notorious for not showing up when you need them." She then went on to parrot Clinton's most recent talking points. (Consider "It's a lot of talk, when the reality is, change will happen," or "She embodies change just by being the first woman who might be elected president.")
Donaldson, meanwhile, got bogged down in a wish-fulfillment metaphor about the old champ wearing down the young hotshot (i.e. The Hustler, with Obama as Fast Eddie and Clinton as Minnesota Fats) and huffed and puffed with aggrieved authority, "I agree with Bill Richardson, experience is not a leper!...She's the only one who brought up the economy, did you notice? Anyone could've said look, we may go into a recession here, there's hard times. Only Senator Clinton -- with her experience, if you will -- managed to bring it up!" (You heard it here first, folks. Obama is too inexperienced to have considered the possibility of a recession.) "We're always looking for the non-candidate, the non-politician, and we'd think that'd be great, Donaldson intoned. "But, George, when you have a toothache, most of the people here go to the dentist that's drilled teeth for a long time, I think that's where the country could turn out." (Note here that it's Edwards, not Obama, running the standard outsider-against-the-Washington-ramparts campaign that Donaldson is decrying.)
Now, on one hand, who cares what Sam Donaldson and Cokie Roberts think? Not only are they so completely invested in the Beltway power structure that it's in their very marrow, but they've been living the sheltered life of the television Green Room for decades now. (So, it seems, has ABC's Charlie Gibson, who showed last night during the Manchester debate that he thinks a two-academic family makes $200,000 a year. Uh, Charlie, try $3,000 a class.) As I know from considerable personal experience, the higher echelons in Washington invariably turn up their noses at candidates with outside-the-Beltway appeal, and tend to view them as interlopers worthy of ridicule (or, if they catch a spark, vitriol. At its most extreme, this is how you get Senator Clinton angrily exclaiming in 2000 that killing Ralph Nader "might not be a bad idea.") In short, Sam and Cokie, like countless other members of the Washington media machine, see themselves as bastions of the Beltway order, keepers of the flame, and they don't like any provincial outsiders upsetting the established status quo. All the more reason why Obama is causing them great consternation: "You've been with the professors and they all like your looks. With great lawyers, you have discussed lepers and crooks. You've been through all of F. Scott's Fitzgerald's books. You're very well-read, it's well known. But, something is happening here, and you don't know what it is..."
On the other hand, if we peel away their affronted Beltway dismay about Obama's upstart candidacy, Sam, Cokie, and Mrs. Holllingworth's views speak to arguably the biggest open question about the Illinois Senator's broad-based appeal, and the one demographic factor that most threatens his winning New Hampshire, and the nomination: the generation gap. Pulling up the Iowa numbers again: "Among all caucus-goers under age 45, a smashing 50 percent supported Obama, compared with just 17 percent for Edwards and 16 percent for Clinton. Among those under 30, Obama went even higher, to 57 percent. Among seniors, by contrast -- nearly a quarter of participants -- it was Clinton 45 percent, Edwards 22, Obama 18." Obama pulled young voters out in droves in Iowa, and I think he shows every indication that he can do it again in New Hampshire and beyond. Still, as Cokie snarkily reminded us, older voters are consistent voters. And, allowing that individuals mostly defy easy groupings and follow the dictates of their conscience, the Boomers as a generation are clearly not sold on Obama just yet. So, what's going on here?
Part of it, I think, was explained by Andrew Sullivan a few months ago in the Atlantic Monthly: "Obama’s candidacy in this sense is a potentially transformational one. Unlike any of the other candidates, he could take America -- finally -- past the debilitating, self-perpetuating family quarrel of the Baby Boom generation that has long engulfed all of us...If you are an American who yearns to finally get beyond the symbolic battles of the Boomer generation and face today’s actual problems, Obama may be your man." Senator Obama has since furthered this line of argument himself, telling Newsweek's Joe Klein that he aims to move past "the dorm fights of the '60s." To younger voters, the culture wars that raged from the sixties to the nineties just don't resonate. They seem like ancient history. To older voters, who lived through the experience and witnessed time and time again how low today's GOP will sink in their pursuit of power, this past isn't dead. It isn't even past.
This is why, Sullivan continued in the Monthly, Clinton's methodical (some might say calculating) persona and incrementalist approach doesn't seem to rankle older voters nearly as much as it does those under 45. "[S]he has internalized what most Democrats of her generation have internalized: They suspect that the majority is not with them, and so some quotient of discretion, fear, or plain deception is required if they are to advance their objectives. And so the less-adept ones seem deceptive, and the more-practiced ones, like Clinton, exhibit the plastic-ness and inauthenticity that still plague her candidacy. She’s hiding her true feelings. We know it, she knows we know it, and there is no way out of it." To many older liberals and progressives, who've experienced one dismal setback after another since the heydays of the New Frontier and Great Society, the Clintonian brand of cautious pragmatism often seems the only viable approach to moving the country forward. Put simply, you get burned enough times, you stop using the stove. This time, irony isn't the shackles of youth, but of their parents.
The sheer fact of Clinton and Obama's presidential candidacies, I think, also plays a part in the wide generation gap. The great liberal and progressive victory of the Boomers, one that merits them the moniker "greatest generation" just as readily as fighting WWII does their parents, is the sweeping and (for the most part) successful cultural transformation of race and gender in American life. This is not to say that racism and sexism don't continue to fester in America, both individually and institutionally -- Of course they do, and they're all the harder to root out for having gone underground. But, thanks to the civil rights revolutions of the 1960s and 1970s, younger people tend to view race, gender, and other issues of identity as much more fluid concepts than most Boomers do. While many older voters still possess vividly etched memories of separate drinking fountains, grotesque sexism in the workplace, and fire hoses trained on children, Generations X, Y, and Z grew up sharing a multiracial consumer culture of MTV, The Cosby Show, hip-hop, Tiger Woods, Eminem, etc. Similarly, I think it's safe to say that people under 50 are much more likely to have had a female boss at one point or another. (Counting 'em up, I've worked under more women than men, and I doubt I'm in a slim minority on that point.)
Put simply, and while being careful not to overstate the case, categories like race and sex just don't seem as defining to the youth of today. Boomers fashioned this new world through blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifice, but -- like Moses at the Promised Land -- they can't enter it as readily as their children and grandchildren. This is part of the reason, I think, why, anecdotally speaking, older columnists seemed so much more taken aback by Obama's victory in lily-white Iowa. This also partly explains why Clinton seems to enjoy the strong support of older women. They remember a considerably lower and less permeable glass ceiling -- and the considerable struggle it required to break it -- while many younger women seem to more readily presume (as I do) that sex isn't really a barrier to the presidency anymore.
Now, the response to an older Clinton voter to all of these arguments thus far might be something along the lines of "Just you wait...We know better than you, sonny. Obama may seem like a rock star, but we can see there's no substance to him." But, it doesn't do any dishonor to older voters to suggest in return that maybe this is the moment to forsake a lifetime of dashed hopes and bet on the possibility that the time for a new, expanded progressive coalition has finally come. This is not an easy thing to do. As accomplished and dedicated a reformer as Jane Addams, part of a progressive generation for which I have great empathy, couldn't bring herself to vote for Franklin Roosevelt in 1932, and she was not alone.
Still, there's something strikingly dismaying about watching Clinton and other members of her generation dismiss Obama's message as merely "false hope" (a particularly vicious phrasing) and empty rhetoric. This is the same generation who recoiled from the tested, experienced establishment candidate in 1960, despite his considerable national security credentials, and flocked to the young, hopeful standard of Camelot. This is the same generation who, buoyed by the words of Dr. King, swelled the ranks of the civil rights movement, and who -- disgusted by the continuance of a badly thought-out war overseas -- was inspired by the moving oratory and surprising crossover appeal of Robert Kennedy.
Those leaders were all tragically taken from us, of course, two of them forty years ago this spring and summer. It's maddening to think of how the past four decades might've played out had we the opportunity of their continuing leadership and inspiration. And it's been a long time, far too long, since we've seen anyone on the left who can be mentioned in the same breath as those fallen leaders without hyperbole. But, look at those Iowa numbers again. Maybe, just maybe, that wheel has finally come full circle. Maybe, Senator Barack Hussein Obama is the real deal. Maybe he's the candidate who can transcend the sad political paradigm we've been operating under since 1980 and bring about that long overdue progressive realignment. We've only seen one caucus, of course, but the game moves fast in 2008, and all the indicators seem to suggest he's got "it." If you're not going to stake a chance on him now, what, then, are you waiting for?
I started this entry with a Bob Dylan song. I'll end with another, one I listened to on Friday for the 1,000th time and "heard" like it's the first time. (It sounds completely different when unburdened for a few moments by the ironic punchline of the years after 1968.) If it seems like GitM has become all-Obama, all-the-time since last Thursday, well, there's a good reason for it. Right now, I truly believe we're standing at a crossroads moment, one that could all too easily become evanescent, another missed opportunity in a political lifetime that doesn't offer many of them. But if, on Tuesday, New Hampshire nurtures the spark set in Iowa last week, and Nevada and South Carolina kindle the blaze, we could be looking at a full-fledged progressive wildfire across the nation come SuperduperTuesday. So, to the older voters -- and to any voters -- who, for whatever reason, may be harboring doubts about Barack Obama, give him another look. We're at the first hinge of 2008, and what we do in the next few days and weeks will echo profoundly throughout the next several years of our governance. The old road is rapidly agin', y'all. So please get out of the new one if you can't lend your hand, for the times, they could be a-changin'.
Move over Lincoln Liam and Sally Todd: It seems Steven Spielberg's next post-Indy project may involve Sasha Baron Cohen as Abbie Hoffman in The Trial of the Chicago Seven (not to be confused with the Seattle Seven, i.e. the Dude "and, uh, six other guys.") "The Spielberg film is said to be closer to Munich...than to his next Indiana Jones frolic, due in the summer." Could be good, and Cohen is dead-on casting. Still, I've been looking forward to Spielberg's Lincoln, and the Hoffman story was done rather recently with Vincent D'Onofrio and Steal this Movie. Update: Concerning the rest of the cast, the recent Vanity Fair Indy article suggests Philip Seymour Hoffman is up for William Kunstler (i.e. the Chicago 7's lawyer) and that Will Smith, Taye Diggs, Adam Arkin, and Kevin Spacey are also being considered for roles.
"Some 40 years later, it is a Christmastime story, of the war that raged on and of a long-shot airborne peace mission that became the first round-the-world flight of a U.S. president." The WP's Sid Davis tells the story of LBJ's attempt in 1967 to forge a Christmas peace (not to be confused with Nixon's 1972 Christmas Bombings.) "To Johnson, weary of war, his health torn by the human cost, attempting a dramatic, attention-grabbing, globe-circling appeal to the pope at Christmas was worth the chance. Undaunted by criticism of his 'flying circus,' his "global extravaganza,' Johnson defended his effort. 'No man,' he said, 'can avoid being moved to try harder for peace at Christmastime.'"
"'I was panicked a bit because I really don't know about...the Cuban Missile Crisis,' said Perino, who at 35 was born about a decade after the 1962 U.S.-Soviet nuclear showdown. 'It had to do with Cuba and missiles, I'm pretty sure.'" Wait, wait, wait...what? By way of Ben of The Oak, it seems Dubya press secretary Dana Perino has never heard of the Cuban Missile Crisis. "So she consulted her best source. 'I came home and I asked my husband,' she recalled. 'I said, "Wasn't that like the Bay of Pigs thing?" And he said, "Oh, Dana."'" Ladies and Gentlemen, the spokesperson for our current president. Have we fallen so far? And if that sounds like a pedantic thing to say, well, consider me pedantic. I know nobody wants to work for this misfit administration anymore, but, we've a lot of people in this country, and many of 'em are still even Republicans. Perhaps we can find someone to fill the position of the president's mouthpiece who knows a thing or two about major events in American history over the past fifty years? That'd be great.
So, sorry to regale y'all with another long-winded, bloviating political post only two entries after the last one. But Ted of The Late Adopter asked an important follow-up to my comments on David Greenberg's Obama piece and public-interest progressivism, namely: "If FDR, Stevenson, the Kennedys all spoke with the rhetoric of citizenship, when did the Democrats stop? With Johnson? Carter? During the 80s while trying to oppose Reagan?" And, while trying to respond in the comment section, I apparently blathered on so long that I broke the site. ("Access Denied with Code 406....severity [EMERGENCY]") So, I'm posting my response as an entry instead (and there's precedent for this anyway, as when Scully and I discussed the space program a few years ago.) So, if you find this all ponderous and insufferable, feel free to skip down to the previous entry, where I raved on at equal length about Todd Haynes' I'm Not There (10/10!) And I promise to get back to more concise entries again soon...
| "Hmm, good question, Ted. Let me take a crack at it in the long-winded, digression-filled, multiple-answer manner we've been trained into. :) First, while I don't think he's entirely comfortable with the Sandelian argument I'm making here, our mutual advisor posits one answer to this question in The End of Reform: This all began in earnest during WWII, when two things occurred. [1] The financial and productive power of Big Business became absolutely integral to the success of the war effort (thus there was less of a rationale for opposing corporate power in political life), and [2] Politicians and economists discovered in boom times and Keynesianiam that they could "grow the pie," economically speaking, rather than be forced to choose a best way to carve it up. So, the civic-minded questions of political economy that dominated the early New Deal fell by the wayside. Obviously, Adlai and the brothers Kennedy come after WWII, so that in itself is not a complete answer. So I'd add the following trends: * 1968. Like 1919-1920, when the strike wave, the race riots, the Red Scare, the failure at Versailles, and various other traumatic events -- the tail-end of the influenza wave, the death of TR, the Black Sox scandal, the widespread exposure to Freudianism, Einstein's theory of relativity, and literary/artistic modernism, the recent Bolshevik revolution, and the Great War itself -- all conspired to create great anxiety and help overturn the existing order, I would argue that the events of 1968 irrevocably rent the social fabric of the nation. It became especially hard for anyone after '68 to talk about a civic project or a common public interest when America was divided so badly between left and right, black and white -- rifts that Republicans like Nixon and Reagan would exploit to their advantage with the Southern strategy and veiled rhetoric about "law and order" -- particularly when those leaders who did it best were gunned down in their prime. (This "culture war" is one of the same obstacles the progressives face in the '20s, with the Red Scare, Scopes, Prohibition, the KKK, etc.) It also became problematic to speak in the language of citizenship when it was now well beyond clear that [a] women, African-Americans, and other minorities had been and were being treated in the civic culture as second-class citizens, and [b] the main civic project which the government was then asking its citizens to become engaged in was the war in Vietnam, which didn't make a whole lot of sense. * GENERATIONS. While both the early New Left (see the Port Huron Statement) and the early civil rights movement (see King, in the original entry) have strong civic, and even Emersonian, components, both Sixties protest groups and the general mood of politics eventually swung over into the rhetoric of individualistic, rights-based liberalism. Meanwhile, the New Right, in its opposition to the New Deal and Great Society, also abandoned to a large extent the language of citizenship and virtue and made an appeal based on individual freedom as opposed to a corrupt, socialistic central government. (For an excellent civic-conservative reaction to this shift, see George Will's 1983 book Statecraft as Soulcraft, the best thing he's ever written.) Stevenson and the Kennedys were of the WWII generation, and -- while I loathe the term "greatest generation," unless you find something inherently great about training fire hoses on small children -- they were more comfortable with the civic, "we're all in it together" appeal of an earlier time. The appeal held less water with the much more skeptical Boomer generation, and, as the political culture embraced the individualistic liberalism/liberation of the late sixties and early seventies, with the nation at large. (You could argue Carter tried to make a civic argument on the energy question, and he was basically laughed out of the room.) Boomer politicians of either party -- the Clintons, the Bushes -- just aren't as comfortable making civic-minded, public-interest arguments as their forbears. It's not how they see the game is played. This is also due to: * WATERGATE, GATEGATE. From Vietnam to (particularly) Watergate to bureaucratic bloat to Iran-Contra to the fiascos of today, Americans have experienced a severe diminuition in what we believe government is and should be capable of. This open-eyed skepticism about centralized power should be a good thing, but not if we throw out the baby with the bathwater. You know how Richard said "a withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy?" Irony isn't only the shackles of youth, it's the shackles of our politics as well. There's other things going on too. Not to get all Caro up in here, but LBJ, I think, was inherently uncomfortable making civic arguments as well (unless he was appropriating them, a la "We shall overcome.") His view, shaped as it was by the exigencies of local Texas politics and his days running the Senate, was that everything ultimately boiled down to self-interest. (This partly explains how he could screw up Vietnam so badly. Eventually he thinks about buying off Ho Chi Minh with a TVA-style system of dams for the Mekong Delta, not realizing that Ho -- and North Vietnam -- are persevering in part because they've committed to an ideal more important to them then self-interest: national independence, a cause they felt they'd been fighting for for thousands of years.) But, perhaps most important to note, I think it's fair to say that one reason the rhetoric of citizenship went out of style was because: * THE PATTERN WAS FLAWED, for all the reasons I said above. If I was a guy growing up in Chicago, Mississippi, or anywhere else, and I was being treated as a second-class citizen by the white power structure, either by being denied the right to vote or being snubbed out of quality jobs or housing, and then I was told my civic duty was to go die in Southeast Asia for lousy reasons (while the Dick Cheneys of the world piled up deferments), I might turn against the civic project too. If I was a woman who was told my civic duty basically amounted to finding a good man, keeping his stomach full and his house clean, and punching out healthy, patriotic American children, I'd rebel against this flawed social order as well. In short, the post-WWII, Cold War-obsessed civic culture of the 1950s and early 1960s was stifling and half-baked. It basically told citizens that their civic obligation was to buy as much as possible, to not consort with Reds, and, most importantly, to not cause any trouble. It needed to be broken up and reconfigured. (The progressives of the 1920s come to this conclusion as well, when they see how easily Wilsonian public-interest rhetoric enables the Red Scare (thus letting people on the Right brand every possible progressive program as "Bolshevik.") This is why some of the most civic-minded Progressives -- Jane Addams, for example -- play a major part in the creation of the ACLU.) Here we get to the inherent problems with arguments that rely on civic-mindedness and appeals to citizenship. For one, a public interest that treats certain citizens as second-class is inherently and fatally flawed. Look at the early New Left -- for all its progressive inclinations and civic-mindedness on paper and even in practice, it still basically treated women like the help. (See SNCC and Stokely Carmichael: "The only position for women in SNCC is prone.") Plus, as a general rule of human nature, groups of people working together tend to desire conformity and despise independence, no matter what their political inclinations. This is as much a failing of the Left as it is the Right. (See Animal Farm, Dylan plugging in at Newport, etc.) Also, here the coercion problem in civic strands of political thought rears its head -- Rousseau's social compact forcing people to be free, and all that. An argument made on the basis of citizenship presumes coercion -- citizens are expected to do this (vote, serve in the military, be informed about public matters) and not do that (drink, hang with Communists, etc.) Coercion isn't necessarily a problem in and of itself -- I think everyone agrees citizens should not kill, own slaves, etc. -- but [1] telling people they have to do anything goes against the view of absolute individual freedom enthroned today, and [2] coercion invariably leads to conformity. which is ultimately the avowed enemy of republican government, which both relies on and should promote individual excellence. How do we get around this Gordian knot? My answer (which, not surprisingly, was also the answer of many of the Progressives) rests with Emerson. As I just said, an argument based on citizenship presupposes inculcating a certain virtue into citizens. But what if that virtue was individuality (not the same as individualism) and independence? The ability to think for oneself, the freedom to grow and innovate, and then the inclination to come back to the circle of citizens, share what you've learned, and deliberate about the public good? Emerson argues that we express our consent to government by expressing our dissent with government. If republican government is going to reach its full potential, it needs a community of independent-minded nonconformists. This is the type of citizenship a progressive candidate could and should get behind. And the Progressives did promote it -- People always read Herbert Croly as an apologist for strong, centralized government, but this isn't quite right. Decades before he got into poltics, Croly was an architecture critic -- he was deeply concerned about art and aesthetics, and was trying to fashion a political architecture that would help individuals to thrive. At the end of The Promise of American Life (p. 414), Croly talks about what's he's been aspiring to create: "A national structure which encourages individuality as opposed to mere particularity is one which creates innumerable special niches, adapted to all degrees and kinds of individual development." For him the "Jeffersonian ends" of individuality and improvement were as important as the "Hamiltonian means" of a strong central government. Ok, to step away from Planet Theory and get back to our real world: How would progressive-minded candidates of today work towards this new civic fabric? Well, first and most importantly, they would have to reconceive today's liberal arguments in civic, progressive terms, to stop using the language of consumer choice and individual freedom -- which plays so easily into the hands of corporate power and the small-government Right -- like a crutch and bring back the language of citizenship and a shared narrative/vision/history that brings people together. The civic idea is so desiccated at the moment, for all the reasons mentioned in the original post, that just hearkening to its continued existence would be an immense step in the right direction (as well as a huge political boon for the Left regardless.) From there, progressives, like their counterparts a century ago, would have to work to fix a broken system. This means campaign finance and lobbying reform, doing what we can to ensure that unwashed money doesn't corrupt the system as horribly as it does now, and that dollars don't speak louder than people. As important here is voting reform. The voting system in our nation is absolutely abysmal. I refuse to believe that a country that can give almost every supermarket or store an ATM and almost every person a cellphone and iPod must be reduced to semi-functioning punchcard booths or electronic voting that can't create a paper trail. And the long lines we see on every election day are patently shameful. Election Day should be a holiday (why not?), we should move to weekend voting, we should establish a Marshall plan to get every county in America an operating voting system, or something. Also, I doubt mandatory voting would ever work in this country, but what about tax incentives, or more likely public-private partnerships to encourage turnout? (Thanks for voting -- here's your free sundae at McDonalds and 20% off your next purchase at Borders.) The people who say this would be tantamount to bribing folks to vote are usually the people who don't want voters showing up at the polls. Today's progressives should also look to education. The (Bill) Clinton model of adult, lifelong education is a step in the right direction, but what's missing is the civic component. Civics is deader than dead in our high schools and colleges, so on the most basic level that needs to be emphasized. But, equally importantly, we need to reemphasize the skills key to republican government: critical thinking, deliberation, etc. (Dare I say it, reading.) From an early age we all need to learn how to sift through information to reach a critically informed opinion, to ask the right questions about the information being presented to us, and -- perhaps most importantly -- to learn how to engage with people who disagree with us in a constructive fashion. And, a civic-minded progressive would continually look to our shared past and our shared future to bring Americans together. This would mean not only basking in but owning up to our collective past -- say, adding a National Museum of Slavery to the Mall. It would also mean engaging in great civic projects which would bind the nation in common purpose (one of the many reasons I believe in the necessity of the space program.) Some might argue that I'm on crack for thinking that campaign finance reform, civics classes, a slavery museum, and/or a trillion-dollar space program is going to change what's wrong with America. And, no, these aren't sufficient. But, as I said in the original post, the story is everything. If our leaders help us reconceive our view of the government -- to remind us that the government is an expression of our shared values and ambitions as citizens -- then we can begin to look at other problems differently. If we're all in it together, the continued existence of child poverty, or the woeful lack of health insurance for many, here in the richest nation on Earth becomes that much more unacceptable. I'm not naive enough to believe that embracing civic progressivism or adopting the rhetoric of citizenship is going to change the country immediately, that money is suddenly going to disappear from our political process thanks to one new law, or that the next iteration of American's civic fabric will be bereft of the types of discrimination in evidence in the 1860s, 1920s, 1960s and beyond. But, to borrow from Cornel West, "To understand your country, you must love it. To love it, you must, in a sense, accept it. To accept it as how it is, however is to betray it. To accept your country without betraying it, you must love it for that in it which shows what it might become. America - this monument to the genius of ordinary men and women, this place where hope becomes capacity, this long, halting turn of the no into the yes, needs citizens who love it enough to reimagine and remake it." To put the same argument another way, there's a scene in The Princess Bride where our hero Westley (Cary Elwes) and the princess Buttercup (Robin Wright Penn) are on the run and looking for safety in the dastardly and invariably fatal Fire Swamp. "We'll never survive," bemoans Buttercup, to which Westley responds: "You're only saying that because no one ever has." That pretty much sums up how I feel about a lot of things, including progressivism in politics. Does true love exist? I dunno. Lord knows it hasn't seemed like it, and I've been kicked in the teeth often enough at this point to think not. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't live my life as if it could happen. Same with this view of civic progressivism. David Greenberg may be right that civic-minded candidates have done pretty poorly in recent history, but that doesn't mean the principle is flawed, or that we should stop trying. And, besides, to jump over to another fantasy classic, you don't wear the ring -- you destroy the ring. So I'd rather stake my claim with the public interest progressives, even if that doesn't play as well as all the blatant appeals to self-interest, than get all Boromir up in here and start acting like Republican-lite, which all too many of our party frontrunners have been doing these past few years. |
Reagan aside, I do respectfully take issue with Greenberg's prior Slate piece comparing Obama to a long list of well-meaning losers, including Adlai Stevenson and Bill Bradley. Greenberg writes: "Obama exhibits other elements of this Stevensonian style as well. It's a style -- an ideology, really -- that links the quest for common ground with a language of enlightened reason. It disdains the passionate and sometimes ugly politics of backroom deals, negative campaigning, sordid tactics, and appeals to emotion. It extols sacrifice and denigrates self-interest...What he doesn't seem to understand -- as Stevenson did not -- is that democratic politics fairly demands a measure of thrust and parry, of appeals to self-interest, and of playing the political game. And so does being a good president."
I would argue that these constant appeals to individual self-interest is exactly what's what wrong with Democrats today. Put simply, our civic life has nearly wasted away, with devastating consequences for the Left in this country.The major operative question our politics seeks to answer today is not "How should we live?" or "What can we accomplish together?" but "Where's my stuff?" And, due to this narrow, limiting absorption with individual self-interest, lefty candidates of late have mostly based their proactive appeals on small-minded ideas like bribing elderly voters with prescription drug benefits and everyone else with tax cuts. That's it? That's all you've got?
As a result, more and more citizens are tuning out of the process completely. Without vision, the people perish. People find the grasping individualism at the center of politics today inherently unsatisfying, and they look for a deeper common purpose wherever they can find it. And, since Democrats too often can't stop speaking in uninspiring technocratic policy-wonk, a consequence of their limited vision and ambitions, voters have been inclining in recent years toward the GOP, who at least offer a flawed but workable story, often rooted in gung-ho nationalism and unpacked ideas like "Freedom, Yeah!", about who we are as a people. The story is everything (which is one main reason why I was drawn to American history in the first place.) To be successful, to be anything other than GOP-lite -- a pathetic state we've been floundering in for decades -- Democrats need to tell the nation a story about our shared history and our shared goals, and stop pandering to voters' immediate self-interest all the live-long day.
Greenberg may argue that civic-mindedness in a political candidate is the province of losers, but I disagree -- It's all in the telling. After all, it was the extremely popular John F. Kennedy who reminded us to ask what you can do for your country, and his slain brother RFK obviously talked a great game in that respect too.
In this piece, Greenberg also discusses the retreat from the "the Mugwumps' and Progressives' moral uplift in favor of a pragmatic approach" under FDR. (This is also the ground my dissertation covers.) And, yes, the broker-state model of governance honed by the New Deal worked for a long time. More importantly, the idea of interest-group pluralism it cultivated has had many critically important successes to its name, not the least the civil rights revolutions of the past few decades (although those too have a strong civic component -- MLK's "I Have a Dream" speech makes it explicit: "I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed...And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true." This is not the language of self-interest but an appeal to a shared narrative as Americans.)
But I would argue that the enthronement of individual self-interest above all else in politics has reached its logical endpoint, and as a result our system is on the verge of falling apart -- half the country doesn't vote, money constantly bends the rules and everyone knows it, people are losing the inclination (or even the capacity) to act as informed, independent citizens. Indeed, you could argue Hillary Clinton's failure with health care reform in the nineties exemplified the problem with broker-state leadership: When setting out to confront the issue, the Clintons cut everyone in on the deal, from insurance companies to HMOS to the AMA, in true broker-state fashion. As a result, no reform at all was forthcoming.
This was mainly because, as I've said before, the individualistic/broker state model of liberalism has no theory for coping with corporate power -- It serves the wants, needs, and interests of consumers, what's wrong with that? But a civic-minded progressive would argue that there are more important goals than the sating of individual desire, that the government is an expression of our common aspirations and should be more than just a dispensing machine, and that undue corporate influence over -- and outright corruption in -- our political affairs in fact represents a dire threat to the republic and to our way of life.
The progressive idea of citizenship both offers and demands higher aspirations of people than the lowest common denominator of individual self-interest that both parties appeal to today. We're fast becoming a society where freedom is measured at best by what choices we make, but more often by what we can own as consumers. Progressives envison a society where freedom is also measured by what we can accomplish as citizens. Ultimately, freedom isn't a state of being -- it's a state of becoming, of improvement, of progress. A political candidate who could tap into this progressive vein, I think, could inspire people like they haven't been inspired by politics in a good long while. So, this is my crux of disagreement with Greenberg here -- I don't subscribe to the notion that common-good, public-interest progressivism is inherently a losing proposition. Quite the contrary.
Still, Greenberg's article does a solid job of delineating the origins of Obama's progressive appeal, and, at the very least, we agree that Obama is considerably more progressive than Clinton.
"But political success on television is not, unfortunately, limited only to those who deserve it. It is a medium which lends itself to manipulation, exploitation and gimmicks. It can be abused by demagogs, by appeals to emotion and prejudice and ignorance. Political campaigns can be actually taken over by the 'public relations' experts, who tell the candidate not only how to use TV but what to say, what to stand for and what 'kind of person' to be. Political shows, like quiz shows, can be fixed-and sometimes are."
By way of Ted at The Late Adopter, Senator John F. Kennedy ruminates on how television has changed politics in 1959, and much of it reads as presciently as Eisenhower's farewell address fourteen months later. "The other great problem TV presents for politics is the item of financial cost. It is no small item...If all candidates and parties are to have equal access to this essential and decisive campaign medium, without becoming deeply obligated to the big financial contributors from the worlds of business, labor or other major lobbies, then the time has come when a solution must be found to this problem of TV costs." Yeah, I'd like to say we were working on that.
"We may in fact have finally found that bridge to the 21st century that Bill Clinton told us about. Its name is Obama." In the pages of The Atlantic Monthly, conservative Andrew Sullivan makes his case for Barack Obama: "Obama’s candidacy in this sense is a potentially transformational one. Unlike any of the other candidates, he could take America -- finally -- past the debilitating, self-perpetuating family quarrel of the Baby Boom generation that has long engulfed all of us...If you are an American who yearns to finally get beyond the symbolic battles of the Boomer generation and face today’s actual problems, Obama may be your man." Of Clinton, Sullivan writes, "[s]he has internalized what most Democrats of her generation have internalized: They suspect that the majority is not with them, and so some quotient of discretion, fear, or plain deception is required if they are to advance their objectives. And so the less-adept ones seem deceptive, and the more-practiced ones, like Clinton, exhibit the plastic-ness and inauthenticity that still plague her candidacy. She’s hiding her true feelings. We know it, she knows we know it, and there is no way out of it." Update: Apparently, Obama reads The Atlantic.
"On civil rights, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the race to the moon, and other issues, President Kennedy succeeded by demonstrating the same courage, imagination, compassion, judgment, and ability to lead and unite a troubled country that he had shown during his presidential campaign. I believe Obama will do the same." Also concerning Sen. Obama and from the pages of this week's New Republic, Kennedy speechwriter Ted Sorensen compares his old boss to Barack Obama. (If you're not a TNR subscriber, Sorensen makes a similar case on Youtube here.)
"Ugliness is so grim. A little beauty, something that is lovely, I think, can help create harmony which will lessen tensions." Lady Bird Johnson, 1912-2007. (Reminiscences.)
In a document dump of both exhilarating and terrifying proportions, the CIA announced it will release its "family jewels" next week: close to 700 pages of documents chronicling secret Agency activity from the fifties to the seventies. (A preview of what's to come includes reports of detentions, wiretapping, surveillance, and other sordid current administration favorites.) "CIA Director Michael Hayden on Thursday called the documents being released next week unflattering, but he added that 'it is CIA's history.' 'The documents provide a glimpse of a very different time and a very different agency,' Hayden told a conference of historians." Hmm, we'll see.
"Skeptics derided JFK, as they now do Obama, as callow and ill-versed in substantive issues. And yet Obama, similar to JFK, manages to inspire people with sex appeal, cerebral cool, and a message of generational change." Rutgers University professor David Greenberg examines the similarities between Senator Obama and President Kennedy, and argues that Obama's team might just be taking a page from the JFK campaign's Catholicism playbook with regard to race in 2008. "Having passed a threshold among most white voters, his race can implicitly encourage them to feel that a vote for Obama is a vote for tolerance, for a future free of the constricting prejudices of the past, and for a sense of hope that Jack Kennedy once evoked."
Unearthed from the collection of amateur photographer George Jefferies, a new 8mm film of Kennedy in Dallas comes to light. "The silent, 8 mm color film is 'the clearest, best film of Jackie in the motorcade,' said Gary Mack, curator of the Sixth Floor Museum, which focuses on Kennedy's life and assassination." Also, via Ted, Case Closed author Gerald Posner parses the footage.
"When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice."
-- Martin Luther King (1929-1968)
"Now that Dr. King is gone, there's no one left but Bobby." And, tragically, America would only have him for two more months. It's hard to fault the sentiment behind Emilio Estevez's Bobby, a humane, warm-hearted paean to the slain Senator, whose untimely end marked the final death rattle of hope for countless American liberals and progressives in the sixties. But, frankly, the film -- while easy to sit through, to be sure -- is also confused and overstuffed. It attempts to be Grand Hotel by way of RFK: Dozens of disconnected lives that intertwine one fateful night and that are ultimately bonded by their common humanity, as so eloquently articulated by Kennedy. But, however ambitious and meritorious its message and its patron saint, Bobby is a well-meaning muddle. The powerful stock footage and a few brief moments aside, a lot of the film just falls flat.
Due to its huge cast and multiplicity of stories, Bobby defies a full summation. Nevertheless, the film follows countless recognizable actors as they go about their lives at the Ambassador Hotel on June 4, 1968, the day before RFK was shot by disgruntled Palestinian Sirhan Sirhan. Among them are elder statesmen (Anthony Hopkins, Harry Belafonte), former A-listers turned B-listers (Emilio Estevez, Christian Slater), aging starlets (Sharon Stone, Demi Moore), TV standbys (Helen Hunt, David Krumholtz), likable character actors (William H. Macy, Freddy Rodriguez), strikingly attractive newcomers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Svetlana Metkina), and Frodo (playing, for all intent and purposes, Frodo.) Almost all of the performances are solid and likable (with the notable exception of Ashton Kutcher as a drug dealer -- it's unbelievable how a guy who's made his living playing a stoner for years is so thoroughly implausible at it -- he's like a kid in a school play.) But there's a lot of unnecessary overlap or what comes across as extraneous filler in these tales. Two separate stories (Wood and Lindsay Lohan's quickie marriage, Shia La Boeuf and Brian Geraghty's day off) cover basically the same ground about Vietnam. Hopkins, Belafonte, Moore, and Stone all talk about the indignities of growing old, while Stone, Macy, Moore, Estevez, Hunt, and Martin Sheen all lament failing marriages...but to what purpose? What, really, does all this have to do with RFK? I get it -- it's about shared humanity. But Bobby tries to do too much in the time given, and would've been more effective, I think, if it'd had been pared down some.
The most resonant parts of Bobby are the storylines involving Kennedy campaign workers (Joshua Jackson, Nick Cannon) and, most notably, the simmering racial tension among the kitchen staff (Freddy Rodriguez, Jacob Vargas, Lawrence Fishburne). The latter tale is particularly interesting -- despite Slater being stuck as a cartoon "racist but a real person too" barely this side of Matt Dillon in Crash -- since it highlights the concerns and aspirations of Latino immigrants, who are often completely neglected in movies dwelling on race in America (even in otherwise sterling shows like The Wire.) But, even here, it's ultimately played too broadly: What we're left with are "life is a blueberry cobbler" metaphors and monologues about King Arthur that'll just make you wince. The problems with the movie can be summed up by the footage used of Bobby at the Ambassador Hotel -- obviously powerful stuff. Unfortunately, it's overlaid with Simon & Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence," which even without the obvious Graduate overtones is entirely too broad a pick -- It detracts from rather than enhances the already potent archival footage.
Still, I don't want to suggest that I'm completely hating on Bobby. For all its ham-handedness, I enjoyed the experience, and I sat there with a smile on my face through most of the film. And I do applaud Estevez's obviously strong admiration for Senator Kennedy. I was recently on a date where discussion arose as to whether things would've been different if Bobby had lived. She thought not, or rather that it'd be impossible to tell. I'm more inclined to agree with Michael Sandel, who wrote that: "Had he lived, he might have set progressive politics on a new, more successful course. In the decades since his death, the Democratic Party has failed to recover the moral energy and bold public purpose to which RFK gave voice." Regardless, as with Dr. King, we shouldn't even have to ask this question. Both men who were continuing to grow and develop, Dr. King and Bobby were tragically ripped from us before their time, a back-to-back blow in an already miserable year that felled progressive ambition in America for decades. I have to think that our nation would be a brighter, happier, and more compassionate place in the years since if we could have continued to benefit from their leadership and counsel.Since we cannot, we can only honor their examples and remember their words. In the end, Bobby could've been a much worse movie than it in fact is, and I still would give it credit for reminding us of Senator Kennedy's essential creed: "But we can perhaps remember -- even if only for a time --that those who live with us are our brothers; that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek -- as we do -- nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can."
If you believe they put "a" man on the moon, then there's nothing up my sleeve, and nothing is cool. Also, you'll have no problem with the recent update to Neil Armstrong's famous first words there. Score one for the lunar grammarians.
"[I]n writing 'LBJ: Architect of American Ambition,' Woods has produced an excellent biography that fully deserves a place alongside the best of the Johnson studies yet to appear. He is more sympathetic and nuanced than Caro, more fluid and (despite the significant length of his book) more concise than Dallek -- and equally scrupulous in his use of archives and existing scholarship. Even readers familiar with the many other fine books on Johnson will learn a great deal from Woods." Columbia's Alan Brinkley (also my advisor) takes a gander at Randall Wood's new biography of Lyndon Johnson.
And the GOP veil of moderation didn't just slip on economic policy yesterday: Southern conservatives actually spiked a renewal of the 1965 Voting Rights Act in order to protest multilingual ballots, as well as the (well-earned) perception that the South still disenfranchises African-Americans. "Barbara Arnwine, executive director of the Lawyers' Committee for Civil Rights Under Law, said a bipartisan commission found evidence of recent voting rights violations in Georgia, Texas and several other states. 'These are not states that can say their hands are clean,' she said."
As seen on Medley's Furl, Columbia PhD, Rutgers professor, and Slate "History Lesson" columnist David Greenberg reexamines the current divide between liberal internationalists and anti-imperialists among the Dems -- and seems to think more of Peter Beinart's recent "Cold War Liberal" argument and the protective camouflage DLC-types than I do -- in the Boston Globe.
"Roger Ailes was right when he predicted at the beginning of the television era that in the future all politicians would have to be performers. But politicians are, for the most part, lousy performers.Their advisers are pretty awful at what they do too. In the absence of inspiration, they have fixed upon the crudest, most negative and robotic forms of communication. They've made moments like Robert Kennedy's in Indianapolis next to impossible." TIME's Joe Klein laments the dawn of the soundbite-heavy, market-tested-within-an-inch-of-its-life consultants' republic.
"In his conversation with Robert Kennedy, King refused to heed an appeal for moderation: 'I am different from my father. I feel the need of being free now.' This impatience for freedom, acted out by the courageous young Freedom Riders, helped propel a reluctant America at least part of the way down the road to racial justice." In the same NYT Book Review as the Brinkley piece posted on Monday, Columbia's Eric Foner favorably reviews Raymond Arsenault's Freedom Riders: 1961 and the Struggle for Racial Justice. And, also in history news, the AP profiles historian, Dylanologist, and recent Bancroft winner Sean Wilentz. "There isn't much that's gone wrong with the country's institutions that a good election can't cure. Or a few good elections. So I have a kind of willful optimism."
"Hate is too great a burden to bear. It injures the hater more than it injures the hated." Coretta Scott King, 1927-2006. Said Rep. John Lewis today, ""She was the glue that held the civil rights movement together."
"Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."
- Dr. Martin Luther King (1929-1968)
According to National Security Agency historian Robert Hanyok, his recent work outlining a deliberate NSA cover-up following the Gulf of Tonkin incident has been suppressed by the agency since 2001, in part because of Weaponsgate. "He said N.S.A. historians began pushing for public release in 2002, after Mr. Hanyok included his Tonkin Gulf findings in a 400-page, in-house history of the agency and Vietnam called 'Spartans in Darkness.' Though superiors initially expressed support for releasing it, the idea lost momentum as Iraq intelligence was being called into question, the official said."
