Among the Doublethinkers, &c.
On the Republican Party and conservative movement; the question of character; the editing, and bowdlerizing, of a poet; and more
Natan Sharansky has written about “fear societies”—such as the one he came from, the Soviet Union. In a fear society, says Sharansky, there are three groups. Two of them are small. One of them is very large.
One of the small groups is the true believers: people who believe the regime, who are committed to the regime, who think the regime is good. The other small group is the dissidents: people who are open in their opposition to the regime.
They are either in prison or in the grave.
The very large group is the doublethinkers (a term that Sharansky borrows from Orwell, of course). These are people who outwardly are supportive of the regime, or at least never critical. But, internally, they have doubts.
The doublethinkers can be pushed either way—toward the true believers or toward the dissidents. It depends on events. It depends on the societal weather, if you will. When the doublethinkers move toward the dissidents—the regime is in trouble.
In 2016, I noticed that the Republican Party and the conservative movement were sort of a fear society. (Bear with me a moment.) There were all-out Trumpers: true believers. And there were open, unabashed anti-Trumpers. But there were lots and lots of doublethinkers: people who were essentially going with the flow, hedging their bets.
I must not make too much of this analogy. In a fear society, the dissidents face the worst, as I have mentioned. On the American right, politicians lose their seats, journalists and think-tankers lose their jobs, etc. Those are light afflictions, relatively speaking.
In the foregoing paragraphs, I have written the nub of an essay, or even a modest book. But, today, I thought I would offer the “nub,” for your consideration.
There may come a time when our doublethinkers say, “You know, I never really liked or trusted Trump. Never really supported him.” Or there may not ...
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Long ago, I learned something from David Pryce-Jones, among others: When someone breaks with communism, you should say, “Hurray.” You should not scoff at him: “Gee, what took you so long?”
The same may apply to breakers with Trumpism. Do you say, “A little late, bud”? Or do you say, “Good”?
Again, something to consider ...
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You may have seen this statement, published on Friday, by the American president. It is about a Republican congressman from Kentucky:
A question: Do millions support Trump—even adore and idolize him—despite this behavior or because of it? I find it hard to answer definitively.
I remember what a friend told me, about some members of her church: “They won’t watch most movies and television shows, on grounds that those movies and shows are immoral. Yet they love Trump—because they think he is a good and moral man.”
Diff’rent strokes.
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What’s the strongest word in the English language? “Love,” probably. What is the strongest word on the negative side? I believe, “evil.”
Earlier this month, our president was asked about Nancy Pelosi. Specifically, he was asked what he thought of Pelosi’s announcement that she would retire from Congress after the current term.
He began his answer by saying: “I think she’s an evil woman. I’m glad she’s retiring.”
Have you ever heard President Trump describe Putin or his atrocities as “evil”? No, and you probably never will.
(Pelosi, by the way, is foursquare against Putin and his dictatorship, and for Ukraine and its right to exist.)
Elon Musk, when he was a senior adviser to the president, called the National Endowment for Democracy an “evil organization.”
Again, diff’rent strokes, I suppose ...
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About the latest on Jeffrey Epstein and his circle, there is a great deal to say. I will confine myself to this, here and now:
At some of us, a lot of people snorted, years back, when we talked about character, and its importance in high office (as in life). “Moral preening!” they said. “Virtue-signaling!”
No. If character is not “destiny,” exactly, it is certainly crucial, as we see played out every day (unto forever).
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On Saturday night, Sasha Cooke, the American mezzo-soprano, gave a recital in New York. It was devoted to American song, or songs having to do with the American story. I will review this recital soon for The New Criterion.
(Spoiler alert: It was a first-rate recital.)
Here at Onward and Upward, I would like to make a point about literary art. Ms. Cooke and her pianist, Myra Huang, performed a new song-cycle by Jasmine Arielle Barnes, American Lament. It sets, among other texts, a famous poem by Langston Hughes: “Let America Be America Again.”
Yet the song-cycle edits Hughes. Indeed, it bowdlerizes him. I myself would not edit or bowdlerize Hughes. See what you think.
Hughes begins,
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
But here is how the song-cycle renders the last two lines:
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where [all are] free.
(To the song-cycle’s credit, it uses brackets, indicating that a change has been made.)
Hughes writes,
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
Man, what writing. But the song-cycle, in its editing and bowdlerizing, says,
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the [black man] bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the [Native] driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching hope I seek—
One more stanza, from Hughes:
O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
And the song-cycle?
[Let] America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—[where] every [one] is free.
The land that’s mine—[poor] man’s, [black man]’s, [Native]’s, [Immigrant’s], ME— ...
Again, I myself would not mess with Hughes. He knows what he’s doing. He is a master. Besides which: This is his poem, these are his words. A poet should have particular rights, I think (including the right to his rhythm).
Will an audience understand that different words and phrases are used in different eras? I think so. Will an audience understand that “man”—as in “the rights of man,” as in “What is man, that thou art mindful of him?”—refers to all human beings, not just to those of the masculine sex? I think so.
Let Hughes be Hughes!
(That said, I admire this new song-cycle, American Lament.)
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Here is a snap from a bus:
You know, I think that’s often true.
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It was 40 years ago, this month, that Garry Kasparov won his first world chess championship. He remained No. 1 for the next 20 years (something mind-boggling). Last week in New York, there was an event, in celebration of that first championship. The event began with a “simul”—a simultaneous exhibition, in which a master plays many people at once, moving from board to board.
I had never seen a simul before—not in person. Here’s one observation: A simul is quite a workout—a physical workout—for the person moving around.
Anyway, I wanted to share a picture with you, because it shows that even Garry Kasparov can scratch his head—over a chessboard, no less:
Thank you so much for joining me today. If you would like to subscribe—please do. Talk to you soon. All the best.