Eternal Vigilance, &c.

On the murders in Washington; the United States and Russia; Biden and age; a noble chess player; Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; and more

The eternal flame at Yad Vashem, Jerusalem (CC BY-SA 3.0)

About the murder of Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Lynn Milgrim, a great deal has been said. (They were the two staffers at the Israeli embassy in Washington, about to be engaged.) There is nothing I can add to the conversation. Nothing.

Except maybe this: Eternal vigilance is wearying. It is unfair. One ought to be able to relax. To ease one’s vigil. But the world—and I’m speaking about its antisemites in particular—won’t allow it.

So, eternal vigilance it is. The alternative—submission—is no good.

I apologize for the lack of originality. But Ecclesiastes is right, certainly where originality is concerned.

Re-reading the above, I see that my words seem cold. I don’t mean them to be. I could unleash torrents of hot words, piercing the night. Howls.

They were such a beautiful couple, that young man and that young woman. Evil may have its day, or its season. Even its era. But we the living should endeavor to combat it, as tirelessly as possible.

***

Steve Rosenberg is the Russia editor at the BBC. He monitors Russia’s media closely. On Wednesday, he tweeted,

Today’s Russian papers: “Trump’s stance couldn’t be more advantageous to Moscow.” “Trump is our ideological partner.” Another paper tells European leaders: “Just breathe in the smell of the new world order.”

That last line reminded me of something—something that Viktor Orbán, the Hungarian leader, said in 2017, when Putin came to Budapest. He said, “We all sense—it’s in the air—that the world is in the process of a substantial realignment.”

Yes.

Putin, on that occasion, hailed Orbán’s Hungary as an “important and reliable partner for Russia in Europe.”

Yes.

***

A headline from the Washington Post: “Trump confronts South African president, pushing claims of genocide.” The subheading: “Trump amplified false claims and pressed South Africa’s president to protect White farmers, in a meeting originally meant to focus on trade.” That article is here.

I will have much more to say about this matter later. But, for now: Contrast our president’s concern for South Africa with his indifference—at best—to the fate of the Ukrainians.

Has he ever expressed a word of sympathy for the Ukrainians—not to mention the Uyghurs and others—who are under annihilationist assault day after day?

***

The debate over Joe Biden’s age is almost as old as he is. (Not quite.) Actually, I think the debate is just about over. Biden’s decision to run again was disastrous, and lots of people covered up his condition.

Very few dispute this now, right?

I have been writing about the issue since—the 2020 Democratic-primary debates. (I was amazed that Biden was even on the stage.) Many of us accelerated our writing when Biden decided to try for a second term.

In late 2023, Lucas Tomlinson of Fox News had a question for Biden: “Mr. President, are you too old to be running for reelection?” “That’s stupid,” came the answer.

I wrote,

It is not a stupid question. It is a question that many, many people are asking, including supporters of the president. It is a fair question. And it is one that Biden ought to be able to deal with.

He never did. In the end, the question dealt with him.

(Let me throw a qualification at you: Biden was not too old to run for reelection, exactly; he was too infirm.)

Steve Hayes, of The Dispatch, has written a crisp summary of the question: here. “In the case of Biden,” reads his subheading, “it’s dereliction of duty all the way down.”

Yes.

***

“Vlastimil Hort, a Memorably Selfless Chess Grandmaster, Dies at 81.” What was memorably selfless about him? (That obit, by the way, is here.)

Hort was playing Boris Spassky, of Fischer–Spassky fame. The year was 1977. I will now let Dylan Loeb McClain, the obituarist (for the New York Times), take over:

The match was a best-of-12 quarterfinal, whose winner would be one step closer to the top title in chess. After 12 games, they were tied, prompting a two-game playoff.

Then Mr. Spassky fell seriously ill. He was taken to the hospital, and his appendix was removed. According to the rules, he was entitled to three postponements of three days each. He took them all, but was still too unwell to play.

Mr. Spassky would have to forfeit, meaning Mr. Hort would advance to the semifinals.

Then Mr. Hort did something unexpected. To give Mr. Spassky a chance to continue to compete, Mr. Hort requested a three-day timeout, which was granted. It was a choice seen for decades as one of the greatest acts of sportsmanship in the history of the game, and it ended up costing Mr. Hort the match.

I like that guy, “Vlasty” Hort.

***

Feel like some music? Evgeny Kissin, the Soviet-born pianist, has the habit of playing a recital in Carnegie Hall, and his latest was last Saturday. For my review, go here. Very interesting fellow. And very gifted.

***

Thomas Larcher is an Austrian composer, born in 1963. I write about him in my forthcoming “New York chronicle,” for The New Criterion. A piece of Larcher’s was performed by the New York Philharmonic.

Today, I would like to quote some of his words—words published in the Philharmonic’s program booklet. And I’d like to ask my fellow writers: Can you relate? Does this happen to you? Is this the way you work?

Says Herr Larcher,

Every day I have to start again from the beginning of the piece and go to where I stopped the day before. Sometimes I can keep going and gain some distance. But maybe I throw it away and make a new start. I need to experience all of these musical developments up to the moment I’m working on before I can move forward.

I, for one, know just what he means.

***

The headline reads, “Gilgeous-Alexander voted as the NBA’s MVP, continuing run of international players winning the award.” (Article here.) I so dislike that use of the word “international.” They really mean “foreign.” An international player is someone with dual citizenship, perhaps.

Am I being picky? Probably.

Also, what do you think of “continuing run of international players winning the award”? Would you throw an apostrophe at the end of “players”?

(Again, picky. Even persnickety.)

***

Tyrese Haliburton, another NBA great (like Shai Gilgeous-Alexander), talks in the modern way. In this article, he is quoted as saying, “If I would have known it was a 2, I would not have done it.”

Virtually every young person around me talks that way: “If I would have known it was a 2”—not, “If I had known it was a 2.” “If I would have known you were coming, I would have baked a cake.” “If I would have known it was going to be cold, I would have brought a sweater.”

I think this will become a permanent feature—a deformation, as I see it, and hear it—of our language.

***

In a recent article, I mentioned that I once had a filing cabinet with Priscilla Buckley’s labels on it. One drawer was marked “Odds & Ends.” A friend of mine tells me a story.

She (my friend) was working at the Santa Fe Opera. Once, Tony Randall, the famed actor, was backstage. He pointed to a box on a high shelf. “Wonder what’s in there,” he commented. The box was marked: “Pieces of Sh**.”

Well, truth in advertising—truth in labeling—probably.

***

Not long ago, Bill Kristol and I were talking about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It used to be that everyone knew Longfellow. Do people know him now? He had come up because America was marking the 250th anniversary of Paul Revere’s midnight ride—a ride immortalized by Longfellow in his poem of 1860.

(In 1860, America marked the 75th anniversary of the ride.)

He was a man of parts, Longfellow. A man of letters. A man who did many things in his literary career. For instance, he translated The Divine Comedy.

Paul Revere aside—and you can never shove Paul Revere aside—I value Longfellow for his hymns. Do you know these sublime, healing verses?

I look to Thee in every need,
And never look in vain.
I feel Thy strong and tender love,
And all is well again.
The thought of Thee is mightier far
Than sin, and pain, and sorrow are.

Discouraged in the work of life,
Disheartened by its load,
Shamed by its failures or its fears,
I sink beside the road;
But let me only think of Thee,
And then new heart springs up in me.

Thy calmness bends serene above,
My restlessness to still;
Around me flows Thy quickening life,
To nerve my faltering will:
Thy presence fills my solitude;
Thy providence turns all to good.

Embosomed deep in Thy dear love,
Held in Thy law, I stand;
Thy hand in all things I behold,
And all things in Thy hand;
Thou leadest me by unsought ways,
And turn'st my mourning into praise.

See you!