Tuesday, September 21, 2021

Last Best Hope: An Essay on the Revival of America

 

Published in 2021

My social scientist-trained daughter has on occasion made disparaging remarks about "journalists." She finds that they tend to construct sweeping generalizations and predictions founded on a thin layer of evidence and understanding. And when recalling the names of certain "journalists" who seemed most to trigger her wrath, I've noted that they tend toward the op-ed variety, where opinionizing and pontificating were often the order of the day. I must admit that I often find myself sharing her attitudes. But not towards all journalists. Some "hit the pavement" to learn from and about people, and they carefully observe what's going on. In addition, they have an intellectual storehouse from which they draw the resources needed to frame their observations. They are educated, and they educate their readers. Among those whom I would include in my pantheon of "good journalists" (and perhaps because they are more than just journalists) are Garry Wills, especially in his early years (his later work tends to the more historical and scholarly) and Robert D. Kaplan, whose passport is probably as full as one could imagine. Now I'll add George Packer. 


George Packer

This is my first book by Packer, and I am impressed. This should come as no surprise given that he won the Pulitzer Prize for his 2013 book about America, The Unwinding: An Inner History of the New America. And while I can't speak with to his other books, I can speak to this one, which struck me not only with its astute assessments about the current state of American society and politics, but also as a cry of the heart arising from our current plight. (In this he reminds me of Adam Gopnik's A Thousand Small Sanities, published in 2019, which was prompted, so Gopnik reports, by the election of Trump. Gopnik's book is more focused on the liberal heritage than analyzing our current plight, but both books are deeply consideredl books prompted by genuine anguish. Gopnik, too, has a reputation as an exemplary journalist. And by the way, both Packer and Gopnik cite the life and work of civil rights activist Bayard Rustin as exemplary.) But what makes Packer's book unique? Packer, perhaps more succinctly than anyone I know, delves deeply into the divisions of our society by looking closely at the traits of four primary groups within our current politics. I believe that he misses a fifth group: the truly uninformed and uncaring; those without the time, energy, education, or initiative to take a real interest in politics and that are only occasionally motivated to vote. But among those in some measure active in politics--even if in a relatively passive way that our contemporary democracy seems to prefer--Packer's four-fold division makes a lot of sense. 

The four groups that Packer identifies, compliments, and criticizes are "Free America," "Smart America," "Real America," and "Just America." Each group that Packer identifies has a distinct history, identity, and demographic. "Real America" is the traditional (old) Republican base that identifies with "freedom" as the ability to build and develop and that prefers "the market" for sorting out public problems. It represents the attitudes of the  traditional business class from Main Street to Wall Street. "Smart America" represents those who have received the requisite education and standing to participate in the meritocracy. These individuals are broadly "liberal" and are found in the professions and the bureaucracies of governments, educational institutions, and NGOs. A good deal of social conflict comes from the snobbery of "Smart America" and the resulting resentment of "Real America." "Real America" consists of those from small towns and rural America with less education who often live in areas of relative economic decline. These are folks who were enamoured by Sarah Palin ( remember her?) and who attend Trump rallies. Often good friends and good neighbors within their communities, their sense of community remains limited to the people and attitudes of their locality. Finally, "Just America" is the younger, educated demographic that has propelled Black Lives Matter, the "Me too" movement, and other ideas about social justice into the forefront. Packer identifies with their aspirations for justice and their critique of much of contemporary society, but he criticizes their intolerance of diverse opinions and all-too-common disregard of procedures intended to protect individuals from the actions of the crowd looking for scapegoats. 

This, of course, is just a thumbnail sketch of Packer's analysis, and his command of detail and nuance impressed me. He was at once sympathetic with each group and also critical. I found myself mostly nodding in agreement with him as I read along. I, too, can celebrate and criticize each perspective. No such broad generalizations found in any sociological portrait can capture all of the messiness of reality, but such maps can provide us with a guide. And, of course, many of us may find ourselves in a foreign territory. For instance, I suppose by dint of a couple of degrees from my alma mater that I belong to "Smart America," but I grew-up and then often dealt professionally with "Free America." (I was a member of a business partnership and represented many businesses.) I also grew-up in and lived in (or near) "Real America," and I hold a sense of the Jekyll and Hyde realities of much rural and small-town America; its strengths and its weaknesses. Finally, making sure that all individuals and groups are treated fairly and with dignity is of the highest value. But I do pause in the face of excessive righteouness, reverse intolerance, and rash judgments. Sometimes justice can paint in broad strokes, but at other times it requires painstaking detail. (This probably comes from my legal education and over 30 years as criminal defense lawyer.) In summary, Packer's mix of celebration and criticism struck a strong cord within me. Somehow, we need to bring these diverse perspectives into some measure of dialogue and congruence. 

Packer has also done his homework and framed his analysis within the tradition. Specifically, perhaps his most frequent reference to another American commentator is to Toqueville. Following Tocquville's lead, Packer identifies the American concern for equality as at least as important (if not more important) than our concern for freedom. The interplay between equality and freedom that Tocqueville identified in his early nineteenth century tour of America is as complex and often vexing today as it was then. Packer believes (and I hardily concur) that the current degree of inequality that has arisen in the U.S. since the 1970s is the major source of social and political friction that threatens our democracy. (Also, beyond Tocqueville, Packer draws upon the thought of Whitman, Lincoln, Lippmann, and the lives of Francis Perkins and Bayard Rustin to buttress his observations.) 

Toward the end of the book Packer offers some suggestions for addressing our problems. His suggestions, none of which are especially radical or unique, are likely familiar to anyone who attends to the problems of our political situation. Voting reform, media reform, control of big tech, and (perhaps my favorite) devolved decision-making (to get more people more directly involved in the political process at the local level beyond merely attending an occasional meeting to voice a complaint or promote a cause) are all good and necessary suggestions. But I doubt that they by themselves would prove sufficient. In this regard, I agree with Steve McIntosh, who makes this same criticism in his sympathetic consideration of Packer's argument. (Based on the series of exerpts of the book published in The Atlantic.)  McIntosh lays out his similar analysis and his suggestion that we need to go up to get out (my phrase, not his.) MacIntosh makes these points in his book Development Politics: How America Can Grow a Better Vision of Itself and in a review essay about Packer's articles.  I agree with McIntosh in this regard, but the question remains: how are we as a society propel ourselves up. What Packer ignores (for the most part) is the potential changes that climate change will be foist upon us (or other crisises like the pandemic). The one thing that I feel confident in predicting--with the spirit of Yogi Beara always whispering in my ear--is that the future won't be like the past; that "the future isn't what it used to be." Thus, like McIntosh and William Ophuls (to name but two whom I could cite about this topic), we need not only changes in our political economy or our political institutions, but more fundamentally we need a change in consciousness. A sea-change in our culture. This is a tall order, to be sure, and if we knew exactly how to do it (and if we had the will), it would have happened already At best, this is an aspiration, a future that we must explore in a place of darkness, but this level of aspiration is vital to our collective future. 

But back to Packer. He's given us a carefully researched and considered portrait of our current predicatment. Such an undertaking is vital to trying to find a way forward. I can't think of a more succinct and vivid and passionate assessment of where we are. How do we get out of this predicament? Packer is not quite as compelling on remedy, but he's certainly on the right path with his diagnosis. 


Thoughts for the Day: Tuesday 21 September 2021

 


The foundation of commanding hope is honest hope. It has the courage to fully acknowledge the dangers we face, so it’s informed by a thorough scientific understanding of those dangers and the likelihood of stark constraints in our future; yet it also welcomes the possibility of genuinely positive alternatives within those constraints.
They must believe that knowledge is knowable and facts are factual while also remembering that even the most obvious certainties might be wrong. They must commit themselves wholeheartedly to the Constitution of Knowledge while acknowledging its limits and the limits of those who uphold it.


So, what is left of you after you have left is character, the layered image that has been shaping your potentials and your limits from the beginning. Later years define this character more clearly as the repetitive stories and erotic fantasies, the nighttime vigils and the haunting searches through the halls of memory force the singularity of our character upon us.
Thought without speech is inconceivable; “thought and speech anticipate one another. They continually take one another’s place”...
Reason uses this discrepancy between intention and unintended results for the insidious realization of its own purposes; Hegel speaks here of “the cunning of Reason.” Half a century before Hegel the point had already been made most eloquently by Adam Ferguson: “Every step and every movement of the multitude, even in what are termed enlightened ages, are made with equal blindness to the future; and nations stumble upon establishments, which are indeed the result of human action, but not of human design. Cromwell said, That a man never mounts higher, than when he knows not whither he is going; it may with more reason be affirmed of communities, that they admit of the greatest revolutions where no change is intended, and that the most refined politicians do not always know whither they are leading the state by their projects.” See A. Ferguson, An Essay on the History of Civil Society (1767; repr., Cambridge, 1995), 119.
What grounds are there for supposing that the resentment against a meritocracy, whose rule is exclusively based on “natural” gifts, that is, on brain power, will be no more dangerous, no more violent than the resentment of earlier oppressed groups who at least had the consolation that their condition was caused by no “fault” of their own? Is it not plausible to assume that this resentment will harbor all the murderous traits of a racial antagonism, as distinguished from mere class conflicts, inasmuch as it too will concern natural data which cannot be changed, hence a condition from which one could liberate oneself only by extermination of those who happen to have a higher I.Q.?
Cf. Arendt's thought here with those on the same topic from Michael Sandel & Daniel Markovits.
Nasal breathing alone can boost nitric oxide sixfold, which is one of the reasons we can absorb about 18 percent more oxygen than by just breathing through the mouth.
The argument for the free market is that it is free. But freedom becomes superfluous if an enemy is threatening the very basis of all freedoms.
If reason is based on intuitive inference, what, you may ask, are the intuitions about? The answer . . . is that intuitions involved in the use of reason are intuitions about reasons.
Those who can write can write about anything. Especially when the author’s approach lies in interpreting the object of his attention as a kind of monad, something whose very existence reveals nothing less than the entire state of the world—present, past, and future. Therein lies [Walter] Benjamin’s method and magic. His worldview is profoundly symbolic: for him each person, each artwork, each object is a sign to be deciphered. And each sign exists in dynamic interrelation with every other sign. And the truth-oriented interpretation of such a sign is directed precisely at demonstrating and intellectually elaborating its integration within the great, constantly changing ensemble of signs: philosophy.
In Richardson’s list of magnitude-6 deadly conflicts, six out of seven were civil wars: the Taiping Rebellion (1851–64), the American Civil War (1861–65), the Russian Civil War (1918–20), the Chinese Civil War (1927–36), the Spanish Civil War (1936–39), and the communal slaughter that accompanied Indian independence and partition (1946–48).
Kissinger never paused in the long journey of his spectacular career to work out his ideas about politics, democracy, and the American way of governance. He was a historian and a statesman, not a political thinker. One of his Harvard professors reported that he “was only average in his abilities as a political philosopher.” But there was philosophy contained in his policies, and there were others, much above average, who may be said to have done his thinking for him, who reflected on the condition of the German-Jewish émigré, with all its complex and inevitable ambivalences, and thought deeply about the problems of democracy and modern society. Two in particular had an impress on political thought that has been as lasting—and as controversial—as Henry Kissinger’s impact has been on international affairs.
Gewen's "two in particular" are Hannah Arendt and Leo Strauss.


To be precise, the ‘condition’ which is thus ‘selected’ [as 'the cause' of an event] is in fact not ‘selected’ at all; for selection implies that the person selecting has before him a finite number of things from among which he takes his choice. But this does not happen. In the first place the conditions of any given event are quite possibly infinite in number, so that no one could thus marshal them for selection even if he tried. In the second place no one ever tries to enumerate them completely. Why should he? If I find that I can get a result by certain means I may be sure that I should not be getting it unless a great many conditions were fulfilled; but so long as I get it I do not mind what these conditions are. If owing to a change in one of them I fail to get it, I still do not want to know what they all are; I only want to know what the one is that has changed.
From this a principle follows which I shall call ‘the relativity of causes’.
Remember this statement when any starts talking about 'the cause' of an event.
[William Graham] Sumner’s defense of elites was not the defense of a class. Going one further than Rehberg, who thought some aristocrats unfit to rule, Sumner took the line earlier taken by the British liberal Lord Acton that every class was unfit to rule. All interests sought to capture government. The rich tended to rent-seeking, and tariffs were there to pamper uncompetitive industries. Sumner’s belief in the primacy of free markets was robustly stated but not always easy to live up to. When the Progressives took aim at the business and banking trusts in the name of competition, Sumner, a conservative anti-Progressive, sided with the trusts.