Monthly Archives: August 2017

The Fight That Drives Old Dixie’s Hounds

Those who fail to learn history may or may not be condemned to repeat it, but it’s a dead certainty that those who won’t let it go are hell bent on re-living it. And there seems to be a lot of these types about. People who seem more interested in yearning for the mistakes of the past rather than learning from them.

The increasingly acrimonious and belligerent argy-bargy over removing Confederate statues is a current case in point. One side argues all those stone figurines of bewhiskered white guys just glorify racists and traitors. They argue for pitching ‘em off their pedestals post haste in order to strike a blow for group harmony, not to mention delivering some long overdue just deserts. The other side argues they symbolize a proud and honorable heritage and that it’s unfair to treat them as burrs under the saddle of contemporary racial comity. Carting off a marble bust of Robert E. Lee to some darkened hall of shame might bathe some people in warm schadenfreude tinglies, but it’ll do diddly to actually combat racism in the here and now.

Both sides have a point, though one side has more of a point than the other. All those Confederate heroes were traitors to the Republic and their scores on any valid scale of prejudicial attitudes would park them in the category of “bald ass racist”. These, by the way, are objective assessments. They committed the textbook definition of treason in taking up arms against the United States of America, so in straight-up legal terms they are in Benedict Arnold territory. And their acts of treason were committed in the service of preserving an institution that kept millions of African-Americans in bondage. If that ain’t eye-popping levels of racism in action, I don’t have the words to describe what is.

And save me the states’ rights, lost cause, plucky-underdogs-fighting-for-independence-and-freedom, and all that blah-blah antebellum exculpatory blabber and balderdash. I have no doubt some actually believe such stuff and twaddle, but there’s simply no controversy among serious historians of the period that preservation of slavery was the primary war aim motivating the Confederacy. If you want to pick a bone with that analysis, take it up with historian Ty Seidule, who made a viral video explaining the point in detail (see the video here). Seidule, by the way, is not some prog-prof fulminating in an Ivory Tower tilting to the left. He’s a colonel in the United States Army, teaches at West Point, and is a proud graduate of Washington and Lee University, the Lee bit being a nod to Robert E., who ran the place for years after retiring from his distinguished career of kicking Yankee ass.

Which gets us to those hell bent on scrubbing any whiff of respectable memorialization from all historical figures who are not up to 21st Century standards of PC snuff. Sympathy for this perspective, at least on the Confederate front, is more than understandable, and I’ve got a pretty big dose of it myself. After all, according to a Wikipedia page devoted to the subject (see here), there are more than 1,500 public memorials to the Confederacy. That seems a bit overboard. I get that the Confederates were mostly out-manned, outgunned, out-supplied, but very rarely out-fought or out-generaled by the North. And, sure, they look good in those spiffy Gilbert and Sullivan uniforms. Plus they had super-cool names—Jeb Stuart, Stonewall Jackson, John Bell Hood, and Beauregard Jubal Sweaty-Breeches Julep. Okay, I made the last one up. Still, you can understand that viewed from a suitable distance this crowd of drawlers and brawlers has a certain cavalier, romantic appeal.

But, jeez, do they really deserve the copious multitudes of pigeon-crap catchers currently serving as rallying points for yet another spasm of conflict over race relations? These fellows damn near blew up the Republic over slavery. Being stylish dressers and alarmingly competent in the military arts should carry, at best, a pinch, a smidge, a mote, a skosh, of compensatory historical kudos. Certainly not freaking hundreds of statues, bridges, street names, and even, for cripes sake, an entire mountain (see here). Someone clearly needed a sense of proportion (not to mention propriety) when all this was going on.

Here’s the thing, though. Some of those monuments really can tell us something important about heritage, though not necessarily in the way assumed by diehard Dixie defenders. Some Confederate combatants not only defended the indefensible and repudiated and visited violence on the values of the Republic. To their eternal shame they turned their army gray for bed sheets (the Ku Klux Klan was founded by Confederate veterans) and egged on heirs who would carry on a legacy of appalling racial discrimination through Jim Crow. Others, though, did not. They recognized at least in some dim sense their own moral and political failings and those of the cause they fought for. After wading through the bloody muck and coming out the other side, they wanted others to let go of the animosities that motivated the conflict that consumed their lives.

So, weird as it sounds, the heritage passed on by the likes Robert E. Lee, James Longstreet and Nathan Bedford Forrest might still be worth paying attention to, even though their degrees of moral and political repentance varied quite a bit. Longstreet kind of went whole hog in bird flipping the racist cause he once fought for—post-war he is perhaps best known for leading a multi-racial militia to do battle with violent white supremacists in New Orleans.1 Lee clearly struggled over the issues of secession and slavery, even if in the moment of truth he failed the moral test on both counts. Still, after the war he opposed memorials to the Confederacy and generally encouraged people to put the past behind them and seemed to genuinely want the United States to move on. Forrest was a brilliant and ruthless cavalry commander during the war. Before the war he’d been, among other things, a slave trader. After, he was so fast to join the KKK his membership number probably consisted of a single digit. Yet towards the end of his life, even Forrest gave a much commented on conciliatory speech where he assured a black audience that, “I am with you in heart and hand,” which, no surprise, made him persona non grata in certain Sons of the South circles.

The point is, these guys clearly knew and accepted that they and their cause had lost. And, however imperfectly, they pointed the way forward from the terrible conflict in which they had so effectively participated. That way was in letting go of the attitudes that propped up slavery by force of arms and perpetuated racial divisions by the power of racial prejudice. Let’s not get too teary-eyed here–those guys were products of their time and a long, long way from true egalitarians. Still, it is not a small step from high-level Confederate combatant to getting on board with good riddance to slavery and some measured acceptance of the need for racial harmony. Yeah, they didn’t get far down the old multi-racial kumbayah path, but keep in mind they started from way, way, way back.

So if there’s any heritage worth holding onto from the Lees and the Longstreets and the Forrests, it’s that.  Not the celebration of their military victories, but the acceptance of their defeat and the recognition of its consequences. That doesn’t mean forgetting their history. But surely it means letting go of the animus that all too often motivated it. Remembering history is important. Resurrecting the divisions that often drove it is dangerous. Regardless of whether this or that statue remains or disappears, hopefully we can learn to let go of what, 150 years after the Civil War, should have been discarded a long, long time ago.

 

  1. Longstreet, by the way, is unusual among top Confederate generals in that he never had an actual statue or monument erected in his honor. This seems strange as he was one of Lee’s most able and trusted commanders, and by any measure was a hero of the Confederate cause. Longstreet’s post-war support of racial harmony is the most likely explanation for why his mug isn’t found staring down at us from cenotaph central. Longstreet’s omission from all the Confederate statutory sprinkled around like confetti makes perfect sense if these are viewed as monuments to Jim Crow rather than to heroes of the lost cause.

Shriek Bile: How Not to Handle Nazis

Hillary Clinton, the pant-suited succubus of the alt-right, caught a lot of deserved flak for describing half of Donald Trump’s supporters as a basket of deplorables, a bushel of the craven and condemnable not fit for polite democratic company. The implied fifty-fifty probability that they were a racist, a sexist, a homophobe, an Islamaphobe, or some other trafficker of tolerance-abhorrence, understandably ticked off pretty much one hundred percent of Trump backers.

And, fair enough, Clinton’s proportions were way off. Roughly 63 million people cast a ballot for Trump and surely there’s no way half of them—31.5 million Americans—are the sort of –ists and –obes that get the Southern Poverty Law Center’s dander up. Still, that basket clearly wasn’t completely empty. And however small the actual fraction, they are starting to give the president and his supporters a collective whiff of dishonor and censure that is positively sulfurous.

Last weekend’s white nationalist rally in Charlottesville and the events since certainly made that pong considerably harder to ignore. Those guys in the Tiki torch parade at the Unite the Right rally were Nazis. That’s not hyperbole. They were not femi-Nazis, not PC-Nazis, not I-disagree-but-can’t-be-bothered-to-argue-so-I’m-calling-you-a-Nazi Nazis. They were real deal neo-fascists, swastika-waving Hitler fanboys publically advocating the most odious tenets of National Socialism. These were not just testosterone-addled youngsters throwing sieg heil salutes in some rebels-flouting-our-flaws prank aimed at getting up the snoots of liberal elites. They gave every indication of genuine commitment to the racist blood and soil twaddle spewing out their cake holes. They espouse a political creed—openly racist and religiously intolerant–that truly could only be embraced by, well, deplorables.

Which is why it’s so gobsmackingly surreal that the president could not quite seem to grasp the moral, let alone the political, calculus of Charlottesville. The Cliff’s Notes version of the White House response to this political gasoline fire reads like this:  Well, sure, Nazis and the bedsheet boogeymen of the Ku Klux Klan are bad, but so are the “alt-left” who showed up to protest them. Nazis and anti-Nazis, it’s a potato, potahto sort of deal. Intended or not, Trump left the impression that he saw people like Heather Heyer as somehow analogous to the grub-stage Gruppenfuhrer who killed her for the crime of standing up to racists. In the context of the American political system, that’s going to be hard to top as an act of political self-immolation.

Even with full acknowledgement of the ugly state of our polarized politics, Americans are, surely, pretty united on the proposition that Nazis are bad news, that people who march in solidarity with them are not “good people,” and that just because you show up to register disgust at fascism does not mean  automatically descending into some comparable moral sink hole. A list of luminaries in the president’s own party have forcefully made exactly that point. John McCain and Marco Rubio pulled no punches.  Attorney General Jefferson Beauregard Sessions—a proud son of a Confederate state and no stranger to his own race controversies—hesitated not a bit in condemning what happened to Heyer as “domestic terrorism.

They were all rightly praised across the political spectrum for unhesitatingly sticking up for basic decency and American values. Public plaudits for the president were mostly limited to, well, deplorables. David Duke, for example. When not stocking up at a Bed, Bath and Beyond white sale for KKK sartorial purposes, Duke is a perennial pusher of a political philosophy that might be called a dread, wrath and beyond white fail. This is a guy who has made a career out of trafficking in racial purity gutter-sweepings of the lowest order. His take on the president’s handling of Charlottesville? He praised his “honesty & courage.” The Daily Stormer, leading lights of the shame-scream media, also weighed in with an appreciative smoochie. The Nazis basically came out and said we know the president of the United States is on our side.

That is kind of hard to process. Maybe Trump really isn’t a not-so-closet booster of white nationalism, but at a minimum he’s such a cack-handed political amateur he’s conveying exactly that impression to a large section of American society. Don’t take my word for it. Conservatives as disparate as Charles Krauthammer and David Brooks have lit into Trump not only for tone deafness, but moral abdication. Business leaders scrambled to cut their ties with the Trump administration. Leaders of the United States military took the extraordinary step of taking a pointed, public swipe at their commander in chief. Even people on Fox & Friends were calling Trump “morally bankrupt.” If Trump’s lost Fox & Friends (motto: We Don’t Just Do Trump Fancy, but Trump Sycophancy) you know things are bad for the White House.

This also does not reflect well on the voters who put him there. Principled motives for supporting Trump electorally I can buy. Trying to shift blame for the consequences of that election, well, not so much. The what-about-the-lefty-bully-boys-and-don’t-forget-Hillary’s-email response to white nationalism elbowing its way into mainstream political debate is pretty lame. Did I mention the Nazis? Yes, the left also has knuckleheads with an iffy commitment to respecting the government’s monopoly on the legitimate use of violence. But they’re not pushing a doctrine of a racial superiority, and they are most definitely not publicly gloating that such a repugnant agenda is getting a nod and wink from the most powerful office holder on the planet. These days, Nazis are.

Now that truly is deplorable.

 

The New Face of Immigration

Dwight D. Eisenhower, Carl Spaatz, 1 and Chester Nimitz were, respectively, Army, Air Force and Navy commanders who collectively represented America’s secret advantage in World War Two. In taking on dedicated bully boys like the Nazis, America didn’t simply make better tanks, planes and warships than the Germans. America was also in the business of making better Germans than the Germans.

That has always been a particular genius of the United States, or at least that’s what we tell ourselves. Give us your tired, your poor, your strange accents, funny names, weird food and odd fashions. Into the melting pot they go, where strivers of all stripes can find nourishment for their dreams with extra helpings of individual freedom, that not-so-secret ingredient of American dynamism. The resulting cultural stew might rearrange consonants and vowels here and there (it was originally Eisenhauer), but it produces hearty crossbreeds of invention and tradition, hybrids socially engineered to kick ass and take names. And I’m not just talking about a few World War Two muckety mucks laying the lumber to cousins in the old country.  American immigrants are as varied as Albert Einstein, Irving Berlin, Charlie Chaplin, Henry Kissinger, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Eddie Van Halen. The co-founder of Google is an immigrant (Sergey Brin), as is the founder of PayPal, SpaceX and Tesla (Elon Musk).

The result of all this cultural mixing and matching is, at least as the tale gets told, the best of the new and the old. French toast, spaghetti and meatballs, and German chocolate cake are actually as American as apple pie, culinary staples inspired by the old world but given life in the new. That urge to take where we’re from and turn it into something bigger and better is in our genes. Come to think of it, it’s also in our jeans (Levi Strauss was born in Germany). America, as it repeatedly tells itself, is a nation of immigrants, a place where citizenship is derived from a commitment to shared values rather than blood or tan lines.

As a nation of immigrants, then, it’s somewhat baffling that we are increasingly, well, anti-immigrant. I’m not just talking about illegal immigration. That’s never been particularly popular with the American public, even if those attitudes have been kind of schizophrenic (“Deport the illegals! But not until they’ve finished the harvest and roofed my house!”). I’m talking about legal immigration which, at least in some quarters, is increasingly viewed as getting too much of a not-so-good thing. Give or take, about 35 percent of Americans want legal immigration levels decreased, though like much else in the commonweal the aggregate number belies deep partisan differences. Among Republican ranks it’s more like 60 percent.

In truth, the Republic has always had a muddled attitude towards the mixed lot that washed up on its shores over the years. Homegrown Anglo-Yanks weren’t too wild about the Irish and Italians who streamed in during the 19th and 20th Century (come to think of it, the Irish and Italians didn’t like each other much either). For decades, mainline Protestants weren’t too fond of Catholics coming in, and neither Protestants nor Catholics were particularly wild about letting in too many Jews.

The disparate European tribe that collectively thinks of itself as representing America did learn to occasionally put aside their traditional enmities and prejudices and forge common ground on immigration policy. They united to stick it to the Chinese immigrants in the old West, and closed ranks to chuck Japanese immigrants into concentration camps during World War II (though later they did generously allow the Nisei to be drafted into racially segregated combat units that were packed off to fight the relatives in Italy and Germany). More recently immigrants from South America and pretty much any place with a surfeit of minarets in its religious architecture get the Irish/Italian/Chinese/Japanese treatment.

All the E pluribus unum rah-rah, in other words, hides a long history of a firm commitment to a WASP-y unum but a lot of waffling and occasional full-on abandonment of any technicolor pluribus. And that’s without taking into consideration what might euphemistically be termed coercive immigration (i.e. importing slaves) and enforced emigration (i.e. exporting Native Americans to places they didn’t want to go). So no one should be super-shocked that the federal government is getting some traction with its plans to limit membership in club America.

What is kind of shocking, though, is just how tight those limits are. If the Trump administration gets its way, there will not only be fewer Muslims and people with non-white skin tones getting past Lady Liberty’s velvet rope. There will be fewer people like me. And as I’m so WASP-y I could practically unfurl wings out of my lats and drop a stinger out my butt, I’m pretty sure there will be fewer people like you too. What’s being kicked around is a points-based merit system, where you get points for having particular skills, qualifications, or a walloping pile of boodle. To qualify for immigration, you have to get a certain number of points. Time magazine mocked up a quiz  so you can figure out if you’d have what it takes to get a shot at being an American. You can take the quiz here. It’s kind of depressing. I didn’t make the cut—too old, my advanced degree is in the wrong field, and I suffer from an un-American deficiency of lucre. All that could be offset by athletic or intellectual glory—you get points for having an Olympic medal and/or a Nobel Prize—but all I had was my second-string high school football career and a college GPA that made my mom proud.

My failure to cut the mustard as a worthy candidate for immigration to America surprised me because, well, I am an immigrant to America. From a one percenter perspective, I’ll allow that in retrospect I might not have been the best investment of a golden ticket to American citizenship. I haven’t won any prestigious awards, or started a Fortune 500 company. I haven’t even got my own Wikipedia entry. All I’ve done is work hard, served in the military, paid my taxes, supported my community, embraced the values of the Constitution, and raised a couple of All-American kids socialized to repeat those same sorts of behaviors. You know, the sort of things the vast majority of US immigrants and their offspring, which is to say the vast majority of Americans, have always done. Clearly the government is considering raising the bar on us, so I’m glad we slackers got in before the rules tightened up.

If the government is going this route, though, in the name of truth in advertising they need to update the poem parked at the base of the Statue of Liberty. Emma Lazarus’ scribbling about, “Give me your tired, your poor/Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” clearly needs a 21st Century edit. Maybe something like: Give me your rich, your Olympians/your huddled Nobel laureates yearning for venture capital/The rest of you losers don’t bother applying.

Doesn’t sound very American. But then again neither do the new immigration proposals.

  1. Spaatz sounds more Dutch than German, but that was because he added an extra “a” right before World War II. He was born a Spatz, which means sparrow in German. Didn’t matter much because his friends called him “Tooey” and to pretty much else he was “sir” or “general.” Regardless, as commander of the Eighth Air Force he was responsible for bombing the snot out big chunks of Europe.

The GOP Is Starting to Get Tired of All The Winning

 

Reince Priebus, the recently canned whipping boy of the Trump administration, says things these days look pretty rosy for the Republican Party. “Winning is what we were supposed to do, and we won. That’s the job of the Republican Party. It’s in the best shape it’s been in since 1928.”

And, in sense, Priebus is absolutely right. In my professional parish, a political party is defined as an organization dedicated to running candidates for office under its own label. If a party’s primary purpose is to contest elections, then it follows that the obvious yardstick of its success is how many elections it wins. As the Republicans won pretty much everything last go around, Priebus’ claim that things are just tickety boo for the GOP has a reasonable portion of quantitative veracity. In other words, contrary to opinions from other quarters, Priebus is not completely full of crap.

Here’s the thing, though. If a party wins enough of those elections to gain control of the government it is expected to, well, govern. Professional observers of government such as myself are realistic enough to recognize and accept that the primary driver of any political party is the pursuit of power. Once a party gains power, however, voters expect them to do something with it. You know, like all the stuff they promised to do if they ever got into the driver’s seat.

And, at least thus far, Republicans under Donald Trump are proving themselves spectacularly incapable of governing. Don’t take my word for it.  Lots of conservative Republicans are saying exactly the same thing (you can read what a bunch of them say on this matter here). Republican Senator Jeff Flake makes the argument in painful detail. Neo-con Bill Kristol says more or less the same thing. Some of the lads over at the National Review are not only saying the GOP can’t get things done, they are skating mightily close to openly calling Trump nuts and the Republicans nuttier for making him the face of the party’s governing brand. The collective point of all this concerned conservative navel gazing seems to be a growing sense of buyer’s remorse. The gist is basically that putting the pursuit of power above everything else—principles, policy, pride, values, facts, social cohesion, adult supervision—was a Faustian bargain that turned out to be a very bad deal. Indeed, those are pretty much the exact words Flake uses. If this is what prominent conservatives are saying, you can imagine the high-pitched wails of Republican incompetence being raised on the left.

Priebus, though, isn’t having any regrets or second guessing. As head of the Republican National Committee he became the face of the party’s embrace of Trump and his promised brand of governance, and backed that up by becoming, however briefly, White House chief of staff. For his trouble he was relived of his dignity and of any illusion that Trump would magically mature into a more conventional statesman once in office. It was still all worth it, Priebus argues, because of what the Trump administration has accomplished. What are those accomplishments? According to Priebus, “a conservative Supreme Court justice, regulatory reform, and a healthy economy.”

Uh-huh. As far as anyone can tell the healthy economy is just a continuation of its pre-Trump trajectory. For certain, in the past six months the federal government has passed no policy or program that could conceivably have had any meaningful impact on GDP, unemployment or similar indexes of economic health. The regulatory reform basically amounts to a bunch of executive orders, which the president is extremely fond of signing … and which the next Democratic president will almost certainly cancel with an equal and opposite executive order. Fair enough, though, the appointment of Neil Gorsuch was, no question, a big conservative win.

Balanced against all this winning, though, is quite a bit of losing. Most prominently is the gobsmacking self-immolation of the GOP’s healthcare plans, the inability of the majority party to deliver on the most prominent and central legislative goal it has sought and promised for nearly a decade. Trump also seems to be losing Congress more generally. Congress passed sanctions against Russia against the president’s wishes and groups of legislators are tentatively starting to hash out bipartisan health care options without his support or blessing.  Indeed, members of his own party increasingly are giving signs they are simply willing to ignore what the president wants, and given that his poll numbers have fallen lower than coalmine canaries, you can hardly blame them. Even the Gorsuch victory might exact a steep, albeit long-term, price. Getting that win required torpedoing Merrick Garland’s nomination on pretty shaky constitutional grounds, torching a set of senatorial norms, and putting up with the unsettling sound of seriously steamed Democrats constantly sharpening knives behind closed doors. When that go around comes around, and this being politics it surely will, Dems will have no compunction about wielding their obsessively stropped blades to slice off a vengeful pound or two of GOP flesh.

The growing internecine GOP catfights over the party’s plans, not to mention the increasing questions from within its own ranks of its capability to carry them out, are not good news for those of us who want government to work regardless of who is in charge of it. The chances seem slim that the Republican Party is going to improve on its lamentable six-month record as a mostly incompetent governing force. Priebus’ assessment of necessary sacrifices yielding a string of sterling successes is less a case of looking at the world with rose colored glasses than suffering the political equivalent of hysterical blindness. And maybe that’s not surprising. Over the past year he has repeatedly shown himself to be a pollyannaish Trump/party hybrid, a Toyota Priebus that turned out to get lousy mileage. He lasted only six months in service to House Trump, and spent most of that playing Theon Greyjoy to the president’s Ramsey Bolton in the White House’s revolving Game of Drones.

Still, Priebus’ historical analogy for the GOP may touch closer to reality than he realizes. The Republican Party was sitting pretty in 1928. It controlled both houses of Congress and the White House, and was confident that its pro-business agenda would deliver the goods for the citizenry and keep it in power. Things didn’t quite work out that way. A year later the economy tanked, and the Republican president (Herbert Hoover) and the GOP congressional majorities came to be viewed by the populace as the gang that couldn’t shoot straight. In 1932 FDR got elected and, with a couple of odd exceptions here and there, the Democratic Party basically enjoyed sixty years of electoral dominance.

If it’s really 1928 all over again, maybe the Republican Party should stop all the Priebus-like counting of its wins and get its act together. If it doesn’t, it’s going to get tired of all that winning much sooner than later.