You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
And we always assumed anarchists were all Socialists? Think again! The Tea Party’s full of ’em.
Now, tell me: Are anarchists all destructive, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake?
The right’s rife with ’em.
Sounds like a fit, the anarchists, matching everything they’ve been fearing.
A provocative article by Jane Mayer on the Politico magazine website taps into some truly disturbing history that’s still erupting in the current presidential race. The Secrets of Charles Koch’s Political Ascent, subtitled “Two new documents reveal the political blueprint the billionaire developed 40 years ago, heavily influenced by the John Birch Society,” is based on her new book, Dark Money: the Hidden History of the Billionaires Behind the Rise of the Political Right, and outlines the anarchist leanings of the Libertarian movement’s biggest donors and organizers. (Mayer is also the author of The Dark Side: the Inside Story on How the War on Terror Turned into a War on American Ideals.)
If you believe in the American ideals of equality and justice in a political system of checks and balances, the outsized financial influence of Charles Koch and his brother, David, is creepy enough. Their origins in the extreme right-wing anti-Communist John Birch Society, which the brothers eventually left, is scarier still. Mayer observes, “Charles’ aim, according to [Brian] Doherty, who interviewed Charles for his book, was to tear the government out ‘at the root.'” The details are chilling.
As Mayer also reports, their father, Fred was a John Birch founder who deeply shaped their thinking. Never mind that the family fortune originates from the years Fred worked in Stalin’s Soviet Union developing oil refineries, he turned into a rabid loathing for the New Deal policies of Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Turning to another source for perspective, Mayer notes that the father’s dark shadow was not merely ideological: “The early years of Charles and David Koch’s political planning are described in Stealth, a 300-page unpublished and private history commissioned by their estranged brother, Bill Koch, and written by Clayton A. Coppin, a researcher who taught history at George Mason University. Coppin had unusual insight. He had previously been hired by Koch Industries to write the company’s history. The earlier project had given Coppin access to many of the family’s private letters and papers, as well as license to interview the Kochs and their intimates as few outsiders could.”
She observes: “Coppin saw Charles Koch’s strong political views in the context of his upbringing. In Stealth, written in 2003, Coppin suggests that Charles harbored a hatred of the government so intense it could only be truly understood as an extension of his childhood conflicts with authority.
“From his earliest years, Coppin writes, Charles’ goal was to achieve total control. ‘He did not escape his father’s authority until his father died,’ he notes.”
Paradoxically, then, the opponent of authoritarians becomes an authoritarian figure himself:
“After that, Charles went to great lengths to ensure that neither his brothers nor anyone else could challenge his personal control of the family company.”
And now, we might assume, the political sphere itself.
One of the astonishing by-products of the Quaker movement was the two-party system.
Before the Quaker leadership presented its historic Peace Testimony to King Charles II in 1661, a political faction was supported by arms – or an army of its own. It’s something we’re still seeing in conflicts around the globe.
Quakers, however, proclaimed:
We utterly deny all outward wars and strife and fightings with outward weapons, for any end or under any pretence whatsoever. And this is our testimony to the whole world. The spirit of Christ, by which we are guided, is not changeable, so as once to command us from a thing as evil and again to move into it, and we do certainly know, and so testify to the world, that the spirit of Christ, which leads us into all Truth, will never move us to fight any war against any man with outward weapons, neither for the kingdom of Christ, nor for the kingdoms of this world.
Quite simply, without removing themselves from political and social revolution, Friends avowed to do so on the basis of argument and example, rather than brute force and violence. They would suffer another two decades of fierce persecution before seeing their vision upheld.
What they created was the possibility of a loyal opposition – one that would press for change and speak out for the oppressed, the way the prophets did in the history of the Hebrew Bible – while still respecting the office of existing authority. To work, moreover, it had to be a two-way street, as the Bible stories also demonstrate.
What seems to have happened in recent decades in the larger American political scene is the loss of that mutual respect, despite differences. Any loyalty to the larger good is lost in the process.
We need to get back to that two-party foundation. Or Woodpecker will keep pounding.
My title is drawn from a line in John Greenleaf Whittier’s “The Last Walk in Autumn, XXV,” which echoes “blow the trumpet” in Ezekiel 33:3 “and the watchman cried” of 2 Samuel 18:25, followed by “I saw a great tumult, but I knew not what it was” in verse 29.
There were thunders and lightnings,
and a thick cloud upon the mount,
and the voice of the trumpet exceeding loud;
so that all the people that was in the camp trembled.
– Exodus 19:17
We, too, live in a tumultuous time, but in the crush of news and entertainment, the trumpets are muted. Prophets are neglected, and analysts and vapid pundits hold forth in their stead. Perhaps the rappers are too angry or too monotonous to cut through. The wheels spin and spin without a destination.
For my part, acknowledging Whittier fits my own turns in this writing. While serious American poetry typically turns away from anything touching on religious faith or political awareness (the exceptions are telling), both have been central to my life. Like Whittier – and Whitman, a step removed – Quaker practice has shaped my vision and voice. Nor is true faith distanced from social conditions. Closer to home, Whittier was a frequent visitor to the room where I worship weekly, and his parents married from the bench where I sit. To read Whittier with any appreciation in today’s literary perspective, though, I find I must break the cloying monotony of his simple rhyme schemes – recasting the lines will usually do the trick. What I then find is a surprising freshness within each line, a much more vigorous reach than is typical for the period. We forget that Whittier is the springboard for Robert Frost and all who follow in that vein. We also forget that Whittier was essentially a topical poet, immersed in the political and economic struggles of his time. Even Snowbound, for all of its seeming nostalgia, is an acknowledgment of technological advance and its impact.
Here, then, begins my cry.
Comments on earlier posts regarding the emerging U.S. presidential race have touched on a topic that ought to be more sharply examined: just what qualities are needed in a good leader?
I’ve seen charts executive head-hunting firms use for corporate hires, which see different quality requirements to match a company’s situation. A small, fast-growing firm, for example, needs a much different kind of person than does a behemoth in a shrinking market. The compensation packages can vary widely, too, especially when considering the likely tenure of the hire. Somebody hired to shake things up might be expected to have a short and stormy span at the helm, unlike a more comforting presence for a smoothly functioning organization.
That said, back to political leadership. What qualities would you list as essential?
The ability to recognize talent and draw out others into a common cause has been suggested. Vision, compassion, intelligence, integrity, willingness to listen to critical perspectives and weight alternative actions are others. And then?
Maybe we’ve been overlooking the most obvious all along. What would you name?
Even in the face of the outrages over the corrupting clout of the superrich investment in partisan politics, a fresh insight can prove haunting. And let’s not dignify that as “donations.” That’s my reaction to a passage from David Cole’s review of Burt Neuborne’s new book, Madison’s Music: On Reading the First Amendment.
It’s not just at the highest levels, either. When the infusion of cash hits smaller races, the whole system gets bought.
As Cole’s “Free Speech, Big Money, Bad Elections” (New York Review of Books, November 5) points out:
… increasingly sophisticated gerrymandering has ensured that many elected offices are sinecures for one of the two major parties. In the House of Representatives, only about forty seats, or less than 10 percent of the chamber, are filled in genuinely contested general elections. The results can be perverse.
I happen to live in one of those seats that’s become contested, after decades of being a Republican stronghold. Cole, however, presses his case that many of the general elections are rigged in favor of one side or another:
In North Carolina in 2012, the popular vote for House members was 51 percent Democratic and 49 percent Republican. Yet North Carolina’s delegation to the House consisted of nine Republicans and four Democrats. North Carolina’s state legislature had packed Democratic voters into four districts, ensuring that Republicans would win the other nine. …
So who’s really representing the people? And who are the winning officeholders really representing? It’s not just North Carolina, either, as Cole notes:
Democrats received more than half of the House votes in Arizona, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin in 2012, and did not get a majority of House seats in any of them. In what sense can such outcomes be called democratic?
Considering the low turnout rates in general elections – a consequence, as Cole details, of a sense of futility for many would-be voters or outright obstacles put in their path – an observer can wonder how much of the public the winners really do represent. That is, if 49 percent of a 40 percent turnout can win 247 seats in the House (this is a theoretical model, mind you), one could argue that the majority of the House of Representatives represents just 20 percent of the public. And if the Freedom Caucus, about 20 percent of that party, insists on dictating its ideology on the rest of the nation, that could be a mere 4 percent trying to run the country. In some places, that would be considered a coup.
Yes, I know the numbers wouldn’t all fall that neatly in one direction or the other. But it’s scary, all the same.
Those suspicious of small-state influence in the early stages of the American presidential race should also be alarmed by the disproportionate clout of the biggest states in the final count. I’m talking about the Electoral College, which has – even in modern times – given the presidency to the second-place winner in the popular vote, possibly even played into fraudulent results. Think of the George W. Bush “victories,” for starters.
For a starker perspective, consider that it’s theoretically possible for a tad over 25 percent of the American voters to elect a president. All it takes is 50 percent of the ballots, plus one vote, in each of the 11 states that hold 50 percent of the Electoral Votes. Yes, that’s 11 states in total: California, Texas, Florida, New York, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Georgia, Michigan, North Carolina, and New Jersey.
The only thing that’s spared us so far is that these states haven’t lined up together and seem unlikely to so in the near future. But I still find the possibility scary.
The possibilities of a viable third party or even a fourth in the American political system have long intrigued me. The two-party model in its either/or delimitation has rarely seemed to offer a good fit for my leanings and convictions, especially when we’re trying to reconcile ourselves with a full slate of conflicting issues, and I’m sure I’m not alone here. (Where, for instance, is the fiscal conservative who’s willing to slash the military budget? Even before we ask about abortion rights or education support or environmental stands?)
Sometimes, the lines have been drawn along religious, economic, racial, or similar lines: Protestant/Catholic, white-collar/working class, WASP/people of color, and so on. Or east versus west of the river, those on the hill versus those in the valley, or even two corners of a state or its big city versus everywhere else. And it’s not always that clear, especially when lines – and identities – muddle.
In practice, many parts of the country find themselves having a single-party system by default. One side or the other dominates the elections, year after year. It has the money, influence, and power to override challenges or to simply bully everyone into line. Or else.
Add to that the ways local offices can go begging for candidates. School board? City counselor? Town selectman? How many people are willing to put in the long hours – often at no pay – and often at the end of much verbal abuse? Not that all in public service are entirely altruistic, mind you, but let’s give many of them their due respect and gratitude.
What it comes down to is the importance of alternatives at the local level. (Yes, we’re back to the dictum, All politics is local.) Does a second party in a community necessarily have to line up with a second one at the state or national level? Or can it instead connect with that third or fourth party and then wield some influence?
Let’s ask, for instance, what working models of Libertarian policy and administration at local levels can we look to? Without such community-level organization and practice, dreams of a viable third or fourth party influencing state and national affairs remain only notions. So it’s back to ground level, for real change.
One of the Quaker objections to gambling or gaming is that it instills an expectation of getting “something for nothing.” We haven’t earned the money.
And it’s not charity.
In addition, the pot might come at the expense of those less fortunate than ourselves. (That, in practice, seems to be the case with the state lotteries now found across the United States, supposedly for the support of education.)
Listen closely to the campaign rhetoric for the “something for nothing” appeals. They come from both sides of the political divide. Then ask who’s really paying – the rich or the poor, especially. Who can most afford it? And who will most benefit? And where does justice fit in the mix?
One of the more curious twists in recent American history is the impact of Rupert Murdoch, the Australian press baron who became an American citizen to keep control of his then fledgling television network.
Politically conservative, he’s nevertheless lowered the social standards of mass media. So much for values. He introduced dirty words to television and thus made them more acceptable in otherwise polite public discussion. His tabloid newspaper journalism, meanwhile, focused on celebrities and scandal in ways that have eroded serious political debate and public policy. That’s even without getting into his influence in Hollywood.
Put simply, we’re a less polite society than we were before his appearance. Or should we just say, cruder? That’s even before we get into the Fox News role as the Republican Party mouthpiece. Or all of the Murdoch-related phone-hacking uproar in Britain.
Now we might wonder how he’s reacting in private to the Donald’s emergence as the GOP presidential race leader. Someone from another television network, free from the Fox connection, all the same rising and then riding on the confrontational entertainment celebrity approach to political argument Murdoch’s nurtured.
Still, Murdoch’s far from the faceless corporate existence we see elsewhere. He’s passionate about print journalism, for one thing, and has been willing to take risks. But when people complain about “the media,” he’s still part of the mix, the one that almost always carries negative connotations. And, for the record, let’s point out it’s really corporate media, focused on big profits, rather than liberal.
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