Good God a Wonderful Philip Roth Novel

My Life as a Man Philip Roth

When Peter Tarnopol learns that Maureen has died, he is convinced that it’s another plot of hers, a set-up to get him to react callously, and so recorded in his coldness that the alimony judge will slap him with ever greater support obligations, and that he will never never be able to extricate himself from this hell Maureen has created for the two of them.

For the two of them, I say, but this torment does not begin or end with her, though Peter Tarnopol is uniquely wracked by it. My Life as a Man is dominated by the Herculean struggle of this evil little relationship.

Tarnopol is a good Jewish boy from Yonkers, raised right by his father, with the hours in the storeroom, the well provided for upbringing with its attendant unobserved ups and downs in fortune by the stolid Jewish father who loves, loves his boy, and this boy is brilliant enough and devoted to the Word (of literature, not religion) to earn himself a promising future as a brilliant young man of letters, with the early publication of a novel (it is titled A Jewish Father).

But he gets trapped with Maureen, a woman four years his senior, 29 at first, and she is mad, nutso, just out of it and she traps him. They scream and shout at one another and Tarnopol is not living life as a man, he is emasculated, and throughout the whole sorry narrative, even after Maureen’s death, which ends the novel differently from how it was presented earlier, has he ever even become a man?

Throughout the book he cries and he sobs and he unleashes torrents of thoughts and words and digressions and ruminations upon the reader and his psychiatrist Dr. Spielvogel, but it’s never clarified so clearly as it is in the two short stories that front the text.

We jump into them unaware that they aren’t the main narrative, and they tell a similar sort of story. The first of an industrious young Jewish boy from a good family with a good mind, who eventually meets a hot Jewish girl by the name of Sharon Shatsky, three years his junior and we are treated to Rothian descriptions of carnality and obscenity that are both entertaining and appealing. Memorably, Shatsky strips for this Nathan Zuckerman and penetrates herself with a cucumber, along with a litany of other torrid sex acts performed in very near view of their happy parents oblivious to the buggering and jamming and slamming going on near them.

This Zuckerman story is followed by a more subdued and solemn tale with a character that more closely resembles the Maureen that follows in the next two hundred pages. This Zuckerman falls for Lydia, an older woman in the creative writing course he teaches, a woman who has been through terrible travail in her life. She was raped (the word used to describe it here is ‘seduction’) by her father as a child, and Zuckerman is attracted to her writing and her, and tries to bring her to orgasm despite her dessicated genitals and her insecure disbelief in his attraction to her.

Maureen too comes from a harder background, one husband a woman beating brute and the other an actor homosexual (the book from 1970 of course so this, the horror and shame!). And she will not let Peter Tarnopol out of her grasp long after their hate has burned high and hard and desperately terribly like a bonfire of, not vanities no, but jealousies and grudges and sheer raving madness!

She tricks him into marriage through a faked pregnancy that she falsely verifies for Tarnopol by buying urine from a pregnant woman. And she forces him too by threatening to kill herself if he leaves. And she is petty and terribly jealous and distrustful of Tarnopol in any of the classes he teaches, of the girls oh the girls! The luscious undergrads who Tarnopol is just bursting with desire to seduce. And then he does of course, miserable and degraded by Maureen.

Does Tarnopol’s perspective blind us to some goodness in Maureen? Is she treated unfairly? Perhaps, but there’s no textual evidence to indicate this to the reader at all. She comes off unbearably vindictive and possessive. She will not allow a divorce, she is desperate to possess him always and forever. Why, she loves him but it’s a wild acquisitory love that will not let him, or her, escape from the toxic sludge that the husband and wife are bathing in.

During Tarnopol’s separation from Maureen, there is also Susan, a kind gentle lover of his, with a similarly broken past, a widow who inherited $2 million after a plane crash claims her young husband, and a timid girl who Peter boosts up and seems to enjoy. The narrative jumps around of course, and the Peter who is writing this account is a Peter who is no longer with Susan. She too attempted suicide after he left her, before trying to win him back broken in a white bikini. He left her because he knew she wanted children and to marry, things that he doesn’t want, and so he does not want to make her unhappy.

This is a Philip Roth novel, of course it is brilliant. The refracted frenetic prose brimming with introspection and thought upon thought upon thought creates an accretion of lively inquiry. The emotional content is compelling, the melodrama that Tarnopol ironically is aware of in his life of literary pretensions is impeccably presented. There is a sort of driving quality which is present in so much of Roth’s early work, oars pulling against the water and the slaves rowing propelling the novel forward forward forward to a buzzing conclusion.

The sexual detail is inventive and funny, the dialogue real, the people all too very real, the rendering of the divorce proceedings granular but rapid.

Roth makes it look so easy but to think, really think like his characters do is a remarkable achievement. They are so vibrantly cerebral that as you read the words your brain pulses with the sensation of the introspection, as if this first person rendering you are reading is actually the thoughts racing through your own brain.

The act of writing the book for Tarnopol means something about his terrible relationship, which with the immediacy with which it’s presented means that he has neither forgotten it nor let it go. It is a terrible terrible relationship, the type of setup that haunts every thinking or trying to love person like a nightmare. The most terrifying part is how completely its characters are trapped in it, however much they know and however early on that they are completely and utterly within its malignant grasp.

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Tim Snyder Reviewed – “On Tyranny: Twenty Lesson from the Twentieth Century”

“What is patriotism?” asks Timothy Snyder in the penultimate chapter of his slim book On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century. To begin his definition Mr. Snyder lists what he considers is not, and in doing so defines his politics more lucidly than an affirmative definition could.

His list of un-patriotisms begins with calling it not patriotic “to dodge the draft and mock war heroes and their families.”

Is this really true though? On mocking war heroes he is undoubtedly referring to the affair of Humayun Khan, the U.S. Army Captain who died in Iraq in 2004, and his father Khzir and mother Ghazala’s appearance at last year’s Democratic National Convention, as well as Donald Trump’s comments on John McCain rejecting that the Senator is a war hero. The Khans and McCain are more linked than just being on the receiving end of the president’s abuse. Khzir Khan told CNN last year that McCain was Humayun’s hero, and that he had sent his son McCain’s 2004 book Why Courage Matters: The Way to a Braver Life while Humayun was deployed.

I don’t know much about the Khan’s politics aside from their admiration for McCain, though it does at least feel wrong to mock the parents of a dead soldier, whatever one’s opinion of that soldier or their actions. I can feel human sympathy for Carryn Owens, the widow of the Navy SEAL who died in the Yemen raid that killed 10 children younger than 13, and six women, despite my rejection of the fetishization and celebration of the murderous soldiers that that grotesquely revered branch of the armed forces is often composed of.

So I can understand the visceral emotion Snyder expresses in his rejection of Trump’s treatment of those parents. But even ceding Snyder’s point in the case of the Khans leaves a few questions. Why is it not patriotic to dodge the draft? I s McCain really a war hero? And if he is, why does it matter?

The first question is easily resolved for me. If Trump’s “reasonable” generals plunge us into war with Iran and institute a draft, will it be unpatriotic to dodge that draft? Snyder’s standard would seem to hold that it would be.

McCain’s heroism is certainly not without dispute. He made propaganda films for the Vietcong while imprisoned, something utterly inconsequential for me but apparently deadly important to those who are in the business of bestowing the sobriquet “war hero” on those they consider worthy (and who often near unfailingly share their political leanings).

When I ask myself whether or not being a war hero “matters,” I’m asking myself a question about what I value. Those who place great importance on war heroes often view the United States as a unique nation which has carried out a liberatory mission throughout the course of its history. This flies in the face of the truth that I know, that the United States is the latest and most powerful iteration of Empire, an empire that has always had as its goal the preservation and protection of capital. Smedly Butler came to this realization after a highly decorated career in the military, and his testimony is one of the most cutting and lucid we have of a soldier who realizes how he has been used.

However they have been used there are undoubtedly brave soldiers, and even though they often fight for a cause I reject they also often display valor and courage under fire. When the guns start firing ideology can quickly take a back seat to self preservation and care for one’s comrades in arms. The problem then, of the appellation “war hero” is that it’s a political designation, granted mostly to conservative figures who have furthered the interests of capital. When Snyder asks us to respect war heroes, he isn’t really talking about honoring the individual accomplishments of brave men; he is demanding our subservience to the values of the state they committed them for. Like many defenders of the creed of centrism, he tries to wrap us into a political act by painting it as a neutral admiration demanded of all good citizens.

In another section of the book Snyder correctly advises to “make sure you and your family have passports.”

He calls having a passport “liberating.” So why does he demand of my patriotism to include submitting to a draft I will undoubtedly not agree with? The implication too is that those who fled to Canada to avoid the draft which Trump elided were not patriotic. The critique of Trump as draft-dodger is valid insofar as it highlights his hypocrisy in demanding a sacrifice he himself would not make. Snyder’s point feels different in his book, that we should be outraged not because of his hypocrisy but because resisting conscription is immoral. Should those objectors have carried guns into battle in a war they, and I, find wrong? Snyder addresses this point more to my satisfaction in his rebuttal to those who would avoid a passport in service of dying to defend “freedom” in America.

“These are fine words,” he writes, “but they miss an important point. The fight will be a long one.”

Indeed it will, and Snyder’s “patriotic” imprecations do not help us to do the hard work and maintain the maintain the stamina necessary to wage that fight. When a movement opens itself to charges of insufficient patriotism, it can descend into bathos in an attempt to prove its authenticity on that front to its enemies.

Treating of McCain is important too. There has been a liberal trend to canonize reactionary Republicans like McCain and South Carolina Senator Lindsey Graham over the past year, and it reached its nadir not long after Donald Trump’s inauguration. It was then that it exhibited perhaps its most perverse expression, in the effusive praise for war criminal George W. Bush’s aw-shucks routine. Not only were Bush’s rounds mendacious (no, the 43rd president does not give a damn about a free and independent press, nor does he consider it indispensable ), but they were also cowardly. The 70 year old charmer toured behind the shield of veterans with PTSD and blown off limbs, the victims and perpetrators of his bloodthirsty foreign policy.

Bush’s tepid criticisms, delivered with the necessary false agony of the Serious Guy about “speaking out” had the centrist “resistance” pining for the reappearance on the scene of this war-mongering expropriator. But this isn’t a surprise. Centrism as a political philosophy seeks to maintain nothing but the status quo, which today is the neoliberal imperialist order, a variation on the old theme that is capitalism. It sounds a little sweeter, sure, but it’s the same melody.

“The danger we now face is of a passage from the politics of inevitability to the politics of eternity, from a naive and flawed sort of democratic republic to a confused and cynical sort of oligarchy,” writes Snyder. Has he, this historian, lost his sense of history? Snyder says repeatedly how important an awareness of history is, but seems to view the developments of the past year as something new.

The difference is only qualitative.

The Supreme Court’s Citizen’s United decision is half a decade old; there is your cynicism. The concentration of wealth among the top 1/10th of the richest 1 percent of America is unparalleled in the nation’s history; there is your oligarchy. Of course none of this is new and these things were not even the first symptoms of the Situation Now™, they are only the most recent developments and those which are keenly visible today.

I have read some of Snyder’s essays, and he is a talented historian, but he seems blind to what has been wrought in the recent past. He rightly tells us that we teeter at the brink of a ledge over something which is sinisterly different. What he misses though is that to recover we not only have to take a firm step back, but we also must climb back the ledges we have already fallen from. Otherwise we only defer the final push to a more effective manipulator.

Snyder is a proponent of “resistance.” But resistance means only to stay in place against an advancing tide. It’s impossible to stand unarmed while a wave of concrete rushes towards you and expect not to be shattered. The only way to combat the coming threat is to acknowledge the present one, and to meet both head on and push back. There can be no half measures. Socialism or barbarism has completed its transformation from the comforting bedtime lullaby of the left to a reflection of the facts on the ground.

The task of the Left is to build far from the shore. The tempting analogy for a writer to make is to build this new project on the margins, but that should not be its promise. To avoid the necessity of these twenty actions, which range from the profound to the pathetic, it is required to build on solid ground: we must move inland, charting a course to the mainstream.

“For resistance to succeed, two boundaries must be crossed,” begins the most unlucky 13th lesson. “First, ideas about change must engage people of various backgrounds who do not agree about everything. Second, people must find themselves in places that are not their homes, and among groups who were not previously their friends. Protest can be organized through social media, but nothing is real that does not end in the streets. If tyrants feel no consequences for their actions in the three-dimensional world, nothing will change.”

This is certainly practical and useful, and for a certain audience no doubt a message that needs to be imparted. But what is the change Snyder wants? The deepest flaw of the book is its failure to articulate the world that we should be fighting for. There are brief sketches of a sort of liberal democracy, a reversion to the status quo. But that will leave the situation once again unconfronted; not only is that status quo inhuman and cruel, but the tyranny Snyder warns against will only reappear like the tides.

So how?

Protests are tremendously important, and Snyder is right to advocate that they must be where the government is. I was at the Navy Memorial on January 20th waiting for delayed hours while in the distance black smoke curled up from a burning limousine, and I joined in on the prolonged boo that greeted the newly-minted president as his own motorcade drove by. I saw his scowl looking out on the jeers, and know that anyone who has heard that unrelenting “boo,” more powerful than any chant or insult, a primal sound of dissatisfaction and rejection, can understand the utility of a protest. That sound is the answer to anyone who questions protest’s motivational utility.

But protest is not enough. Snyder is blinded by his allegiance to existing institutions, thinking that if we can just defend them fervently enough they can deliver us salvation. But this is clearly illogical; if our institutions were sufficient we would not be in the situation we find ourselves in now. They are not good enough, and now that we’ve identified the approaching tsunami we can no longer content ourselves with sandbags.

Only by building stronger, democratic, anti-capitalist institutions that we are genuinely a part of can we have a civil society that can defend us. Snyder talks about the importance of civil society, and civil society is important. But for civil society to do its job it has to flow from the people. So much of what is called civil society now is corporate funded, it’s astroturfed, it’s nothing but capital running cover. Civil society will only defend us when we are civil society, and if we demand that our interests are the ones it protects. When we have a civil society whose motive is not profit, that isn’t funded by the oligarchs and the banks, then Snyder’s defense of civil society will become valid.

Some of what Snyder writes is merely aggravating, general middle class liberal sentiment that just-doesn’t-get-it. Some is more shocking from a champion of liberal democracy. Snyder signals a lot of reverence for the fourth estate, with all the grandiosity that appellation implies. But in chapter 14, where he describes the importance of establishing a private life, he misses the chance to make a powerful point about the degradation of the border between what is public and what is private to take an odd swipe at reporting he deems unacceptable.

The whole setup he lays out is bizarre.

“During the campaign of 2016,” he writes, “we took a step toward totalitarianism without even noticing it by accepting as normal the violation of electronic privacy.”

He is speaking of the leaked Democratic National Committee emails, published by Wikileaks in July of 2016.

These “timed email bombs,” according to Snyder, were a “powerful form of disinformation.” He goes on to chastise journalists for not contextualizing the words and explaining why people would speak like they do in the emails, calling this “an act of falsification.”

“Meanwhile,” Snyder goes on, “in transmitting the privacy violations as news the media allowed themselves to be distracted from the actual events of the day” (italics mine).

He also calls the reporting on the emails a “mind[less] indulge[nce in] the inherently salacious interest we have in other people’s affairs.”

This insistence that the DNC’s emails are fundamentally worthless and revealed nothing valuable to us is a mainstay of the resistance, heard tendentiously in that enduring witticism “but her emails!”

Snyder’s 400 or so words here are a vaguely academic iteration of this boring refrain. He quotes Hannah Arendt, he uses the word “striking,” he tells us we are “participat[ing] in the demolition of our own political order.”

And it is clear he thinks of it as our order because it is his order. Snyder is blind to the idea that the current political order is not worth protecting. But like every protector of an order, he berates those who would reveal the real malevolence of that order.

He even uses as a criticism of reporting on the emails the alleged propriety of fashion and sports reporters, well known paragons of moral virtue.

“It is striking,” he writes between parenthesis, “that news media are worse at this [in his eyes, the revelation of the confidential becoming the story (and, I have to ask, why doesn’t Snyder consider this revelation newsworthy?)] than, say, fashion or sports reporters?” Say, of course, as if we are sitting in a cafe and just happen to use the first examples that come to mind as reference. “Fashion reporters know that models are taking off their clothes in the changing rooms, and sports reporters know that athletes shower in the locker room, but neither allow private matters to supplant the public story they are supposed to be covering.”

Snyder here frames the revelations in the emails as a “private matter.” At another point in the book Snyder emphasizes how despots and dictators take efforts to circumscribe discussion and shield themselves from investigation. Naturally this isn’t a favorable illustration that he draws, yet it is exactly the sort of behavior he defends in making this bizarre comparison.

Details of models changing and athletes showering are not in the public interest; that is why fashion and sports reporters don’t highlight them. The inside baseball of politics though, does meet that criteria. Not only did the emails reflect poorly on the character of those involved (who, after all, under a Clinton Administration would have actual power as likely White House appointees), but in the uncovering of things like Clinton’s public position/private position statement gave voters a clue to how far her promises should be trusted. And if a runway model or a second baseman for the Oakland Athletics is in line for a cabinet level position, and they are holding meetings on the policy they’re going to make in locker or changing rooms, I would urge a sports, fashion, political, in fact any type of reporter, to report on what’s going on behind those doors if they can.

The exception Snyder provides here explicitly reminds one of Trump’s defense of his “pussy-grabbing” comments as “locker room talk.”

The real policy of candidates for the presidency is dubbed by Snyder the supplantation of the public story by private matters.

And this contradicts his 5th lesson, which instructs us to “remember our professional ethics” in the face of demands upon them. A reporter reporting on a story is doing that. Snyder and those deathly concerned about propriety and good form (the ne plus ultra of liberal priorities) would exempt reporting on private matters obtained from a source that possibly has ulterior motives from the duty of journalists. But if reporters only wrote stories based on leaks from those exposing wrongdoing out of a sense of virtue, they would hardly find any stories to write. As long as the information being reported on is factual (and in this case it most definitely is), there is no reason to not report it.

This whole line of thought that Snyder espouses is typical of the political current he aligns himself with. Though his 11th lesson urges us to support investigative journalism and above that to ourselves investigate, it seems that his real view on the subject is not pure as the driven snow (as I might write with a straight face if my name were Keith Olbermann). He picks and chooses just like anyone else. Congressman Mike Pompeo links to Wikileaks, while CIA Director Pompeo calls them a criminal organization. Historian Timothy Snyder similarly is contradictory on the subject of journalism, though for him it is because he does not consider Wikileaks to be a legitimate journalistic outlet. Thus he valorizes journalists throughout, but the only journalism in this book that he treats of at length (though he does not name it) he bashes, and in terms that cast its effects as those which lead to Fascism.

The left critique of the liberal instinct is important, I think, and those who consider themselves left-liberal often mistake in good faith the arguments that the left puts forward. They talk about “circular firing squads,” evoking the image of Stalinist terror, or “purity tests,” which raises the malevolent specter of Nazi racial science. But the objective of such a left critique is to show the precarious situation so many are truly in. Snyder’s 20 points don’t meet this criteria. It’s powerfully true that the greatest sin from a liberal perspective is that of poor form. A slide into tyranny and fascism then becomes undesirable not because of the great material destruction it visits upon its victims, but because it is a grotesque and vulgar management style. Capitalism must be maintained, the thinking goes, but in style!

In the combat against tyranny and fascism, those with a liberal worldview are useful to ally with, not to follow, and only because those with that worldview are sometimes more capable of listening to the arguments of the left.

Yes, tyranny is on the march. Yes, a grotesque spectre is haunting the world. That spectre is capitalism; tyranny and fascism are only its familiars. To defeat tyranny and the fascism it brings, without forever banishing capitalism, only leaves us vulnerable for another day, and more steps down the path to oblivion.

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I Will Never Read A Bad Book Again

The First Deadly Sin – Lawrence Sanders

Being recommended a book is always a risky proposition. Add being given a book to read and you’re in even worse shape. You could always pretend to have read the book, but why not just read it? I can’t be a snob, I’ve read and enjoyed Star Wars novels.

Recently I was given a copy of Anthony Burgess’ Earthly Powers, and found myself devouring it. I was turned on to how good Burgess is, the mix of high humor and feeling that he doesn’t alternate between but instead combines. Reading Burgess reminded me of Roth; literary, referential, with a compelling plot and an abundance of insight provided by sentences so perfect you think that they can’t be topped until they are on the next page, and repeatedly.

These are two writers of literature. The book that I ‘m writing about here was authored by someone very far from producing something that could be properly called that, though not for lack of trying.

The First Deadly Sin is an old detective novel published in 1973. Its plot is broadly formulaic, which isn’t a criticism. Its plot is boring and goes nowhere, which is. It follows Police Captain Edward X. Delaney, and never misses a chances to confidently declare that middle initial between the first and last names.

Delaney is a cop, been so all his life. There’s things that people who aren’t cops just don’t understand, like a former torture chamber in his old precinct building that produces a wry smile on his face. Another hallmark of the captain’s technique is ruminating constantly on the probable homosexuality of the serial killer he’s pursuing. Yes, this is a grim chase-him-down indeed. The city (New York) is crumbling and it’s brave and grave Edward X. Delaney who has to clean up the disorder, which he hates.

The killer is Daniel Blank, a successful business executive at Javis-Bircham, a publishing company. He’s in charge of the computer system there that runs circulation, etc. When Delaney finds out about this we’re treated to a thrilling rumination about how all the nerds end up being serial killers.

The book is full of these: deep ponderous thinks from the two characters who Sanders switches back and forth between. There’s Delaney expounding endlessly on how much of a CopTM he is, and how much nobody who isn’t one can get it. And there’s Blank off in a haze of clichéd serial killer traits. His internal monologue blabs about how much he loves his victims, he has ritualistic sex with his tediously profound girlfriend Celia Montfort, he wears ladies underpants and he is aloof and above the world always, searching for higher meaning, the greatest expression of which is his murders.

A genre book with a good plot but little to say can never be faulted. A compelling mystery, intriguing investigation, and thrilling action is always appreciated. This book has none of that though, and stretches itself out over 566 pages filling in the gaps of a dry plot with the philosophical meanderings of these dilettantes.

Blank kills his victims with an ice axe, he’s a mountain climber, and for hundreds of pages Delaney tracks down this connection while encountering the most mundane cut from cardboard characters that populate this dirty dirty city. At the same time his wife Barbara is dying from a strange disease, and he’s tormented about this. Well, sort of. Not enough to refuse the assignment from a faction within the police department to semi-officially track down the killer, and not enough for Sanders to treat the dying wife as anything other than a foil for Delaney’s contrived world weariness. Why does a faction have to recruit him in the first place? Some sort of inside baseball, a secret society within the city government that they don’t want to look good and get any credit for solving the murder. It’s never really explained and Delaney hardly asks, he doesn’t get caught up in stuff like that. He’s just a simple, hard-boiled cop.

All this grittiness is accomplished with a lot of “fucks” “shits” and “assholes,” as well as the constant consumption of rye highballs and beers, a profusion of farts belches and shits, and gratuitous descriptions of Daniel Blank’s sexual encounters, which somehow still manage to feel euphemistic.

Celia Montfort has a twelve year old brother called Tony who Blank rapes, Delaney dismisses speculation on this by calling the child a “little fag,” something they shouldn’t be concerned about. A newspaper reporter in the Captain’s good graces called Thomas Handry whines about other journalists calling the police “fascists,” and Delaney reminisces fondly about beatings meted out to petty criminals. Not only is the writing in this book dreadful and the plot painfully boring, but the worldview it espouses studiously reactionary and artificially cynical.

Blank is eventually apprehended just before the New Year, chased up to Chilton, across the Tappan Zee bridge and up to the top of a rock called Devil’s Needle, accessible only by a rock chimney which he’s climbed many times before. He’s fled after killing Celia, and is pursued by Captain Edward X. Delaney. They starve him out on the top of the peak where he accepts death from the elements rather than coming down, but not before we’re treated to a cornpone local lawman who talks likes he’s from an episode of the Dukes of Hazzard. Delaney “appreciates” him, and considers sin, life, being a cop, the night sky, being a cop, crime, God, and being a cop for forty more pages until Sanders finally fizzles it all out by having the Captain shout at a cop for being queasy about having to retrieve the body. A brisk epilogue wraps everything up with a laundry list of what happened to every minor and major character, and mercifully the book is over.

I may have been so repulsed by this book because I read it directly after reading Earthly Powers. That book is such a high expression of everything amazing that literature can accomplish that reading The First Deadly Sin after it is akin to eating dirt after a bowl of strawberry ice cream.

But it’s not just that. There exists a strain of literature that I don’t usually engage with, and this book is an example of it. Poorly written, intellectually grasping, and with a moral idiocy that’s founded on the received mores of a reactionary society. There are millions of these books out there, and I won’t give a single one of them a chance again. There’s too much genius out there, and too little time.

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Against Prevarication

There are going to be a plethora of these pieces published this morning, after the rest of the country wakes, after the genteel liberals hem and haw in their shock, woken from their slumber by the bright light of tiki torches cutting through the sky.  Of course this began a long time ago, this has always been with us, but perhaps now is the right moment to peel open the long dormant eyes of those who pretend not to see.

500 fascists marched through the night in Charlottesville, Virginia, home of the University of Virginia.  These pusillanimous slugs march here in the summer when students are out of class because they know that they would get torn to ribbons if they tried a show of force while school was in session.  Charlottesville is a city with a black population of 19%.  The purpose of this march is to sow terror, to make a mark, and to attempt a ecumenism among the splintered and often feuding sects of the American Neo Nazi movement.

The stated aim and name of the demonstration is “Unite the Right.”  By the right they mean the hard line fascist, white supremacist, male led (no women in the movement were permitted to carry torches), antisemitic movement that is populated often by career criminals, murderers and child molesters.  One of the scheduled speakers at the demonstrations coming up this weekend is Tim Gionet, who was filmed last month trying to pick up a thirteen year old girl at comic con. Austin Gillespie (who legally changed his name to Augustus Invictus), a former member of the Florida Libertarian party and current member of the Republican Party, was accused by his former girlfriend of, among other things, domestic violence and sexual assault.  A book of his under the pseudonym Franco A. Saint-Fond included descriptions of raping a 14 year old girl in Mexico.  The book, self-published on Amazon, is listed under Biography & Memoirs.

These examples only touch on the depravity of the speakers list.  In addition to these at best distasteful behaviors from the heritage and tradition gang, the rally will count among its attendance the National Socialist Movement, as well as speaker Jason Kessler’s myrmidon motorcycle gang muscle the Warlocks.  These two groups have been variously involved in murders, molestation, and drug dealing.

Will Kessler or Richard Spencer rage against the “degeneracy” of those within their ranks?  Richard Spencer himself is a rentier parasite, scion of a southern family which extracts its wealth from inherited farm land and benefits from federal farm subsidies in Louisiana.  Has he ever worked a day in his life for the ill-fitting suits he flounces around in?  Mark my words that he will.  There will come a day when the wealth he expropriates and the land the he exploits will return to the hands of those who work it.  His perverse pseudo-academic stylings coined the propaganda phrase “alt-right.”  Reject this word.  These men are fascists, rotten to their core.  I saw Facebook dubbing the marchers “far-right” in its headlines.  The New York Times used the honorific “white nationalist” to describe these fascist thugs, these white supremacists strutting and sweating in the dark under the paternal watch of the police and the national guard.

The rally tonight was un-permitted, but that did not prevent the police from treating the baying crowd with kid gloves; only one of their number was arrested, and the police largely did not intervene in the attacks on the small numbers of counter protesters who had the guts to stand in a circle around the statue of Robert E. Lee these forces of reaction are pretending to be protecting.  These august defenders of the first amendment also repeatedly attacked journalists, like those from Unicorn Riot.

Here is the reality.  These people will have to be ground into dust.  When they try to further their gleichschaltung by chanting “Blood & Soil” they should be introduced to those very two things.  The order in wish to do so is up to you.

Noogie these people.  These peabrained dimbulbs are all but dead.  Even still, push the death rattle back down their oleaginous throats, deny them unceasingly.  Give them no safe quarter.  When you see them spit in their eye.  These are fascists, they’ve marked themselves irrevocably so for quite some time.  Let this be the final branding, and don’t let them ever remove it with a skin graft.  Goodbye Volk, Goodbye fatboy Heimbach, Smoothbrain Spencer, Goodbye you pack of pedophiles, pill addicts, you festering swine.  Goodnight!  Sleep tight!  Not ready?

A bloo bloo bloo.

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House Republicans’ Defense of Marriage is an Attack on Safety Nets

The Democratic party are such a gang of mendacious loons, right-wing hacks, and smarmy villains that you sometimes forget how anti-human and full of shit the Republican Party is. The line that they’re somehow more tolerable because “at least they’re open about it!” is not only bankrupt but also just untrue.

See a recent resolution in the House introduced by the Congressman from Wisconsin’s Sixth District, Glenn Grothman. H.Res.399 expresses “the sense of the House of Representatives that welfare programs discourage marriage and hurt the institution of the family in the United States.” The standard blather about the institution of family hits our eyes in the first sentence, but we should be charitable here; some people actually believe this stuff.

Representative Grothman, with ten other Republicans, has a more cynical aim though. Through a string of “whereas,”’ the resolution makes the case, and effectively, that many means tested welfare programs discourage parents from marrying because of the negative consequences two incomes would have on their eligibility for these benefits. To whit, means-tested programs “determine eligibility and allotment of benefits by counting individuals related by blood, marriage, or adoption as members of the family unit, thereby excluding non-parent cohabiters’ income from consideration and discouraging cohabiters from marrying for fear of a loss of benefits.”

That marriage is beneficial for children has been increasingly confirmed by research. David Ribar, a professorial research fellow at the Melbourne Institute of Applied Economic and Social Research at the University of Melbourne writes, in a paper for Princeton University’s Future of Children program, that “reams of social science and medical research convincingly show that children who are raised by their married, biological parents enjoy better physical, cognitive, and emotional outcomes, on average, than children who are raised in other circumstances.”

This House resolution makes the case that parents are choosing to remain unmarried to keep receiving benefits. Where it becomes bankrupt is in its solution. Acknowledging that marriage can result in households losing as much as $30,000 a year in benefits, the Representatives resolve to “[support] action to change benefits or end programs in order to eliminate these penalties.”

This is an absurd proposition! Eliminating the programs might make co-habitants more likely to marry because of the simple fact that it wouldn’t cost them any benefits, but that’s only because there would not be any benefits left to lose. The resolution supports a path whereby the aim is not to improve the material conditions that make households chose not to marry for fear of losing their needed benefits, but instead to encourage marriage. A couple living together does not suddenly earn more when they join in the bonds of holy matrimony; their need still exists.

The resolution therefore is then, on its face little more than a moralizing edict. It doesn’t ask why people in love might be so desperate and in need of aid that they will not risk losing their benefits to formalize their love. It instead says that higher rates of marriage are necessary because of the improved outcomes for children, while ignoring the effects of the economic situation a child is raised in have on him.

But this is so often the motivating factor between right-wing moralizing politics. It would be naive for us to think that Representative Grothman is well-intentioned but blind, so devoted to the sacred institution of marriage that he does not see the real problem. Instead the truth is only that this is policy motivated by a right-wing ideology that rejects spending and a social safety net altogether. Don’t be fooled by these Representatives’ false love for marriage; all they really care about is cutting entitlements.

The committee that the resolution is referred to illustrates well the real goal. Rather than sending it to Appropriations with the thought that maybe marriage could be promoted through tax incentives or positive reinforcement, the resolution instead is headed to Ways and Means. It’s nothing but a question of budget.

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Jeremy Ascendant

When Jeremy Corbyn spoke in Parliament yesterday, it came in the wake of the stodgy Queen’s speech, when the 91 year old monarch, hopefully the last of her line, read the Government’s program in front of an assemblage of peers dressed like so many Santa Clauses without the jolly little hats.

The speech was a lackluster display of hackneyed reforms, fizzled legislation, and dead ideas that will be swept away in a wave come the next election. What was remarkable in the speech, Jeremy noted, in a passionate and dominating performance across from the teetering Prime Minister afterwards, was what it did not contain.

No word was spoken of eliminating the winter fuel allowance, none on getting rid of the triple lock on pensions, nothing on legalizing barbaric fox hunting, and, while the so-called Queen did talk of a state visit with the Spanish King & Queen, rien on the question of Donald Trump having the gold carpet rolled out for him. In February 1.8 million people signed a petition against giving the U.S. president what they view as the honour of a state visit. And during the election May’s insufficient criticism, and refusal to condemn outright Trump’s travel ban, were liabilities. May, and her political fellow travellers, have an eye on a more Atlanticist trade configuration in light of the diminished European relationship Brexit promises.

Jeremy, wryly echoing the now hilarity-inducing Conservative election slogan, called his Labour party the “strong and stable” choice to govern the country. He made clear, through explicit statement, that his party should not be considered just an opposition but a government in waiting.

And it felt like that indeed. Corbyn displayed a keen savagery and a powerful confidence, he was playful in his attacks but his outrage was pure, and he always made it clear that this whole politics thing isn’t a game.

The opening speech and its second were full of the same slick lines from the same slick players, the landlord and water interest investor Richard Benyon, and the former University Challenge winner and often historian Kwasi Kwarteng. Corbyn promised Benyon he would nationalize the water utilities and slap regulations on his apartment buildings. He referenced a book the prolific Kwarteng contributed to in 2011 called “After the Coalition,” leaving unsaid explicitly why that’s funny now.

While Kwarteng spoke a fly landed on him.

Screenshot 2017-06-21 at 9.56.54 AM.png

Jeremy spoke awhile, covered in jeers the whole time, with the clever schoolboy Jacob Rees-Mogg trying out a line about how long ago the leader of the opposition said “in conclusion,” and the entire assembly on the other side of aisle baying like dogs.

Right out of the gate he punctured the collegial mood Benyon and Kwarteng tried to create with their attempts at wit, saying that the tragic fire at Grenfell tower need not have happened.

And he’s right. Jeremy is accused often of being a weak parliamentary speaker because he doesn’t pull off the linguistic flourishes people like the Speaker excel at. But he speaks in a more important political tongue, one where rhetoric is deployed to make demands that improve the material conditions of working class people. Where Boris Johnson, though he won’t say it, wants to be Prime Minister to live out his Churchillian fantasies, Jeremy actually wants to help people. Incidentally, Boris had a satisfyingly poor performance with his erstwhile interlocutor Eddie Mair after the debate, so those fantasies of his may never come true. Disappointing for the ambitious me, who always likes seeing journalists go far (both the fascist Mussolini, and the socialist Corbyn for a local paper for a minute in his youth practiced journalism; back in his reporting days Mussolini was the editor of the socialist daily Avanti!) but just grand for the political me who’s grown a bit weary of Boris’ act. So when Jeremy ditches the primacy of the jokes (though it must be said that the barbs he directed at the Tory benches were a genuine pleasure to watch) and tells the floor that the nation needs sprinklers in its apartments blocks, the toffs may snort through their nose and laugh like diseased hyenas, but the working people of Britain know the score.

And this is why an election must be called immediately. I heard a fellow online make the joke that Vince Cable, the probable next Liberal Democratic party leader, is 74 today, and come the next election he will be 74 (apologies to whoever made it for the lack of credit, I can’t recall where I saw it). It’s a good joke, but leaves us with a question; why can’t the British people call an election themselves? Democracies need to adjust themselves to an idea that Mélenchon trumpeted in his bid for the presidency, and which his assembly group will pursue. That is the right to recall. How is it democratic for a government to be formed when the polling indicates to us that the people have changed their minds about who they want to represent them? In many cases the Tories only won seats because of Liberal Democratic voters racking up the numbers, with Labour candidates flying near. I don’t call these votes of the Liberal Democratic supporters illegitimate, but I do know how they’ll likely turn when the next goal becomes keeping the Tories out of power. The voters should be able, at the constituency level, to initiate a process to hold special elections ousting politicians they’re dissatisfied with.

The baying hounds of the Parliament may bust a gut where they please, but Jeremy feels different to people who watch. He is powerful, he is strong, and he will be Prime Minister. Soon or sooner.

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The Macron Majority

Following the French presidential election was much more exciting than following the French legislative elections. Following the first round last week, today’s results have made things very clear; the results are disappointing for the left. The president’s party, La République en Marche, won a crushing plurality of votes, and have won at at least 341 seats, accounting for their ally MoDem’s gains.

La France Insoumise and the Parti Communiste Francais, while making it through to the second round in 79 constituencies, won only 27 seats. Jean-Luc Mélenchon is among those who made it through, and he won his seat in Marseille. But it is a defeat, and a disappointment. While across the channel the drama of the resurgent Labour party played out under Jeremy Corbyn, in France the radical left, the reformist left, and the center left were put down.

2eme Tour Elections Legislatives 2017.png

While the practical outcome of the vote is demoralizing, the real picture has a little more nuance. Legislative elections generally have lower turnout than presidential ones, and this was no different. But for the first time in the history of the 5th Republic, more registered voters abstained, voted blank, or spoiled their ballots than those who did vote. In an electorate of around 39 million, just over 17 million chose a candidate. 22 million made the choice not to.

In the second round of the presidential election this was a heartening thing. The lesson I took from it was that many French people could endorse neither a neoliberal banker nor a fascist. I think the lesson for these elections is different though, and hardly encouraging. As Le Monde pointed out, the radical left won not many more seats than they won five years ago, “while at the same time, Jean-Luc Mélenchon progressed eight points between the presidential [elections] of 2012 and of 2017.”

Mélenchon won 7 million votes in the first round of the presidential election. In the first round of legislative votin FI won just below 2 and a half million votes. Add the PCF vote and they scored around 3 million. That’s 13,74% of all the votes cast, but in a reflection of how few votes were actually cast, only 6,54% of the electorate. And that is abysmally poor. In the second round they got a third of those votes, hardly over a million. LReM rustled up 6.4 million votes the first time around, taking 28,21% of the electorate (32,32% and 7.2 million with the help of the “centrist” Modem and its leader Francis Bayrou, an early and enthusiastic ally of Macron).

Is it fair, in a national assembly, for a political bloc that received only 32% of the vote in the first round to win 62% of the seats? Is it fair for that bloc to win those seats with 48% of the vote in the second round? An absolute majority in the assembly requires just 289 seats, and an absolute majority is what the party has. That party will be a rubber stamp for Macron’s “startup” ideology. When Macron calls for France to “think and move like a startup “ one might ask how Macron can genuinely compare a centuries (or millennia depending on what historiography you agree with) old nation to four programmers in a loft trying to make an app. That would be generous though, and assume that Macron is doing anything more than clothing an agenda of social cuts and war behind the cloth of tech culture babble.

Macron will get rid of the 35 hour workweek, which squares with his startup line, surely. At a startup you work long hours for little pay with only a slim chance of success. Most fail, and a huge amount of money ends up concentrated in the hands of the sometimes talented, but more often lucky or timely, few. So when Macron bleats his tune about this we should see it as an admission of the future he promises for France.

During the Presidential election, I quite admired the two round system. I thought it gave a chance to candidates who I admired like Mélenchon to become President. Looking at the legislative elections I think I have to reevalute this position. That’s not because the politics I support lost out. All politics aside from the right wing “centrists” Macron leads have lost out. Rather than giving an outsider the chance to make his case before the nation, the outcome of this system seems to be the elimination of outsiders and the consolidation of power in the hands of a tiny few. With a 56% rate of abstention, it truly is a tiny few; only 16% of the country really voted for Macron’s policies. An absolute majority is an unfair outcome; of those who voted, 48% voted for LReM and MoDem. That’s well above the vote of any other party, but like the recent Conservative Party win in England does not even reflect a simple majority of the population.

The other lesson to be drawn from the first round of the election is that Mélenchon’s movement does not extend beyond his personality. The rapid last month surge in the polls was dramatic, and made me think that France was on the edge of a Socialist-Humanist-Ecologist renaissance. What is more likely though, was that it was a combination of Jean-Luc’s charismatic personality and the death rattle of the French left in parliamentary politics.

With the huge rate of abstention and the rich tradition of politics on the street, there may yet be a massive resistance mounted against Macron’s agenda, but it is clear that Mélenchon’s movement is not as popular as he is. I hope his claim that “our people have entered into a form of general civic strike,” a diagnosis divined from that strong rate of abstention, comes true. And FI did not exist a year ago; Sunday it will be in the Assembly, having vanquished the Parti Socialiste as a political force with a future. FI will be very limited in what it can do. The LReM majority is too big. But FI and its allies will have a group in the Assembly. This means that members will get a place on permanent commissions which do the work of government. Those places are distributed proportionally to groups, which means that though FI seats will be limited they will be guaranteed a seat at the table. More important for the growth of the political movement into a political force is the public monies that forming a group guarantees to its members. Perhaps one bright political spot is that le Front National did not win enough seats, eight, to form a group. In terms of the health of democracy that optimism may be misplaced, because FN won more than twice the votes of FI, and if there was proportional representation the picture would be very different.

French Legislative Elections 2017 Proportionelle.png

Le Monde’s projection would have FI winning 63 seats, with the radical left winning 84 seats in total. LReM would still have won the most seats, 162, but not enough to win an absolute majority. The soft left, including the ecologists and the now devastated PS would win 80 seats together.

On its face proportional representation seems difficult to argue against, it just seems too just. But is it? It depends on your expectation for representation. A system with proportional representation would not necessarily make an assembly more representative of the people it represents. When MPs are the choice of their constituencies, constituency work is ostensibly more important, because those representatives will be dependant on those constituencies for reelection.

However, those who argue for proportional representation echo the arguments I made above, that it’s unfair for a political bloc with 48% of the votes getting 62% of the seats, and by the same measure a political bloc that wins 5% of the vote receiving only 2% of the seats feels unjust. The second half becomes less unfair though when you look at the fact that FI won only 1.8% of the actual votes, taking into account those who abstained.

The other outcome of proportional representation would be propelling FN into becoming the third largest political force in the Assembly, an outcome that would vastly over represent their support, which is largely concentrated in small geographic enclaves. The reality of the moment is that so too is FI’s.

The practical outcome of proportional representation would therefore not have been particularly more representative than another form of representation. Some political forces would have a voice plenty louder than those who supported them. And the political outcome in France would have been LReM being dependent on Les Républicains for support. I have no illusions about the right wing character of Macron’s party, nor do I have any illusions that adding LR to the mix would improve the situation at all.

The alternative I favor would be Cardinal Voting, specifically “disapproval voting” where all candidates are given numerical rankings by voters, positive and negative, and once the numbers are added up the candidate with the highest overall score is elected. This would solve the problem of the runoff pitting two hated candidates against one another, and give a candidate who a voter might think has no chance but who they want to vote for the opportunity to register far greater support than they otherwise would have the opportunity to.

I have no projections to share reflecting a National Assembly with this configuration, and it may not have been very much different at all. But I would wager the rate of abstention would not have been so high. Gaël Sliman, the president of Odoxa, which does polling in France, told Francetvinfo that their analysis of opinion polling on why the rate of abstention was so high came down to the fact that many people concluded “the election was played out in advance,” and that LReM “was assured to win.”

Mounir Mahjoubi, Macron’s technology minister, has talked about introducing some electoral reform in the shape of greater proportional representation. The majority the government has won gives them an overwhelming ability to do so, but if the result is a super-charged FN gaining heavy political power it never could have in a more democratic system, there will be no more artful proof for the argument that “centrists” empower fascism.

The right is on the march in France. The country will experience great change over the next five years, much of it of great consequence for the society that so many of the French have fought so long to build. One change that would be welcomed, though, would be making sure France France votes under a system that empowers them to extricate themselves from the dangerous position they’re now in.

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